I have been watching on you-tube some of the got talent franchise from around the world. Amongst the entertainers and outright show-offs there are some lightly talented people. Though I think the back-story to some of them and whole ‘show’ adds so much emotion to the whole saga one can hardly be objective.
However I wonder what would happen if a concert pianist heard me playing the piano, the sheer pain they would feel at how badly I use the pedals, how wrong fingered I can be, how naive my expressions. The reason being that the concert pianist is where they are because of their connection to their art, their expertise and it is real pain they would feel at my evisceration of music.
So imagine how writers who try to be innovative and distinct, search for the universal in the moment and the story that awakens as well as reveals, feel when they have to sit through most modern films. The fact is they cannot. The regurgitated fodder fed to the public, the paucity of honesty, the sheer churning of themes so old they cannot wade them for another half hour.
The mediocre is everywhere one looks and all one can do is applaud the attempt because the result is utterly forgettable.