Boylewatch: Eröffnungszeremonie der Olympischen Spiele

Screenshot: ZDF

Ich glaube, es schien mir noch nie so ironisch wie heute, dass ich 2008 meine Dissertation zum Thema “British Cultural Identity in the Films of Danny Boyle” aufgegeben habe, um Journalismus zu machen. Damals, zwei Jahre vor dem Oscargewinn von Slumdog Millionaire, war die Idee, dass ein Regisseur wie Danny Boyle der perfekte Stellvertreter für eine neue Art von grenzüberschreitendem britischen Kino ist, anscheinend noch relativ kurios. Gestern hat genau dieser Danny Boyle für 27 Millionen Pfund die Eröffnungszeremonie der Olympischen Spiele in London inszeniert und darin versucht, Britische Identität auf zwei Stunden Megashow herunterzudestillieren, während weltweit Millionen von Menschen zusehen. So kann’s gehen.

In seiner Eröffnungsfeier (die ich leider nicht live sehen konnte, aber mir inzwsichen mit Hilfe von Mediatheken und Liveblogs erschlossen habe) scheint Boyle das gleiche gelungen zu sein, was auch in vielen seiner Filme immer wieder durchdringt. Er beginnt mit mit Ideen, die eindeutig der britischen Psyche entstammen. Im Laufe des Werks transzendiert er diese Ideen aber und verwandelt sie in etwas Neues mit universellem Anspruch. Das kann ein Zugehörigkeitsgefühl zu einer Klasse oder sozialen Gruppe sein wie in Trainspotting, aus dem ein ikonischer Film für das “Rebranding” des Vereinigten Königreichs als “cool” wurde. Aber auch eine Art postkoloniale Mayflower-Fantasie wie Sunshine, aus der trotz einiger Schwächen im dritten Akt einer der beeindruckendsten Science-Fiction-Filme der letzten 20 Jahre entsteht.

Die olympische Zeremonie schien die stoffliche Manifestation dieses Prinzips zu sein. Boyle, mit dem Auftrag ein “Best of Britain” aufzuführen, beginnt mit klassischen – größtenteils englischen – Bildern von green and pleasant Lands, zitiert Shakespeare und “Jerusalem” und errichtet die olympischen Ringe aus den Schornsteinen der nordenglischen und schottischen Industriefabriken. Dann jedoch lässt er dieses Bild explodieren und widmet den Rest der Zeit einer ausführlichen Betrachtung des 20. Jahrhunderts, das fast aussschließlich aus Popkultur zu bestehen scheint.

Kein Symbol für George Smiley. Screenshot: ZDF

Und dabei wird nichts ausgelassen. James Bond bringt die Queen ins Stadion und in der Abschlussrevue fehlt weder Punk noch Glamrock und schon gar nicht die Drogenkultur der Raver mit einem Selbszitat von Underworld und Trainspotting und einem großen, aus Menschen gebauten Smileyzeichen auf dem Stadionboden. Seine Protagonisten – wie in 28 Days Later, Sunshine und Slumdog Millionaire – sind keine WASPs, sondern Repräsentanten eines multikulturellen Großbritanniens, die im Finale der Popmusik-Retro zu den Rhymes von Dizzee Rascal tanzen.

Und womit findet das ganze ein Ende – ausgerechnet mit Tim Berners-Lee, dem Erfinder des World Wide Web – dessen Einfluss schon zuvor durch die ganze Show zu spüren war, weil die Jugendlichen, die sich durch die Zeitalter tanzen, konstant per Social Media miteinander in Verbindung standen. (Der deutsche Kommentator Bela Rethy Wolf-Dieter Poschmann beweist in diesem Moment seine Netzignoranz und spricht davon, Berners-Lee wäre dafür verantwortlich, dass wir so viele Mails checken müssen.) Nachdem Boyle zuletzt einen Film über einen Menschen gemacht hat, der ohne Kommunikationsmöglichkeiten unter einem Felsblock festsitzt, hebt er hier Kommunikation als essenziell hervor. Ich bin sehr gespannt, ob wir von ihm vielleicht noch einen Film erwarten können, in dem das Internet eine Rolle spielt.

Update 29.7.: Es war Poschmann, nicht Rethy

Ihr Blutbad ist angerichtet, Sir

Immer wieder fallen mir in der eingeschliffenen deutschen Journalistensprache Redewendungen auf, bei denen ich mir ein Stirnrunzeln nicht verkneifen kann. Gestern war es das Wort “Blutbad” in der Berichterstattung über die grausamen Morde an der Zivilbevölkerung in Syrien.

Ich habe noch nie zuvor die Gelegenheit genutzt, mich mit dem Wortfeld Massenmord etwas genauer auseinanderzusetzen, also habe ich das kurz getan. Die engste Assoziation, die wir Menschen zu massenhafter Tötung anderer Lebewesen haben, scheint das Schlachten zu sein. Also kommen die meisten Begriffe zur Beschreibung massenhafter und wahlloser Morde aus diesem Bereich: “Massaker” stammt (laut Wikipedia) vom altfranzösischen maçacre, „Schlachthaus“; auch “metzeln” ist ein mittelhochdeutscher Begriff für “schlachten”. Irgendwie nachvollziehbar, und zumindest ist bei dem Wort “Massaker” inzwischen jeder Bezug zu seinem Ursprung verschwunden.

Warum aber “Blutbad”? Was erscheint sinnvoll oder wünschenswert an dem sprachlichen Bild, dass die Morde so zahlreich waren, dass jemand – wenn er nur wollte – im Blut der Opfer hätte baden können? Noch schlimmer, Formulierungen wie “das Assad-Regime [hat] in der syrischen Provinz Homs ein furchtbares Blutbad an Zivilisten angerichtet” legen nahe, dass die Massenmorde exakt zu diesem Zweck verübt wurden.

Das Wort ist keine Erfindung der deutschen Sensationspresse, es ist alt (biblisch gar), existiert quasi in allen Sprachen und hat überall auch nur diese Bedeutung: großes Vergießen von Menschenblut durch Mord. Vielleicht hat das Wort mit der zweiten Bedeutung von baden zu tun, “zu viel von etwas haben”. Wahrscheinlich ist es aber auch nur eine uralte poetische Umschreibung einer grausamen Situation, die im Laufe der Jahrhunderte ihre wörtliche Bedeutung eingebüßt hat – wie es bei vielen anderen Wörtern auch der Fall ist.

Trotzdem würde ich in letzterem Fall dafür plädieren, das Wort in Presseberichten über Massenmorde nicht weiter zu verwenden, auch wenn man damit ein Synonym verliert. Das Wort mag so in den Sprachgebrauch übergegangen sein, dass außer Menschen mit einer so bildlichen Vorstellung wie mir, niemand mehr dabei an ein tatsächliches Bad in Blut denkt. Den Opfern gegenüber ist es trotzdem respektlos, ihr Leid durch einen so geschmackloses Sprachbild zu trivialisieren. Und es ist ein klassisches Beispiel dafür, wie der routinierte Journalismus sprachliche Klarheit gerne mal zugunsten von wohlkingenden Bildern hinter sich lässt.

Dass es übrigens auch ohne Blutbad geht, zeigt etwa der Artikel auf tagesschau.de, was nicht heißt, dass die ARD vor dem Gebrauch gefeit ist.

“Film Weekly” – An Obituary

When I visited my first real film festival as a professional writer, the Edinburgh International Film Festival in 2008, I saw Oscar Nominee Richard Jenkins a few feet away from me and couldn’t have cared less. I was looking for someone else and when I finally spotted him, I was so star-struck that I didn’t dare to talk to him. Good thing I ran into him a second time – and this time I managed to chat with him for a bit. The man was Jason Solomons, a film journalist for “The Guardian” and he had been in my ear for over a year, every week.

Jason was the host of the Guardian’s podcast “Film Weekly”, the first podcast I listened to regularly, and one of the best film podcasts around, as far as I am concerned. In an internet world, where the geeks – and the loud films they like – have increasingly taken over power, “Film Weekly”, Solomons and later co-host Xan Brooks gave off a cushy scent of old film journalism gentry and art house sensitivity. I first discovered the show in an episode on Danny Boyle’s Sunshine (via the now defunct blog “Cinematical”) and was immediately hooked.

I almost never agreed with Jason’s and Xan’s assessment of more mainstream films, especially animation, and I found the way Jason conducted some of his interviews to be rather unnerving (witness, for example, how he almost drives David Cronenberg mad, by insisting on discovering what’s “cronenbergian” about him). On the other hand, here were journalists who had the power of a publication like the “Guardian” behind them, who could be autonomous and irreverent without too much press junket fanboy-ism.

They led me to art house gems I would hardly have discovered without them, featured big stars as well as small indie newcomers and had English accents that were easy on the ear. At about 30 minutes, the show was exactly the right length, and not as long-drawn and chatty as some of the other efforts on the net (like Filmspotting and the /filmcast).

It’s really too bad, that Solomons and Brooks hosted their last show a week and a half ago. Their company gave no real reason for the cancellation except “limited resources & belts being tightened, as well as the desire to push the Guardian’s multimedia in new directions”. A video show will follow later this year. While video might generate more clicks in this day and age, it’s also hard to enjoy it while you’re going for your weekend run and takes a lot more active commitment to watch regularly. I, for one, will probably stop consuming the “Guardian”‘s film coverage now. I hope I will have the opportunity to run into Jason or Xan at a film festival again to tell them how much I miss their show.

Navel Gazing – Part 4: Social Networks

Image: Wikimedia Commons

I’m not usually an early adopter. I am too stingy for it. Spending large amounts of money on a new thing that hasn’t proven it will catch on yet and whose subsequent generations will fix all the faults the first one had? Lunacy! But there is one thing about which I can still tell the tale that I was there before most everyone else I know – and that’s Facebook.

I got lucky, though. In the fall of 2005, I moved from Germany to Edinburgh to spend a semester abroad. Conveniently, this was after Facebook had expanded to UK universities but before it opened up to everyone everywhere, one year later. So, while everyone in Germany was still connecting on the German Facebook Clone StudiVZ, I was already using the Next Big Thing to hit Germany. And that’s my claim to early adopter fame.

Facebook

It’s true what they say, Facebook is creating a sort of second, parallel internet. If you are using it, you notice stuff that you don’t notice when you are not using it. I have basically stopped using e-mail for communicating with people I know on Facebook. Instead of sending out invites to communal activities, I just create an event. And the sort of private blogging that I used to do before I started this “serious” blog (on Livejournal, I dare you to find my blog, it’s still up) has migrated to Facebook as well. Mostly in short status updates, of course, but sometimes I also still use Notes, the almost-forgotten Facebook blogging app.

Don’t listen to the haters. For me, Facebook has gotten better with every update. Now, with the introduction of Timeline and the revamping of Groups, it is finally a real “best of both worlds” experience. Before, I politely declined friend requests from people I didn’t know too well, because I am still using Facebook for lots of pretty personal stuff. Now, I’m fine with friending colleagues and distant acquaintances, because I simply move them too the appropriate list. Lists also helped me cope with my internet bilinguality (more on that next episode). I can finally write updates in German and not spam my English-speaking friends’ news feeds with them. At the same time, timeline now finally has become a reliable archive of my life and online activity and will probably come in handy some day – if only they added a good search function soon.

What does Facebook do for me, newswise? I sometimes pick up stories from there that I missed elsewhere. My friends’s status updates sometimes alert me to topics, blogs, etc. I wouldn’t have caught without them. I follow several bands, which is great for not missing when they go on tour, and movie projects (although most of them don’t really do that good of a job). Mostly, though, it still connects me with personal friends on a personal level. The few times that I have actually entered into discussions with people didn’t go so well.

If you want to discuss stuff with me, feel free to do so. Some of my profile is actually public and I allow subscriptions. The fact that I haven’t enabled public search, however, shows that Facebook is still more of a private medium for me.

Twitter

While Alex and Facebook were a natural fit, it took Twitter and me a while to become friends. I needed to read about it for a long time before I decided to try my luck there. As you might tell from this blog, expressing thoughts in 140 characters is not really my forte and I am witty only very occasionally (terrible, terrible puns are more my specialty). I also have a really old smartphone that takes ages to even load the Twitter app (I had a newer one but it got stolen – the difference on my Twitter behaviour is palpable). So I don’t tweet too often and I have few followers and even less who follow me because of what I tweet (I guess). Even though this scratches my ego somewhat, I have since found that you don’t need a lot of followers to use Twitter as an awesome cherry on the media cake.

Twitter is my serendipity machine. In its own very limited way it breaks through my filter bubble and points me to things I wouldn’t have noticed without it. Even though I follow mostly people who are either famous or from my field or both, there are enough of them and the connection with them is weak enough to transcend the feedback loop of social networking. Whenever I feel like finding something new or leftfield, I head to Twitter.

I also love to use Twitter as a running commentary on current events. The best experience I have probably had was watching the Oscars this year (always a very lonely affair in Germany because of the time difference). I had my Twitter feed running the whole time, tweeted myself and somehow felt like I was watching the ceremony with a circle of cool friends.

Twitter is not an essential part of my media diet. I also think it is a much better tool for freelancers than for regular employees – I’m not allowed to tweet about most of the interesting stuff that happens to me – and I have found that I am simply more of a blogger than a microblogger. But I wouldn’t want to miss Twitter in there. It makes for some very interesting flavouring.

The Rest

I registered on StudiVZ, the dying German copycat-cousin of Facebook, with an e-mail-address that has since been deactivated. I can’t remember my password so I haven’t been able to log in and see the devastation for some years now.

I try to use Xing, the German copycat-cousin of LinkedIn, as a business profile, giving people who don’t know me personally an alternative to Facebook. I hardly ever use it and I wouldn’t know why I should start, especially since Facebook made the list feature more prominent.

I have a Google+ profile, but I have yet to use it. Why the heck should I hang around two sites with almost the exact same functionalities? I hear people say the conversations on Google+ are better. I was never unhappy with the conversations on Facebook.

That’s about it for my media diet, but I have one more topic left to cover, so there will be a part 5 about the pain in the ass that bilinguality can be.

Navel Gazing is a multi-part blog series about my personal media consumption habits, meant as a case study and a moment of self-reflection on account of Real Virtuality’s third birthday.

John Carter and Company: Hype, Expectation, Forgiveness

Disney

Andrew Stanton’s latest film John Carter is the talk of the town. It cost somewhere between $250 and $300 Million and it didn’t actually make that much money on the opening weekend – at least in the U.S. There is hope that it might become a slow grower and eventually make back its budget, but in the industry’s eye, it can be considered a flop. Many critics also didn’t like it. They felt it was all over the place storywise, campy and simply not interesting enough.

It’s a misjudgment, however, to think that nobody liked John Carter. For one, I liked it, even though my best friend didn’t. I sided with Matt Zoller Seitz and the other half of the critics (on Rotten Tomatoes) who forgave the film its faults and its crappy marketing and simply let themselves be entertained.

The film’s opening weekend controversy, to use a big word, got me thinking. Thinking that maybe forgiveness is the only way to deal with films like John Carter, that it should be the sentiment with which we enter the theatre and which we should dial up when we review the films in our heads later on. Why? Because a film of the John Carter kind will never ever please us, if we’re not prepared to forgive.

First of all, what do I mean by “the John Carter kind”? I’m talking about films that come with attached baggage from three sources: 1. expectations from those that know and love the source material; 2. expectations toward a director with a certain credibility or track record; and 3. hype generated by the singularity and finality of the event, supported by marketing.

The three criteria are certainly true of John Carter. Many people love the source material, they have read the books as teenagers (I haven’t). Andrew Stanton is a respected director, who created Finding Nemo and Wall-E, among the more unconventional Pixar-Films (and two of its Oscar winners). And the long list of trials of bringing John Carter to the screen for twenty and more years certainly also made the fact that it finally happened very momentous.

So with all that expectation (and the amounts of money mentioned in connection with the movie), could John Carter do anything else than fail? Yes. It could have been a Lord of the Rings, a Dark Knight or an Avatar, tentpole films of the last ten years that somehow managed to meet the expectations set in them, were lauded by critics and audiences alike – despite obvious weaknesses.

But what if we forget about the expectation and the money for a moment? What if we forgive Andrew Stanton his major error of trying to tackle a property that is clearly something that you might enjoy as a child but raise your eyebrows at, when you’re an adult. In all seriousness: John Carter is not a bad movie by a long stretch. It’s heaps of illogical fun with charismatic leads. It builds a rich world that for all its preposterousness feels somehow believable. And it sustains several mysteries for much of its running time. People were willing to forgive Avatar its cheesy exoticism and enviromentalism (and possible racism). They were willing to forgive The Return of the King its many endings and endless battle scenes. I am willing to forgive John Carter its convoluted story and superficial worldview – and just enjoy the movie.

And I hope that forgiveness will be on my mind, when The Avengers roll around soon.

Navel Gazing: A Media Consumption Case Study (of Myself)

Image: Katharina Matzkeit

Real Virtuality turns three this month – and to celebrate, I have decided to write a series of articles about the way I use and consume media at this moment in time.

As a person working in media, I naturally have a reasonably big ego. However, when I started this blog three years ago, I vowed not to write about myself too much. I would give my personal opinions all the time, I would spin off arguments from stuff that happened to me, and I would sometimes write short posts about career developments or highlights, but I would not use this platform to simply muse about my personal tastes and traits, which – to be perfectly honest – I like to do a lot. I hope that I kept that promise to myself most of the time and that most of the articles collected in this blog have at least some relevance to the world that extends beyond my personal little sphere of self-reflection.

However, since three years is a birthday worth celebrating, this month will see a temporary change in policy. I want to make myself a case study and write up a detailed account of my media diet. And maybe – just maybe – someone else will read it, find something interesting in it, and talk about it with me in the comments. You never know.

Part One: Old Media
Part Two: The Web
Part Three: Blogs
Part Four: Social Networks

Converting Hand-drawn 2D Animation to 3D is a Bad Idea

There is exactly one shot in the 3D special edition release of Disney’s The Lion King that looks absolutely amazeballs in 3D. Scar has just left Simba sitting alone on a rock in the gorge. The young lion is unaware that, on a plateau above the gorge, a grazing herd of wildebeests is about to be unleashed by the three hyenas. The filmmakers connect these two images in one crane-up, from a top shot of the rock and tree, where Simba is sitting, up the walls of the gorge, into a wide shot of the plateau (you can see the shot I mean here). In 3D, the sense of scale and menace that is built up in this reveal, is fifty times more effective and gave me hope for the future of the technology. Everything else, though, looked wrong.

The Lion King is one of the formative films of my childhood. I saw it twice at the theatre when I was twelve and when we got the VHS, I recorded the sound track onto an audio cassette and then transcribed all of the dialogue into a sort of script. I learned a lot of English this way (I was living in Holland at the time so the film was English with Dutch subtitles) and it led to me knowing the complete dialogue of the film by heart – I still sometimes annoy amuse friends by reciting scenes when I’m drunk, but that’s beside the point.

The film also represents the pinnacle of what could be achieved with hand drawn 2D animation one year before Toy Story knocked over the whole industry. In Disney Animation’s Silver Age that started in 1986 with The Little Mermaid, The Lion King was the crowning jewel. By returning to one of the studio’s greatest strengths, anthropomorphic animals, in an original story, it surpassed – in my opinion and certainly in box office figures – even the achievements of Beauty and the Beast. The universal quality and appeal of The Lion King was never equalled again. Pocahontas, The Hunchback of Notre Dame or Mulan simply can’t live up to it (not even Treasure Planet, which I am personally quite fond of). The Lion King is the best of both worlds. It uses the CAPS coloring system, it has some scenes which were supported by Pixar computations (e.g. the above-mentioned stampede scene) and CG-effects, but at its core it relies on a compelling story and strong characters animated by hand.


“Look, Simba, everything that the light touches is our kingdom.”

In 3D, thank goodness, The Lion King loses none of its grandeur. I was blown away by the sheer amazement of seeing this beloved film again on a big screen and by the fact that it still holds up (except for the hereditary power/destiny principles it perpetuates by which my leftist dispositions were slightly irked). Some of the savannah vistas also gain some impressive depth that widens the general scope of the film.

But, man, did the actual animation look crummy when it was 3D-ized. The inklines became blurry and jumpy, facial features that are slightly abstracted in the artwork – like whiskers – seemed to stick out all over the place. The actual animation suddenly became visible in a way that I just didn’t want to see. I wanted to immerse myself in the narrative, not notice every little trick animators use to draw their subjects.

I was willing to let The Lion King change my prejudices, but now my personal verdict is clear: Converting hand-drawn animation to 3D, regardless of how much computers were used in their original background composition etc., is a bad idea from an artistic point of view. So I am wary of Disney’s plans to convert more films to 3D. Although I might give Finding Nemo a shot. It’s not hand-drawn, after all.

Will The Avengers be exceptional or generic?

When the first trailer for The Avengers hit the net on Tuesday, I tweeted something which has been on my mind for a few days now: I haven’t been this excited about a film and followed every step of its development since The Lord of the Rings, ten years ago. My exclamation met with incredulity from my fellow film buff friend Carsten: “I don’t get it”, he wrote. “Looks totally generic.” And I couldn’t help but tell him, he’s right.

Others have already voiced their skepticism about Marvel’s big project. “Wired” author Erin Biba tweeted “So I guess The Avengers is just gonna be Iron Man 3 then”, and “Cinemablend” made an excellent list of 5 Reasons The Avengers Trailer Was Kind Of A Letdown: nothing new, no character dynamics, not enough characters, terrible music and the best reason: “It just didn’t make The Avengers seem as special as it is.”

Want to watch the trailer again? Here it is.

I think “Cinemablend”‘s last reason is key here, and it ties in with Erin’s Tweet. If The Avengers will really only be a sort of Tony Stark show with a couple of other guys in the background, then it will become another generic comic book movie, maybe even a comic book movie that suffers from the extra plot stuffed in for franchise reasons like Iron Man 2. And the trailer doesn’t do much to ward off that sentiment.

Nevermind that the movie turned out to be terrible, but do you remember the first teaser trailer for The Phantom Menace? It did have that “Every saga has a beginning …”-feel to it. It had Anakin Skywalker meeting Obi-Wan for the first time, it had the moment where Darth Maul unveils his double-bladed lightsaber. It definitely got me excited. The first teaser for The Fellowship of the Ring said “It wasn’t until now that the legend could finally come to life!” – even more excitement there. The Avengers trailer doesn’t even say “Avengers assemble!”. The teaser at the end of Captain America did a much better job at making this exceptional movie project actually look exceptional (not least because of the “Some Assembly Required” tagline).

The question stands: Will The Avengers, the movie itself, not the effort that went into building up the project, actually be exceptional? Something the trailer pulled into question for me is: Does Marvel see this film as a culmination? A finale of sorts to the five movies that preceded it? Or will it be just a continuation of the universe they are building? If people keep expecting the former and the movie turns out to be the latter, with too many loose ends, not at least some sense of closure and no general feeling of Big Momentness – it will definitely disappoint a lot of people.

I don’t read comic books continually and generally haven’t followed any periodical narrative regularly for some time now (I only watch tv series on DVD sets), but what Marvel has been trying to do with the building of their universe and the creation of their franchises is basically to import comic book narrative mechanics into the movie world. The first Avengers book was a decisive narrative moment in time, because it brought together heroes that hadn’t worked together before, but it was no culmination, it was a beginning – and it ultimately did feel quite generic to me when I caught up with reading it recently. In one of the last panels, one of the characters says something to the effect of “A team of superheroes, huh? We could give it a try.” Not really very momentous.

If Joss Whedon knows what he’s doing, like I hope he does, he will not make this look like Iron Man, Hulk, Thor, Cap and the rest of them are merely giving it a try. He will make this The Moment We’ve All Been Waiting For(tm), when the heroes of five movies finally assemble. And then, The Avengers will be exceptional – and not as generic as its first trailer.

Fuck you, movie studios, for your DVD release politics!

I saw 127 Hours on the big screen when it came to German cinemas in February this year. I enjoyed it a lot. So much so, that I basically came out of the theatre and said to myself: “I’m going to get the DVD as soon as it’s out.” Not only did I want to see it again and show it to friends, I’m also a big fan of director Danny Boyle and like his insightful audio commentaries and interviews in the DVD extras of the movies he made so far.

When I wanted to pick up the film this summer, first on my visit to the States and then later here in Germany, I found out that the DVD strangely doesn’t have any bonus material at all. I kept looking around for a Special Edition, more than willing to pay the extra money for what I would get, but there was none. There was only a BluRay, which contained all the stuff I wanted: the alternate ending I had Simon Beaufoy talk about in a podcast, an audio commentary and background material on the story that inspired the film. The BluRay version is the only release of 127 Hours that contains this material.

I noticed about a year ago that Disney started going down the same route. When Fantasia came out, I went and bought the “Special Edition” on the day of release. I couldn’t wait to see one of my favourite animation classics again. The disc did have some extras, so I was content. It was only later that I found out that the BluRay edition featured an additional audio commentary and a feature about the “Schultheis Notebook” in the Disney Family Museum. So the “Special Edition” wasn’t special at all. It was a stripped down version of the release.* As time went on I noted that every new Disney release went this way: a BluRay with lots of features and a half-cooked DVD. If you know of any more releases that do the same, please point them out in the comments.

I don’t own a BluRay player for two reasons: I really don’t think HD is all it’s made out to be and I don’t have the TV to enjoy it. Even though I like to read and write about the technical side of movies, in the end, it’s the movies themselves that are important, not the immaculateness of image and sound. That is not the case when I see a movie in cinemas – where I expect the best possible projection and sound system for the money I paid – but to see it on a disc at home, I am okay with a clear and clean image. It doesn’t have to be clearer and cleaner than when it was shot.

But my viewing preferences are beside the point here. The point is that the whole reason that there is a home video market at all is because home video adds value to just re-releasing a movie at the cinema every few years (like Disney did and still does sometimes). That value originally was that it gives you free choice, when and how often you want to watch the movie again, and that it’s a lot cheaper as well. When Laser Discs and DVDs came along, the studios added more value on top of that and sprinkled extras onto the discs – we here in Germany could also finally watch the film in its original version.

The value that BluRay was supposed to add was a more pristine HD picture and sound. For lots of customers, apparently, that added value didn’t really explain why they should spend more money on movie discs and a new playing device, even if they already had an HDTV. Even now, where BluRays cost almost as much as DVDs when it comes to new releases, people don’t automatically reach for BluRay. And why should they? Most non-movie-buffs I know don’t even care if the image on their TV at home is in the right aspect ratio. Why should they care about the HD-ness of a BluRay in comparison to a DVD?

So what do corporations do whenever the quality of their new product does not improve enough on the old one and people just keep using the senior model? They discontinue it so people are eventually forced to buy the new one. That’s standard business practice. I was expecting the DVD to be taken out of circulation eventually (and I have that big TV and BluRay player lined up for purchase as soon as I want to afford it). What I hate, though, is this mishmash in between – when everything is still released on DVD, even on “Special Editions”, but it suddenly is so much worse than the new kid in town, because the manufacturer wilfully made it so. That’s just annoying. So, Fuck you!, movie studios, for taking it out on the movie lovers. Fuck you very much.

* The release in general could have done with some more bonus stuff, but that’s another story.

Ruhe in Frieden, Loriot. Du wirst mir nicht fehlen.

Gestern habe ich gehört, dass Loriot vorgestern gestorben ist. Ich fand das sehr schade, denn wie viele Menschen meiner Generation bin ich mit Loriots Gesamt-Oeuvre aufgewachsen. Seine Sketche waren immer schon da. Sie waren bereits Kulturgut geworden, eingebrannt in die deutsche Seele und jederzeit zitierfähig. Anders als einige meiner Freunde kann ich, glaube ich, kaum einen Sketch auswendig, gesehen habe ich sie aber immer wieder gerne und ich bin wie viele Nachrufer der Meinung, dass Loriot seinen feinfühlige und doch beißend satirischen Humor auf eine Weise umgesetzt hat, die seitdem keiner mehr erreicht hat.

Nachdem die Nachricht von Loriots Tod durchgesickert war überschlug sich auch mein Newsfeed auf Facebook mit Trauerbekundungen, Zitaten und YouTube-Links. Jedoch: So sehr ich Loriots Werk verehre – echte Trauer wollte sich bei mir nicht einstellen. Trauer in dem Sinn, als dass ich nicht plötzlich das Gefühl hatte, in meinem Leben würde zukünftig etwas fehlen.

In der Meldung von tagesschau.de heißt es im vorletzten Absatz:

Vor ein paar Jahren zog sich Loriot ganz bewusst aus der Öffentlichkeit zurück. “Wenn ich alt und klapprig bin und keinen Gedanken mehr im Kopf habe und nicht mehr weiß, wo oben und unten ist, dann höre ich auf”, sagte er auf die Frage nach seinem Alter und das Aufhören im Beruf.

Selbst vor diesem völligen Rückzug vor rund fünf Jahren war Loriot, eigentlich schon seit Mitte der 90er Jahre, nicht mehr im eigentlichen Sinne “aktiv”. Gelegentlich eröffnete er Ausstellungen und nahm Preise entgegen und war dabei – da bin ich mir sicher – noch immer so charmant und klug wie zuvor. Zu mir drang das schon gar nicht mehr durch – und ich denke, den meisten meiner Zeitgenossen geht es ähnlich. So ist es auch kein Wunder, dass sich alle Nachrufe auf seine Sketche, Filme und Texte konzentrieren und nicht auf sein letztes großes Alterswerk (von dem ich nicht sicher bin, ob es existiert). Loriot war 87. Ich denke es ist, im großen kosmischen Gleichgewicht gesehen, okay, dass er gestorben ist.

Natürlich gilt das nicht für seine Familie und seine Freunde und für jeden anderen, der ihn persönlich kannte. Aber für uns Ottonormal-Kabarettkonsumenten hier unten hat er es doch genau richtig gemacht. Als lebendige, öffentliche Person war er längst verblasst, während sein unsterbliches Werk noch immer genau so strahlt wie damals. Loriot hat mir die letzten 15 Jahre nicht gefehlt, weil sein Vermächtnis wichtiger war als seine Öffentlichkeit. Daher wird er mir auch zukünftig nicht fehlen. Er ist ja immer noch da.