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who is the dilettante douchebag?

How did I wind up being the resident pundit and expert on all things indie? How did I become an advocate  of everything that is good and right in the world of film, the champion of the lowly independent film maker?

I’ll tell you why: no one is looking for my review of the latest Marvel Comics Franchise. My review? ”It was f-ing sick! I love Iron Man!”

Independent film makers are the unsung heroes of film. Sure, a lot of indie film is little more than a soul destroying excercise in art school angst and narcissicism, but independent film makers pour their heart and soul into their projects day in and day out, and a lot of it is surprisingly entertaining. Some of it is entertaining precisely because it is so horrible, but think that’s a lot of why I love it: you never know what you’re going to get.

Unless a film is already widely known or has a recognizable star in it, nobody wants to talk about it. Even independent film makers, unless it’s their film of course.

Independent film makers deserve their own voice. I am that voice.

I am the dilettante douchebag.

 

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