To repeat what I said in response to Mary Ann’s question in the comments: I certainly didn’t mean to imply that Hollywood never hits the mark; I was generalizing pretty widely. I do think it happens more often that Hollywood does something good when it aims no higher than entertainment, and produces some kind of resonance almost by accident. It may be that this happens less often than it used to, since Hollywood takes itself more seriously now and also is attached (as I noted) to the more unhealthy trends of contemporary art generally: the crassness, hostility, and so forth. And I think, too, that the awesome technology now available to Hollywood must produce a sort of inertial force in the direction of big, loud, and dumb (propensities which seriously damaged The Lord of the Rings for me). And because the technology is expensive it requires that the filmmaker try to appeal to the largest possible audience.
Likewise, I didn’t mean to imply that the consciously arty is necessarily better. I can’t think of an example offhand, but I have no doubt that determinedly artistic/intellectual filmmakers have made pretentious junk which is far less worthwhile than a first-rate pop film like Star Wars (choose your own example if you don’t agree about that one). Bergman himself occasionally skates close the edge in this respect, and there probably have been lesser talents ruined by his influence.
I feel a little bad about slagging Children of Men, since its pro-life view and Christian resonance (which may be unintentional, judging by something or other I read) deserve some credit when Hollywood often does so much worse, and a lot of Christians—people, as I said, whose judgment I respect—liked it a lot. If I had seen it in a theater I might very well have been as moved as they were. I watched it on dvd, with a small picture and bad sound. (By the way, my failure to respond to it was not because I thought it misrepresented the book, although it did—I’ve read the book but was not much taken with it, either.)
It’s A Wonderful Life is a good example of Hollywood at its best. Sure, it’s sentimental and sometimes more than a bit cheesy, but the basic story is not at all sentimental. A man reluctantly spends his life doing something he didn’t really want to do because he thought it was the right thing to do, and then even that blows up in his face, confronting him with the possibility that his life has been utterly wasted. This is not sissy stuff, and it’s powerfully done, within the basic terms of the techniques of the day. And the feel-good ending, which might be considered a little much, is just a coda: the real resolution is when George Bailey recognizes the gift of life, any life, and chooses it.
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