Sirs:
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As if having to deal with the impenetrable whinings of film critic Jonathan Rosenbaum weren’t enough, now we have filmgoers like Harris Meyer (December 2 Letters), crying about Rosenbaum?! Give me a break. Why anybody in their right mind would go to a movie, hoping for a “postmodernist cinematic breakthrough” is completely beyond me. Movies are entertainment. Period. Any other self-important film school dithering is pointless. You pays your $7.50, you takes your chances. If you didn’t like it, for whatever reason, so what? Film critics aren’t God, and great movies slip through the cracks every week. But gee whiz, knock off the crying.
I reckon films that aren’t mere entertainment play at the Music Box, so that cognoscenti can sit through some three-hour, subtitled bit of repressed Euro-filmmaking, then dissect it afterwards.
Evanston
