Self-indulgence in art – Roma and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood
- T. Bruce Howie
- Mar 17, 2020
- 4 min read
Updated: Apr 14, 2020
Everyone’s seen at least one piece of art in their time and have thought “why do people like this? Is it awful, or do I just not get it?”. It’s an entirely valid feeling, as many people will say “it’s a Neo-(insert vague adjective) miracle!” when in fact it’s just…nothing. Or some colours. Or in one NGV thing I saw, basically child pornography^. It’s images that have no real meaning beyond the artist’s head because they have not made their intentions clear, but some people merely assume that their lack of understanding makes whatever art they see even better.

We've all been here.
Hedonism or self-indulgence in art is surprisingly common these days – many films, even great ones such as Joker or Avengers: Endgame, just add in that unnecessary scene that we don’t need that is purely for the benefit of director, writer or producer. Some directors roll with it. Terence Malick made a whole career out of meaningless images that people acclaimed because they saw some sort of deeper meaning that really wasn’t there. The trouble with hedonism comes when a very indulgent movie is acclaimed by critics for no real reason beyond “…it looks pretty! There’s some ambition!”. Those aren’t points worth 5-star reviews, and yet here we are, in a world where vagueness and the worst wording possible is rampant in critic's reviews and films.

Poorly-written reviews like this, with no real explanation of the merits of the movie, no obvious authorial intent, or good analysis, generally are why I have trouble comprehending critic's reviews, FYI.
For my first example, I’m going to talk about a movie I hate with a vengeance that everyone else seems to drool over, Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma. A movie shot entirely in black-and-white, it chronicles the tale of a middle-class family in 1980’s Mexico and specifically their maid as they navigate life’s troubles. Seems at least partially interesting, right?

Wrong.
See, the movie is semi-autobiographical by Cuarón, based on his own family’s servant and their troubles in life. Cuarón is intending the movie as a sort of intimate vision into the lives of these people, even portraying the mundane events such as cleaning in trying to show their character and lives.
But it’s all in Cuarón’s head. While he may see his old friends and family spring to life on screen, we see…someone walking around a house cleaning dog poop. The way the movie is shot and edited makes us feel we are behind a glass case, never truly interacting with the actors or the characters. The lack of a score or any sort of obvious symbolism makes this movie even harder to digest on any level because we know nothing about what Cuarón is trying to say, and instead of marveling at the black-and-white vistas of Mexico, we watch someone do martial arts naked and feel nothing beyond confusion and slight body image envy.

The opening credits are literally this image for three straight minutes. At least it effectively foreshadows the tonality and pace of the rest of the movie.
Another, more recent example of such a hedonistic cinematic crime is Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. The whole movie is intended as a tribute to the glorious cinematic days of the 1960’s, and so features many plot points, set tributes and offshoot moments referencing the 60’s. The trouble is, those references are so numerous that they crowd the film to a ridiculous 161-minute runtime. The references in the film are purely for director Quentin Tarantino and no-one else except the cinema buffs in the theatre, and everyone else is bored or confused why we are stopping a compelling story just to watch part of an old movie or watch Sharon Tate fold laundry.

Tarantino's overly-graphic, non-charming and overindulgent love letter to 1960's Hollywood. Mmm, Oscar material.
I do admire both Alfonso Cuarón and Quentin Tarantino for their filmography as a whole, but these are the movies where they just were so caught up in their ideas, they forgot to let the audience in on the action. The void of real reason behind decisions, the lack of visual cues or the complete disregard of self-awareness about their audience all drag these movies down. As for why they got such great reviews, I don’t know. Maybe the ideas and ambitions behind both were good enough to garner them, but you can’t praise great ideas which are poorly executed. That’s not how life works.
A good recent example of how to not self-indulge is Taika Waititi’s Jojo Rabbit. Rather than try and convince the audience of its own brilliance by being vague about intentions and offering up pretty images, Jojo Rabbit is clear in what it has to say, and places any artistic points or tributes in the flow of the film rather than braking completely like Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. And in comparison to Roma, rather than simply give us dazzling visuals but not do anything with them to make us feel immersed, the use of colour in Jojo Rabbit communicates effectively to the audience what the film’s intention is. There are few things about Jojo Rabbit that are indulgent, and that took a lot of effort from Taika Waititi to resist his personal indulgences, but it pays off magnificently.

Every scene in this movie is relevant, symbolic or raucously hilarious. More filmmakers should watch this.
In short? Please ensure whatever art you are making is clear in its intentions. Don’t try to pimp your movie as an amazing thing when it’s just a portrait of what you like and nothing else. Take these movies as examples, and farewell.
^I might need to clarify this statement, but I will not, for the sake of the children reading this article.
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