“ and then,” says James Lipton, voice dripping with warm honey, on his recurring application for the US Olympics pomposity squad, called In The Actors’ studio, “ you appeared in a film called…” (and the pause is so glowingly precious you would happily serve a life sentence on devil’s island if you could somehow reach through the screen and grab his throat) …Splash.”
The audience applauds rapturously and Tom Hanks looks profoundly embarrassed, as he should, as he absolutely should. The strangest thing is that no one in the audience stands up and shouts: “Oh for fuck’s sake it was “Splash”, not Citizen Fucking Kane.” Splash, a lightweight comedy about a mermaid from the hit director of Cocoon and The Da Vinci Code, and now it is now accorded legendary status by these goons.
This happens all the time In The Actors’ Studio: reverence and applause is awarded utterly irrespective of the quality of whatever they are discussing. In the Actors’ Studio is not the only place it happens: there’s hardly a song on YouTube that isn’t followed by dozens of comments celebrating its classic status and comparing it to the trash that is being produced now. A song that got to number 37 on the UK chart in 1993 is apparently an enduring example of the indomitability of the human imagination, a reminder of how perfect the world could have been if we hadn’t somehow tragically lost our way.
They have whole TV and Radio stations devoted to this twattish and sepia tinted heritage deceit: The Rolling Stones have a combined age of three geological periods and they still tour: this is simply unacceptable.
The way I heard it “Utopia” means nowhere, but turns out it was all around us for pretty much all of our lives, right up to, well, the last decade, or the one before that, or last month or something.
Just not now. Now it’s all shit, not like back then.
Or if it is now then it’s not here: it’s over there: stuff is really good over there. Or else it’s really good for everyone, except that is, everyone who actually is over there. They are looking elsewhere: that’s where it’s really good, or terrible, or, well whatever you need to make your point without having to read or think or ask anybody who is not a goldfish recovering from severe head trauma.