On my second night back in New Zealand, I went to the Light House in Pauatahanui, a lovely theatre cafe next to a reserve with the only salt marsh in the North Island. A place where you can have a bite, a drink, a peaceful walk and top it off with a movie. The $16 ticket price is high and the ticket seller did not say it was for a reserved seat, which we discovered later. The menu is cafe style with only roasted vegetables for a vegetarian choice. “Just a little meat,” or a “little bit of cheese on top” is not vegan. I’m always surprised by how much meat everyone eats.
"The Departed," an American movie, directed by Scorsese seemed a good choice. But minutes into the sexist, racist banter by DiCaprio, Damon, Wahlberg and Nicolson I was squirming in my seat. Just in case we didn’t see men plummeting each other to satisfaction, the sound reminded us that the crushed skulls were indeed crushed beyond any doubt. The movie takes place in the 60’s, a cheap shot to use politically incorrect words....c___, n_____, p____ over and over again because cops and thugs really did talk that way on the job and off.
I have never left a movie before the end – before. 40 minutes into The Departed I bolted from the theatre feeling nauseous. I do not understand extreme violence as entertainment. And I do not agree with the producers that it is simply reflecting what the public wants. We live in extreme violent times, in our homes and on the battlefields. Why do we enjoy watching others, even in ‘fictional’ stories, being hurt? Why do we want to “see” so much blood? And even in the name of “no censorship,” why do we like to see men killing each other while calling each other cunts? My mind may know a movie is just a story on the silver screen, but every cell in my body takes in every bloody blow.
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