I dunno. Maybe I'm too understanding. Or maybe I just know that he put a lot of time and effort and money into his stuff, so I hope that he gets the best out of it that he can. I mean, I know (and you know) how much of a mental boner I have for Crispin, but even just setting that aside... I was genuinely impressed by What Is It? And I actually went into it thinking, "Oh well, even if it sucks or is self-indulgent and silly, I'll still love you, Crispin." I really didn't initially expect what I actually got out of it, which was a whole lot of enjoyable mind-fucking and a film of genuine quality that I could relate too. Far more than I've gotten from mainstream Hollywood, anyway.
I've been thinking a lot about the nature of criticism as I've been very sensitive to it lately. Not, like, boo-hoo sensitive... I guess. But depression kind of turns your mind to flaws. Flaws in yourself, in what you produce, etc. And then, immediately, the reality that there are faults in everything. Nothing human beings make is flawless.
So then, what is criticism, when it's not constructive or solicited? I firmly believe, after some observation, that such criticism (such that you might find on Portal of Evil or GAFF or on much of the Internet) is frequently less about whatever it is you are criticising and more about raising one's social status in a group. By criticising someone else or someone else's work, you allow yourself to stand upon their flaws to achieve a higher status within the group... regardless of whether the object of your criticism is in that particular group or not.
Not that criticism isn't an important thing to a functioning society... I've just been trying to figure out why some people are incapable of enjoying anything. And I think this is at least part of the reason why some people appear to do nothing except try to shoot down stuff other people like. They're too busy trying to advance socially. Maybe? Just a thought.
Ironically, right after I spent way too much time being self-pitying and foisting my feelings of inadequacy as a writer, an artist, and whatever upon kleenexwoman (God, I'm so sorry for that), I got an email from these people asking if they could, like, discuss the one serious House fanfic I wrote. ... man, all that kvetching about what a horrible writer I am, and then some random person has to go and say they like something I've done. I'm so confused.
In other news, I am awesome. And always beware of self-proclaimed fag-hags. Particularly when, um, I think we were talking about a man being eaten by a bear. Hellooooo.
Also, ghostgecko drew a wonderful little sketch of the only woman Pendergast should ever have sex with. And they would make a little caramel-colored baby and it would be the most wonderful thing ever. (He also drew me the most adorably cute picture of Avery--oh god, do you remember Avery?--with naked Pendergast... but I'm going to tease you all and make you wait for him to post it. Heh.)