‘Round suppertime yesterday something dawned on me:

I’ve become “That Guy”.

It’s not really sitting well with me, take a look beyond the jump as I try to explain.

I try to take pride in being a good guy. I try not to be cynical, I try to look for the good in things, and I try to be a source of positive energy. This applies to my attitude towards my day job, my relationship with my friends, family and wife, and even my attitude towards my fellow bloggers and podcasters. But somehow, somewhere along the way, something has gone wrong. I’ve lost a piece of the puzzle…and my incomplete attitude has turned me into “That Guy”.

You know who I’m talking about I’m certain:

He’s probably left a know-it-all comment.
He’s told you you’re wrong for not liking something he does, or for liking something he doesn’t.
He’s made you feel lousy for not knowing some inane way of the Hollywood world.
He might have even told you how to write your blog or record your podcast.

Has anyone told me that I’m a shithead for acting this way? No. Should they have? Probably. Would they be warranted in doing so? Absolutely.

From a blogging and podcasting perspective, I haven’t the foggiest clue where this attitude came from…after all I’m hardly /Film or Filmspotting. I don’t get paid to do these things, and even if I was there are plenty of others not getting paid who are doing it better than I do. So who am I to pick apart other people’s passion projects? No one, that’s who. What’s worse is that I’m picking on people unprovoked. Sure a blogger might shoot from the hip and miss some microscopic detail…or rattle off opinion during a podcast that I might not agree with…but that’s supposed to be part of it all isn’t it?

I’ve become elitest. I’ve become a snob. I’ve become a guy who pisses on people for wanting to watch BURLESQUE or THE EXPENDABLES. I’m the guy saying that THE SOCIAL NETWORK isn’t CITIZEN KANE. I’m the guy screaming at the moon about why animated films should be eligible for Best Picture. I once lived and died for the films of Jerry Bruckheimer and Kevin Smith and I’ve forsaken them for Terrance Malick and Stanley Kubrick.

But again – it isn’t enough that I like this stuff. Somehow I’ve grown a need to bombard everyone else who doesn’t share my habits to the letter and tell them how wrong they are. And not in a playful way like Bob Turnbull has perfected on me; more like “You’re a fucking moron” way that lacks all respect and friendship. And I can’t help but think that there’s only so much of it people will put up with before they stop talking to me.

The funniest thing in all of this? I’m never always on this side of the table. There have been many a time when I’ve sat down opposite various cinephiles and asked them what they thought of something I dug, and watched them look down their nose as they described the film as “pedestrian, cliché, contrived, trite, etc, etc, etc. It sucks. I know it sucks. I end up feeling dumb for brining it up or even liking it. And what do I do? I turn around and do the very same thing to other people…or worse, I pick apart their hard work that they are doing for nothing more than the pure joy of it. It’s the attitude of a chronic assoholic, and I’m not proud of it.

I pride myself on being knowledgable…on digging deeper for more and better films. But it all counts for nothing if the people I care about don’t care about me and my pretentious passions.

As I write this, TOP GUN is playing in the background – very deliberately. I wanted to remind myself of who I was, and try to get a better grip on who I am. Somewhere inside this art-house-goin’ twerp, is a joker who once lived for movies like that…and who secretly still does. That joker’s taste got picked on all the time…and it sucked.

There will always be people on the internet telling you how you’re wrong and what else you should be doing. This joker and this blog will no longer be one of those. If I have in the past, I’m sorry and hope I haven’t pissed you off too badly.

This blog is a place to celebrate a passion for film. It’s time I remembered that.