I Am Done With Violence
Enough scenes of horrid brutality, bloodied faces, tire irons to the knee. Can you purge?
By Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist
http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/gate/archive/2006/03/15/notes031It's happened. I have reached saturation, the threshold, my absolute limit.
I cannot watch another gruesome fight scene, another wanton massacre, another thuggish gangsta beat-down, another head-butt, skull-crush, pickax face-rip, crazed stabbing, fistfight, leg-smash, finger-chop, nose-crack, throat slash or another gruesome scene featuring a grisly one-eyed mutant hacking off a woman's arms and tearing off her face with a chainsaw and laughing maniacally.
I am, I realize, a broken American. Defective. Problematic. I know that ultraviolence is the American way. It makes us feel righteous and strong. Violence is how we stay, ahem, "free." Without violence, says everyone from the NRA to the U.S. military to the president, we would be overrun by, well, violence. It is in our blood and in our cells and deep in our gun-sucking culture and America without its violence is like a South Dakota Republican without his misogyny. I know.
But I do not care. Something has happened. Something has switched over in the past few years of my life, some sort of awareness has been raised and a threshold has been lowered and I now cannot help but see stark displays of brutish violence -- in movies, on TV, in real life -- as exactly what they are: Dark, dank, base energy, cancerous and poisonous, and I do not care where it is or if it's couched in the context of "raw" moviemaking or gritty urban inner-city tale. I am done.
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http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/gate/archive/2006/03/15/notes031506.DTL&nl=fix