I am all for artistic licence in a fairy tale sense, where imaginations can run free, but when it comes to what is really real life situations, I believe everything depicted must be part of the possible, the likely, or the everyday, not mayhem, razzmatazz or hyperbole for their own sake. I know that I am old-fashioned, don’t move with the times, and often find new fashions, both ludicrous and objectionable – take the time when it was the done thing to wear trousers that exposed the crease in the buttocks. What people do to themselves as their choice. What is portrayed for wide world consumption should be possible, if not totally acceptable, because we live in a world now, where anything goes, and standards are a thing of the past.
Being trapped in a house, the television can be a relief from boredom and in consequence is turned to on a regular basis. I have saved a number of films which when I came to watch them were so ludicrous, so totally impossible and so absolutely savage, that I switch them off. If you read my CV at the top of this blog you may conclude that I’m no powder-puff, and not easily disturbed. But now I find that brutality, the beatings that would be impossible if carried out as displayed, because none of those doing the beating would find they could use their hands after two or three blows of the quality we are offered. It was first in the Dirty Harry series, with Clint Eastwood in the title role, where gangsters and hitmen could fire-off innumerable bullets without reloading. Now this has become a standard in these types of films, with cars riddled with bullets, and the hero getting away scot free. This diet of crude murder and mayhem is almost daily and so I think it is little wonder that youngsters, particularly in America, can buy a gun which can assassinate their playmates and their teachers in one mad escapade, a copy of what they see weekly on television.