I’m relatively convinced that it’s comparison that’s at the root of all unhappiness.
Comparisons wreck relationships and equally do they ruin pop culture.
I’m voracious when it comes to films, to books: I see a lot, I read a lot and thus it’s rare that I’m ever eagerly anticipating or long await-ing anything.
Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom was an exception.
If I’m asked that impossible “favourite film” question, I’ll usually answer Anderson’s The Royal Tenenbaums (2001). I generally run an anti-repeat-viewing policy, but I’ve seen and loved Tenenbaums a great few times.
So when a writer/director like Anderson gifts you something so wonderful, so seductively quirky as Tenenbaums and you can’t help but expect that everything he follows it with will be equally great. To dazzle you and move you exactly the same way.
You can’t help help but harbour expectations.
And he delivered with The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2009); the shark scene still makes me teary (admittedly Sigur Rós probably had a hand in that):
The Darjeeling Limited (2007) was also quite wonderful:
And Fantastic Mr Fox (2009) is probably one of the most visually stunning films I’ve ever seen:
I first read about Moonrise Kingdom – read that it was set in New England – while I was living in New England. Of all my various personality oddities, my belief in synchronicity, in patterns, defines me. And my blind worship of serendipity allowed me to develop expectations. I knew better – I always know better – but the long-awaiting and eager anticipation soon started.
So what went wrong? Why, half an hour in, was I fidgeting? Why did I leave the cinema with a single word review: meh.
My intention in this blog is not to write reviews but rather to tease out talking points. For Moonrise Kingdom my interest is in comparison. Of querying the role it plays in enjoyment.
The friend I saw Moonrise Kingdom with loved it. You could see it in his hideously delighted smile. He was, needless to say, an Anderson virgin. He had nothing to compare it with.
Oh how I envied him.
I too remember what it was like to watch Rushmore (1998). To be charmed, to be dazed, to have my first taste of Anderson’s gorgeously melancholic/faux-nostalgic/perfectly soundtracked splendidness.
Alas, Moonrise Kingdom was not my first Anderson foray. And it is here where the disappointment lies.
I had to compare Moonrise Kingdom to Anderson’s other films. And it gives me no pleasure to say it faired poorly. It offered nothing I hadn’t seen before, it didn’t conjure any feelings I hadn’t felt before, and that whimsical scrapbook-y, swap card aesthetic of his other films felt worn a little thin.
Had I simply compared it with the other films I’d seen either side of it – The Watch and Your Sister’s Sister – it might have been considered good; great even. But my brain doesn’t work that way. Rarely do we examine things in isolation, in a vacuum.
Years ago I attended a philosophy lecture. (An accident, admittedly). The theme was the daring suggestion that we view and analyse each event – in history, in life – as completely independent, individual and as separate from everything else around it. As a political scientist the idea seemed thoroughly preposterous: I’m all about patterns, about explanations, about connections and time-lines.
But I was thinking about that lecture as I left the cinema. About the possibility of daring not to compare.
Imagine if we didn’t compare, for example, date 27 with date 1, and thus didn’t feel resentful that things weren’t as romantically spectacular.
Imagine if we didn’t hear that first The Editors song and compare it to – and thus dismiss it – as a poor imitation of REM.
Imagine if we didn’t compare Moonrise Kingdom with any other film and just enjoyed it on its own merits.
Imagine if we didn’t compare our appearances, our lives, our relationships, our work with others.
I’m pretty sure our brains don’t work that way – I’m convinced we haven’t yet conjured a method of evaluating stuff without considering all that’s around it – and yet I’m almost certain that I’ve scratched the surface of (un)happiness.
Misha Ketchell
Managing Editor at The Conversation
A bit hard on The Editors Lauren. There's something naively grandiose about their stuff that I quite enjoy. But you're right about comparison being the path to unhappiness. It's why it's never wise to dwell on the path not travelled. You've made me want to go and watch Wes Anderson films, which is a pity b/c I'm at the office and have to work.
Lauren Rosewarne
Senior Lecturer at University of Melbourne
Work really does get in the way of pop culture!
As for The Editors, let's just agree to disagree. Although once I heard the lead singer interviewed and he named R.E.M. as his inspiration. Such a mistake! Students should never ever put name the book they stole the most from in their bibliography ;)
Linus Bowden
management consultant
Your political scientist self was right, and the philosophy lecturer was wrong.
What your philosophy lecturer was suggesting is humanly impossible, except in maybe some extremely rare types of brain damage. The closest experience would be the kind of anterograde amnesia portrayed by Guy Pearce in Memento, which itself was inspired was the famous experiences of an actual brain damage patient, Henry Mailson. From studying Mailson we now know that even brain damage that destroys our declarative memory…
Read moreLauren Rosewarne
Senior Lecturer at University of Melbourne
I agree that eschewing comparisons is impossible. But I can't pretend I don't wish I had the cognitive skills to do so sometimes.
Linus Bowden
management consultant
There would be ways that could at least "train" us to get closer to that ability, but ironically, they themselves rely on comparisons.
For example, instead of writing a bitter review of how Oasis' "What's the Story (Morning Glory)" was such a disappointment follow-up to "Definitely Maybe", you could never mention their debut album even once; instead structuring the entire review around musings on the title's meaning. I was living in London when Morning Glory was released. Some English friends…
Read moreLauren Rosewarne
Senior Lecturer at University of Melbourne
Alternatively conduct a brain wipe - as in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotlight Mind (2004) - after each bit of pop culture consumed so the next we see/hear gets judged only on its own merits.
Dale Bloom
Analyst
These are all American films and American culture. But that is wonderful, as it helps people in Australia know who they are.
Tracy Heiss
logged in via Facebook
Not sure about that Dale; I think there's a culture across continents that have underlying deep appreciation for the obscure. In certain ways, this isn't an American, or Australian cultural group...and it's one of the things that conects people regardless of nationality or religion, or other types of overt culture.
Dale Bloom
Analyst
Perhaps our multicultural society has become so bland, dull and lacking a culture of its own, we now fill the vacuum by consuming American culture and pretending to be Americans.
Lauren Rosewarne
Senior Lecturer at University of Melbourne
I suspect you're right. I for example, chose to come to work today dressed as a Mayflower pilgrim; evidence of just how extensively I've internalised these values.
Dale Bloom
Analyst
Yes, I once had a relative who said the Australian stock horse had become one of the best breeds of horses in the world.
Then they mixed it with the American quarter horse, and the breed declined and has never been the same since.
I have often wondered if the same is true of the Australian people, and our consumption of American culture.
Tracy Heiss
logged in via Facebook
Great concepts being discussed here! I'm in complete agreement when it comes to film, music, and other entertainments...but veer off wildly when it comes to relationships/ experiencing nature, even jobs. Maybe I'm a bit of a split system, but with age I've found I enjoy so much MORE from my comparisons in the latter aspects of my life. I didn't SEE nearly as much in my youth.
Lauren Rosewarne
Senior Lecturer at University of Melbourne
I think there's something dodgy about comparing past relationships. I don't think it's possible not to, mind you, but it can't be healthy.
Michael Pulsford
Lecturer, RMIT School Of Art
I liked Moonrise Kingdom, but I know what you mean. I've had the experience you describe most often with artists who have very distinctive styles.
For example, I loved the first two Salman Rushdie novels I read, and have never been able to make it through a third. Everyone else I've spoken to about Rushdie (caveat: there are less than 20 such people) says the first book of his they read was their favourite, too. I had similar experiences with Tom Robbins, Neal Stephenson, Richard Brautigan, Jack…
Read moreLauren Rosewarne
Senior Lecturer at University of Melbourne
I definitely agree that part of what made Fantastic Mr Fox so great was the newness. It still had that Anderson quirky kitschy charm thing but it was also different too. I'm not sure Moonrise Kingdom did anything new. I didn’t hate it. I’m just sad because I so wanted to love it.
I like your point about entry points to pop culture often being our favourite. My favourite band is the National, my introduction to them was their album Boxer (2007) and thus nothing they ever put out is going to top…
Read moreMichael Pulsford
Lecturer, RMIT School Of Art
You could be right, but personally I think it's artist-specific rather than media-specific: more about a certain kind of world-builder than a certain medium of delivery. I can think of plenty of musicians who I came to like more, or differently, with subsequent encounters.
(Also, the experience we're talking about overlaps a bit with some artists having only one or two amazing works in them, the stunning debuts which are never quite topped for whatever reason. If you encounter their works in the order in which they were made you're inevitably underwhelmed by the later ones.)
Jon Xu
Student (Department of Mathematics and Statistics)
Your mention of comparison being a cause of unhappiness seems to coincide almost exactly with how Buddhist philosophy sees unhappiness. One of the main aspects of Buddhist thought is to train the mind to see things as they are as opposed to an discursively charged lens. Brain scans of skilled meditation practitioners show that their happiness levels are off the charts.
Trying to reconcile this fact with the need for discursive thinking in everyday life is an interesting question.
alfred venison
records manager (public sector)
"The theme was the daring suggestion that we view and analyse each event – in history, in life – as completely independent, individual and as separate from everything else around it."
"One of the main aspects of Buddhist thought is to train the mind to see things as they are as opposed to an discursively charged lens."
my feeling too, though i come at buddhist thought by a more pop cult byway involving alan watts & dt (daisetsu teitaro ) suzuki, christmas humphreys & richard alpert ("baba ram…
Read moreLinus Bowden
management consultant
Alright, here's a question about pop culture comparisons that might excite the analytically inclined Cultural Studies boffins.
I don't follow new popular music very much at all anymore. I never listen to JJJ (ir any radio really). Probably my greatest exposure is the odd night I catch bits of Rage. But I find that when do I hear new stuff I tend to like it. I figured out recently that the reason is it all sounds so familiar. I raised this with a group of a similar-aged pals, and we had a spirited…
Read moreDale Bloom
Analyst
I would think there is nothing really new in pop culture, just gimmick, commercialised Americanism and lately some feminism. Most of it is simply trash.
As for music, most musicians who are really interested in music seem to convert to jazz or eventually incorporate some form of jazz. It seems the most versatile type of music, while offering a challenge to play it.
Steve Thomas
logged in via Twitter
So, yes, Buddah had the answer to this. Or to paraphrase, It's all good. :)
The converse of your problem is the fear before seeing something that you will be disappointed. E.g. My expectation with the Tintin film, which happily was great, but I was so afraid they would make something awful.
BTW, I loved the film, although I've never seen Anderson's other films. So now I have some great movies to look forward to.
Lauren Rosewarne
Senior Lecturer at University of Melbourne
I walked out of Tintin. I did think it was a nice-looking film though, I just didn't need more than, say, 20 minutes of it. But then I had no prior relationship with Tintin so had no expectations; .