What Wrecks Your Willing Suspension of Disbelief?
This weekend's Comment Diversion comes from koko temur who was kind enough to follow the email link at the bottom of the article and send me not one, but THREE diversion ideas. Peace and blessings be upon her:
"We all have certain subjects that when depicted on screen, we cannot suspend disbelief about them. Some people on Pajiba were really bugged by legal aspect in Orphan Black while I couldn't care less, but I will go crazy about mild mistakes in military regulations on screen."
There is a story, possibly apocryphal, that when Steven Spielberg was making Jaws, a studio executive questioned his decision to [SPOILER] blow up the shark. Spielberg is touted to have replied that if the audience was still with him at that point in the movie he could do whatever he wanted to the shark. Of course, he did have the audience with him and it did work; however, that is not always the case...
I can't watch the movie Cars. They're CARS. They have no opposable thumbs and yet they live in a human-type world that would have been impossible for them to construct. It makes no kind of sense. I can't let it go. It's all I think about while watching the movie. I can agree to The Penguins of Madagascar making functional binoculars out of Dixie cups and elastic bands, but cars with restaurants and hotels is sheer insanity!
As anyone who has seen my Cannonball Read 5 reviews can attest, I have been sojourning in the Land of Shameful Reading Choices for over a year now. Yes, over a year of genre fiction set almost exclusively set in the nineteenth century. But for all the " fun consumable books" (H/T Babybearstrikesagain) I have been reading, there is only one thing in all of the genre silliness that can destroy my willing suspension of disbelief. No, not that one time a character was a freaking Valkyrie. It's when mistakes are made in the period clothing descriptions or toilette. Frankly, my perception of these mistakes is based on my over-inflated sense of my knowledge in this area, but it doesn't change the fact that historical inaccuracies lift me out of the story every time.
One more and then it's your turn. I have a lot of irks-
In the cubicle world, I am a secretary. No, I'm not supposed to use that term any more, but the other name sounds like I'm trying to make myself sound fancy and, besides, "secretary" is just easier. As an administrative professional (See? It sounds silly.), it annoys me to no end in movies and on TV when the secretary to a senior executive is a. under the age of 35, or better yet 40, or b. has any real say in the functioning of the company, or c. has a cheeky relationship and "speaks truth to power". It just doesn't work like that. You are are a minion, no matter how nice your boss is : minion. Secretaries don't move up the ladder into senior management roles. We make travel arrangements and tweak your presentations.
What logical thing gets in your way when you are trying to disappear into a movie or work of fiction? Is it the Cars thing? It's the Cars thing, isn't it?
Just one more: When characters in movies and on TV lovingly smell flowers that have no scent such as carnations. Idiots.
Okay, now you.
Comment diversion suggestions, baby hippo pics, and loose change can be sent here.
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