The View From Scranton

Toil & Trouble

It could be anywhere, any nowhere that is. Like right around the bend from here. The place of no station. The waylay of the land. Where life's just an interruption between the main events of birth and death.

It is that bleak.

I blog of Bubble, Soderbergh's well-chronicled foray into the belly of a beastly Middle America. No actor could portray such stunning inconsequence 'cause no actor could ever imagine such inconsequence lives, so Soderbergh let the lives portray themselves.

And what bland lives they follow. Fast food and slow motion, a yawn amid slumber. The color of straw and half as tasty, a third as nutritious, a quarter as eventful. Lives of no joy, no hope, no glory.

Which seems to be the dull point. Bubble blows one away. Not outta the seat, mind you. But like dust is blown across a parking lot. This is the way many we live now. For worse.

Know this.

posted by John Hood. @ 8:55 AM