Our generational works of art, those monuments—many of them share this sensibility. It’s a kind of enough-already detachment, an exhaustion, an opting for comedy over morals, lessons, rules. And look how they stand up! How much newer and better those movies and books can seem than works made five or three years ago. Everyone can make their own list. Mine includes: Exile in Guyville, by Liz Phair; A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again, by David Foster Wallace (‘62). Everything by Quentin Tarantino (‘63). Ditto Wes Anderson (‘69), Richard Linklater (‘60), and Tina Fey (‘70). The key lyric—it can serve as a coda—opens the Nirvana song “Breed”: “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care . . .”
Each of these works was made for a different reason and under different circumstances, but each carries the same message: I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care; get it off, get it off, get it off; go away, go away, go away. Detachment, remove, disgust with the busy-handed do-goodism of the older brother in the peace shirt. History is big and we are small; grand projects end in ruin; sometimes the best you can do is have a drink—that’s what we know. And that we’re all going to die anyway. Think about that scene in Pulp Fiction: after a terrible night in which Mia Wallace (Uma Thurman, ‘70) nearly dies of an overdose—she ends up wild-eyed, a needle plunged into her heart—Vincent Vega (John Travolta, ‘54) walks toward her door, lingering to see if anything important or profound will be said. “What’s the takeaway?” the boomer asks—for this is the moment when you usually get the takeaway. Mia turns to Vincent …show more content…
I mean, it’s just so
Each of these works was made for a different reason and under different circumstances, but each carries the same message: I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care; get it off, get it off, get it off; go away, go away, go away. Detachment, remove, disgust with the busy-handed do-goodism of the older brother in the peace shirt. History is big and we are small; grand projects end in ruin; sometimes the best you can do is have a drink—that’s what we know. And that we’re all going to die anyway. Think about that scene in Pulp Fiction: after a terrible night in which Mia Wallace (Uma Thurman, ‘70) nearly dies of an overdose—she ends up wild-eyed, a needle plunged into her heart—Vincent Vega (John Travolta, ‘54) walks toward her door, lingering to see if anything important or profound will be said. “What’s the takeaway?” the boomer asks—for this is the moment when you usually get the takeaway. Mia turns to Vincent …show more content…
I mean, it’s just so