On Knowing it when you see it

There are stories, and then there are good stories. While it sure sounds obvious, sometimes I really think it's worth reasserting every once and a while.

And the real thing about it is that so often the best stories are the hardest to describe. OK, Transformers the movie. I loved it. Thought it was exciting, heroic and generally just an all-round good time to watch. I'd call it a good movie without reservation. But in comparison, this weekend I stumbled upon a free DVD at a yard-sale that is in a completely different class entirely. It's called The Snowalker.

That was a good story.

I could go on about the beautiful scenery shots, or the character development, or other technical aspects, but none of that would come close to explaining (really) why it was so good. Especially since doing so would point out all the ways it fell short of the popular standards of today's movies. This film would not make it in theaters today, which I think is a shame, because it still hit me like a brick wall. It's one of those stories where its genuineness and power are self-evident. And that's the trait I want to center in on for a just a few minutes of musing.

In the realm of art appreciation, there are two alternating schools. One is utilitarian and technical. You can see the craftsmanship of the brushwork, you can highlight how a story promotes awareness of a social cause, or you can champion the "Mozart Effect" of playing classical music to kids. These are all true and worthwhile things. And they're very useful in convincing the School Board or Principle in keeping your program when budgets are tight. But really, I've always held the opinion that these really miss the point when you get right down to it.

The other school is existential, often called the "Art for Art's Sake" movement. It basically says "there is beauty, why would you not want to promote it?" I think that comes much closer to the real essence of why we artistic types do what we do, why we seem to always be dreaming, and kinda burn inside. There's just something ineffable that is evident all over our world. It exists in the trees and the sunsets, on beaches and in people's eyes. It's captured in stories, on canvases, and in music.

And you simply can't describe it. Not really. And in that frame of mind, I think it's safe to say you can't explain it either. Nor should you. It's just there. And you know it when you see it.

It's my humble opinion that there are a lot of things in life like that. And that we should foster a sensitivity to them as much as we possibly can.