Stupid instrumental music

I think that I have written before on the subject of my unerring promptness but I don’t mind repeating myself and besides, this time I have a new slant on the topic. My “slant” is that since I am unfailingly prompt I have exhausted my sleigh of Christmas related gripes and anecdotes prematurely and find myself with nothing to say about the holiday. (Further inspections shows that this is not a new slant on the topic, but actually a poor excuse for a lead-in to an entirely unrelated topic.)

The new and, I imagine, not particularly interesting topic is film trailers and more specifically, my overly emotional reaction to them. In order to justify the seeming left-fieldness of the topic I will begin with a small story about my day that ends with me getting teary over a YouTube clip and dribbling snot all over my brand new laptop (!!!).

So today I was doing what I generally do during the day. I wrote a little, screwed around on the internet a little, read all of the features sections of all of the hippest websites and completely ignored any of the pressing economic or political news, and then stared at a variety of blogs. One of these blogs (and I’m not a blog name dropper) discusses the Edwardian period, fashion and social trends of the 19th century and a whole slew of other literary nerd topics. Today the bloggist was on about the movie The Young Victoria, which I had never heard of. My ignorance is not startling as I rarely know about movies because I do not patronize the ugly younger brother of film, television, but I like to think that I keep abreast of high-budget period pieces.

Anyway, so I was watching the trailer that the blogger posted and the usual trailer dramatics unfolded: swelling music, cutaways to bold words on a black background, lovers staring at one another in ecstasy, someone walking purposefully with a pistol, ect. Exactly the sort of cookie-cutter antics that you would expect someone with the frightful disposition that I’ve got to get all disdainful about. But here’s the thing: I never get disdainful about movie trailers; I tear up, I giggle, and my heart throbs in time with the stupid instrumental music.

I honestly think that I have the exact susceptible disposition that they use to gauge the effects of images and sound on the rampant, impressionable masses. When the trailer director wants sympathy, he gets it from me by the bucketful; when he wants me to feel uplifted by the idea that Sandra Bullock is saving some impoverished future footballer, I feel uplifted. And when someone stares into the camera and yells something about how their lover is their whole life and how their fate belongs to their country and the music gets louder and hyperboles flash across the screen like an ugly, sentimental crack dream? Sometimes I get a little emotional.

Afterwards I might re-watch the trailer to recapture a little of that prosthetic emotion but I never want to watch these movies. The whole thing is very funky and definitely un-Christmasy.