Dumb pleasures

A core joy in life is my review site Read Listen Watch. It consumes a huge chunk of my life: reading a book, watching a film/series, or listening to an album, every two days or so; writing a review; marketing the reviews on social media. Why do I do it? Well, I certainly see it as my gift to the world, an act of generosity. But to be honest, if I’m anything in this world, I’m a reader, a book worm (and, these days, a watcher and listener). I love to-the-minute culture and finding a way to interpret it.

It should be apparent that I treat all this as heavy-shit serious. And occasionally, the weekly grind of consuming and processing culture results in blowback. Occasionally, I find myself reading or watching something that is patently dumb but refreshingly liberating. Three weeks ago, I indulged in a stupidly over-the-top vigilante movie, Nobody. And I loved it: the theatrical, silly violence, the choreography, the pandering to some base instinct in me. I recommend it to anyone who ever watched Clint Eastwood with base, dumb delight.

And yesterday I needed a silly laugh and knew just where to turn: a Netflix series, Swedish Dicks. The concept – two mismatched, incompetent Swedish-born private eyes in LA – is a stupid as each short episode is slapstick. Months earlier, I’d endured two episodes and thought, “nup, too bonkers even for me.” Yesterday I watched Season 1, Episode 3, and roared with laughter. I recommend it to anyone who ever fell off her chair watching Monty Python.

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