Author: Breana Harris

What if nearly every single one of your friends were infected with a disease that doctors could barely begin to understand, let alone treat? What if, within months or even weeks, they suffered and died? What if this disease spread to friends of friends, cousins, coworkers, acquaintances, everyone you’ve ever dated or slept with and maybe even to you?

Why can’t great art be fun? That’s the question that encapsulates the career of pop art pioneer Wayne White, one of the founding artists of Pee-wee’s Playhouse and the subject of Neil Berkeley’s 2012 documentary Beauty Is Embarrassing. the film screens this week at the Northwest Film Center.

In May of this year, Marvel Studios and Walt Disney Pictures released The Avengers, a $220 million project of unforeseen ambition and an all-star ensemble cast that just happened to be written and directed by an impish, red-headed television veteran that nobody besides his cult following had ever heard of. It went on to become the third-highest-grossing film of all time. Joss Whedon has been having one hell of a year.

This review comes with a disclaimer: I am not a “film lover.”

Just kidding, put down the pitchforks—of course I love film. But I grew out of being a film snob long ago, and I am just as happy being called a “movie buff.” I believe that entertainment is not a bad word: I love all genres of film, I don’t have lofty opinions about camera angles and I’ve only ever used the word vision ironically. I’m also constantly wary of the “Emperor’s New Clothes syndrome” in films—where something is presented in such a pretentious way that “film lovers” are obligated to like it.

Wrapped in her lover’s arms on a beautiful summer evening, a woman wonders out loud about the details of the day they met: What if things had happened differently, even by moments? What if she hadn’t been in the right place at the right time? What if fate hadn’t intervered?