It’s funny how much it’s possible to dissociate fascination with the conversation around a work from enjoyment of the work itself – to have one in pure form without the other.  An example of this, with me, is James Bond.

I don’t actually like anything about James Bond.  The franchise seems to mostly differ from completely generic action thrillers by starring a character who lacks the nobility, or the salt-of-the-earth gut appeal, of most action heroes – a cold, suave, cruel guy who’d normally be cast as the villain.  I don’t watch many action movies to begin with, and this is even worse to me than the baseline.

But reading about the franchise is a wonderful aesthetic experience – it’s like I have a sixth sensory modality devoted to experience stuff like this.  The different actors and eras, each having their/its own internal arc and relation to the others, the various takes on the character and their relation to the original novels (a whole other layer) … the amazing titles!  It’s the kind of thing I wrote this about.  On the rare occasions when I see a Bond movie, I don’t enjoy it much as a movie, and yet I enjoy it as a part of this other thing, this structure, this wonderful web.