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.