The Tyranny of Images

Reality is too banal to behold.
Images are easily consumed. Shat out. Recycled. 
(Text is distinctive from other images. You see the words but you think their idea.)
Cinema is crass. Hypnotically so.
Why film that tree? Why this tree, of all trees?
(The same could be said for whatever you see, anywhere. This screen. This room. This world outside.)
The ideal is better than the reality. All of the potential realities together are better than this one reality alone. Why this: the worst question because there is only this. 
The eye does not edit.
Film is inescapably insular.
(All art is.)
Filmed objects appear to move. Too often we mistake movement for actual movement. Actual movement flows, whereas frames are fundamentally chopped; the static masquerading as dynamic.
We mistake film for life because we see movement unfolding. We see something moving & so we believe that it happened.
Sound & vision are two separate channels. Should they remain separate?
When we can do too much, we do too much.
Silent film, uncorrupted by words, stripped of color, elevated by music, cast in emotion. Primal. Strength through simplicity. 
But a camera should move. A person must move, swoon, dive, turn, crouch, spring, spin, burrow, dance.
Images dance on (our) heads, press (their) boots on (our) brain, & we stare up at them (with our) eyes unblinking & we call the dance pretty but we can't move. Numb & paralyzed & we can't move.
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