Help! Even though he just released a masterpiece, his box office revenue dropped drastically because of the manga.
Dear Remy
This week, I shared with the world my best work, a film that is more than just storytelling. This is a masterpiece of cinematic mastery, blending ancient texts and philosophical musings with cutting-edge audience interaction. Imagine the vastness of Homer, the intellectual rigor of Dante, and the cinematic flair of Kubrick. But it’s modern and mass-market. The film grapples with humanity’s darkest desires: the corrupting nature of power, the dangers of discovery, and of course the existential fears that lurk within our souls. Each frame is painstakingly crafted to look like a brush stroke on a canvas intended for display in the Louvre. This wasn’t just a movie, it was art.
And yet…somehow, this week’s box office champion is an animated feature with talking animals. I’m perplexed. My films have been shunned by a public that prefers brightly colored pixels to the weighty introspection of my masterpieces. I was already planning the party. Veuve Clicquot’s nine Jeroboams were ready to toast their inevitable rise to number one. Instead, I ended up being ignored again. My only consolation is that perhaps decades from now, my film will be unearthed by a future civilization, and by that time the people living in the ruins of a dystopia will be able to escape with hand-cranked devices in a toxic environment. By viewing it, you will finally understand the depth of my work. Sandstorm.
How do I deal with this painful insult from a world that doesn’t understand my vision? Should I wait for posthumous vindication, like Van Gogh?
your,
bored genius
Dear Jade Genius
Your passion for movies is undeniable. And indeed, your project sounds monumental. But maybe they’ve spent so much time painstakingly crafting this masterpiece that they’ve forgotten a key element in filmmaking: connection. Did that animated feature engage viewers in a different way than your work? Is it possible that in your pursuit of depth, you missed out on the simple joys of storytelling?
Overthinking can be the enemy of influence. Consider that your audience might be looking for something a little more upbeat right now, less brooding nihilism and more talking birds. What does this tell us about brevity and accessibility?
The animation feature is basically simple. And maybe that’s their beauty. They have a unique way of thinking that is easy to understand for their target audience and at the same time remains beautiful for moms and pops. On the other hand, I offered a list of influences longer than a CVS receipt, from Dante to Van Gogh.
Finally, Jeroboam and his friends do not drink alcohol themselves. Why not invite your friends over to watch that animated movie and remember that not all art needs to change the world to be loved?
The best,
Remy
Illustration: Russ Tudor
Did my husband just get better? Do I have to too?
Dear Remy
My husband and I always had an appointment. I grew old ignominiously, laughing at the passage of time as I sipped on Crystal and reminisced about the heady, hedonistic nights of the 2000s. We were both full of life, partied a lot, and somehow miraculously came out with all our teeth intact and just a little bit soft around the edges. I’ve always accepted that. It’s about embracing the “macrame scarecrow” look, which is a patchwork of life experiences.
But out of nowhere, my husband blinded me with his midlife “glow.” When he was cast in an action-comedy movie, he suddenly began fasting, swallowing raw egg yolks, and exercising with such frenzy that it scared the neighborhood dogs. What is his goal? I have since learned that being “cut” is a desire to have one’s sinews visible, like a statue of David or an iguana that cannot be fed.
I now find myself standing next to this Adonis. To be honest, I feel like a crumpled shopping bag flapping in the wind. While he’s here doing bench presses and bodyweight exercises, I’m thinking about my second bag of Cheez-Its. Shall I try to shine too? Honestly, I want to eat carbs.
your,
glow steady
Dear Glowsteady
First, assess your ability to embrace the Macrame Scarecrow aesthetic. There’s an art to it, and you seem to be doing it well. The pressure to “keep up” with your new husband is real, but the decision to continue to shine is yours to make. If you want more carbs than cardio, own it.
Glow-ups can be both physically and mentally tiring. Are you happy in your own skin? If so, why chase something that feels inauthentic? Your brilliance doesn’t have to be on the outside. Perhaps you shine brightest from within. Maybe they radiate wisdom and humor from a life well lived (and well partyed).
The idea that couples have to look harmonious is nonsense. You and your husband don’t have matching sets of Bergdorf’s salad tongs. You are two people. Your body should serve you as an individual first, and if your husband wants to do burpees while you reach for a Bordeaux, it doesn’t matter which you choose.
Your husband may be chiseled now, but in the long run, it’s the shared laughs and experiences, not the yolks of eggs, that will truly bond you together.
The best,
Remy
My old writing partner wants a reunion: good idea or bad idea?
Dear Remy
My old writing partner and I were a dynamic duo in Hollywood, but one fateful day we got into an argument in the Polo Lounge and he fired a shrimp scampi at my head. Yes, we were young, insecure, competitive, and our breakup was tabloid-worthy. I’ll never forget the look on the busboy’s face when my partner got so furious he flipped the table over and stormed out.
Ten years later, I suddenly received an email from him suggesting we meet again. Despite his struggles and my own successes, I find myself wondering if a comeback will be profitable. Could we become the Liam and Noel Gallaghers of writing? Or maybe this reunion is about old tensions that made us fight over a makeup artist we both had a crush on (he, by the way, has since left L.A. to start a wood lathe business in Santa Fe). Will it reignite?
Should I reminisce about the past and reunite with him, or should I continue running alone?
your,
Do the duo again?
Dear Duo Redo?
Ah, the shrimp toss at the Polo Lounge is the epitome of a fiery creative partnership. After such a legendary farewell, it’s understandable that a reunion might sound just as touching. But here’s a question. What has been the driving force behind your success since then? Has independence helped you grow or do you miss that collaborative spark (apart from the seafood assault)?
There’s always the chance that this reunion will reignite the magic, or madness. Consider whether this partnership will help you today or if it just evokes nostalgia. Nostalgia is great, but you need to choose carefully which parts of your past you want to relive. Maybe 80s leg warmers or neon? Please take it back. 80s wood paneling and aspic? Leave it.
So ask yourself this question. Could this collaboration be a revitalizing chapter, or is it more like reviving a sitcom that shouldn’t have gone beyond season 4?
Whatever you decide, remember that success stands on its own. If you team up again, make sure it’s for the creative synergy you once shared, not for tabloid headlines. And perhaps keep all seafood well away from the table.
The best,
remy
Remy Blumenfeld is a veteran television producer and founder of Vitality Guru, which provides business and career coaching to top talent in the media industry. Please send your queries to guru@vitality.guru.
Question edited by Sarah Mills.
