And we love being snobs. I say "we," because while I have no real education in the meat and math and chemistry of the stuff, I'm a science groupie. Oh, just in that dumb, surface way that all artsy intellectuals think they are — listening to our Radio Lab, watching our MythBusters, reading our Brief History of Time on the bus* to look smart and whatnot. But I love sorta-sciency books and podcasts and shows and at the end of a long day, I seek them out as a break from the other side of my brain.
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Science guys get such a hadron for this collider. |
But when I left, I started to think about how there were like three people in the theater to see Particle Fever, and Noah playing next door made $43 million dollars its opening weekend. This doesn't surprise anybody, right? But why doesn't it? Because we science-y types — and by that again I just mean the type of nerd who pays for a weekend ticket to Particle Fever — get off on being exclusive. We revel in being snobs. The three of us in the theater exchanged these deeply knowing, disdainful nods that perfectly communicated: we're better than those mushy Bible-blockbuster-goers who came to the movies for a cheap thrill; my brain is going to WORK here!
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Click the image see a bigger version or click here to go to the movie's website so you can check out the disclaimer at the top. I don't recall a little move called Weird Science having any damn disclaimers! |
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Look where science got Jesse! Okay bad example. |

Cosmos is so wonderful because it's so accessible: it has great graphics, this great The Magic School Bus-style plot, and it simplifies and clarifies difficult concepts without ever condescending or compromising on the science. It's wonderfully unapologetic, too — there's no "some people believe that the Earth is only 6,000 years old," no kowtowing to myth or lore or "Intelligent Design" or other made-up bits of psuedo-science. It's just Earth, just facts, just what we've learned about our world. It's not belligerent with this information, either, but friendly and captivating, and Neil deGrasse Tyson's voice makes you feel like you're drowning in a velvet-lined pool filled with melted butter and you don't even care because it's delicious!
I will confess that even though I'm obsessed with Cosmos, it took me a little while to get past my pathetic, hipster-y protective instinct about Neil. My first reaction was to pout: "How cute that you like Cosmos; I really prefer his early stuff." Or, "You've never heard of Star Talk? You don't even know him!" And that's exactly the wrong reaction. I should have been thrilled people know Neil, thrilled that Neil is achieving such deserved but bizarre, elusive pop-culture fame, thrilled that he's sharing information and making people think.
So: watch Cosmos. Be more like Neil (I wish). Those of you who have more knowledge and degrees and credentials than I do: open yourself up to sharing what you like about stars or chimps or fossils or quarks or cells or freakonomics or psychosis or the Mesozoic or the Galapagos or whatever. You never know who's listening.
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2 comments
Write commentsWell, while Particle Fever wasn't the most exciting documentary for those of us following the Higgs Boson particle discovery, Noah was by far the worst movie I have seen in a very, very long time. Nice blog - thanks,
ReplyLaura Beaty
Awesome article!!
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