The U.S. entertainment juggernaut is eating away at much of the best of what we, as a species, have created over many, many centuries. All the particular experiences that are entry points into -- and manifestations of -- the universal are progressively being dismissed in favor of a "generic" look and feel which are to intrinsic worth what a "Big Mac" is to "Roquefort" cheese. (Interesting note: after French farmers complained that McDonald's France did not offer any of the traditional French foods in its "restaurants," Roquefort was tested by McDonald's and declared to be "not up to McDonald's standards!")

To me, this Roquefort story has the feel of the fate of Amélie at the Oscars.

One word about "entertainment" compared to European, especially French "divertissement."

I receive most "entertainment" productions as a form of catering to the lowest common denominator, without any effort made to raise standards (unlike what Cézanne said: "Art is a religion. Its aim is the elevation of thought").

Yet, I receive "divertissement" productions as an effort to cater to the "light" part in us, the part that can indeed criticize, but that does so in good spirit, giving "the other" the benefit of the doubt (to say the least!).

I believe that the Europeans in general, and the French in particular, ought to be supported in their efforts to maintain the "cultural exception," an exception that would keep all works of culture away from being considered as mere "manufactured goods."

The U.S. juggernaut claims that all things are "goods" and therefore must come under the regulations of trade agreements. This not only can kill agencies like the National Film Board of Canada (to name one great example of a state agency with a proven record), but it also promotes and even imposes a need to compete with the big commercial studios on their own turf, increasing the "generic" look we see more and more now, no matter where the work comes from. The French cultural exception means that a state can (and in my book must) subsidize its own cultural agencies (and workers), and that means that a movie such as Amélie can and will be possible again (that movie would likely never have been made were it not for substantial public help in its financing).

What is at stake is enormous, it literally signifies whether or not "Rembrandt" will survive (let alone thrive), or if South Park will totally prevail.

It does not take a lot of imagination to understand the fate of future "Rembrandt/Amélie" if the bean counters and other shareholders were to control whatever will be "allowed and supported" in all fields of creative work. Budgets are most often defined and policed by people who are very much in touch with a very narrow and limited idea of "the possible," and Art is made by those who dare explore the impossible. (Reading about the pioneers of animation, even those who started what are today major commercial interests, one is struck by how "experimental" it all was, and by how "frozen" things seem to have become since. There used to be a "let's see where this goes" attitude, now replaced by "make sure you/we know what it will be like before you start, or don't even bother.") Even though Amélie calls on minimal animation (though the little that is present is oh so well integrated), its made-for-the-U.S. trailer typifies what is wrong with the mindset behind "habitual animation."

"The world is not merchandise!"

What are "we" (it should really be: "what am I") doing animation for?

What is it "we" are aiming at when putting in those long hours?

This may seem to be a trivial question, if not an intrusive one, but I suggest that it would be very healthy if many amongst us were willing and able to ask themselves that question, and stay with it for a while.

After all, is animation in crisis, or not?

Why is it that, so often, Hollywood and the "North American popular culture" take something that has depth and complexity, and almost invariably, transform it into something that is so very bland, so full of clichés, based on recipes, so predictable, so tasteless (in all the meanings of that term)?

Disney reigns supreme amongst those guilty of borrowing (stealing?) civilization-forming myths, and turning them into entertainment, in effect "de-mythicizing" them, rendering them "harmless" and depriving them of their deep significance and impact, nullifying their formative mission.

The appallingly simplistic world view this approach instills in the audiences that succumb to that kind of "message" is no doubt responsible for the overly narrow "understanding" of life's inherent complexity that governs the current U.S. political and cultural agenda (after all, political leaders are fed the same "entertainment pabulum" most of us have been raised on, their values and frame of reference are set by the same dumbing-down regimen).

Unlike "habitual animation," life is a bit more complex than a mere "good versus evil" duality.