Weird Al biopic

Written by Michael

I had a girlfriend once who loved Weird Al Yankovic. I mean, like, saw him in concert. Several times. Of course it didn’t work out.

What does it say when we all know the hackneyed forms of media so well we can parody them exactly, but stop there? This is a key problem with much modern parody—by contenting itself with mimickry, and ignoring the critical aspect that sets the spoof apart from the original, it becomes not a spur towards better art, but yet more flotsam weighing our imaginations down. Parody like this isn’t satire; it’s not corrective, which is the only reason parody is protected speech. It’s just nostalgia. Parody with critique can lead to improvement, because it sensitizes the audience to a flaw in the original; theoretically at least, this awareness makes the audience prefer future things without that flaw—truer things, less manipulative things, things that are more human. Parody without critique leads to a self-absorbed stasis, where the impersonal, primarily commercial shorthand of mass-media becomes more “real” than reality. If someone parodies something artfully, but doesn’t suggest how the original is lacking forcefully enough, there is a lack of self-confidence there, a willingness to let one’s imagination stop with what is instead of what could (or should) be. Parody like that isn’t creativity; it’s typing.