In the next two weekends, I have two very great fears. My first fear is that millions of people will cast their box office votes to see Pearl Harbor (an even worse fear is that they'll like it). My second fear is that millions of people won't go see Moulin Rouge, which opens next weekend.

Why should you not see Pearl Harbor? Because you have self-respect and a mind of your own. You understand three things: (1) that, being an intelligent person of discernment, in full possession of free will, you do not debase yourself by mindlessly enslaving yourself to the most expensive marketing campaign on the block, watching and enjoying only those movies which you are told, in thirty-second audio/video blitz bites, to watch and enjoy; (2) that Pearl Harbor is a profound and important moment in history and, in memory of those who fought and died there to protect our freedom, deserves to be treated with respect and reverence in a movie that pays tribute to the soldiers by being uncompromising in portraying their experiences on-screen as faithfully as possible -- rather than trod upon by a movie that exploits this solemn event for popcorn thrills, which insults the memories of those who died there by warping them into fodder for cheap commercial entertainment made fit for the masses by shameless concessions to political correctness at the expense of historical accuracy; (3) because the director is Michael Bay, arguably a worse mainstream director than even Renny Harlin, incapable of directing his way out of a paper bag, and in possession of an editing style that runs so counter to every purpose and principle of good editing that it actively inhibits the possibility of good storytelling. In response to savage reactions to Pearl Harbor, Michael Bay said, quote, "It's only a movie." At times we say this ourselves, of course -- movies are overvalued as often as they are undervalued -- but we also understand that this is a reprehensible display of unprofessionalism if not even the movie's own director can take his cash cow seriously, and also of gross negligence if he can dishonor our veterans with such nonchalance.

So well do you understand these things that you would not dream of casting your money in a direction that would encourage studios to continue to condescend to you and thrust lowest common denominator "entertainment" in your faces so forcefully that genuinely creative movies -- both the kind that challenge you and make you think and also the kind you can sit back and relax and wind down with -- cannot get air time thanks to every last screen at your local multiplex showing yet more screenings of that same single insufferable populist abomination of the week.

Moulin Rouge is the first pure, unconditional musical that Hollywood has made in over two decades. Why should you see Moulin Rouge? Because you understand two very important things: (1) that, unlike so many, that the musical is an irreplaceable, invaluable genre, as the combinations of stories and emotions that can be expressed in it cannot be replicated in any other, and now here is an opportunity to tell Hollywood that you resent the tragic death of the musical, thanks again to the shameless pandering to the ignorant masses who would rather see a graphics demo than anything with actual feeling, and wish its resurrection; (2) its lush visual style possesses a sorely needed kind of beauty and elegance that you appreciate but that Michael Bay couldn't comprehend if it slapped him in the face.