Selling out

I get that everything is derivative in some way, but I’m disappointed that 22 Jump Street‘s premise was that it absolutely-definitely wasn’t 21 Jump Street. The entire movie is a self-effacing mockery of its own purely-profit-driven impetus for creation, and it ends up as a simultaneous indictment and celebration of capitalism. Everyone knows the product is crap, and pointing out that reality only makes the product crappier, but in a sea of crap, the turd that embraces its crap-ness the most is devoured with glee.

The end sequence, however, which projected the series ad infinitum, was brilliant in its hyperbolic self-promotion. It was a disgusted but smugly satisfied example of potential art conceding to inevitable commercial culture. A tip of my hat for owning your whoredom, Jump Street. A wag of my finger to your pimp, hegemony.

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