In some ways, I'm loathe to criticize this film, as so many of my friends (usually of a similar new-age sensibility, but more gullible) found it so inspiring. And it should be pointed out that What the Bleep has some inspiring things to say: that we have the choice to create our own lives; that reality is subjective; that our addiction to victimization can be redirected into taking ownership of our full power, etc., etc. What pissed me off about the film, though, was its transparent design to lure the viewer in by showing off some flashy and cool ideas (grounded in pseudo-science at best), then gradually spiralling down into a rigidly defined path of correct action. This film is not about ideas, it's about action, and the specified action, followed to its ultimate conclusion, is to give up your belongings to Ramtha. Bleep ping-pongs between three basic approaches to draw you in: the "talking head" segments, which utilize "experts" to validate your vague sense that there is a better way to live your life; the "dramatic" segments, in which Marlee Matlin demonstrates how your misery can be turned into wonder; and the "whimsical" segments, which include one extremely weird animated segment that parodies the "Addicted to Love" video – in its entirety – to illustrate how you are addicted to behaviors that limit your potential. The resulting film is disorienting where it intends to be amusing, and bizarre where it hopes to be challenging. All of this might even have been tolerable if the film's cinematic qualities weren't so bleepin' retarded. Visually, #$*! looks like the average LensCrafters commercial. Dramatically, it performs to the level of a made-for-Lifetime movie. The music is straight out of a 1988 new age CD bin … you can almost feel the Vangelis longbox in your hands. Which normally would please me, if there were any indication that the filmmakers knew they were making something that wasn't cool. Rather, Bleep is loud and proud about what it's doing, like a nerd talking to the prom queen about D&D, and never realizing she'd give anything to be able to blow Brad, the star quarterback. (?) Even if you remain open-minded through the wonderment of the supposedly expert quantum physics discussions and the subsequent development of a rigidly anti-emotion viewpoint, you should pay careful attention to the credits, in which the "experts" you've been listening to are revealed to be, among others, a chiropractor, a grad student, and "Ramtha channeled by JZ" (JZ Knight, the founder of the Ramtha school, which funded this movie). In one respect, I almost admire the cult for successfully putting this movie out and creating the perception that it is a cool new twist on A Brief History of Time, but mostly I think that this kind of film is incredibly dangerous, since most folks won't see through the propaganda, instead being distracted by the "cool ideas," like children watching magic tricks. All the critics, "open minded" self-improvement types, contrarian hipsters, and psuedo-intellectuals who found this movie inspiring: may great Ramtha rise up from Atlantis and strike you down, you fucking dupes.
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