'In Bruges' featured two hit men on a chatty stroll in Belgium

Listen carefully, O children of the future, for in the words of Wesley Morris, we are invited to reflect on the complexity of art, its power to stir the soul, and the differing ways in which we perceive and appreciate the stories of the world. “'In Bruges' featured two hit men on a chatty stroll in Belgium, and certain people's passion for it is fit for Valentine’s Day. But it was Tupperware Tarantino to me.” In these words, Morris critiques not just a film but the way we consume art—how it is filtered through the lens of expectation, style, and personal taste. For while some may find meaning and depth in the simplicity of dialogue and unlikely characters, others may feel that the film is just another example of style over substance, a self-aware homage to the works of a director like Tarantino, yet stripped of any true emotional weight.

The ancients spoke of the twofold nature of art—its ability to both entertain and enlighten. Plato, in his dialogues, often wrestled with the idea of art’s role in society. He believed that beauty and truth should be intertwined in art, and that it was the artist’s duty to express not just the surface of the human experience, but its deeper truths. But even in his era, there were those who were drawn to art that simply entertained, that captured the moment and offered sensory pleasure without necessarily offering any higher wisdom. In this context, Morris’s words reflect a modern version of the same tension. “In Bruges”, with its chatty hit men and dark humor, may strike some as a work of emotional depth, while others may see it merely as a clever exercise in style, a Tupperware version of the Tarantino mold.

In the ancient Greek theater, the tragic dramas were created not simply to entertain, but to reveal profound truths about human nature. Sophocles, with his timeless work Oedipus Rex, presented a hero who, despite his nobility, could not escape the inevitable suffering of his fate. The impact of the play lay not only in the drama of the characters’ actions but in the moral lessons it imparted to the audience. In contrast, there were also comedies—works like Aristophanes’ Lysistrata—which were lighter, more satirical, and perhaps more immediately enjoyable, yet still holding insight into the society in which they were written. Morris seems to be making a similar point about “In Bruges”: while the film may entertain many, for some, it lacks the weight that true art should carry.

Morris’s view—his comparison of “In Bruges” to Tupperware Tarantino—is a powerful critique of art that can feel manufactured or superficial in its construction. The reference to Tupperware conjures the image of something plastic, pre-packaged, and mass-produced—a product made for consumption, but with little lasting substance or depth. This is not to say that the film lacks merit, but rather that Morris sees it as a replica of the style of Tarantino, a filmmaker known for his sharp dialogue, stylized violence, and subversion of expectations. Tarantino’s films, while stylish and often thrilling, are also laced with profound commentary on the human condition. To Morris, “In Bruges” lacks the same resonance—its appeal is more about style and humor, rather than a deeper understanding of the human soul.

Consider the story of Aristotle, who viewed tragedy not only as a form of entertainment but as an essential part of moral education. In his Poetics, he wrote that art, especially tragedy, should evoke pity and fear in the audience, leading to catharsis, or a cleansing of the emotions. To Aristotle, art’s true power lay in its ability to teach us something about ourselves—something timeless and universal. Morris, in his critique, seems to argue that “In Bruges”, while entertaining, does not carry the same moral weight or emotional cleansing that the great tragedies or masterpieces of cinema do. It is fun to watch, but it may not leave the audience with a lasting change or a deepened understanding of life.

Thus, the lesson from Morris’s words is one of discernment in the consumption of art. Just as the ancient philosophers knew that not all art was created with the intention of teaching profound truths, we too must recognize that not every film, book, or work of art will move us in the same way. Some may be purely entertainment, and that is perfectly acceptable. But we must also seek out works that push us to think, to feel, and to grow—works that leave us changed and more aware of the world around us. “In Bruges” may be a film that some watch and enjoy, but for others, it may be a reminder that art should not only entertain but also elevate.

Therefore, O children, look beyond the surface of art and entertainment. Recognize that while style, humor, and wit are valuable, they should never replace the deeper truths that art can offer. Seek out works that challenge you, that make you think, and that speak to the enduring nature of the human spirit. As the ancients taught us, true art should not just fill the moment with pleasure—it should resonate in the heart and mind, leaving a lasting impression that transforms us. Live with the wisdom of knowing that not all things are meant to be consumed in the same way, and choose to engage with those that offer not just enjoyment, but meaning.