It turns out that Marvin Gaye was also homosexual.

Thanks to the stupidity of an actor, Terrence Howard , incapable of kissing another man on screen, I discover that Marvin Gaye was homosexual. Or maybe not, but he is in the umpteenth attempt at a biopic , a succession of cursed and frustrated attempts, by a giant. The curious thing is that, beyond a few rumors, there is no evidence that he was. Perhaps, having reached this absurd point in humanity, the screenwriter asked the AI, and it got confused by the surname: "Yes, he was Gay." With a capital G, since he didn't add the 'e' until the beginning of his artistic career.

Sorry for the bad joke, but it's hard to understand what compels people to resort to conjecture in a life like Gaye's, which is told to you in a Turkish soap opera and you think they've gone crazy with all the drama. The contrasting reality, without mentioning the music because I assume it doesn't matter, includes: a father who preached to a pseudo-cult who, between beatings and conservative fundamentalism, found time to dress up as a woman; two failed marriages, the second open; constant infidelities with models, actresses, and aristocrats; the death of his duet partner, Tammi Terrell , after she fainted in his arms at a concert; political activism in the turbulent 70s (this was given to us by What's Going On ); depression and three suicide attempts; paranoia and firearms; addiction to pornography and cocaine... and being shot dead by his father on the eve of his 45th birthday. By his father! Was there really a lack of content?

I don't want to be the wanking incel who stages a psychodrama on social media because Snow White isn't white or Lara Croft now has believable tits. In fact, I'm proudly woke , and every time it's used as an insult, I smile. It doesn't offend me in the least when people say Gaye was gay, but it doesn't make any sense to force the plot, and it's part of an endemic evil in today's cinema. I'll say it, and I feel old as I type: they don't make movies anymore, they make salads . Plot-based and genre-based. Random ingredients that satisfy the algorithm and offer something for every viewer and social group, even if it's five minutes of a 120-minute film and the whole thing makes no sense.

They make pizza with pineapple.

I don't like the movie, I applaud "what it means." Whatever that means. I put on Emilia Pérez and I lasted 20 minutes. I'm no JK Rowling , but it was a ridiculous medley of unlikely characters living absurd adventures and, if anything was missing, singing. They sing in every movie these days. Badly, if possible. That's why I loved A Complete Unknown , because the songs make sense, Timothée Chalamet and company sing like gods, and they don't try to invent anything. It portrays Bob Dylan as what he is, what he has always been and what he wanted to be: an idiot. A complete idiot. And a genius, of course. Like Marvin Gaye.