Yes, I’ve got it. Call it the movie-going malaise. The cinematic blues. The crummy picture collywobbles. Whatever you call it, it ain’t pretty.

Choosing three of my favorite musical films for the library’s annual “Spring Musicals” series got me thinking about the musical film in general and how a great many people absolutely can’t stand the genre. It’s a stance I’ve never understood.

Bearing in mind the limitations of my own frame of reference and the fact that I might suddenly have an artistic epiphany somewhere down the road, I offer for your amusement — or argument — a small selection of “great” movies I just don’t like and haven’t liked for years.

If you’re thinking about becoming a film critic, don’t do it. It’s a foolhardy proposition under the best of circumstances.

Truth to tell, there are several movies that could be said to have changed my life over the years, but the one that stands out in my mind as a special kind of turning point is the 1967 film Casino Royale, a movie that was savaged by critics at the time of its release (which didn’t prevent it from being the second biggest money-maker of the year) and is still much maligned by folks who take the James Bond films seriously.

I’ve been reviewing movies here since late 2000 and have noticed a tendency — and I’ve mentioned this before — for some movies to have an unusually long shelf-life in Asheville. Why is this?

I thought it might be interesting to dust off a handful of “golden age” detective movies from the early years of sound. I admit the five titles chosen are, with one exception, a rather quirky and personal selection. It does, however, represent the basics of a genre that seems to be lost to us for good.

That fine old phrase “truth in advertising” is not one you often find applied to the movies, and if you do, it’s probably a lie.

Works of art shouldn’t be given a free pass just because they’re old, or because someone somewhere once wrote about how great they were. What worries me is whether or not many of these films and filmmakers are being re-evaluated, or if they’ve simply been shunted to the side to make way for the flavor of the week. All too often, that seems to be the case.

There’s a common perception that my tastes in film are strictly of the “elitist” variety. That’s an accurate picture, but it’s hardly the complete one. I have always contended that no one who truly loves movies doesn’t also love at least a certain quantity of trash.

If you want something to really worry about, scan down the whole list of nominations … and you’ll find a ticking time-bomb of potential embarassment of untold proportions. See it? Yes, it’s the Best Achievement in Makeup category. There are three nominees—La Vie en Rose, Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End and—Max Factor, save us—Norbit.

So the groundhog (I mean Punxatawny Phil—accept no substitute rodential meteorlogisists) saw his shadow this past weekend, heralding six more weeks of winter. In moviegoing terms winter — at least post-Christmas winter — means only one thing: scads of truly dismal movies being dumped in theaters throughout the land. And now this furry little prognosticator promises us another six weeks of such.

Xpress film critic Ken Hanke’s cranky — and not so cranky — movie musings