Tom Shone argues in Slate that Hollywood blockbusters are getting colder and more cerebral.

Say what you like about the directors who are regularly held up as the saviors of American cinema—the Coens, David Fincher, Darren Aronofsky, Steven Soderbergh, Wes Anderson, Paul Thomas Anderson—they all fight shy of the kind of direct strike on an audience’s emotions that is usually Hollywood’s raison d’etre. They excel at distance, dislocation, anomie, alienation, emotional cauterization, and cosmic melancholy, with a light dusting of irony covering all. Feelinks, not so much.

I agree that the balance between heart and mind is way off. And by heart I don’t mean sap and saccharine, I mean stories with truth and honesty and intimacy. A movie can’t invoke emotion if it’s not made with emotion.

Not that I’m not looking forward to Christopher Nolan’s Inception, mind. Or the next PT Anderson film, whatever it is. I appreciate a mixture, a balance. Slate magazine.