You want a power tool that moves hearts? Puts you right in the pocket? The place of bliss? The same ineffable zone people seek in prayer, meditation, binge drinking, sex and Ultimate Frisbee?

Here’s a free Machiavellian lesson, courtesy of Anna Wintour: Perfect hair, designer sunglasses and pinched inscrutability will keep an industry on its intimidated toes every time.

We like to get a sense of the artists who entertain or move us. Movies are such direct emotional experiences, we feel as though we deserve a continuing relationship with the people who made them. As if they’re owned by the U.S National Park Service.  

I was a little over the top when I once described Brook Busey -- better known as “Juno” screenwriter Diablo Cody -- as a postmodern Dorothy Parker. I was referring to her pre-Hollywood days as a blogger, when she turned that me-centric pastime into something evocative and wittily readable.

Maybe I woke up channeling Steven Colbert. You be the judge. But really, what are we to make of movies such as Jane Campion’s “Bright Star,” which retells the relationship between Romantic poet John Keats and Fanny Brawne at the beginning of the 19th century, or “Coco Before Chanel,” which stars Audrey Tautou as fashion designer Gabrielle Chanel -- or Coco, as she was called?