All of the dialogue around Kristin’s post, Why Write?, has gotten me thinking.
I’m at the point in my life when two whole hours back to back is far more rare than it used to be. My baby girl has created a bottle neck in my film watching queue. I have so many films passing through my life from friends, Netflix and the impressive collection at the local library, I have been forced to learn discretion. 20 to 30 minutes into a film, if it does nothing for me, I shut it down. Done. Over. Send it back. Sorry Mr. Kubrick. Sorry Mr. Bergman. Sorry Return of the Secaucus Seven. Sorry Women in Love.
The films I send back unfinished (Dogville, anyone?) I used to feel obligated to finish because a certain group of people thought they were great. Looking back, I made the choice to finish them because I wanted to fit in with those people. But maybe I’m not ready for those people and maybe I’m not ready for those films. Because, although The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie may be a “modern masterpiece” this guy is just not ready for it.
Which brings up the central question of Kristin’s post, when is a movie bad? Certain movies simply do suck, but I’m willing to bet there are a lot less out there than we think.
It’s no secret that I love Cassavetes. Let’s take Faces as a case in point. There’s nothing easy about that film. If I’d watched that film as a freshman in college I would’ve hated it. Ever listen to junior high boys talk about their favorite movies? Those are the guys that made Alien Vs. Predator profitable. My little sister watched Clueless in junior high and started talking like a bimbo because she thought Alicia Silverstone was cool.
Loving a film is like a relationship with another person. It’s organic. Different films speak to us at different times for different reasons. The point is to watch what we love, but be open to something new. You never know when something totally new will grab you. But when you’ve gotten a mouthful of green eggs and ham and it isn’t working, have the sense to say, “Sorry. I don’t want this right now.” Shut it off and recognize the beautiful thing about movies: They change as we change. They pass in and out of our lives and mean different things depending on when and where we cross paths. It certainly isn’t close minded to shut one off every now and again.
I think a lot of us are confused when it comes to being open minded. Being open minded means being tolerant of ideas we disagree with at a given point in time. It doesn’t mean we adopt those ideas as our own. Someday, we may adopt this idea or that idea, but we may not be ready now. So don’t do it. Give the idea a shot. If it doesn’t work out, drop that idea in the mail and send it back to Netflix.
One Comment
Although I know all too well what it’s like to have too little time on one’s hands, I generally disagree with the practice of turning off a film. If one were to go into every film blindly, with no expectations, then it would be a different matter. But don’t we seek out films by Bergman, Bunuel, Kubrick and Cassavetes because we’ve heard these great things about them? Hasn’t their worth been validated to a certain extent by third parties? When I’m watching a film and it doesn’t grab me in the first twenty or thirty minutes (which is all the time, because I have trouble watching films on small screens), I’ll generally give it the benefit of the doubt. I know that it means something to someone - or, most likely, a great many people - and I want to understand what that meaning is. Curiosity conquers boredom - curiosity inverts boredom.
And even if I’m not ready to accept an idea or the film that presents it, I need to see the whole film to understand that idea, and how I might relate to it. I’ve seen too many pictures that change drastically and alter the audience’s perception of them mid-course to think otherwise.
But of course, I’m a bit of a hypocrite - if someone turned off Aliens Vs. Predator halfway through, I wouldn’t blink an eye.