When people write about movies that have changed their lives, it is often something sweeping, cinematic, a puncture wound straight to the heart. I think of the misty mountain air of Cold Mountain, or the reality bending practical shots of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. In high school the Coen Brothers convinced me that there could be nothing better in life than writing a script, even better if I wrote it with my brother. (Dear Jonathan, we still can! It’s not too late!) Maybe for you, dear reader, it was a Scorsese movie that had you dreaming of making movies or a Wes Anderson flick that had you considering the picturesque quality of simple moments.
Movies let us feel feelings without having to express them openly. At 16, I could tell someone that I loved Garden State and it would tell them everything I wanted them to know about me and, at the same time, nothing at all. The movie posters on my dorm room wall were mindfully placed to announce “who I was” to anyone entering or passing by my open door. I wouldn’t have to say a word. I suppose this is how the rich and influential connect with one another over fine art, but for the rest of us, it’s movies (and the occasional TV show).
We quote lines instead of having conversations, and relive favorite episodes to feel comfortable in a group setting. And that is because even people who don’t obsess over or pick apart movies like we do here, have a favorite movie. It’s hard to exist now and not have at least one favorite movie. Movies connect us. Pictures and sounds and language. Basic human things that when aligned in a particular way or a particular order make us feel. We laugh and cry and scream. Our lizard brains know only emotion whether it be “real” or not.
I mean, ask anyone about their favorite childhood movie. It is likely so buried into their memory you will send them straight back to their footie pajamas and a glass of milk in seconds. It’s funny now, I thought that with the endless streaming options available that kids would lose the specialness of watching the same movie over and over again until the tape warps. But it turns out that they still obsess, comforted by their favorite stories and songs and big-eyed characters. Even with the stories in the clouds, back where they came from in the first place, kids obsess.
But back to those supposed life-changing films. The ones arranged so perfectly that every year a panel of mostly white men decide which story is the best story told that year. (And we let them.) These epic movies are great, sure. But for me, and I’m certain for you too, lesser awarded movies have left a deeper impact on my heart.
Whether they be childhood flicks or simply something that just “got you”, these movies mean something outside of their technical ability. They are life changing in the way that scent can be. They can bring you back to an age, a moment, a different hand holding onto yours. To the days that surround that singular moment and make life bigger and wider. For me, those are the real life changing movies: the ones we watched during first dates, ones we watched to distract ourselves from deaths, movies that made us feel seen, movies that made us laugh (really, really laugh), movies that bonded us to someone special. They don’t need an Academy Award to deeply matter. Monster Squad (1987) is the perfect example of this. For decades its actors thought their movie was a flop (it bombed in box offices) only to find a treasure trove of fans years later who adored the movie so passionately they sold out Alamo Drafthouse locations across the country for screenings of it. I love that story.
And I love the power of filmmaking to bring people together in that way. Sure, Hollywood can be a cesspool of greed, but we forgive all that because we love what film can do for us. And I think it’s especially important to remember why movies matter to us at a time when creators of these moments are picketing for their right for fair compensation, it’s important we remember how art and how the many pictures we absorb become a part of our stories, of our dialogues, our core memories, and our poster-ed dorm room walls.
Taking all this into consideration, I will be taking my passion for movies one step further and featuring an essay each month on one of these “life-changing” movies. And I hope it will encourage you to take stock of your favorites and maybe even join me in doing the same.
Love this idea. Can't wait to read about the movies you pick for the series!