It’s fair to say that we’ve all got a favourite movie. Could be anything; a shlocky horror, French New Wave, a classic from a film history class- it doesn’t matter. You’ve got one, I’ve got one, and every person we see on the street has one. Some people, like your dear writer here, will scream to the skies about their favourite movie.
If you caught me 10 years ago, I’d tell you that Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive was my favourite film. “Oh it’s objectively the best action film” I’d say, “It subverts many modern tropes from lesser action.”
8 years ago when I was in film school, and I swear this is true, I’d say it was Man With A Movie Camera. A film I owned, watched once, and in my heart knew that if I told people it was my favourite they would finally find me interesting- this was not the case. I know exactly how I came off.
5 years ago I’d claim my favourite to be Scott Derrickson’s Doctor Strange. I’d finally accepted my love for a blockbuster, and odd as it is, Doctor Strange set me on my spiritual path in a way, thus allowing me to feel a genuine connection to something that may get hand waived and eye-rolled by the more “elevated” movie-lover. This was, incidentally, when I started not wanting to tell people my favourites.
Last year my favourite of all time was a split between Jim Jarmusch’s Paterson and Danny Boyles Steve Jobs. I had a copy of Paterson downloaded to my phone and would watch it on the bus (if you’ve seen it, you know the irony) while Steve Jobs I played on VLC with repeat on, there was something about the tone that I couldn’t get enough of (same thing happened with Adam McKay’s The Big Short a year later). I don’t particularly care for Apple and don’t own any of their products, not for any strong reason. I grew up on Windows, tried Apple briefly, then acknowledge my stubbornness and went right back to Windows.
The point is this, I loved all of these films for different reasons every single time. Yet as time went on I became acutely aware of how people reacted to my liking of certain films. Sometimes I’d get a good conversation and genuine, mutual enjoyment of the same movies. However, most of the time people hadn’t seen them, or would say they had no interest, or the worst- watch them with me and nitpick the film.
It could be serious criticism or light hearted badgering, either way I felt hurt. I’d formed a bond to the media in question, and to have someone come in to that sphere and “take it down a peg” just felt as visceral as an attack on me.
Drive was too slowly paced with awkward dialogue, and a bad payoff.
Doctor Strange is another cash grab comic book movie, I’ve got comic fatigue, it’s just a blockbuster!
Paterson is about nothing. Boring.
Steve Jobs is about Steve Jobs, you like this? I don’t know if I could sit through that.
All valid disagreements or criticisms, all cut me to my core and made me feel as though I liked a bad thing.
At first I thought it was me being affected by something I personally worked to overcome: speaking in objective language. “It’s just bad.” “It’s an awful movie.” You get the drill.
I used to speak like that, but realized that I was annoying others by speaking with a superiority complex. Then came the era of “I believe…” “In my opinion…” “Well, to me it’s…” And the ever important “…that’s just my taste though! It may just be/not be for me.”
It does yield very positive discussions, I assure you, to speak actively subjective. The issue is that now, when I hear someone using objective language, it bothers me because I feel the need to correct that it may just not be for them, or even worse, agree with their criticisms, but only add that I liked it anyways (An easy way to devalue important things to yourself).
Showing someone a piece of media you enjoy, at best, is a fun time that you had and now someone has relished that with you. At its hardest, however, media can be revealing about a person. Where you laugh at it, where it makes you cry, what scares you- these can be intensely revealing things for people depending on the scene.
I watched Ari Aster’s Hereditary with someone who I’m no longer friends with, and they witnessed my having a panic attack at it due to the triggering (for me) nature of that film. I do think it’s excellent, but I foolishly went in blind. Having someone see that side of me caught unaware, someone who I learned to not trust, changed my feeling about which movies I choose to watch with people.
When I’ve got co-watchers I now opt for lighter fare; fun movies, poorly made movies, blockbuster horror and action. It makes it easier to hear someone’s dislike of it if I haven’t become personally attached. On the other hand, if they want to show me a personal film, I make sure to appreciate that trust and watch carefully, and not disrespect that with bad jokes (unless that’s on the watch-menu established by the presenter.)
However, I find it difficult to watch personal emotionally revealing media with others- I never want a part of myself revealed when I’d rather it remain unknown. The irony that I’m writing this online isn’t lost on me.
At its core, this piece that I’m writing is more meant as a general message: If someone wants to share a favourite piece of media with you, it’s your job as someone who’s been let in to that circle to show respect. Sure, they might want to show you something simple and fun, but sometimes a film can be about the viewer as much as it is about a creator’s vision.
It takes a lot of different reactions in the brain to see a film, love it, feel connected to it, and then find someone else who you trust enough to want to share that with. It takes trust, it takes respect, and it takes a degree of vulnerability.
Maybe Doctor Strange is just another blockbuster Marvel movie with box office quotas and producer feedback. In fact, not even maybe, that’s what it is: a product. For me, when I saw it I was in the middle of a spiritual crisis. I had never considered an alternative approach to faith. Then I saw the magic in that movie. I saw things I’d heard of in occult sections at book stores. The idea of dusty tomes providing inner relief inspired me and allowed me to seek help beyond the avenues I’d already explored.
Maybe the movie expanded on that magic for the sake of a blockbuster, but it was based on things that a person could seek out and study. And I did. And it helped.
Media has that power, we can never anticipate what will hit us and tear our hearts out. When it does, we should feel secure in sharing that media vulnerability with others. I’d rather live in a world where being vulnerable doesn’t carry the risk of judgment and consternation. That can only push us further away from one another. Instead I’d rather see vulnerability be celebrated and appreciated- A delicate feeling passed between friends, family, and lovers.
Movies are an important pastime to many, but aren’t pastimes always better with friends?
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