Give me a stage where this bull he can rage: A movie rant by a film geek

I'd like to move my way out of the humor category for a moment [if you can even call my previous blogs "humor," after all, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit] and speak about one of my passions, hopefully igniting the flame of my two or three faithful readers to indulge in said passion as well, and we can all live happily ever after. Now, I know that I've covered this topic before. In fact, I actually covered it in my last post [and if you actually read my blog, you would know that. But you don't. That's ok, I poisoned your soup. We're even.] I feel that the subject should be explored further, however, and this time from a positive instead of a negative perspective.

I love film. There is nothing in the world like the feeling you get when a movie gives you chills, or leaves you with an overwhelming sadness or a ray of hope. I love the art of storytelling and the way in which a movie is paced. I love seeing a brilliant performance that is so good I forget entirely that I've seen this same actor before, in a million different parts, and for a couple of brief hours, they are the character, indistinguishable from the fantasy world the story weaves.

My obsession with film [specifically independent and smaller features] began a few years ago, though I'm not completly sure what started the fire. If I had to pinpoint, I would probably say it began with seeing Pulp Fiction for the first time. That film opened my eyes to what a movie truly could be, beyond the tired cliché of the Hollywood elite. It was a film that broke all of my expectations, weaving ingeniously elements of humor, suspense, drama and, finally, a moment of uplifting redemption. I will never forget Sam Jackson's speech in the coffee shop, and the words "I'm trying real hard to be the shepard" will forever be etched in my memory.

I would say the next film that really grabbed my attention, and secured my fascination with art films, was American Beauty. As soon as the words "My name is Lester Burnham. In a year, I'll be dead" were spoken, I was hooked. I literally had a chill go up and down my body and I was immediately engrossed in this character's world and struggle.

As the inevitable mortal end drew near and finally presented itself, I had been so immersed within the story that I felt a sharp sting when the infamous incident finally happened. It was an amazing feeling, and one which I've tried to replacate with every film I've seen since.

I enjoy many movies, and certainly some reach the status of "very good," but there are few movies that have left me practically speechless. There is only one film where I actually was speechless, and, I swear to you, I couldn't find the words to describe what I had just seen. That film was Raging Bull.

A friend of mine [and remember, everyone on this blog remains annonymous] invited me to a film festival at his college. We were going to catch the closing night movie, the aforementioned Scorsese masterpiece. I had rented the film before on the recommendation of a teacher, but didn't really give it a chance, and actually turned it off before the opening credits were over [they bored me.] Looking back, I'm pretty ashamed that I didn't give movies more of a chance, and I will never do such a thing again.

So, I'm sitting in this theatre with about a hundred other people, not sure what exactly to expect, when the lights go down and the music starts. A slow, somber melody that sounds like it's from the thirties while a couple of credits go by over a black screen. "A Martin Scorsese picture?" I ask myself, finding it a bit odd and interesting that he would credit himself this way instead of the usual choice of wording: "A so and so film."

A few moments later, the music kicked into high gear and the beautiful melody immediately set the emotional stage. There before me, on a fifty foot high screen, was Robert De Niro, bouncing around a boxing ring in slow motion. The entire screen is covered in black and white, and beyond the ring, behind a wall of fog, I could see the lights of camera bulbs going off one by one. I had a revelation at that exact moment- this was incredible. Before the opening credits had even finished, I was in.

The film itself did not disappoint, as I found myself connected to the characters more than I ever had in a movie before, and De Niro's anguished screams of "Why?" later in the movie will forever be the best scene I have ever had the pleasure to witness. There wasn't a single part of the film that I would change, it was as close to flawless as you're going to get in the movies.

Afterward I was completly overwhelmed with joy. No, scratch that. It was more than joy. My friends, what I felt after that movie ended was no less than euphoria. I'm not kidding. As silly as it may sound [although if you've ever been to a movie that made you feel that way, you certainly don't think it sounds silly] I felt downright euphoric, and all at once realized that that was absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the best film I had ever seen [and I still feel that way to this day, about four years later.]

As my friend and I walked out from the confines of the theatre into the dark night, there was only one thing either of us could say [and I'm not making this up]: after some conversation in the lobby, once the movie was brought up, we were suddenly lost for words, and for a good couple of minutes, the only thing either of us could say was "Wow." It was actually kind of funny.

Me: Wow.

My friend: Yeah, wow.

Me: Seriously. Holy shit, seriously, wow!

My friend: Totally. Just...wow.

Me: I mean, I mean...wow, man. Wow.

We were literally speechless [and not high, you smartasses.] I think it's safe to say that neither of us had ever been so sucked into a movie, had been so transported that we felt forever changed once it was over. Movies would never be the same after that.

It's an incredible testament to art itself that film can take one out of their ordinary [or not so ordinary] lives and transport them to another world. You sit in a dark room and watch millions of tiny pictures played out fluidly before your eyes, and somehow it has the power to change perception, challenge tradition, affect emotion and induce thought. Film can make everything that's bothering you in your life disappear, if only for a few hours.

So, if anyone wonders why I'm such a film geek, that's why. When I see a film that brings me near that state of total euphoria [although nothing has topped Raging Bull for inducing that feeling, a few have come close, i.e. Memento and Adaptation] it reminds me of just how unbeilevably powerful moving pictures can be. The art, the incredible craft and attention to detail that a great artist can bring, the transportation to another world, and the deep personal connection you feel to a character or emotion the movie is trying to express are all reasons why I trudge through so many films I don't like. I'm looking for another diamond in the rough. If I can ever see another film that even comes close to the feelings that my favorite movies have given me, then all the time spent searching will be well worth it.

That is why I'm a film snob. I have no time or patience for movies that try to appeal to a mass demographic, or the lowest common denominator. I have no interest in watching the same tired story rehased and paraded in front of my eyes for the sake of making a few bucks. Why settle for McDonald's when there's a gourmet restaurant right up the street?

So, I'm going to head off and watch a film now. Maybe Raging Bull, maybe Magnolia [that scene at the end always gets me- if you've seen the movie, you know what I'm talking about, "Come back, you fucking asshole..."], perhaps an old favorite like Back To The Future. Or perhaps I'll try something new. Something that really opens my eyes to a fresh perspective. Or perhaps I'll stumble upon a tried and true formula that's actually done in a unique and creative way. Or maybe I'll just end up seeing the latest romatic comedy starring Ben Affleck and some generic actress [although I won't begrudge him Chasing Amy, that is a terrific movie.] Or maybe I'll just shut up and go to sleep.

So, here's hoping that you, dear reader [as Stephen King would say] find yourself immersed in an amazing film tonight. Here's hoping you'll spend an hour afterwards anxiously discussing the movie with friends, analyzing every last detail and relishing in the memory. Here's hoping you end up finding a new favorite, one that you will watch over and over again for the rest of your life, able to quote it beginning to end.

And, finally, here's to art, and the artists who create masterpieces.