I’m A Movie Lover, Not A Film Buff

During this quarantine, Netflix has added a lot of new movies. Out of boredom and curiousity, I of course had to check them out. And, while on my journey through all the biggest movies available, I realized something.

There’s a big difference between movies and film.

The last relationship I will ever have with a man was with this guy named Scott. We connected over our love of standup, Seinfeld and movies. But things got a little complicated when we started sharing our favorites and I realized that he leaned more film than movie.

See, I grew up in a very geeky house. The “grown up” movies I remember most starkly as a kid were a whole lot of Spielberg and Lucas. It was Jurassic Park, Jaws, Indiana Jones, E.T., Labyrinth. It was about the fun of it. The story was the heart and everything else was energy.

Growing up, I was able to explore my tastes a little more and ended up getting into horror and sci-fi. By the time I got to college, my top 3 consisted of Alien, Halloween and, of course, Jurassic Park. My least favorite movie? Critically acclaimed cult-classic, Blade Runner.

When I joined my college’s very young Film Club, I started to realized the divide between me and my peers. What’s your favorite movie? Was followed by titles like Before Midnight, Reservoir Dogs and GoodFellas. My Jurassic Park wasn’t going to be let go without some taunting on their part, which came as a bit of an unwelcome shock to me.

Up until that point, I’d always thought of myself as a movie person. I mean, I could very regularly name all of the lead actors in a given film. I could tell you the basics of their filmographies and maybe even their family history. I was great at guessing an actor by their voice, or the director before it’s revealed while watching a trailer.

But, looking back, I’d also never seen a Best Picture winner at the time. I remember avoiding the Oscars because every time I looked at the nominations, they were all completely unrecognizable titles. Like the names were in a language that I’d never even heard of.

So, when Scott told me that all of his favorite films were by the Cohen brothers, and I asked who they were, and he said uhhh Fargo? No Country For Old Men? The Big Lebowski??? I laughed because, yeah, I’d heard of those films. But, no, I hadn’t seen them. They were never readily available to me.

So, we traded picks for viewing sessions. I showed him Scream. He showed me Magnolia. I showed him Annihilation. He showed me The Master. And it became, as we went on, increasingly clear that he didn’t want to watch my movies, even though I intently sat through the ridiculousness that is Magnolia for three entire hours of my life.

And there was a conversation that I had with him soon before we ended our little engagement. I told him that, in this way, he made me feel so small. Inadequate. Why don’t you like my movies? I asked. And he bluntly replied that well, they’re just not good. And my heart sunk.

Because I always thought I had a good taste in movies. I mean, I had been told so many times. But here, next to this guy who had an Excel spreadsheet of Oscar winners, who was I?

It was the same inadequacy I felt a year prior, sitting in the living room of my friend’s apartment after we’d finished watching Burning, telling her that I wasn’t sure if I liked it. Then, turning my gaze directly to her shelf, packed from end to end with films from the Criterion Collection and feeling so disgusted with myself. I couldn’t know more about film than this girl, so how dumb did I have to be to not understand this movie?

To deal with all of that shame and unease, I came up with the theory of Film vs. Movies. It’s pretty simple, actually.

You know you’re watching a film when it’s actually shot on film, or it has been nominated for Best Picture, or it’s been directed by a Tarantino or Scorsese or Fincher or some other white guy that film students jack off to in their spare time.

You know you’re watching a movie when it isn’t being nominated for Best Picture or Best Actress/Actor. Maybe there’s a lot of slapstick humor or outrageous violence. Maybe the characters are unrealistic or remind you more of yourself. The most important quality of a movie, though, is that you never stop to think: am I enjoying this, or do I just think I should be enjoying this?

Movies can be as simple as The Fast And The Furious or as complex as Minority Report or anything in between. And there are lots of movies that are also films. Some of my favorites (Jaws, Alien, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre) fit snugly into both categories.

To be clear, I do not hate film. Quite the opposite: the more that I was exposed to it, the more I found myself understanding why people who study it love it so much. What’s so amazing about film is that it doesn’t need to have a great story to be compelling. See Blade Runner—a film that I, over the years, have softened towards a whole lot.

I’m very proud to be a movie lover and a film enjoyer. I don’t think I’ll ever own the Criterion Collection and I’ll never dare make a bet on which films will win in what category. But I will see the nominees in theaters, I will talk about them, I will love them and study them for all of their flaws and successes.

And I will, as I believe everyone should, recognize this fact: film is subjective. What you love, someone else may think is boring or derivative or silly. Your favorite movies of the year may never be nominated for an award by the Academy, or maybe they win Best Picture every year and none of your friends see them.

Whatever situation you’re in, remember that the person who disagrees with you isn’t wrong. Maybe there are inherently bad movies, but none of those make hundreds of thousands of dollars. And some of them are still really fun to watch!

Take film seriously or watch movies with an open mind and flighty spirit. However you do it, leave judgement at the door. Films, as well as movies, are for everyone.