So instead of spending time here, I've been giving in to those barking puppies by losing myself in other things - going to the gym, taking a dance class, spending time with friends and family. None of these are bad things; in fact, it's what you need for a good, balanced life. I've also been reading a lot too. A few weeks ago I found a book recommendation on Better Living Through Beowulf for a book that piqued my interest. It's a book called The Film Club. After reading the good review on the Beowulf site and another by my favorite author, Richard Russo, I decided to get a copy and have at it. I'm so glad I did. In fact, it has rekindled my love for film and my investment in this little movie blog.
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| From Amazon.com |
"Picking movies for people is a risky business," Gilmour explains in the book, "In a way it's as revealing as writing someone a letter. It shows how you think, it shows what moves you, sometimes it can even show how you think the world sees you. So when you breathlessly recommend a film to a friend, when you say, 'Oh, this is a scream -- you're going to really love it,' it's a nauseating experience when the friend sees you the following day and says with a wrinkled brow, 'You thought that was funny?' " (pg. 174)
I loved this passage in Gilmour's book. It's exactly how I feel about my recommendations too. His book focuses on his true story of how he let his teenage son drop out of school if he agreed to watch 3 films a week with his father. Jesse, the son, agrees excitedly and as he works through some very tough teenage years, his only constant is this bond he makes with his father, David. David tries to choose movies that will give Jesse something to think about or something to distract him from heartbreaks or disappointments. It's fascinating to see which films he chooses and why, and just as he starts to think the club is a bad idea, Jesse starts responding to the lessons. In the end, the film club provides the kindling for a strong father-son relationship that rarely forms in those turbulent puberty-ridden years. Not only is it a great coming-of-age story for both father and son, but there are plenty of film nuggets too, including why Gilmour loves Jack Nicholson, why Dirty Harry is a great movie, and a funny interpretation of Breakfast at Tiffany's. He also gives us the best description of Robert Mitchum I've ever read: "as time goes by, Robert Mitchum seems to get better and better -- that barrel chest, the deep voice, his way of drifting through a movie with the effortlessness of a cat wandering into a dinner party."
At first, I had trouble liking this book. I really wanted to like it (I mean, come on, 3 movies a week would be my dream job!), but I had my doubts. Letting Jesse leave school at 15 seemed foolish and irresponsible (Jesse doesn't even have to pay rent!). But then something incredible happened - David admits to his readers quite openly that he was afraid he had made a horrible choice and was about to ruin Jesse's life. That kind of honesty is what kept me reading. Jesse does make some poor decisions, but he learns from them and more importantly, because of the film club, he knows that he can talk to his father about anything. Their relationship is at the heart of this story, and it's well worth reading just to watch it develop.
Gilmour does a good job of conveying his own passion for films. A film critic and novelist, he has to take these lessons and recommendations and share them with his son, which in ways is much harder than sharing them with strangers, as he explains in the passage I quoted. I found myself agreeing with some of his reviews, and disagreeing with others. Some of his choices bothered me (really, Marlon Brando is the greatest actor?) but as I kept reading, I thought about something my film professor once said. We had been talking about how different kinds of horror films attract different kinds of people - what scares you? What attracts you? The kinds of films you like is just as telling as a personal letter, like Gilmour says. I hadn't thought of it quite that way before, even though I am often reluctant about some film suggestions. Unless I know my friends very well, I try not to tell them what films I love and recommend. Like Gilmour, I have some fail-safe films that I can recommend to everyone (Some Like It Hot tops the list). I also have a few I only recommend to people I know very well, and even then only after some explicit forewarnings (like The Last Picture Show).
One of the reasons I could write this blog last year was because I was reviewing films I had never seen before, so I had no previous investment or attachment. This book has made me want to go back and revisit some old favorites, to see what exactly it was that drew them to me. I also find myself watching people on the train in the morning or waiting in line at a take-out restaurant and wondering, "what's that person's favorite movie?" Awhile back, I was talking to one of my friends about books that have had an impact on us. I told her that possibly one of the reasons I so intensely hated Solzhenitsyn's Cancer Ward was because I had to read it for school while my grandfather was dying from cancer. She told me flatly that I get too emotionally involved in books and take them too personally. Maybe she's right; it certainly wasn't just Solzhenitsyn's confusing writing style that frustrated me. But isn't that the power of films, and of art in general? Hasn't there ever been a movie, a book, a song that's made you cry? Certainly I know the difference between film and reality. But for me, films can help ease some of the pains of real life. They help me forget a bad day or a broken heart. I'm not ashamed to say that I've cried along with Pruitt when he plays taps in From Here to Eternity or that I've fallen off the couch laughing at Tony Curtis imitating Cary Grant in Some Like It Hot. I came away from reading The Film Club with a new admiration for Gilmour. He not only opened up his heart to his son, but also to his readers. Maybe that's why I'm writing this blog - to share in this collective love of movies. So I'll leave you now with a few films from my own personal library and invite you to please share yours:
1) My fail-safe films to recommend: Some Like it Hot (1959), Rear Window (1954)
2) Movies critics love, but I don't: Cabaret (1972), Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)
3) Classics I'm ashamed I haven't seen yet: Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Citizen Kane (1941 - I've seen most of it in parts, but not all together or all the way through)
4) My role model: Katharine Hepburn
5) My movie star boyfriend: Robert Mitchum (like you didn't know that already)
6) My current all-time favorite movie: Sunset Boulevard (1950)
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