Great Expectations

I had a conversation with a co-worker this morning that got me thinking. How much does our expectations inform our enjoyment of movies, and in looking back how does that experience color our recollection of the movie over time? The whole conversation grew from our disagreement about the worth of the Star Wars Prequels. My correct belief, that they were nothing more than shiny little objects to dangle in front of a consumer driven population to get them to consume, versus his incorrect belief that they could stand alone as worthy pieces of film, even without the three originals. Once we got past the initial hateful words and one glancing head slap, we actually came to some agreement over the effect of nostalgia on the whole scenario.

For me, I was but a tiny Walrus pup when Star Wars was released in 1977. But I was old enough to know it was something I just had to see. More importantly, I was old enough to pester the crap out of my grandfather until he would take me to see it. I remember sitting in that dark theater barely big enough to keep the seat from folding me up into a little flesh and blood lawn chair of my own. When the opening sequence started to roll, I realized that I couldn't read very good yet, so I shouted out, "Pop, What does it say?" He read it to me, and I was hooked. We repeated this exchange another dozen or so times for Star Wars, and even though by the time Empire came out a couple of years later and I could read, he still sat there beside me holding my seat and read it to me. So needless to say I have a warm place in my heart for the Star Wars franchise in general. But how much of the value I place on those movies comes from the experience of a 5 year old and his grandfather going to the movies, and how much of it came from the enjoyment of the movie itself.

Flash forward to 1999 and the piece of crap that was The Phantom Menace. I like most people that came of age in the 80's was really looking forward to seeing how it all began. I was super excited to see how Luke and Leia were born. I wanted to see Anakin's transformation into Darth Vader. But most of all, I wanted to see what a gifted story teller like George Lucas still had up his sleeves after all this time. So I was into this thing from the beginning. I bought my tickets in advance, I stood in line, I made it on opening weekend, and like most of the world, I was disappointed. Now I don't want to get into the movie in general. But my feeling after seeing it was one of deflation. So much was promised and expected, and so little delivered. But as time went on, I managed to convince myself that the payoff was coming. After all, we've got two more prequels to go. Surely George has something great for us coming. Well it never happened, and in one way or another, I believe the Star Wars prequels were the beginning of the end for me and the "event" movie urgency.

So that brings us to the conversation with my co-worker. I have no tenderness or sense of loyalty to Episode I, II, or III. But as soon as the conversation turned to IV, V, and VI, I was more than ready to fight for their reputation. So how much of that defense came from the movies themselves and how much of it was influenced by the fact that I got to spend all that time with my grandfather?

Movies are one of those activities that over time become an experience. It's not just about the characters up on the screen. It's about the place you see it, the people you see it with, and all the things that are going on in your life and the world around it. Go see a blockbuster romantic comedy with your sparkling new girlfriend, and then watch it again two weeks after you catch her cheating with the guy from her Yoga class. I can't imagine the film would have such a sweet taste the second time around. It's almost impossible to drop our baggage at the door and just watch the movie. They come with us into that space, whether it's in a 200 seat IMAX theater or our very own living room. Our entire lives worth of experience bursts from these suitcases, our past and present swirling together for two hours, until finally the lights come up, we gather our belongings and make our ways to the exit. We are affected by movies, and our enjoyment of them is affected by everything around us.

We can all agree, that if pressed, we could probably write a very scholastic sounding, professional movie review. We could push from our minds everything we've read about the film, and what everyone else thinks about it. We could probably even put aside our prejudices and preferences to come up with a very well written, perhaps even amazing piece on either side of any movie we've seen. But what fun is that? Movies are meant to be felt, and lived, and experienced. We bring as much into the theater as the movie we are watching. Does it even matter why we feel the way we do about this movie or that movie? In the end, it's about the experience and our role in it. Maybe the movie is a let down. Maybe the main character just reminds us of a childhood friend. Should we question what it is that makes us feel about a movie, or just be glad we feel something in the first place?

For me, this line from Dead Poets Society sums it up pretty well. "The powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"
Isn't that really the point?