When I look back on my experience as a moviegoer thus far in life, I feel like I’ve seen a bunch of films. But if that’s the case, then how come whenever a movie comes up in conversation, I haven’t seen it?
Or, to put it another way, when exactly did everybody watch The Matrix, and where was I?
Perhaps I was IN THE MATRIX getting RED-PILLED by NEO? Am I referencing that movie properly? I never saw it, for, as I mentioned, I have seen nothing.
I have attempted to rectify the situation at various points in the past. Back when I lived in Chicago, I established an Old Movie of the Week ritual, where I’d select a revival screening to attend, usually at the Music Box Theatre or the Gene Siskel Film Center, based on the recommendations in each issue of the Chicago Reader.
But the Reader’s tastes in cinema were of the artsy-fartsy variety. So, sure, I’ve seen Dekalog, Polish filmmaker Krzysztof Kieślowski’s 10-hour rumination on the Ten Commandments. But Shrek? Braveheart? Gladiator? Fight Club? Nightmare on Elm Street? Any Aliens, Pirates of the Caribbean, or Marvel movies?
To paraphrase Kieślowski’s precious Ten Commandments, I shalt not bear false witness by claiming to have seen any of those.
Eventually, the Old Movie of the Week gave way to a weekly Movie Night at home with my husband, Frank, and, later, the Weekend Wind-Down Movie, which I still stream every Sunday night.
Somehow, all of these viewings have failed to cure my cinematic deficiency, though we can thank the Weekend Wind-Down for my finally having seen Rocky, Jaws, Return of the Jedi, a couple Indiana Joneses, and Die Hard.
Frankly, I don’t get what all the fuss is about, except in the case of Die Hard, which does kick ass. Hard.
My favorite thing about the Weekend Wind-Down remains the theme song I wrote for it. I have previously shared the verses that go with the beginning and the intermission. Here’s what I sing at the film’s conclusion.
The credits are a-scrolling and the movie’s fin’lly ended
With thrills and chills and spills, and what went wrong has gotten mended.
Good or bad or so-so, anyway we’ve had our fun now
Brush your teeth and go to bed — the Weekend Wind-Down’s done now!
For Christmas Frank got me a membership to the Brattle Theatre, a small cinema for movie nerds in Harvard Square. Fortunately, there was no qualifying exam.
Membership remains valid for a year and includes the following: 12 free passes, a discount on any screenings seen beyond the free ones, invitations to “members-only events,” and a coupon for one large popcorn and two small sodas. I guess those concessions are supposed to tide me over for the full year.
The Brattle, which has been showing movies since 1953, specializes in “classic, cutting-edge, foreign, and art-house films,” according to the website. Two of the theater’s most beloved annual traditions are coming up in February: a Valentine’s Day screening of Casablanca and the Bugs Bunny Film Festival.
I’m happy to report that I can claim familiarity with both. As a matter of fact, I used to own Casablanca on VHS, and as I child I’d watch Looney Tunes on Saturday morning television—even though my mother, whose sympathies lay fully with Elmer Fudd, detested Bugs Bunny for being “hateful” (in her view, being hunted for sport was no excuse for getting disrespectful).
I’m considering using a free pass for one of those events at the Brattle. Maybe that’s why I can’t make any meaningful progress on my cinematic to-do list: I stick with the old reliables rather than taking a chance on an unknown quantity such as Terminator 2.
Indirect Objects 