“This story is terrible. These characters make no sense, and I can’t stand them. I’d like to laugh at it so I could tell my friends about what a terrible movie this is - but the worst part is that it isn’t even that bad. It’s just boring and mediocre. There’s no joy in that.”
These were my thoughts while I was watching Paul Schrader’s Cat People. The best part of the movie was David Bowie’s song, Cat People (Putting Out Fire), which played during the credits’ roll. But I was smiling ear to ear, simply glad to be there.
When I’m in the movie theater, or in the soft glow of my monitor, the easy way response to a bad movie is for me to just laugh and say “this movie sucks.” That’s where the average film-goer stops - but I’m not trying to be average. I’m a film buff, for god’s sake, and I should know better. When I watch a bad movie, instead, I should be able to reveal its hidden blessings: this is my chance to refine my understanding of the medium. What, exactly, is bad about this movie?
The cinematography, as poorly as I understand the topic, seems fine. I have little understanding of editing, but I can tell the camera work, staging, and photography are not an issue. In fact, the movie is quite pretty. The acting is a little goofy, but I do love watching Malcolm McDowell ham it up. No, it’s the story that gives me pause. To be specific, it’s the dialogue.
I could stop here and move on with my day. This is a good spot to be in when you don’t care about movies that much. In the past, if someone asked me, “did you like that movie?” I could respond, “I found the cinematography acceptable, but the dialogue left much to be desired.” Doesn’t that sound like something a smart person with a refined taste would say? The college version of me thought so, while the present version of me cringes.
The more bad movies I see, the better I become at understanding how all the parts of a movie fit together. Movies with predictable story beats and twists are as annoying to me as to anyone else - so why am I indifferent to most Marvel movies while loving the equally predictable Redline (the 2009 Japanese animation) and Pacific Rim? It’s because most Marvel movies are visually uninteresting, barely have a soundtrack, and don’t deal with a subject matter that hits my nostalgia spot.
Does that mean that I value the visuals, the soundtrack, and the nostalgia element more than the story of a movie? Absolutely not. But these elements can work together to sell me the story - even a bad one. They make scenes of empowerment and moments of tragedy more impactful and believable - they make me care. They are the salt and pepper to the meat that is the story.
At least, that’s how I think it works for me; Everybody has their own taste and expectations, after all. Some people go to the movies for a distraction or a thrill, while some go to learn new things. Why do I go to the movies? The easy answer is that I go to the movies to become engrossed in a story and marvel at the sights and sounds. But aren’t these unrealistic expectations for me to bring to every movie that I watch? Maybe I can be glad to peer into a life that isn’t my own. Maybe the movie is just a tool that leads me to a greater understanding of other cultures and gives me a glimpse into the mind of a filmmaker that I admire. If I can open my mind in such a way, maybe I can be happy and grateful to have seen a movie that I would normally consider bad and boring.
That kind of self-reflection has positive effects that compound over time. For every “bad” movie that asks me to adjust my expectations, expand my knowledge, and refines my taste, there will be a good movie that I will enjoy more than I would have otherwise. I can put together everything that I know about what makes cinema good, about how difficult it is to make all its parts come together in harmony, and about my own taste and expectations; I can hold these thoughts and take them back to Kurosawa and Miyazaki, and be even happier that masterpieces like Ran and Princess Mononoke exist.
Besides, a more open and understanding mind is something I can carry from cinema into the real world, enriching my life in unexpected ways.
And it’s true that good movies can have the same effect on me, when I watch them over and over, slowly dissecting them and becoming more and more immersed in their reality. A truly great movie like that is something to cherish, precisely because it is so rare - most good movies are not quite there. Instead, when I’m not careful, they just make me comfortable; they numb and sedate me; and they keep me from growing as a cinephile, and as a person.
Comments
Post a Comment