Sometime in 1961, my grandmother and grandfather went to see a newly released movie in the theater. Before arriving at the cinema, they ate dinner at an Italian restaurant, where they ingested massive amounts of garlic bread. When they sat down in their seats at the theater, people immediately began moving away from them and sitting elsewhere. A few minutes passed before my grandparents realized everyone was avoiding them because their breath reeked horrendously of garlic.
When she recounted this story for me, my grandmother told me she was embarrassed for less than a minute.... because before she had time to really think about it, the movie started and what transpired on screen caused her to forget everything -- including her humiliation.
The movie my grandparents saw that evening was WEST SIDE STORY -- and the experience was such a memorable one that my grandmother was able to recall it very vividly nearly 50 years later. It was a movie that changed her life.
I was four-years-old when my parents took me to see BEAUTY AND THE BEAST in the movie theater -- and I still remember it in very lucid detail. It was the movie that set the cogs in motion for the rest of my life. I'd go so far as to say that it laid down the foundation for my morals (or at least I like to think it did). More than that, it was the first movie to make me weep (with tears falling down at age four, I had no idea what was happening to me). The best part of it is that I still get the same feeling watching it nowadays that I did when I was a child. It never gets old.
There's something about how the film's lyricist Howard Ashman was dying of AIDS while working on it. It feels like a Swan Song -- one last piece of wisdom shot out into the world, a statement that seeks to tell us (its viewers) what's really important in life. I've often supposed that it's this quality that makes BEAUTY AND THE BEAST such an indelible story that resonates and refuses to age....
But I'm not really here to talk in great detail about why WEST SIDE STORY and BEAUTY AND THE BEAST matter. My mentioning them is merely to lay down a little groundwork for what I really want to talk about.
Recently, I have decided to devote my days to ensuring that motion pictures are around for generations to come. Part of an archivist or preservationist's duty is to promote movies as not only a great means of entertainment, but also, and most especially, as a great form of communication and collective experience.
The month of February boasts a lot of trappings -- Black History Month, Valentine's Day, President's Day... On occasional years (like this one), we even get an extra day tacked onto it. It's a pretty special time -- a time that often plays host to the Academy Awards, which make it a popular period for film discussion. As film buffs already treat it as a kind of holiday season, why not also dub it "Movie Appreciation Month"?
Well, that's exactly what I'm attempting to do.
I had an interesting conversation with my pal Keenan the other day over e-mail. He sent me a couple of paragraphs on why he found MONEYBALL to be one of the best films of the year. From what he wrote, I found a considerable amount of both amusement and inspiration. From what he wrote, I realized I love listening to my friends talk about how viewing certain movies made them feel or "changed their lives."
I've always been a huge fan of essay compilations whereby various celebrities and public figures discuss THE FILM that had a huge impact on them. Why not start just such a compilation via this very blog? During the month of February, I want to collect mini-essays from friends, relatives and other sorts of acquaintances on THE FILM that had a profound influence on them. I'll post them right here, so we can all basque in how awesome movies are...
Sound like something you'd be interested in doing? Write something about a certain film, then send it to me... PLEASE.
I need to redeem myself for my previous blog entry whereby I compared a couple movies to eating a poop sandwich, which (I realize in hindsight) probably isn't that cool.
Ciao for now -- and hope to hear from you soon!
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