Watching films is one of my absolute favorite pastimes—whether alone in my room on my laptop, or in a cinema on 35 mm. On the train ride back to campus after the holidays, I was listening to the soundtrack of The Godfather (mostly to elicit some sort of motivation for back-to-school) when I began to think about what it is that makes movies hold such a dear place in my heart.
To me, films represent a break from reality. For two hours, I can forget the stress and worry that consume my mind. My everyday thoughts are scattered and frantic as I try to navigate life as a teenager; I often feel isolated and waves of loneliness seem to constantly wash over me. But in movies, everything is different. These are characters that live completely different lives than mine—their stories are far more fascinating than my mundane routine. I become engrossed in following their struggles instead of my own. I look up to them. They are like specimens in a museum. I am in awe.
But most importantly, I see myself in these characters. I have to be able to relate, or to feel a connection to some aspect of the film, for it to top my list. I forget about most movies I see a couple days or weeks after the viewing, as the stories become buried underneath reality. These have a good plot, a decent ending, and a forgettable soundtrack, but they failed to truly resonate with me.
There is a distinction between the best film I have ever seen, and my favorite film. Take The Godfather, which is considered one of the, if not the, greatest film ever made. And I completely agree. The layers of nuance and sophistication inherent in Coppola’s masterpiece coupled with various themes that critics have analyzed time and time again solidify its legendary reputation. I honestly have nothing negative to say about it, and I get excited whenever people bring it up in conversation. But at the end of the day, it’s not my favorite film.
That coveted spot goes to Lady Bird (2017). I’m well aware that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but I remember watching the film again and again and just feeling so attached to the central character. I saw myself in Lady Bird, and in a way, I felt special. I felt less alone. I watched it at a low point during my senior year of high school, where I felt like a fish out of water most of the time. Even now in college, whenever the insecurity becomes overwhelming, I look to Lady Bird for inspiration. The same goes to various other characters in my favorite films: Veronica Sawyer in Heathers, Maria in The Sound of Music, the friends in Stand by Me. In a recent interview with Lucy Liu, she remarks that when you connect to a film or a character or art, it “heightens your level of being a human being. It gives you accessibility to something and makes you feel like you’re less alone.” So with all the discomforting aspects of reality, there is a safe haven in the movies where I am free. There is something about the characters from which I can draw inspiration and reassurance, in which I can see my own reflection. And for me personally, at the end of the day, that priceless connection to the self embodies the art of film.
art of film 