Movies as Meme

This past weekend was something of a relief for the struggling box office of 2023. After several disappointing weeks, a massive hit landed with the one-two punch of Barbie and Oppenheimer. While studios and theater owners are celebrating, I can’t help but feel uneasy. 

You see, “Barbenheimer” has become trendy. A hashtag. The latest “it” thing. People are flocking to the theater not because of the films themselves, but because they don’t want to miss out. I’m not here to question the quality of the films and I’m certainly not here to pontificate on the political slant of the films (I’ll leave that discussion to the idiots), but to point out that I think this recent box office bonanza is more about zeitgeist than cinema. 

And to be honest, something about that makes me uneasy. 

There’s little that these two films had going for them that other films this summer didn’t. True, much of this summer has been dominated by sequels and spin-offs and these two are originals (kinda, Barbie is a pre-existing IP and Oppenheimer is a biopic), but if people are really that starved for originality, then why haven’t other original films this year been bigger hits? Why did Dungeons and Dragons underperform? Or Joy Ride? Asteroid City? Beau is Afraid? Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret? And so on. 

Are these films simply popular for the sake of being popular? Are we looking at the cinematic equivalent of the Kardashians? If this is to be the new normal in Hollywood, what does this mean for future releases? Instead of relying on franchises and movie stars, is it now going to be about what’s trending, what’s a meme, what’s going viral? 

Let’s be honest, most modern movies are regurgitated garbage. Overblown, huge-budgeted sequels/remakes that most folks want to wait for streaming to watch. I can’t say I blame them. I mean, I work at a movie theater and even I don’t bother watching that much. 

I guess what I’m getting at is that while everyone else is celebrating and cheering this record-breaking weekend, I’m over here feeling uneasy. Maybe I’m paranoid. Maybe I’m seeing the writing on the wall. 

Maybe…

Boldly Going…

I am slowly becoming a Trekkie. 

I grew up with Star Wars, and I’ve still got a great sentimental attachment to those films (primarily the first three), but I find as I advance in years that I am starting to prefer Star Trek. 

(I know that some of you will argue that they are fundamentally different franchises and that one is science fiction while the other is science fantasy but I am comparing the two as they are both major franchises that start with the word “Star” and feature aliens, spaceships and the like.) 

Admittedly, some of the Trek movies are better than others (Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan is still the best and I will not hear any arguments) and the shows can be uneven (the fact that “Star Trek: Deep Space Nine” has both the worst and arguably the best episodes of the series in the same season speaks to this) but the overall franchise is one that I am enjoying more and more. 

Perhaps it is the idea that we, as a species, finally grow up, embrace our shared humanity and strive to be better. The idea that future humans are altruistic, open-minded and care nothing for money, gender or sexual identity. The ideals of Star Trek and particularly the Federation are hopeful and make me look at the complete mess that is the modern world and think that maybe, just maybe, it will get better. 

A reoccurring plot point in Star Trek is that (in the show’s cannon), the twenty-first century was a shitshow, full of hostility, greed and cruelty, which is not too far off the mark. However, also according to the lore (not Data’s brother), it is because of this awful century that humanity decides to pursue a better path. 

Maybe, right now, a little hope is what I need. 

The Language of Movies

*Potential Trigger Warning*

I recently had a conversation with a co-worker regarding “The F Word.” The co-worker was telling me how much she hated the word in question and I was somewhat perplexed, as I was certain that I had heard her use it before. As the conversation continued, I eventually realized that we were talking about different “F Words.” I was talking about the one that rhymes with “duck” and she was talking about the one that rhymes with “rag” (or “maggot”). 

This got me thinking. Growing up in the 80s and 90s, that particular slur was commonplace, not only in the schoolyard but also in film and television. Hearing comedians casually say “faggot” or “retard” was not unusual and such words were met with little to no condemnation. Seeing a man cross dress or undergo sexual reassignment surgery was often the butt of many jokes. 

Ethnic slurs were definitely out, unless your goal was to illustrate that someone was ignorant or cruel. This has been the case in Hollywood films for a long time, but there are other racist crimes that Hollywood is guilty of (hearing Humphrey Bogart say “It’s mighty white of you,” is unsettling- what the young people today call “cringe”). Sometimes slurs (particularly the dreaded “N-word”) can be thrown around casually by African-American comedians and entertainers and this is often given a pass. This can backfire, of course, if you’re a white kid in the suburbs reciting an Eddie Murphy or Richard Pryor routine without really grasping what is being said. 

Much has been made of the “woke mob” being too sensitive to appreciate a good joke and while I think that despising someone because they believe in the equality of all humans is peak right-wing stupidity, it does bring me back to a discussion I’ve had before: what to do about those older films that contain that sort of language or depictions? 

I have long thought, and continue to believe, that the best course of action is a simple disclaimer. This alerts viewers while leaving the films themselves untouched. There are those (see “right-wing stupidity” above) who think that disclaimers are wrong but I find it interesting that they are often the same people who are horribly offended by the mere mention of an LGBTQ+ person in a Disney film. 

The films I grew up watching that contained that kind of language absolutely affected me and I am now trying to purge from my vocabulary the words that were okay thirty-odd years ago that are no longer acceptable. 

Is it giving into the “woke mob”? 

No. 

It’s simply me trying to be a better person than I was. 

The Safety of the Movies

This one is going to be a little hard to write. 

For many, perhaps even most, people, movies are entertainment and little more. Something to look at while you eat popcorn, a fun Saturday night and so on. For others, movies are an art form to be analyzed and studied. Neither of these approaches are wrong, but neither fully explains me and my approach to movies. 

When I was growing up, we had a VCR, a big silver model that was top-loading with a remote control that was attached by a long cable. Because of this early 80’s technological marvel, we had lots of tapes full of movies we taped off TV. To this day, if I watch one of those movies that we had taped off TV (even if it’s on Blu-Ray), I still no exactly where the commercials are. Everyone in my family liked movies. We would recite our favorite bits at dinner and it was one of the few things that we did with each other. 

For me, movies was where we didn’t argue, where we didn’t fight, where no one had screaming breakdowns threatening suicide. In short, they were safe. 

I leaned into this safety. This bit of escapism wherein true love conquered all, where villains got their comeuppance, where families were dysfunctional but loving and where anything was possible. In those movies, I wasn’t woken up by my brother choking me. In those movies, I didn’t have to listen to my mother tell me for the umpteenth time that one day she was going to leave and that I’d never see her again. In those movies, I wasn’t fat, weak and confused. 

I did what seemed right at the time: I watched more movies. LOTS more movies. Before long, I was watching films that others in my family had never even heard of. What my family saw was a fat, antisocial teenager sitting on his ass watching TV. What I saw was the entire world. I saw Samurai and silent clowns, sadistic gangsters and honest cops (sometimes the inverse), a place where the little guy could win, where the beautiful girl would find his idiosyncrasies and neurosis adorable rather than weird. 

Is it any wonder why films became the great love of my life? 

I know I’m not alone on this. Many people use art as a method of escape, be it music, books, paintings or what have you. My escape just happened to be movies. 

These days, movies aren’t an escape anymore. I have a better wife than I could have ever hoped for and children that are wonderful. Now, it’s just a passion, a love that I try to share with others. I sit on the couch with my family and watch a movie just to share, just so they can enjoy it.

 I no longer want to escape. 

Blood, Devastation, War, Death and Horror

 Recently I was having a conversation about violence in the movies. One of my coworkers is extremely averse to violence in film and television to the point where they find it incredibly upsetting. When confronted with a violent image, they react first with disgust and then with anger. "And they wonder why people are out shooting each other!" they exclaimed. 

This got me thinking. 

I've seen lots of violent films and television shows. Cartoonish violence, historical violence, realistic violence, violence that is meant to be stomach-churning, et cetera. And yet, I have never committed an act of violence. I own no guns and have no interest in ever firing one. I own a few pocket knives but they were all gifts. Am I the exception or the norm?

Fun fact: I'm the same age as the perpetrators of the Columbine School Shooting. I too was picked on by other students, I too wore a trench coat and I too saw films like The Matrix and Basketball Diaries (both of which were brought up a lot in the days immediately following the tragedy). However, in spite of all of this, it never even crossed my mind to bring a gun to school. Why would I? I was told that once I graduated, I would probably never see these people again and that turned out to be very, very accurate. 

So, why were all of the ingredients there, but the recipe didn't work? Why is it that I can watch extreme violence in films and television and be unaffected by it? Or am I being affected and just don't know it? 

Perhaps I should clarify the previous statement. When I say that I am unaffected by the violence, that doesn't mean that I view it in a state of numbness or apathy. I am disgusted when I see a graphic depiction of rape or war atrocities (as one should be). I tend to laugh off over the top cartoonish violence (like Evil Dead 2) and there is something satisfying about seeing a truly villainous character receive their graphic comeuppance. I never feel bad when zombies are destroyed in blood-soaked carnage. Watching Donnie Yen beat the everliving crap out of a group of people is pretty thrilling. The Raid: Redemption is thrilling and exciting. Conversely, Come and See or Schindler's List are extremely upsetting. The awful things inflicted on the protagonist of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is almost too much to watch. 

Perhaps context is what matters. Anonymous bad guys being mowed down by John Wick can be shrugged off. A samurai slicing through a crowd of hired assassins is exciting. A Nazi officer shooting random people just because he can is disturbing. 

An example: I've been watching The Little Shop of Horrors (1987) more or less since it first came out. Rick Moranis feeding people to a monstrous plant didn't bother me, but what did bother me, and still bothers me to this day, is watching Steve Martin's sadistic dentist slap around his girlfriend. Maybe it's simply because people-eating plants don't exist (as far as I know), but assholes who slap around their girlfriends do. Maybe because it's Steve Martin doing the slapping. The Wild and Crazy Guy, the goofy comedian, the Father of the Bride shouldn't be smacking a woman around (I mean, no one should, but you see my point). The plant can eat whoever it wants. 

This is not very focused, and I'm sorry for that. I'm still weighing a lot of this in my mind and perhaps even I am a little unsure of what point I am trying to make. 

Oh, well. It's not like anyone reads this stuff anyway. 

Inherit The Earth: The Most Mediocre Movie You Never Saw

Not many people know this about me, but half a lifetime ago, I made a movie. At the ripe old age of twenty-one, I wrote, produced and directed a feature film called Inherit The Earth.  It was a coming-of-age drama about a seminary student who meets and falls in love with a free-spirited young woman who opens his eyes to the world. I shot it on digital video and made the whole thing for around $2,000 (yes, really). 

So, where is this film now? 

No idea. 

See, the funny thing is, I never one hundred percent finished the movie. I shot all of the scenes I wanted to shoot and edited the film how I wanted it edited, but the guy who was supposed to write the score never came through. (That’s what I get for trusting my brother.) The final sound mix was never finished because we never got the music. 

The film was screened three times: once at the church where we filmed a few scenes (Unitarians, nice people), once at an art house where cast and crew brought their friends and family and once at some old ladies house because I was looking for completion funds (all three women in attendance fell asleep). We used music that we had no legal right to, but thankfully, no one turned us in. 

Eventually, the film I had worked so hard on wound up in a box at the back of my closet, a VHS that gathered dust until the day it was finally thrown away. I threw it away because looking at it made me sad. Not because the film was compromised (low budgets force you to compromise), and not because my ex-wife was in it (and dare I say she was actually pretty good, too), but because I viewed it as yet another failure. Not only was this incomplete, shot on video and wholly unmarketable movie sitting there with my name on it, more importantly, it was a constant reminder that I didn’t try again. 

“So your first movie sucked. So what? Get over it and make another one!” you might say and logically, you would be right.  But I didn’t try again. I was defeated and I slunk back with my tail between my legs. Even know, writing about it for the first time ever, the sadness is almost overwhelming. 

Making a movie is work. It can be extremely stressful, difficult and exhausting. It can ruin friendships, can turn anyone into a raging lunatic on set (like when I attacked a water fountain for turning on mid-scene and ruining the take- not my best moment) and can make you wonder why you even fucking bother. But, there is something wonderful about seeing your name up on the screen, about hearing an audience react to what you created and knowing that if you do absolutely nothing else with your life, at least you made this. 

But now it’s all gone. Like tears in the rain, to borrow a line from Blade Runner. 

If, by some miracle, a copy of my film were to turn up, what would I do? Would I hold on to it, for old times sake, or would I once again dispose of it, letting it dissolve in the dustbin of history ? 

I honestly don’t know. 

The Monsters and Me -or- How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Horror

Growing up, we had lots of VHS tapes. Not store-bought movies, but blank tapes that we filled with movies taped off television. We had all kinds: science-fiction, drama, comedy, children’s films, classics and so on. What we didn’t have was horror. 

Well, that’s not entirely true. We had exactly two horror films: Poltergeist and House of Wax. 

Growing up in the 1980’s was a booming time for horror. It seemed like every few weeks there was a new horror film playing at the local theater, often the latest A Nightmare on Elm Street or Friday the 13th. On our frequent trips to Blockbuster, there would always be new horror films on the New Release wall, often with lurid, shocking (and enticing) artwork.  

But these films were forbidden, by decree of Mom. 

She didn’t (and still doesn’t) like horror, therefore we weren’t allowed to watch it either. In retrospect, it’s a little strange, considering what she did let us watch. I remember watching The Color Purple when I was about six years old and obviously not understanding most of what I was seeing. I saw both Dances With Wolves and Schindler’s List in theaters, at the ripe old ages of nine and twelve, respectively. Not that these are bad films, far from it, but I find that I, as a parent now, have the exact opposite view that my mother did. I’m more okay with my kids seeing monsters and fanatical horrors than real-life ones. 

Anyway, as I got older and began broadening my cinematic knowledge, horror was still a blind spot for me. On Halloween, after trick-or-treating, my friends mom would let us watch Universal Monster movies like Frankenstein or Dracula. A few years later, I managed to sneak a screening of Bram Stoker’s Dracula when it came on HBO. I had even, when I was home alone, surreptitiously borrowed my older brother’s copy of Army of Darkness, a film I expected to completely terrify me. Imagine my surprise. 

It wasn’t until I got to college, surrounded by other film nerds that I started really looking at horror and then it was just so I could keep up with the conversation. It was around this time that I discovered and embraced the films of John Carpenter, Tobe Hooper and George Romero. I still hold a special place in my heart for the Universal Monster movies and the Roger Corman/Vincent Price/Edgar Allen Poe films, but I am also a huge fan of the Evil Dead franchise and Romero’s zombie films. 

I believe that John Carpenter’s The Thing is an absolute masterpiece. I love that films like The Wicker Man and Audition don’t really become horror films until the third act, and then what horrors they unfold! While I’m still not a big fan of “torture porn” and most slashers leave me cold, I can now happily point to many horror films that I love and admire. 

I just don’t show them to Mom. 

In Search Of Something Different

I go through phases in my film viewing. For example, last year I went through a phase wherein I was absolutely enthralled by early cinema, the works of the Lumiere Brothers, Georges Melies and W.K.L. Dickerson. I watched lots and lots of the earliest films, because the prospect of watching an art form be born and discover itself was fascinating to me. Currently, my attention has swung in a radically different direction: towards grindhouse and B movies. 

I recently purchased Arrow Video’s wonderful box set The Herschell Gordon Lewis Feast and I’ve been watching films that aren’t necessarily good, but at least they’re different and right now, different is good. 

You see, I saw The Super Mario Bros Movie and Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, two films that the majority of people enjoyed. I stand outside those theaters and listen to people exiting them, with big smiles on their faces talking to each other about how great the films were and I inwardly (sometimes outwardly) roll my eyes. I thought Mario was dreadful, but mercifully short and I found D&D to be okay at best. As I look at the slate of upcoming films, I find very little to get excited about. I’m tired of Marvel movies and superhero movies in general (although, admittedly  Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse looks promising). I’ve never seen any of the Fast and Furious movies, so I really don’t care about the tenth (!) one. The last Indiana Jones movie was terrible, so I have little hope for the next one. 

Even last year, Top Gun: Maverick did not “restore my faith in the magic of movies” (I found it boring because it was essentially a remake of the first film). 

Am I turning into an elitist snob? 

Probably. 

But, it’s also that I just want something different. So, yes, I got more enjoyment out of Blood Feast than D&D. I’m looking forward to my next shipment from Vinegar Syndrome which has From Beyond, The Cat Creeps and Curucu Beast of the Amazon far more than anything hitting the multiplex in the next few months. 

It’s not that I inherently dislike mainstream Hollywood films, I’m just getting bored with them. It’s like if every restaurant was a burger joint. After a while, a taco or some Chinese food sounds fantastic. 

Boutique Labels

I’ve never been one for brand-name labels. When other kids (or even siblings of mine) stressed about having Tommy Hilfiger or Calvin Klein, I never cared. I was more interested in what was on my shirt than what was on my label. I freely admit that at awards shows, when vapid TV hosts ask “Who are you wearing?” I always think Who cares?!?

However, I appear to be turning a corner on this issue. Not on my clothes, necessarily (although I am becoming a fan of Doc Martens), but on video labels. 

It used to be, whoever put out the tape or disc was whoever made the movie: Universal, Paramount, Disney, whatever. Now, as physical media moves more and more towards collectors (as the average consumer is content with digital content) boutique labels are on the rise. 

The front-runner, and arguably the king of boutique video labels is The Criterion Collection. Boasting films from Kurosawa, Bergman, Chaplin, Welles, Tati, Bresson, Fellini and so many others, their roster is incredibly impressive. This, coupled with their restorations, bonus features and packaging, it’s no wonder that they have the reputation that they do. 

However, as great as Criterion is, Kino Lorber is also worth many accolades. While Kino has distributed wonderful Blu-Rays of the films of Truffaut, Spike Lee, Rian Johnson and many other contemporary filmmakers, I believe that where they really shine is when it comes to silent films. In addition to the complete films of Buster Keaton, Kino has also released beautiful restorations of the films of F.W. Murnau, Fritz Lang and Lon Chaney. Perhaps their greatest contribution has been in releasing Pioneers of African-American Cinema and Pioneers: First Women Filmmakers. These two sets are indispensable for anyone interested in film history. 

Shout Factory/Scream Factory also does great work. They have released two collections of the films of Werner Herzog as well as some frankly amazing restorations of John Carpenter’s horror films. They are also the home of one of my favorite television shows,  Mystery Science Theater 3000.  Their box set of all five films in The Fly franchise is also worth checking out and it’s one of my favorites. 

Arrow Video specializes in horror and science fiction and their Blu-Rays are something to behold. Around the same time that The Criterion Collection released their amazing Godzilla collection, Arrow Video put out two box sets containing every film featuring everyone’s favorite giant flying turtle, Gamera. Arrow is also where you will find the films of Takashi Miike, the Herschell Gordon Lewis Feast box set (featuring fourteen films from the Godfather of Gore), Hellraiser, The Hills Have Eyes and so many other great horror and science fiction films. 

Last, but not least I want to talk about Severin Films and Vinegar Syndrome. I’m putting these two together because they both specialize in off the beaten path releases and grindhouse fare (not exclusively, mind you. Severin released the amazing British TV-movie Threads and Vinegar Syndrome released Buster Keaton’s last film The Railrodder). Thus far, my favorite releases from these two labels are Vinegar Syndrome’s The Films of Rudy Ray Moore  box set and Severin’s release of Werewolf in a Girls Dormitory (which just might be my favorite movie title of all time- no synopsis is required). These films look great, they sound great and they never fail to put a smile on my face. 

There’s other, smaller labels I could talk about, like Blue Underground, Grindhouse Films, AGFA and others, but I really just wanted to highlight some of my favorites and come to terms with the fact that for the first time in my life, a label matters. 

The Great Shuffle

I keep my movie library in alaphabetical order…mostly. 

Whenever I buy a new movie (or two or ten), I have to shift everything down to maintain the order of things. My wife likes to laugh at me about this, using it as an example of my selective OCD. 

My book library, I should note, isn’t arranged in any special way. Often, but not always, books by the same author are together, but that’s about it. If I want a specific book, I have to look for it. 

When I said “mostly” alphabetical, what I meant is that I will put all films in the same franchise together, regardless of their specific title (for example, all of the Planet of the Apes films are under P and all of the Marvel movies are under M, and in order of release). If it is a box set from a specific filmmaker or actor, it is under their last name (Marx Brothers are under M, Martin Scorsese under S). And all of my Buster Keaton films are under K and in order of release. My system works for me. It might seem silly or weird, but I do honestly enjoy shuffling them around. If nothing else, simply because it gives me the opportunity to look at certain films I own and go “Oh, yeah. That’s a good one.” 

My collection is growing so large however, that I’ve had to start relegating certain DVDs to other places. I’ve put all my TV DVDs on a separate shelf and all of my Mystery Science Theater 3000/Rifftrax/Cinematic Titanic DVDs and Blu-Rays have their own special video rack in my bedroom. I’m also using the top of the large video racks to store big box sets, like Criterion’s Ingmar Bergman or their Godzilla: The Showa Era set. 

Why am I talking about this? 

I dunno. 

Maybe for the same reason that I organize my movies like I do: because I’m weird. 

Five Film Book Recommendations

Here’s five film books that I can easily recommend. This is not a definitive list, nor is it the Top Five, it’s just five that I enjoyed. 

More to come. 

Pace yourself. 

1) The Emperor and the Wolf: The Lives and Films of Akira Kurosawa and Toshiro Mifune by Stuart Galbraith. This dual biography/filmography is exhaustively researched and comes with literally hundreds of pages of notes, appendices and lists. It’s great for anyone interested in what was arguably the greatest actor/director combination in cinema history. 

2) Conversations With Wilder by Cameron Crowe. Rock journalist turned filmmaker Cameron Crowe sat down with the late, great Billy Wilder and this book is a wonderful, indispensable record of their talks. In it, Wilder talks not only about his films, his contemporaries, the actors, actresses, writers and studio executives that he had the fortune (or misfortune) to deal with over his multi-decade career but also, his tips for writers (which I used to have hanging over my desk) to his opinion on then-current release Titanic (“Have you ever seen such horseshit?”). It’s no wonder that after compiling this book, Crowe went on to make his masterpiece Almost Famous. 

3) Writing Movies For Fun and Profit: How We Made a Billion Dollars at the Box Office and You Can, Too! By Thomas Lennon and Robert Ben Garant. This witty, no BS book details the highs and lows of being a professional screenwriter in Hollywood. While being encouraging, it also reassures you in some of the hard facts of how movies are made (“you will get fired”). It also breaks down some of the more obscure jobs on a typical film set, gives you the addresses and menu recommendations for L.A. landmark In-N-Out burger and shares humorous stories of various celebrity encounters. 

4) The Lady From The Black Lagoon: Hollywood Monsters and the Lost Legacy of Millicent Patrick by Mallory O’Meara. If you’ve never heard of Millicent Patrick, don’t feel bad, too few people have. This book is a long-overdue exploration of the woman who was instrumental in creating The Creature From The Black Lagoon be was subsequently uncredited in the final film. Interwoven with Patrick’s story is O’Meara’s, in which she doggedly pursues any and all information on Patrick while simultaneously dealing with critics (often men), who are either condescending or tell her that it would be better as an article rather than a book. I can honestly say that the moment I heard about this book, I preordered it. 

5)  Oscar Micheaux: The Great and Only: The Life of America’s First Black Filmmaker by Patrick McGilligan. Honestly, all  of McGilligan’s biographies are great reads, but I’m picking this one because it’s the first book of his that I ever read and because at the time I read it, I had never heard of Oscar Micheaux before. Micheaux, one part entrepreneur, one part artist and one part conman, was writing, directing and producing Black-centered films back when being an independent filmmaker was a huge challenge, let alone being a minority one. Micheaux’s films have been collected on Kino Lorber’s excellent box set Pioneers of African-American Cinema and are often streaming on The Criterion Channel. It is a fascinating exploration of not only an individual, but a time when inclusivity was virtually nonexistent and people yearned for cinema that represented them. We’ve come a long way, but we’re not there yet. 

Six Years Later…

 I’ve been through many things in my life. Three children, two wives, five states in three time zones, God knows how many jobs, etc, etc, etc. But, the one constant in my life has been movies. I talk about movies (a lot), I watch movies, I buy movies (probably more than I should), I read books about movies and so on. 

More than once, in times of sadness, I’ve questioned my love of film. I’ve worried that others would view my love of movies as shallow, or indicative of a lack of literacy. I’ve re-enrolled in college to study literature, because that’s a “serious” art, unlike cinema (or so I thought). I’ve purged my physical media collection, telling myself that I should only own “great” or “important” films, that there was no room for schlock or simple entertainments. 

Why do I do this? Why do I question my love of something? Why do I not simply acknowledge my love and move on with my life? 

Put simply: I have issues. 

It’s only been in the last few months that I’ve come to accept, even embrace my love of all things cinema. Sadly, I had to go through some pretty dark stuff to reach this point. Thankfully, I have a wife that understands, even if she doesn’t share, my passion. I can’t imagine my life without movies and I don’t want to imagine my life without her. 

I’m going to make a point of updating this blog a bit more frequently (I know, I know: I’ve said that before), but now I want to focus less on academic analysis and trying to impress strangers and more on just being honest. This will be a place where I share my thoughts on all things movies: collecting physical media, boutique labels, the cinema experience, how films are intertwined with memory and anything else that happens to pop into my head. 

Will I still talk about movies? 

Well, obviously.