You know those pretentious people who think foreign language films are better than English language films just because they require subtitles? Those dumbasses who make snide comments every time they're forced into watching a brainless summer blockbuster?
Well, a few years ago, that was me. I was a teenage film snob.
I'm not even sure what brought on my ridiculous haughtiness, but I'm gonna go ahead and blame the "gateway" movies that started this craze. Here's looking at you, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Ghost World.
Somehow I started getting into Bergman, Godard, Rivette, and the wonderful Eric Rohmer (who is actually awesome and not really pretentious). Don't even get me started on Fellini.
Now that I'm older and a little wiser, I think I've found a nice balance in my movie viewing habits. While I can still appreciate some classic, independent, or foreign films, I also have a crazy love for Adam Sandler, Zooey Deschanel, and the Hunger Games.
But to celebrate (and laugh at) my past holier-than-thou attitude, I present: the best and worst movies I forced myself to watch.
We'll start with the hall of shame.
Cherie's Hall of Shame: Pretentious Movies That Sucked and/or Confused Me
8 1/2 Director: Federico Fellini
Year: 1963
The film's premise is intriguing. It's basically about a director who is kind of directing a movie about his own life. And crazy stuff happens. Like this fat lady from his past is on a beach or something. I'm not actually sure. I only watched it because it was supposedly artsy and very, very fartsy.
Director: Jacques Rivette
Year: 1991
This movie was fucking four hours long. Four. Fucking. Hours. And what was it about? A painter dude painting this chick. Yep. That's it. According to IMDb's infinite wisdom, "it is a struggle for truth, life and sense, and the question where the limits of arts are or whether art is limitless." Whatever. I feel like a complete moron for having spent good nap time on this.
Pierrot Le Fou Director: Jean-Luc Godard
Year: 1965
I really have no idea what went on in this, except for that I really dug Anna Karina's oufits. Literally just sat there pretending to be a hipster. No idea. Nothing.
Eraserhead Director: David Lynch
Year: 1977
David Lynch, I'm sorry. I love Blue Velvet. I love Mulholland Drive. I even liked Wild At Heart.
This shit.. no. It was like.. this weird guy and there's this messed up baby. Dude. I can't even do it justice. Here.. watch this if you're not easily creeped out:
So, needless to say, I used to spend a lot of time watching movies I either a) didn't fully understand or b) actually hated and pretended I liked because it was the general consensus of the film snob community that said film was a brilliant piece of artistry.
Thankfully, I gained the confidence in myself and in my own personal taste to scrap that persona. I did, however, find some really lovely movies in this period of my life. My next post will be dedicated to the artsy fartsy movies that I actually really love.. and my defense for loving them.
Until then, make fun of me.
