Movie Mania

*All photos copyright Dimension Films. All Rights Reserved.

In 1998, I gave up television. I don't mean stopped watching. I sold my television.

Two years after my divorce, I found myself coming home to my tiny apartment, flipping on the TV while saying to myself, "I'll catch a little news -- that's all. Then I'll turn it off." At 2 a.m., I'd still be sitting in front of the TV with the remote in hand, blearily watching a Cheers or Mash rerun. Every time I turned the box off, I was stuck with me. So, I turned it back on. Then, that was my idea of achieving peace. Numb myself into oblivion so that I disappeared, then I had inner peace. Obviously, I was wrong.

I knew something had to be done. There's no TV-aholic 12-step program, so I was on my own. I got rid of it. Like methadone to a smack junkie, I started going to Midtown Theatres in Atlanta, just a couple of blocks away.

Two or three times a week, twice on Saturday, I needed an escapist fix. I would watch anything. Bad movies, good movies. It didn't matter. My excuse was that I could still become a filmmaker. That had been one of my life's dreams. I'd taken classes and written scripts. But I didn't have the drive or the willingness to sacrifice that newbie film students exhibit. So, I became a watcher.

In the first year without television, I went to the movie theater more than 90 times. That's a lot of popcorn, but at least I was able to get some peace by escaping in the thrill of a character's problem. (Mind you, the quality of peace wasn't good, but it was relief.)

After I married my wife, Charlsa, I nearly stopped going to the theater. Charlsa is a very discerning moviegoer: no violence, no horror, and no stupidity. That left Finding Nemo, Shrek, Harry Potter, and The Lord of the Rings series (don't ask me, I don't know how they passed the Charlsa screen.) At first, this was impossible. To me, entertainment began in the dark with a tub of popcorn and a four-dollar Coke. I didn't really understand this whole concept of going on a date and "talking."

A while ago I was in Atlanta, I slipped off in the afternoon to see the movie that's shaking up Hollywood: Sin City. This one, they say, will change the way movies are made in the future. It may, but it's not changing the quality of the movies.

Less than half way through the movie, a line from the first Ghostbusters came to mind: I've been slimed. Sin City is beautiful. It's incredibly creative and artful. And, in a comic book way, it's the most violent movie I've ever seen. It's not a cartoon, but it's not reality either.

The amazing cast includes Bruce Willis, Mickey Rourke, Elijah Wood, Rutger Hauer, and hundreds of beautiful women. But why put so much star power and art behind such a vicious film with no redeeming qualities? Finding a hero in this gore-fest is really tough.

Even though I really liked the movie's style and was fascinated by the way it was made, unfortunately, I had to come home, turn on the cable, and catch Something's Gotta Give just to give me a quick antidote, a positive experience to counteract that huge drain on my psyche.

There was a surprise in all this: I can't believe this is me.

I'm finally learning as I put together some quality peace in my life that I must protect it when I can. I can filter what I put into my head. Whether it's visual or literary, what I put in affects my centeredness. It affects my sense of peace. I can either feel good or bad.

The movie: two thumbs down. My quality of peace: two thumbs way up!

Comments

[David Perdew]

Sorry about the email address -- it's requirement of Typepad.

But thanks for the post. I'd heard about David Wilcox, but have not listened yet. Thanks.

David

[boxsix]

This post makes me think of a song by one of my favorite singer / songwriters (and someone with whom interested readers of this post would deeply resonate) David Wilcox. If you don't know his music, I recommend his most recent album called "Into the Mystery". The following lyric is from a song on that record:

I got such a mess between my ears
like dishes in the sink
Stuff I don't believe just tumbles in
until I don't have room to think
These dark clouds I've stowed away
just in case of a sunny day
So I can stand in the pouring rain
of every tear I've ever shed
I've got to empty out the inside of my head

This could be a room with such a view,
but its covered up with junk
Blocking off the place the light gets through

so it keeps me in this funk
All my failures are on display,
the broken dreams of yesterday
Stuff I should have thrown away,
but I've kept it here instead
I've got to empty out the inside of my head
I've got to empty out the inside of my head

I'd like to turn this place into my home
instead of someplace that I dread
Its the only place thats mine alone,
and I'll live here 'til I'm dead
I'll sort through what I have found,
the stuff that works I'll keep around
But I can't live weighted down
with every cruel word they said
I've got to empty out the inside of my head

PS: you might get more comments on the site if you did not require an email address...