Today’s movie buffs are faced with an overwhelming amount of choices for entertainment content. There are thousands of movies available on Blu-ray and DVD, as well as instant access to streaming services like Netflix, Amazon Instant Video, Redbox, Hulu, Vudu and even more if you start exploring Fandor and Crackle. Just narrowing down what you want to watch can take up time you could have spent watching even more.
I used to try to see every movie at least once. My theory was even if it looked bad, you never know if it could just be mismarketed, or surprisingly become a favorite. So that meant every movie that came out theatrically, pretty much every video release too, and as much as I could try to record off cable, I’d give it one chance. It worked out pretty well and I discovered a lot of films I loved. God knows, what if I had neglected Booty Call based on the silly looking poster? I would have missed a brilliant and poignant raunchy comedy. Alas, these days I feel I would need a lot more convincing to take a chance that big on an untested film. Let’s just say if Ride Along is the next Booty Call, I may never know.
Back then, in the ‘90s, there were only two or three new releases a week, and that was only in peak times like Summer and the holidays. Indie movies weren’t usually accessible to me in suburban Maryland, though I discovered Clerks, S.F.W. and Fear of a Black Hat on video. There were fewer movie studios operating; no Relativity, Open Road, Film District nor A24, and Lionsgate (then Lion’s Gate) didn’t have the the prolific output they do today. Even with slightly less studio production, there are more entities producing content. In the ‘90s, theaters, video stores and HBO’s schedule were manageable. I could commit to all of that.
I am lucky that I have found a profession where it is literally my job to watch as many movies as I can. You would think that would satisfy my need, but it only enables it. I am now educated about more films, past and present, that I would love to add to my film experience. When I look at the films available on each streaming service to which I have access, I realize I will never see them all. If you’re a movie lover who is not physically working in the industry, you may have even less time to devote to this passion so you really can’t see everything that’s available. If you work a 9 to 5 job, you may only have time to watch one movie a night when you get home, and that’s only if you’re a hardcore movie watcher. Many people would even consider that too much, so maybe you only get to watch a couple movies on weekend, and you have to be even more selective. That’s no way to plow through over a century of cinema history.
This got me thinking about the significance of the movies we do choose to watch. The more that’s available now, the more unique every viewer’s film experience will be. I call this our personal narrative. My narrative includes being the guy who watched Intolerance, Hide Away, A Walk on the Moon, Foxy Brown, Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo and Killer Klowns From Outer Space over my holiday break, all for different reasons. When I meet someone new or catch up with a friend, we will have something to talk about, either shared experiences or educating each other about our different experiences.
I am also a guy who saw Avatar and The Avengers just like everyone else, and that is okay too. Many people are probably only movie fans to the extent that they want to be part of the major phenomena of each year. I hear about people who only see three movies a year, or less. Their personal movie narrative will likely only include the big movies each year. They probably won’t want to explore all the obscure movies now accessible online. For hardcore cinephiles, even seeing every theatrical release might not be a worthwhile exercise if there are movies on VOD that may be more relevant to your personal narrative.
I’m thinking about the people who ingest film to such a degree that we are now threatened with a cinematic obesity, pardon the unsavory metaphor. All things being equal, assuming you are not neglecting any other life duties, there’s virtually no harm in consuming as many movies as one can. It’s just quantifiably impossible, given the century of films in existence (most of which are no longer available realistically), so I think a more productive way to approach our viewing habits is to think about our personal narratives. At least, if you can suggest a way to absorb every movie every produced, I’m open to it.
Forgive Yourself for Saying No
The first thing we need to accept is that we will have to delete some titles from our queue, or take them off our stack of unopened DVDs if you’re old school. We are facing an unmanageable amount of content that we can’t allow to take up overflowing theoretical space in our personal lives, let alone actual space in our living rooms. If you’re a movie lover like me, you may have stacks of DVDs you picked up cheap because maybe one day you’ll give this movie a chance. There’s a snowball effect because for every two hours you spend watching one movie, you can think of five more that might also be interesting.
This is how this whole article started. If I could watch every movie from the past 100 years, I would do it just to expand my own film history. Alas, that is more hours than we have in our lifetimes, and we do need to leave some time for sleeping, working and other, ahem, intimate activities. Besides, having seen everything, while phenomenal for sure, wouldn’t be as individual as choosing a filmography over the course of our own lives. It’s gotten to a point where just because a movie sounds interesting, that’s not a good enough reason to add it to our personal narrative. There have to be more specific criteria.
So the first part of this journey is deciding what movies are off the table. This may mean trading in some still unopened DVDs for credit, or poring through your Netflix queue and deleting a number of titles. This can be heartbreaking. Trust me, I know. What if we just removed from our queue our favorite movie of all time? We’ll never know for sure until we see it.
Thinking about our personal narratives is one constructive way to view narrowing down the field. As we eliminate the clutter from our queues we are making room for the films that truly will tell the story of our own cinematic history. Also remember, they’re not gone forever. If you’re getting rid of a DVD, that DVD will always be available again. Even with streaming, most movies from a label of some sort, except in rare cases, will be available on some service in the future should you change your mind back. Even if it’s removed from Netflix it could be available on Amazon VOD. So these aren’t permanent decisions. We’re just trying to focus on our viewing story right now. See the below topic on Timing. It may come back to you at a time where it’s more relevant than now.
The movies you choose not to see will also tell an interesting narrative about you. It doesn’t only mean that maybe you choose to be the one person who didn’t go see Avatar. It could mean that, but if we’re getting into obscure film history, as we will below, the gaps in your filmography are as individual as the cinematic tangents you do indulge.
