The Discomfortable Truth of Classic Films
Or, eat your vegetables with your brain.
Welcome back to the
Very Mental Lifeletter!
This letter is about how discomfortable should be a real word how little work we do with our brains and hearts anymore.
Artsy Fartsy College Boy
If you knew me back then, you probably thought I was a pretentious prick 💁♂️
The day that I showed up at Christopher Newport University, my laptop background was a picture of Ronald Reagan and an American flag. Even though I went through some natural teenage rebellion, I was still entrenched in my familiy’s conservative (more socially than politically) values.
That didn’t last too long. A true liberal education opens you up to ideas, and that’s what I got my first year of school, taking classes on Italian, Islam, Hinduism, and travel literature. By the end of my freshmen year of college, I had bought a kufi and was going to a mosque for prayer.
Granted, there is a big part of myself (to use some Internal Family Systems language) that has always wanted to be different. (I am an Enneagram 4, mind you, which basically means that my core identity is that I am waaayy different than my parents 👽)
And part of what I have always felt made me a wee bit different is my love for strange, expressive art: movies, music, poetry, literature. You know, the finer things in life.
Otto e mezzo
My junior year of college, one of my best friends, Zac Grigg, and I watched just about every classic film CNU had available to rent. One of the greats we stumbled on is Otto e mezzo, or 8 1/2.
I’m not even going to try to explain to you what this movie is about, other than that it was basically like tripping LSD compared to the other movies I had seen up until then in my young life.
I connected so much to the character’s childish fantasies to be wrapped up and dotted over by every woman he meets. (This is my favorite scene of any movie, ever.) And struggling with monogamy. (At the time I was in an unhealthy on again-off again four year shitstorm of a relationship).
Since watching 8 1/2, it has always stood out to me as this beacon of artistry, a monument to living a poetic life.
The Rewatch
Last night, three of me best mates and I went out for a lovely Italian dinner and then went and watched 8 1/2 at The Paramount, a beautiful century-old theatre in Austin.
Some of my biggest takeaways from the rewatch:
Watching that movie is hard work. I’ve certainly tried to stream that movie in the past few years, but I usually get 30-60 minutes in and decide I have something better to do. Because it is not instantly gratifying. Reading the subtitles, following along with the strange, surrealist symbols, feeling what Fellini is asking you to feel… It’s like eating our vegetables when we have McDonald’s (cell phones) in our pockets.
It’s a discomfortable experience (definition: having the quality of discomfort) watching that movie. There were stretches that I was anxious: that my friends didn’t like it, that the movie should be wrapping up soon.
We as people living on screens in 2023 don’t do a lot of hard work when we sit down and watch stuff. A movie like this is not “Netflix and Chill” compatible. As someone that falls asleep most nights in recent weeks to Gilmore Girls (don’t ask), it’s a very different thing to have to sit down and *tune in*.
Going to see movies at the theater basically makes you tune in and be there (unless you are the A-hole on their phone).
There is obviously a boatload of things that you get watching a movie at 31 compared to 21. I won’t bore you with those, but the movie is so RICH 👨🏻🍳
I challenge you this week to eat your vegetables. You’re not going to get your vegetables on Threads or Hulu. Shock your Canola-oil lathered emotional and mental hardware with some nutrient-dense book or movie.
I love you,
Mike
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