By We’re here to speak of movies that changed us! Oh, and before you think I have a multiple personality disorder, there are similar posts by my colleagues here at Flixist international. For this series, I’ve chosen Magnolia. Not because it’s my favorite film blah blah blah, but for a particular afternoon where this film literally changed me.
We’re here to speak of movies that changed us! Oh, and before you think I have a multiple personality disorder, there are similar posts by my colleagues here at Flixist international. For this series, I’ve chosen Magnolia. Not because it’s my favorite film blah blah blah, but for a particular afternoon where this film literally changed me.
1999 was the year that changed movies (or should have been). It’s something that’s been often written about in the past, but I’m redundant. I was just starting High School. I was into Film, Games, Theater, and Jessica Powers.
I wasn’t learning director’s names, didn’t see the point. Like most people it was all about red carpet shows and nitroglycerine at that tender age. But now I’m a writer of writing, and you beg to know why.
Here’s a partial list of movies released in 1999 that were not called Magnolia:
That’s just what I had time to see, and it omits Requiem for a Dream, which I caught at a film festival before the official box office, Darren Whoinofsky? in attendance.
I remember spending fifteen minutes one afternoon convincing a friend of mine to see Magnolia, because the night before it showed me the greatest, most unexpected ending to a film I have ever seen. It was the first time I ever stood up in a theater while the film was still playing.
Flashback: “WHAT!?”
Finally, by my unequalled skill of argumentation, he crossed the street to purchase both our tickets. I didn’t approach the theater with him because the debate had mentally exhausted me. I needed space. This was my first intensely passionate film debate followed by a moment of calm.
I remember puddles. It smelled of recently cleared rainstorm and the sky showered golden reflections. I glanced at the theater marquee and realized what was happening, something I was previously blind to. Films became important to me. They demanded my attention and I was helpless to resist.
Well, here we are more than a decade later. Never tell me I’m old.
There were some great ones shortly after 1999, just as there had been some shortly before. Still, ultimately it is this writer’s opinion that each year since has been a dull one for cinema. All of my favorite directors went on to make films ranging from mediocre to pretty good some of the time.
Jonze’s Where the Wild Things Are, Fincher’s Panic Room, Coppola’s Marie Antoinette, Aronofsky’s The Fountain, Mendes’ Jarhead, Coens’ The Ladykillers, Sir Ridley Scott’s Hannibal, Raimi’s Spider-Man 3, Malick’s The New World, Matrix Revolutions , Besson’s Arthur and the Minimoys, Jackie Chan uses stunt doubles, Kubrick dies, M. Night Shyamalan is allowed to continue…
Is there a bright side? Yes. By pure coincidence the first film I truly loved in years, The Social Network was released just before the debut of Flixist.com. Also, among the duties of my new position, I look ahead to a 2010 Fall/Winter of genuinely interesting prospects, and I have to say I’m getting excited about film again.
I’m not expecting 1999, mind you, but the ambitious combo of Fincher/Sorkin played at the break-neck speed of His Girl Friday. It’s the sexiest portrayal of intelligence and general douchbaggery I’ve seen yet, and I believe it could really be the start of something. If Hollywood fails to build on that momentum, I’ll be aiming at its kneecaps while you look on with blood-lustful delight.
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-Glenn (Hombre Gato) Morris is a freelance rain dancer, but he doesn’t accept work if it will ruin his hair.