Why I Keep Pushing "Play"

 

“How can you watch the same movies over and over?” he asked me.

There was a short quippy answer to this question in that moment, “Because I like them.” But the truth was much deeper than that.

People do not understand my movie obsession. Just recently, a friend asked me if I sit down on the couch for 2 hours at a time to watch a movie. Being more of a 30-minute TV show person, that possibility seemed odd to her. Well, sometimes I do, especially if it’s a movie I haven’t seen that I would like to give my full attention to. But generally, I don’t. It can sometimes take me a few days to watch a movie—in short, 10-15 minute segments. Or, if it’s one I have seen many times I just put it on in the background so I can listen to the dialogue and catch snippets as I walk by to fill up my coffee cup or put clothes in the dryer. It is not efficient.

Before I go much further, I want to say that, like a lot of things I enjoy, I am not an expert. I’m probably not even what you’d call a “film buff” with a vast knoweldge of cinema. I can name some directors and actors. I know a little Academy Award trivia. I might know a bit more about the movies that make my top 10 or 20 list. I admire people who have made movie facts and analysis a hobby or even a career. I am no expert (so don’t quiz me). It’s not about that for me. I enjoy immersing myself in stories that resonate with me.

I grew up watching movies on TV. Old, black-and-white movies, mainly. That’s where I think I was introduced to good storytelling. In romantic dramas like Casablanca, the characters struggle with personal sacrifice and obstacles to love. I loved the old noir mysteries like The Maltese Falcon where there was lots of intrigue, crime, and murky moral ambiguity. High-society comedies and musicals like Gentlemen Prefer Blondes had it all—ambition, romance, and the allure of the upper class. I loved heroic adventures like It’s a Wonderful Life in which the flawed but larger-than-life protagonist dealt with issues like regret or bitterness while fighting against societal injustice. Sharp, dark satires like Dr. Strangelove taught me how humor could be an effective way to critique social and political structures.

Every one of those films I mentioned I have watched multiple times over the years, some even very recently. Pre-streaming, my TV was pretty much tuned to Turner Classic Movies any time it was on (unless I was watching HGTV, but that’s another post). Now that we’re all streaming, I can find titles I like to watch on a number of free streaming services. As a bonus, I can work my way through a series of movies by director, actor, or era—or just roll the dice and see what happens.

I can probably blame streaming for the fact that if there is a TV on in my vicinity, it’s most often playing a movie. And I’d say there’s a 87.5% chance that it’s a movie I’ve seen before. The superficial reason why is that I’m lazy and in a hurry. I glance through the top suggestions on the channel, pick one, and go. It just doesn’t matter (this is a film reference).

But there are times when the choice does matter to me. And it usually has to do with what’s going on in my head or my heart that just needs a little something. Something soothing, something distracting, something uplifting, something thought-provoking, something mind-numbing. Movie as a mind-altering substance I guess you could say. I know there were times in my childhood when movies filled those voids, and I guess we go back to those places as adults when we need to.

Here’s what I tend to need when I press play, and the kinds of movies that get me there:

Courage, even in the worst odds—Sometimes I just need a good old “stand up to the monster” nudge, like in Jaws or Alien, where resilience is the only choice.

Finding my people—We all need to feel connected (even introverts like me), and movies like Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Guardians of the Galaxy show that I’ll find the people who “get me” even in unexpected places.

It’s not about me—Sometimes I need to see the bigger picture and movies like Doctor Strange and Interstellar help me remember that it’s not “all about me.”

But sometimes it is about me—when I need a little reminder that it’s okay to embrace my identity an be me, I rewatch movies like The Breakfast Club or Rushmore.

Messing up and still making it—The Greatest Showman shows that even if I go off-course, it’s possible to find my way back.

Not everything has to have a “life lesson,” although I do generally learn something. Just this morning I watched the end of Much Ado About Nothing (1993 Kenneth Branagh) while I got ready. This was the third Shakespere adaptation I have watched recently—this followed back-to-back versions of Hamlet (1996 Kenneth Branagh and 1990 Mel Gibson). From these I learned that some Shakespere adaptations make it easier to understand the dialogue than others. Earlier this week I was on an M. Night Shyamalan kick and rewatched The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, and The Happening. The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable both had strong character development, memorable performances, and kept the suspense steadily climbing, which made their twist endings really satisfying. The Happening felt hollow by comparison—the acting seemed weirdly stilted, and the story leaned hard into its environmental message in a way that felt forced and did nothing to build the suspense; plus it just felt silly.

There are lots and lots of movies I don’t watch, have never watched, and never will watch. There are entire genres that don’t interest me, and I’m sure most people are the same. It’s okay. I think the point is that in our lives we narrow in on what feeds our minds, inspires our imaginations, and gives us perspective. For me, that is often movies. It might be something totally different for you. But whatever it is, we keep hitting “play” on the things that matter most to us.