2022 marked a year of change for me in many ways. My apartment in Chicago was deemed unlivable, and I became displaced. Gathering my things and returning to my room with my parents was a humbling experience. Even more humbling was the realization I was no longer happy with my career after two years. At this point, I was self-medicating with several streaming services, but I had not returned to my love of film as I would eventually by March of last year.
Film has always been special to me. Warm memories of watching movies for hours hold a special place in my heart. Growing up as an only child, I consumed hours of film since my mom worked a lot. My dad picked me up on the weekends after school, and we often headed to a movie theatre to see something — it was usually spontaneous, and only after we walked up to the marquee would we decide what to see. I also spent a large portion of my childhood with my grandmother, who loved film herself, and we bonded over new movies as well as classics. She narrated trivia to me regarding actors, settings, and references in these films a child might otherwise not be familiar with.
The Joy of Truly Enjoying the Theatre Again
I drifted away from consuming film around when I became a teenager. In the later 2000s (and earlier last decade) film lost its magic to me. I am not sure if it was me, or that film was nosediving further and further into CGI-heavy, big budget blockbusters. Or maybe it was their rom-com format, with a hodge-podge of actors relying on ensemble casts rather than strong writing, which proliferated what was being pushed out by major studios.
I was a teenager, and had little access to my own money to purchase streaming services at the time. However, during this period, the only movies that really stuck out to me were “Precious,“ “Melancholia,“ “Ceremony,“ and “Gone Girl.“ I’m not trying to argue that the industry was lacking at this time; but as someone not on the up-and-up of obscure films with better crafting, I lost interest.
My journey back to film began with an invitation to see “The Batman” last minute by a friend. I had plans to buy shoes for retail therapy as my jaded career position continued, and was hesitant at first, as Batman felt stale, even to me. I’m a lifelong Batman fan, so there’s some bias saying this, but I feel Reeves’s interpretation was the best film I saw this year — and to date, my favorite interpretation of Batman. Reeves provided a robust look at a character that is complex and often forcefully made relatable to smash the summer Box Office and set records. “The Batman” crafted a story that spotlighted my favorite aspect of Batman — the detective. I also especially appreciated the timeframe he chose to depict Batman. We watch as Batman stumbles, makes errors, is beaten up… and we even see him expressing fear.
Realizing Intimate Settings Trump Over-the-Top Production Every Time
Watching “The Batman” in a theatre under the speaker system in a crowded cinema… feeling the entire audience quelling in excitement as Michael Giachinno’s brilliant score filled the atmosphere and immersed us in Gotham… it was refreshing but familiar. The opening monologue of the film, accompanied by the booming track, “Can’t Fight City Halloween,” sent chills up my spine. The chase scene between Batman and Penguin created palpable electricity amongst everyone in attendance. It had been a long time since I had been in a theatre and felt communal awe. “The Batman” immediately reignited my interest in film; and, as I continued to navigate the rocky terrain of my professional life, it again became a place of solace.
‘The Batman’ reunited my interest in film… it again became a place of solace.”
“The Outfit” was another movie that impressed me last year. Like “The Batman,” elements of this film were familiar, but the approach was not. Unlike other mob films I’ve watched, this film had a more intimate cast and setting. There was violence, but it was not overwhelmingly trite. I do not find myself wrapped up in over-the-top productions or violence that arouses or assaults my neural system. I want to sit through a film that feels well-written, with poignant storytelling and intimate settings. This preference might be why I felt underwhelmed by Baz Luhrmann’s “Elvis.” There was a good story there, albeit lost in dizzying cinematographic choices and a need to keep Elvis from being perceived as a tragic figure — even if he ultimately was.
The Moving Emotion of ‘Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio’
By last Fall, I had left my corporate job and decided to begin my segue into a new industry. I always loved writing, and given that film had become a saving grace for me at an otherwise chaotic time, I decided to write about film for portfolio work, but most importantly because it made me happy. Of course, all these changes lend to being reflective, thoughtful, and sensitive. Although this can make one sentimental, there’s also invigorating strength in choosing your path and redirecting yourself towards a more fulfilling life. “Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio” and “Everything Everywhere All at Once” were films that made me cry as they tugged at my heartstrings in different ways.
“Everything Everywhere All at Once” felt healing to me, as someone who was admittedly insecure about their place in the world and some of their prior decisions. I commiserated with the lead character Evelyn played by Michelle Yeoh. I had spent many moments pondering where I might be or what I might be doing in another timeline. This film made me look at that notion differently than I ever had before. Where I once felt a sense of dismay or envy that some version of myself might be living a completely different life trajectory, I now saw it as an opportunity to better myself in this timeline. What strengths could I — in the here and now — draw from all those other versions of myself existing simultaneously to empower myself?
Rekindling a Lifelong Love of Film
“Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio” to date is the film that made me cry the most in one sitting. It would be easier to try and remember the parts of the film where my eyes were not flooding. I watched it on Netflix on Christmas Day. I am not sure if it was the feeling of the year wrapping up and witnessing such a poignantly sentimental story reimagined in such a visually-compelling way… Or maybe it was the way Guillermo del Toro added so much depth to a story retold countless times. I felt overwhelmed by feelings of melancholia, but also hope. “Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio” is a call to action to embrace oneself as one innately is. It is also a beautifully-rendered permission slip on letting go of the hurt we feel for past losses.
I cannot fathom loss to the extent of Geppetto, but I started 2022 feeling loss for many of my expectations. Ultimately, like Geppetto, I gained a new perspective and new opportunities. I rekindled a lifelong love of film I had all but forgotten. Film — going to theatres, conversing with friends about them, and ultimately being able to write about them — provided me fulfillment and hope. I cannot say what is next in 2023, other than I have some pieces of writing I feel confident will lead me to the next exciting adventure of my professional career. My optimism also extends to what new films I will watch. After all, a last-minute decision to see a movie with a friend redirected my entire year.
You can follow Luke on The Movie Buff by visiting his profile here.
