Cinema is a significant part and representation of our culture, relaying our times as both timeless and constantly active. For this reason, every film—whether “good” or “bad”—is an active engagement with the viewer. Whether a movie is expanding or conforming to our notions of the world, we the viewer also have the ability to act on the movie; a film is only immersive if we choose to immerse ourselves in it. 

 

Telling someone you watch lots of movies can sound like a passive hobby because it is common and easy to stick to the comfort watches, acquiescing to simple nostalgia and sentimentality. Know that this is not true because every watch, if you choose it to be, can be a transformative experience, even if you’re watching an undeniable piece of garbage. This does not entail yelling “chicken jockey” as a demonstration of engagement, but more an openness and curiosity to experience something new, even if it brings us to a strange place. I do not claim to be able to do this every time I watch a movie: the occasional Medea film can be necessary. However, devoting yourselves to a piece of art and trying to understand your relation to it, movie or other, is an act of creation that can also make us enjoy our lives more. 

 

For my final blog with VandyRadio, I wanted to share a few of my favorite films. Before I begin, I wanted to thank all of the people at VandyRadio and anybody who has read my blog since I began in September 2023. These favorite films are ones I feel I carry with me, becoming a part of myself while helping me find my place. I think they are also best seen going in blind and unprepared for the first time, so I’ll keep my commentary minimal.

 

Barry Lyndon

When people ask me what my favorite film is, I typically say Barry Lydon. While I don’t think I have an overall favorite film, watching Barry Lyndon in high school played a crucial role in making me want to watch more films. Besides it being the most beautiful-looking film I have ever seen, it began to show me the possibilities of what an artist can do with a camera and a taste for music. The soundtrack, especially the Andante con moto from Schubert’s second piano trio, hooked me to the rise and fall of the tragicomic Redmond Barry.

 

Beau Travail

Deservedly placed in the top ten on Sight and Sound’s 2022 list, Beau Travail is a quiet reworking of Herman Melville’s Billy Budd and features some of Benjamin Britten’s opera, Billy Budd, on the soundtrack. Also has the greatest dance scene put to film.

 

Meeting the Man: James Baldwin in Paris

I was first introduced to James Baldwin by my English teacher Mr. McKinley when he assigned Baldwin’s short story, Sonny’s Blues. Words cannot describe what Baldwin’s writing now means to me, but this 27-minute documentary of him is one of the most interesting things you can watch. The documentarians frequently argue with Baldwin and his colleagues, creating a unique experience where a film’s subject subverts the camera’s ability to control perspective and information. If you ever get the chance, I recommend taking Professor Jennifer Fay’s Film and Media Theory course at Vanderbilt where you can take a deep dive into Baldwin’s The Devil Finds Work, a significant essay and book on American film.

 

Moonage Daydream

I wrote my common app essay on Bowie and his music’s influence on me as a person, so I highly anticipated Moonage Daydream’s release in 2022. For those who prefer documentaries that summarize an artist, Bowie’s Wikipedia page might be preferred. Moonage Daydream avoids the impossible task and narrowing of summary and takes on the more impossible task of expressing his artistry. I think it succeeds because Moonage Daydream embraces the radicality of its content with maximalist editing and experimental form.

 

Pickpocket

A quiet and unmanufactured work, Bresson’s Pickpocket is an attempt at pure filmmaking. The Dostoevskian protagonist steals from people and finds his way to the greatest ending in film.

 

Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters

The best score, by Phillip Glass.

 

Shoah

It is reductive to refer to this nine-and-a-half-hour documentary on the Holocaust as a favorite film, but it is a moving achievement that is required viewing. It is commonly referred to as advocating that no piece of media can capture the Holocaust, but it can make one rethink how all violence can be rethought when consumed through media. 

 

The Long Days Closes

In my first blog, I briefly covered the passing of the great British auteur Terence Davies. Cinema is a smaller place without him, and the lack of funding he received during his life will forever be a loss to the art. We are fortunate to have the films of his that exist, and The Long Day Closes is no exception. This is a poetic exploration of childhood and semiautobiographical, set in Liverpool during the 1950s. It is a brilliant approach to memory and growth, and it is best watched on a snowy day in December.

 

With the life of Terence Davies forever in mind, to anybody reading this I hope you continue to seek out films, regardless of budget or box office performance. Go to a local arthouse theater (there aren’t that many left) like the Belcourt on a boring Tuesday night and see something you’ve never heard of before in a language you can’t speak. There are more films than you or I can ever imagine. It is easy to see articles over-reporting box office failures, acting as if that is a true representation of artistic value. Yes, it is certainly nice for the film you like to make a lot of money as it bodes well for the director’s ability to secure funding for future productions. But devoted auteurs and fresh faces alike deserve funding for their films no matter what the projected profit is; films are endlessly important for our culture, not just for going to the movie theater but for the endless effort of creation that adds to our community.