Why We Need Summer Movies

It was May 2002. I was in the second grade, and I loved Spider-Man. So it didn't come as a surprise when my parents asked if I wanted to go see Spider-Man in theaters. Every time the commercial came on TV, I got quiet and my eyes stayed glued to the screen. I had a love for that particular superhero for years, thanks in part to the many classic comics left over from my dad's childhood that he gave to me. Not to mention my favorite action figure- a Spider-Man toy that I brought with me everywhere. So, naturally, I wanted to see Spider-Man more than I had ever wanted anything in my short eight years of life. Yet, I turned down my parents offer to see the movie in theaters. Why? Because I was an abnormally paranoid eight year old and while my parents had brought me to see virtually every animated film released between 1998 and 2002, the idea of seeing a live action film on the big screen filled me with apprehension. It wasn't until November 1, 2002 that I saw the film that would awaken the film nerd inside of me.

What I find funny is that I remember the day I saw Spider-Man in vivid detail. I remember that my mom and I had planned, long in advance, that she would take me to Hollywood Video immediately after school ended. I remember running into the video store, tracking down the VHS and running to the front with my copy. I remember putting the movie on right away and sitting on the couch with my brother, smiling with anticipation for what was about to begin. And I remember deciding the very second it ended that I was going to watch it again tomorrow. And I did.

I loved movies from when I was a little kid. But, whether I realized it or not at the time, watching Spider-Man awoke something in me. Because after that, I couldn't stop watching movies. Sure, being nine years old my watching habits consisted, primarily, of silly action films and bad comedies. And, naturally, every movie I saw was the "best movie I have ever seen... other than Spider-Man." But suddenly watching movies was part of my daily routine. And as the years went on, my movie habits began to mature.

When I entered middle school my parents had moved to a new town with a much nicer library. I was a bit of a bookworm, so my parents took me to check it out almost immediately after moving in but all I noticed was the gigantic selection of films in the back room- all of which were available for free. Around the same time, I had discovered the Internet Movie Database and while I still wasn't reaching too far out of my comfort zone I at least started to watch older films, selecting mainstream hits from the 90s, 80s and sometimes even the 70s. And, instead of reviewing each film with "That was the best movie ever!" I became a bit more discerning (but I still tended to be overly passionate about films that really weren't all that great). Every weekend, I'd march into the library and rent an obscene amount of DVDs. And I'd watch most, if not all of them (clearly I wasn't a very social child). By the time eighth grade was wrapping up, I was becoming a bit of a critic. I was reading professional reviews regularly, stepping outside my comfort zone a bit by seeing a few (popular) independent films, and actually had somewhat intelligent things to say about a film- "it had a great script" or "I think it was pretty well directed" replaced "That was the best movie ever."

And then I had another major moment in my life as a film lover. It was the moment that awakened me to the difference between a "great, entertaining movie" and a "great movie." I saw Paul Thomas Anderson's 1997 epic Boogie Nights, a film that I was probably far too young for at the age of 14, but I watched it anyway. And it blew me away. From the opening scene, a long tracking shot that introduces every major character, I was in awe. "So this is what a great movie is" was my first thought after it came to an end. Boogie Nights was unlike anything I had seen before, and it filled me with that same sense of glee that Spider-Man supplied. Only for a different reason- I was suddenly pulled out of the realm of being a fan of movies and suddenly felt like a certifiable film geek. As soon as Boogie Nights ended, I started searching for every critically acclaimed film in existence to watch and to cherish. Granted, that's an of an unrealistic goal- it's been almost five years since I started watching movies seriously and I still have a long list of beloved movies I have yet to check out. But suddenly watching films was more than just a hobby. It was, and still is, a passion.

So, what does that all mean?

Earlier this week, Steven Soderbergh gave a speech at the San Francisco International Film Festival about how the big studios are destroying cinema by spending large sums of money on expensive but artistically bankrupt films, while smaller independent films are barely even given a release. This sentiment- which is nothing new, keep in mind- saddens me. Yes, I'd prefer to see a great film with brilliant direction and an intelligent screenplay over a brainless film with some fun action. But it does not bother me in the slightest that some people, maybe even a majority of people, wouldn't. Because if it did bother me, I'd be a hypocrite.

Over the summer, I try to go to the movies as much as possible. I love to see the independent art house films that are released. In fact, I am planning numerous trips this summer to see films like The Bling Ring or Blue Jasmine in theaters- movies that won't be playing near me, but will probably be amongst the year's best. But I also love going to see popcorn movies. Yes, some of them are truly terrible and a majority of them  will be forgotten in the weeks to come. But, first of all, I have wonderful memories of seeing these films with my friends and family. And, more importantly, there are some shining examples of films transcending their genre and becoming truly great movies. And the fact that alleged film lovers will write off an entire brand of movies really bothers me. Especially since so many people employ an elitist point of view- those who enjoy fluff are, apparently, less worthy of being called a "film lover."

Regardless of who is behind the camera, the amount of theaters it is shown in and the amount of money spent on it, a film is a film. Iron Man 3 and Star Trek Into Darkness are just as worthy of being reviewed as films like Only God Forgives or Frances Ha. They should be held to the same standard, and neither should be written off before actually being viewed. To do so is disrespectful to the people who worked on the film, and to the medium itself. I judge each film based on its own merits. I love The Avengers because I thought it had terrific dialogue and because its action scenes were staged fantastically- not because Marvel spent a fortune on it. I didn't like Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen because its script was horrific and the film came off as juvenile and borderline offensive- not because Dreamworks spent a fortune on it. Hell, I enjoyed the first  Transformers quite a bit! It was fun and for two and a half hours I was entertained. I never felt the need to revisit it and probably never will, but what is so bad about enjoying yourself for 150 minutes? I don't think I robbed any talented filmmakers by doing so. Not to mention the fact that I have seen some truly terrible small-budgeted films from directors who may not be working with a studio. But I've also seen great ones. The amount of money a studio is willing to spend on a film does not serve as an indicator to its quality.

But I also think blockbusters play an important role in the film community. How many film lovers had their passion for cinema begin by watching some sort of challenging art house film? Maybe I'm just being naive, but I don't think there are many. As I mentioned above, my passion for film started when I saw Spider-Man, a big budget action film that is heavily flawed but in the eyes of my eight year old self it was absolute perfection and showed me just how great watching movies can be. There is a movie like Spider-Man for every film lover that is writing about, talking about, and celebrating movies. And these movies, which the film community is so quick to write off, will be like Spider-Man for the next generation of film geeks. Yes, these films may be flawed. Yes, some of them may be terrible. But if watching that terrible movie sends someone on the path to finding great movies, than it has validated its existence.

The big studios in Hollywood churn out that are crap. But this is not a new issue. Hell, they talk about it in the 1950 classic Sunset Blvd. There will always be bad movies. But, there will always be good ones to. And the existence of bad movies, whether they are made for north of $200 million or on a shoe-string budget, will not lessen their quality. So why get so angry about people enjoying bad films? Do they prevent you from enjoying good ones? 

I loved Spider-Man. A part of me still loves it. Granted, it's not in my top five of all time. It's not in my top ten either. It's not even in my top 50. But because I saw it back when I was eight years old, I managed to seek out movies that allowed me to make a top 50 favorite films of all time list that is filled with titles that are respected by critics and cinephiles. So let's all stop getting so hung up on the fact that bad movies can make a lot of money, and let's just enjoy the wide variety of films that are made in this wonderful medium of entertainment.

Soderbergh's speech transcript courtesy of Rope of Silicon.