Déjà Vu

Earlier this summer, I decided to screen some of my favorite blockbuster movies for my kids. I only got as far as watching E.T. with my son while my daughter was at camp. Ever since my mom began showing my kids Hitchcock movies a few years ago, I’ve been thinking that it’s part of my duty as a Los Angeles parent to give my kids as much movie history as possible, since it’s our home industry — a homespun, hopefully age appropriate film school of sorts. So, no Birth of a Nation just yet.

I’ve been thinking about this article from Slate earlier this summer, discussing the use of formula in film plots. It’s totally depressing. I realize that movie-making is a gigantic business, but it’s still supposed to be art, which implies a bit of originality, on some level. As Joan Didion wrote in her book of collected essays, We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live. And to be able to trace the plots of major films to a book that sounds like a poor man’s Story by Robert McKee is about as far removed from art as I can imagine. Churning out special effects attached to the thinnest of déjà vu plots and calling it a movie is just sad.

I have to admit that as much of a movie lover as I think I am, this summer the only movie I saw was Despicable Me 2, and that was because because my kids wanted to go. Trying to squeeze in as much writing, reading, and fitness this summer as I can, I’ve reverted to a media-deprived near-caveman state since I haven’t been to the movies in forever. But I really enjoyed it on a Three Stooges sort of level. I’m still thinking of going to see Elysium, from the director of the great (and very un-formulaic) District 9, especially after I read the New Yorker review.

Here is a (very incomplete, and in no particular order) list of entertaining movies I’ve seen over the years that struck me as memorable and un-formulaic, some big ones and some less so:

Flirting, a 1991 movie from Australia by John Duigan, with Nicole Kidman, Thandie Newton, and Naomi Watts. I’m on an eternal quest for quality coming-of-age stories, and this one was a rare beauty.

The Wedding Banquet by Ang Lee. The bittersweet story of hiding your true self from your loved ones and messing up your life. I’m also a sucker for this kind of thing, especially with the Chinese angle.

Brokeback Mountain by Ang Lee. See above, plus forbidden love, set in the manly world of the Western United States.

The Crying Game by Neil Jordan. A strange bent love, politics, and crime story that reminded me a little of The Kiss of the Spider Woman — not derivative, but rather in a love is a funny beast kind of way. Seeing this when it opened and discovering the “secret” with a theater full of fellow moviegoers was unforgettable.

Pulp Fiction by Quentin Tarantino. Seeing the movie on opening weekend made the movie that much more incredible. Like The Crying Game, part of the experience was gasping and genuinely being on the edge of my seat along with a couple hundred other people in a dark, crowded theater.

The Matrix by the Wachowskis (Andy and Lana). My movie-reviewing friend brought me to this movie, shocked that I, an old school sci-fi girl, hadn’t heard of it yet. We saw it at the cruddy theater across from the Beverly Center, wedged between a low-budget sporting good store and a Jamba Juice. But I left the theater feeling like I’d traveled to another planet entirely.

The Iron Giant by Brad Bird. Before I ever had children, I rented this movie and adored it, even bought an Iron Giant action figure for my 20-something husband. Later I found that it was based on a book by the poet Ted Hughes, which is a mesmerizing text when read aloud. My kids have since fallen in love with the movie, and Brad Bird has gone on to the glamorous world of Pixar. But this is a gem I wish more people appreciated.

Drugstore Cowboy by Gus Van Sant. Like The Matrix, this movie was nearly a psychedelic experience. I left the Boston movie theater temporarily seeing the world in junkie-vision (although I never tried heroin).

Goodfellas by Martin Scorcese. This movie is an incredible feat on so many levels, and though I’ve only seen it a couple of times, as soon as I watched it, entire scenes were burned indelibly into my memory. The songs used throughout the film are forever associated with the scene in which they appeared, and whenever I have an insanely busy day filled with disparate household tasks and schlepping, I think myself as Ray Liotta cutting drugs and running errands on the manic day before he’s arrested.

The Big Lebowski by the Coen brothers (Joel and Ethan). This movie was fun when I first watched it, but has really grown on me as only a cult film can. Other than all the quotable lines, I think I love the delightful weirdness that created it and that the film celebrates.