Movie-Watching With a Purpose

I can safely say that I have never cried during a movie. By that, I mean that I have frequently had to resist the flow of tears with all the manly self-consciousness I could muster during everything from Dead Poets Society to Bambi. Though I might take pride in my dry cheeks after every film, I nonetheless almost never remain unaffected on the inside. Call me a thin-skinned sap, but it doesn't take much for a movie to strike me to the core. Few could truly admit to being absolutely stone-faced no matter what, especially after an experience like watching Schindler's List or Requiem for a Dream. These could make even Kimbo Slice wince.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. Films wouldn't be doing their jobs if they failed to elicit a powerful reaction. We don't go to the movie theater to stare at the screen indifferently as our favorite stars fall in love, get blown to bits, or cry their eyes out, only to leave and comment to our friends on how wonderfully unemotional we felt. Without empathy for those eternally tortured actors we would certainly cease to be human.

Take a film series as mindless as The Fast and the Furious. Over its four-installment, eight-year-long run, these movies have never failed to attract droves of seemingly emotionally impervious roid-ragers. But the reason these adrenaline-heads keep coming back is precisely because they're emotionally attached, whether it be to the excitement of the car chases, the curves of the babes, or the blooming bromance between Vin Diesel and Paul Walker (my money's on the latter).

So what is it that they, and anyone who has ever watched a movie, walk away with? How do we benefit from going to the movies? This question would be much easier to answer if every release were a Veggie Tales or Michael Moore production. But frankly, we rarely seek out, if at all, an opportunity to pay $40 for two straight hours of education—hence the success of The Fast and the Furious. Perhaps, then, the question should be, what do we value most in our movies?

If the most we ever get out of our entertainment is a quickened heartbeat and sexual arousal, then surely we must be wasting our time and money. Of course we all enjoy the occasional brain-farting movie void of any requisite intellectual participation. But sometimes even these can stick with us long after we've seen them. Old School and Anchorman may warrant incessant quoting, but it's something far more poignant in these comedies that garners re-watchability. The connections that Will Ferrell makes with his band of companions recall in us the kinds of friendships we experience in our own lives. Revisiting these films is our communion with them and their bond.

Last week I had the pleasure of seeing, despite all my friends' unfounded protests, the wonderful Kick-Ass. For days the film resonated profoundly with me beyond a superficial level consisting of flashy costumes, frilly effects, and a star-laden cast (Nicholas Cage, consider yourself redeemed). In lieu of these, I was stirred by a tale of a teenager's resilience in the face of high school's greatest obstacles, even if amongst these were vigilantism, crime-fighting, and brutal gore.

If Kick-Ass isn't a surprising contender for inspirational movie of the year, then I don't know what is. The point is that we don't have to seek out art house cinemas or refer to the list of Best Picture Oscar winners to find powerful and meaningful movies. But we also shouldn't discard those few and rare films that have something to say to us lest we miss out on some beautiful works of art.

If I'm going to spend two hours and 10 bucks on a flick that I'll forget the next day, I might as well watch TV, surf the Internet, or take a nap instead. For free. But if, for the same price, I can be entertained by a movie that also stimulates my brain and moves my soul, then my time and the filmmaker's were surely well spent.