In my last post, When We Start Seeing the Movie Differently, I covered movies that I once loved but, either through fatigue with the director’s style, or my own growth away from the content or subject matter, I now only merely liked or didn’t like much at all. In the comments, George suggested, seconded by Autist, that I do another post dealing with movies I wasn’t too impressed with the first time I saw them only to grow to love them. Some commenters began naming a few of their own already and it got me excited to write my own post on the subject. I’d much rather talk about something that became a positive experience anyway. So without further ado, movies I once was indifferent to, or only sort of liked, that I came to love.
It should go without saying that everyone will have different experiences with this and that there is absolutely nothing wrong with not liking a classic or a masterpiece upon first seeing it. There’s no rule anywhere that we all have to love every great movie we see so even though we may disagree, we all come to movies in our own way. That said, for years, decades really, I was pretty tepid on Federico Fellini. I watched La Dolce Vita when I was in my teens and, expert on life that I was at the age of seventeen, decided that it was heavy-handed and obvious. I was only seeing the broad strokes but when you’re sure of yourself as a youngin’ you are very good at hiding it and, straight into my thirties, I told my wife that it was only okay, not the great movie many said it was. I remarked how the ending, with Marcello (Marcello Mastroianni) trying to communicate with the girl across the beach, seemed hamfisted and meaninglessly symbolic. Boy, oh boy, I was pretty sure if I saw it again, I’d be proven right. So the time comes, about five years ago now, that it happened to be playing at the AFI in Silver Spring, Maryland, where my wife and I saw one or two classic films a week (most Saturday morning showings are pics from the thirties and forties). Well, it really is a funny story to both of us now because here’s what happened. We sat down, with our drinks and popcorn, and felt the anticipation as the lights went down. The movie began and shortly after Marcello finishes up with Maddalena (Anouk Aimee) in the bedroom of the prostitute, and Fellini frames the perspective along the alley with the car in the early dawn light and I take in everything I’ve seen in only the first ten minutes from an adult perspective, I leaned over to my wife and said, “Ignore everything I said. I was wrong.” It was instant. I could immediately see so much more going on that my adolescent brain couldn’t. I saw only the big points, not the beautiful details. And like many a young person, I wanted everyone who loved it to know that I saw through what they foolishly were duped by. God, I was a moron. Now, like I said at the top, we all feel differently about movies but, for me, the second the movie finished, I knew it was a great film and I knew, right there, it was going to be a movie I listed as a favorite from that point on. Not surprisingly, it spurred me on to see more movies I found disappointing in my youth. There were many.
One that I’ve written about a few times before, here and elsewhere, is one that I had kneejerk reaction to for reasons I suppose almost any classic movie lover would understand. The movie was How Green Was My Valley and, well, as a number one Orson Welles fan, I could hardly like the movie that won over Citizen Kane. I remember being bored stiff by it and just being outraged after I saw it that it took home the Oscar instead Kane or The Maltese Falcon, and yes, I still believe that those two movies are far superior to How Green Was My Valley but here’s the thing: I watched it again a few years back and, dammit, I really liked it. I think it’s a fine movie and the only reason anyone ranks it as one of the weaker Best Picture winners is precisely because of what it beat but if Citizen Kane and The Maltese Falcon had been made in 40 or 42 and Valley won in 41, I suspect no one would have any problem at all with its victory. It’s John Ford, for goodness sake! The man knows what he’s doing and the movie is indeed one of the best pictures of the year. So what if it wasn’t the best.
Changing gears to move forward several decades is a movie I have always liked, so there was no initial disappointment, but I never realized until I watched it again, just last year, how stunningly observant and meticulously crafted it is. The movie is Deliverance. From my first viewing of it when I was in my teens, I thought it was a terrific movie but there was more of an adolescent way of liking something for all the wrong reasons (you know, mainly how brutal it can be at times). I watched it a few times and then took a good thirty or so year hiatus from it until last year I decided to give it another look. I had no memory of how beautifully shot and assembled together this movie was. Wow, what an accomplishment. The first twenty minutes is just masterful on every level. From the opening shots of the now wild but soon to be urbanized forest and hills, to the final moments before they set out on their journey down the river, the first reel is filled with detail on each character. We see Ned Beatty’s character Bobby get out of the car after they pull up to the gas station and immediately start acting cocky, making jokes about an old car parked near the house until an old man shows up whereupon Bobby looks at Lewis (Burt Reynolds), the tough and athletic member of the group, and says, “Lewis, we got a live one,” as he walks away to let Lewis take over. There’s a smugness to Bobby that immediately sets him against the locals and, in turn, the other three characters reveal important information about themselves as well all while director John Boorman keeps scene quiet and introduces backwoods locals in an unnerving way, letting them briefly connect, as when Drew (Ronny Cox) plays banjo with one of them while another dances, giving Bobby an opportunity to point and chuckle. When I finished watching it I realized I underestimated it all these years. Deliverance really is a great movie.
Finally, picking something from the 1980s, I saw Atlantic City when it came out and remember thinking that, yeah, it was good but it wasn’t the best of the year or anything. It was mainly a great late career vehicle for Burt Lancaster. Well, I watched it again a few years back and was so amazed I wrote it up in about three different places online. I mean, unlike anything else I’ve mentioned here so far, I was smitten. Here’s an excerpt from what I wrote on my own blog at the time:
“I watched it again recently, thirty years older and in the midst of a very stressful financial period due to factors beyond my control, and found it an extraordinary film, moving and unbearably sad. Truly and deeply sad. But also redemptive, renewing and fulfilling. Honestly, I was unprepared for how well the movie explores the themes of self-delusion and loneliness. Of nostalgia and longing. Of the cruel tricks played on all of us by life and how, usually, the smallest thing will bring us back.”
“Unprepared.” Yep, that sums it up right there. I wasn’t prepared for a movie that, even though my memory had retained most of the scenes, felt completely new and different than what I remembered. It is such a beautiful, honest film that takes its characters on straightforwardly and heartbreakingly, and, in the end, comes up with what can only be described as a momentary happy ending. We know these characters won’t sustain what they have and what they’re feeling at the end so it doesn’t feel like the movie is lying to us, trying to convince us that it’s all okay. Instead, it really does feel like the movie is saying, “Look, like you, we know these guys aren’t going to be successful or happy with their lot in life for long, and we’ve seen enough of their heartbreak already so why not just end it here, when everybody feels good?” And that’s what it does. And what a great film it is for it.
That’s my list for now. I’m sure there will be disagreement with a lot of our picks because it’s not easy to admit you didn’t like a great movie the first time you saw it. There’s no shame in it but some people will think you’re crazy and I understand. Heck, if someone told me they didn’t like certain favorites of mine, I’d be a little put off too but how many favorites of someone else have I walked away from on first viewing with a shrug of the shoulders? Probably plenty. So we can all understand when it happens with one of our own favorites. Except The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. If you don’t like that movie, you’re crazy!