13 Aug Not A Film Junkie

Children tend to believe that animated stories are akin to magic and are instantaneously
captivated by the visual media. Add some gripping music and emotions will promptly take hold of
their young hearts, provoking amusement or despair within, making it easier to identify themselves
with the characters. The imaginary on-screen universe becomes too overwhelming at times: they
cannot take it anymore and leave the room. I was such a kid. And I still am, in a way.
I have a rather peculiar attitude towards the movies. I would describe it as some kind of
innate mistrust, and it has been with me for as long as I can remember. As a result, I am not nearly
as cinema-literate as an average person with my type of education. Although my distance towards
the cinematographic medium has not developed into any full-fledged philosophy or a full-blown
aversion, the reserve is definitely there and this essay is an attempt (luckily I’m not writing this in
French, since essai actually means ‘attempt’) to uncover possible contributing factors.

It would be wrong to assume that I belittle the work involved in making a film or despise the
visual arts altogether. Filmmaking is, in my opinion, one of the most fascinating jobs in the world
because it involves both discipline and creativity. Yoked together, they result in something bigger,
made-to-last. I also respect the theater at every step of the process, starting with the thrill and drill
of rehearsals resulting in a wondrous final result on-stage. I enjoy putting skits together for social
events or classroom activities immensely. So, I do recognize the value of performance and the visual.
In short, my problem with the movies lies elsewhere.

First. Perhaps it’s my sensitivity. I do feel like leaving when I see things I don’t want to
see, even if I consider myself rather tough and resilient in other areas of life. It is actually fascinating
to realize how people differ in terms of sensitivity and stamina. Some will take everything in their
stride while others will panic over little things. Some freak out when they see a scratched knee but
will watch a gory horror movie with delight. People’s strengths and weaknesses are unique and
obviously inconsistent at times. I have met many people who are strong physically and mentally but
cringe at the thought of minor inconvenience or an extra thing to do. I have also met quite a few
individuals who seem frail but are warriors who do not fear pain or effort. Some, like me, will never
be able to handle most on-screen violence but will do fine in the face of other challenges.

Second. Trading reality for a moment of oblivion is not my thing. Again, some inconsistency.
I’m a dreamer, but I’m always trying to remain firmly rooted in reality. I do not like it when people
(including myself), inattentive to or clueless about the meaning of their own lives , try to make their
lives resemble something they have seen on screen, feeding on another’s ideas or looking for
borrowed thrills. What could be better than dwelling in the moment (provided it’s not torn by
disasters or tragedy from which some respite is needed)? What could be more important than
dealing with the people in our lives, since, after all, they will not be here forever? What could be
superior to unedited reality, beautiful or intense in so many ways, both good and bad, poetic and
meaningful? I get restless whenever I’m offered too much of a relief from reality or any form of
alternative reality because I fear I will miss out on something important. I feel as if I could be late for
my own live show. This is also the same reason that I don’t do drugs. 🙂

Last, but not least, the vulnerability: I am shown things and I have to surrender to the
experience. I’ve come to realize that I am not entirely comfortable as the audience. I do not like being
fed overwhelming and disturbing images, and most movies will do just that. Essentially, I hate having
to experience something fake for real or ending up seeing things I would not like to see. Films are
designed to take hold of the two most important senses of the person (hearing and sight) and the
experience is total compared to the dynamic involved in reading a book or listening to a piece of
music. When I read a book, I can choose my pace and I see the seams of the work. A book or a
theater performance is not a total experience but an invitation to another level of reality, with some
wiggle room. In the theater, one is generally aware of the seams of the performance. It’s rare for the
stage to feel entirely “real” as in a “perfect deception.” In the movie theater, on the other hand, one
is immersed in another’s drama: the emotions, the violence, the sex are all in your face whether you
want to see them or not – unless, of course, you cheat and choose to focus on the proverbial
popcorn instead or filter the content delivered to you by your senses in some other way (what way?).
But if you say ‘yes’ to this type of total immersion, you feel everything as if it is real. The idea that the
movie world has been engineered to elicit particular emotions in the audience makes me somewhat
distrustful of the medium.

In short, all these reasons result in my finding happiness and entertainment away from the
movie theaters. It takes some work to convince me to go to a movie. When the initial resistance is
broken, I might actually enjoy the show, provided there isn’t too much violence and/or morally
compromised scenes. Still, invariably, as soon as the cinema lights are back on, I am eager to return to my real

preoccupations, impatient to get on with the real world.