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Mar112008

Picking-the-Movie Syndrome

Posted by Molly in Movie-related Musings

When I was a kid, I lived in a neighborhood behind a dollar theater. And though I like to think those days were not so long ago, I look back and marvel at all the freedom my parents gave me. With my dollar allowance in hand, I got into a lot of movies, and, more often than not, I went by myself. From checking the Friday newspaper listings to picking out the candy I would smuggle in, the choices were mine, and, after a final, lingering glance at the movie poster as I left the theater, I still had a solitary walk home to think it all over. And so my lifelong love of the movies began by spicing up the inner life of…kind of a lonely kid. It was not until years later that I first experienced what I have come to call “Picking-the-Movie Syndrome.”

A classmate suggested we rent some videos. With my Incredible Shrinking Woman soundly outclassed by her African Queen, I discovered a new queasiness as my future non-friend cracked nary a smile over Lily Tomlin’s wacky dilemma. It was the first time I ever turned to someone mid-movie and apologized. Since that day, I have been regularly plagued by Picking-the-Movie Syndrome. Suddenly that kooky animated special I remembered fondly from many Thanksgiving afternoons past is looking really 70’s (and in a lame way), and a dorm room full of guests are already drooling into their popcorn bowls. Or, as the lights go down in the theater, I am paying less attention to the plot as to whether or not this film is striking the perfect note for the people I invited along. Is it possibly dredging up some painful memory, hitting a little too close to home? One of them laughs and my neurosis gets a 20-minute reprieve.

Last weekend I went to see Persepolis with two good friends, and as I watched those rivetting graphic novels come to life before me in a decidedly…un-festive sort of way, I felt the first waves of anxiety rumble. A few animated executions in, I recalled there had been mention of seeing Be Kind Rewind, but I had steered us to Persepolis. As I began to get the distinct feeling that one if not both of my friends had fallen asleep, I remembered that it was a Friday night, and my syndrome was in full-swing. Afterwards I found out they could barely read the subtitles because of Tall-Guys-in-Front-of-Them Syndrome [insert despondent trombone notes]. Terrific.

As we limped off to our cars, pummelled by Marjane Satrapi’s autobiography, I reassured myself that we had all seen an important film…it just wasn’t the best pick for a Friday night out on the town. And as I tried to talk myself down from my swirl of psycho-guilt, I was calmed by a moment of clarity. Certainly the best way to avoid Picking-the-Movie Syndrome is…to stop picking other people’s movies. Why do I have to be so Peppermint Patty about everything? And, hey, when in doubt, it’s probably best for me to give the neurosis a rest and go it alone (old school). Like, if I decide to go see The Savages on a Friday night.