Red Dawn, Rocky, and The Quest for the Perfect Story

Two suns?!  Land Cruisers?  Talking robots?  Sign me up.

I discovered movies at an early age.  Having a few older brothers, I could always talk one of them into taking me to a movie, and by then, my parents had grown tired of the fight to protect their child.

I remember seeing the original Star Wars (1977) at a drive-in.  I was barely able to see over the dashboard of our wood-paneled station wagon, but what I saw amazed me. Space travel.  Light sabers.  A young man who was much more than he seemed.  I was hooked.  I was also supremely disappointed that Christmas when I unwrapped my light saber, yet I couldn't cut the arm off my brother.  Technology had a long way to go before I was going to get my dream of living in the Star Wars universe.

I'd train there.  Minus the buckets.

As an avid reader, I was used to books allowing me to escape the boring, mundane existence by transporting me to other worlds, whether it be Middle Earth or the Wild West.  Yet movies were different.  The visuals freed up my imagination to concentrate on the story and the characters.  I didn't have to imagine what a dirty, inner city boxing gym might look like - I saw Mighty Mick's Boxing Gym in all its dilapidated glory.  Instead, I could focus on putting myself into the story.  When Mickey called Rocky a bum, he was calling me a bum, because I knew I wasn't making the most of my opportunities, just like Rocky.  Rather than struggle with my math deficiencies, I could imagine myself as a Wolverine, fighting a guerrilla war in Colorado in defense of my country.  Movies, like all great stories, provided an escape, and I was happy to climb through the looking glass (sorry, 11th grade math teacher!).

Wouldn't you rather be here than sitting through Calculus?

I like movies that challenge me, not exploit me.  Anyone can make a movie to scare me.  Put enough blood and gore into anything, and I'm hiding under my seat.  But few can make a movie that disrupts me.  Schindler's List is an amazing movie not because of the many disturbing scenes of violence and casual cruelty, but because in Oskar Schindler, I see a picture of me, full of myself and my comfortable life, oblivious to the suffering around me.  He rose to the challenge - would I?  Have I?  Could I?

So there's my filter, my criteria for a great movie.  Does it transport me to a different place, and does it disrupt my thinking enough to make me reflect on the movie?  Hopefully, I will find movies that can do that.  Hopefully, I can talk about movies in a way that will help you to see the good, the challenging, and the bad as well.  I invite you to join the conversation, and make your opinion heard.  Let's be open, honest, and respectful.

Let's go to the movies.