Feels for Film; It’s a certain love affair

I tend to spend most Friday nights by myself in the back row of my local cinema with enough treats to satisfy Augustus Gloop on the most indulgent of days, far surpassing any prospect of room for later.Of course, for most, this is a clichéd picture of sheer loneliness, exceeded only by that of a bedraggled Tom Hanks passionately calling out to the most endearing volleyball of the 21^st Century.

The truth is the cinema experience has always offered me something special; an emotive concoction of elation and serenity, from the first crack of the candy coating my Peanut M&Ms to the illumination of the confectionary wasteland post-credits. These sentiments resonate with me more romance than I could ever hope for in life as I have a certain love affair with films that, like the spirit of live music in an intimate venue, will unfailingly ignite within a movie theatre.

The significance of films for some can at least be explained in terms of their artistic value- the intricate combination of sound design, costuming, cinematography, post-production, acting, good old-fashioned storytelling and all the rest. In this sense, with the exception of everything Michael Bay has ever touched, you might consider a film to be the product of integrated labours of love and collective creativity.

Films can also represent events in time and offer opportunities to look back at our own lives. Perhaps a certain score, scene or familiar line inspires you to reconnect with bygone emotions or reminisce about old acquaintances; a first date…and the eventual heartbreak. My own passion is rooted in the first time I ever saw ‘Some Like It Hot’. However, my reverence for Billy Wilder’s timeless classic exists not in its buoyant charm, but in a personal symbol of a rite of passage. Every time the shaky title sequence roles, I remember a 5-year old Andy sitting cross-legged in a duvet den, hours past bedtime, caught between a boyish infatuation with Marilyn Monroe and the nervous anticipation of a monumental telling-off.

Through film we can also experience a world of technicolor saturation, ominous noir greys, fantastical realties or historical eras, only to take a few steps back into the real world some two hours later. Whether blissful escapism is a good thing is certainly contentious and, if you’re interested, explored wistfully in Woody Allen’s ‘The Purple Rose of Cairo’.

I suppose all of the above contributes to a somewhat controlled picture of my appreciation of films.  Still, there exists a familiar and essentially inexplicable sensation in my life that will often last for weeks after watching a truly great picture. It’s an emotional imprint that blurs the line between fantasy and reality and yet somehow facilitates a better understanding of the world we live in.

Okay – with every trip to the cinema you are likely to pay through the nose for a refreshing beverage and tray of substandard nachos, which are, of course, unceasingly alluring. Yet, to a sentimental buff, it is an unequalled experience that will forever inspire an abstract sense of ‘movie magic’, the essence of which I aim to capture in my writing. Whether or not you agree with my commentary, at least know that every post derives from an endless love for the cinematic art form, which, needless to say, is worth far more to me than overpriced concessions.