As much as I enjoy sitting down to watch a movie, I’m starting to become more cognizant of the fact that my experience with a film does not begin and end with the act of viewing.
Since Eric and I first talked about #filmswap I’ve begun to pay more attention to how I watch and think about films, and what I’m beginning to recognize is just how large a part expectations play in influencing my viewing experience. In addition to my current working knowledge of cinema, the existence of trailers, Internet-hype and an omnipresent hive-mind canon of “The Best Movies Ever!” make it more and more difficult to click “PLAY” on a movie without some preconceived notions about how it’s all going to play out. Sometimes you’re validated, sometimes you’re let down, and sometimes you’re surprised – but if the #filmswap experience has taught me anything so far, it’s that part of the magic of watching movies is engaging with what you thought you knew in real-time.
With Leaving Las Vegas, I let my preconceptions of love stories and Nicolas Cage colour my initial impressions, only to be challenged to reassess them with every minute of film – and this is what happened again with Billy Wilder’s The Apartment.
The Apartment opens with a black-and-white panorama of New York City, backed by the bouncy jingle-jingle swing of “busy city music” and Jack Lemmon’s hyper-excited run-on narration about life and work in The Big Apple.
"On November 1st, 1959, the population of New York City was 8,042,783. If you laid all these people end to end, figuring an average height of five feet six and a half inches, they would reach from Times Square to the outskirts of Karachi, Pakistan. I know facts like this because I work for an insurance company - Consolidated Life of New York. We're one of the top five companies in the country. Our home office has 31,259 employees, which is more than the entire population of uhh... Natchez, Mississippi. I work on the 19th floor. Ordinary Policy Department, Premium Accounting Division, Section W, desk number 861," he says.
“Oh boy,” I say.
At this point, I am anticipating a zany comedy about an excitable and likeable dweeb who bumbles his way through the big city and makes eyes at Shirley MacLaine’s adorable elevator operator. It should also be noted that at this point I have no idea what this movie is about. All I have to work off of is Jack Lemmon’s adorable mugging and reputation as a comedian, some quick synopsis I read somewhere about romance, and the trappings I associate with all goofy old black-and-white movies (broad comedy, impenetrable innuendo, etc.). But when I find out that Jack Lemmon’s C.C. Baxter often works late because he’s coerced by his intimidating superiors (and his own upward mobility) into renting out his dingy apartment as a hideaway for extra-marital affairs, I start to realize that I might be wrong.
Now all of a sudden, in my mind, we’re in a 1960’s version of Porky’s. People have a randy old time in Baxter’s apartment while he tries to keep a lid on his racket, dodge suggestive comments from his neighbors and maybe find a lady for himself? I’m cool with that, sign me up. And it does go on a little like that - until we find out that the quirky apple of Baxter’s eye is already in a heavy relationship… with the boss of the company. Then, as we’re given a peek into that relationship and Ms. Kuberlik’s (Shirley MacLaine) anguish as an undervalued girl-on-the-side, The Apartment turns into a hybrid comedy/drama/romance with more layers and more ballsy story moves than I ever could have given it credit for. To give away any other story details would detract from a viewing experience that I think anybody reading this should consider taking, but I do not think I am being too coy by saying that this gets dark.
But never crushingly so. You see, watching The Apartment is like getting to know a really cool old lady. At first, you’re guarded because she’s old, and you might not have the same cultural sensibilities or vocabulary and you’re worried you won’t be able to relate. Then, she cracks a funny joke, and you immediately lighten the hell up and realize that there is what to talk about because you actually do have stuff in common. And it’s not just goofing around, either. Despite the generation gap, you start to realize that you two get along because you are fully-rounded human beings, each with the laughs, loves, hopes, dreams and disappointments that unite us all across boundaries of time and space. Like Harold & Maude might suggest, age ain’t nothing but a number - and in my particular case, there certainly is quite a bit of mileage between Dan & The Apartment - but I found out that some things never go out of style.
Follow Dan on Twitter: @korbermite
Since Eric and I first talked about #filmswap I’ve begun to pay more attention to how I watch and think about films, and what I’m beginning to recognize is just how large a part expectations play in influencing my viewing experience. In addition to my current working knowledge of cinema, the existence of trailers, Internet-hype and an omnipresent hive-mind canon of “The Best Movies Ever!” make it more and more difficult to click “PLAY” on a movie without some preconceived notions about how it’s all going to play out. Sometimes you’re validated, sometimes you’re let down, and sometimes you’re surprised – but if the #filmswap experience has taught me anything so far, it’s that part of the magic of watching movies is engaging with what you thought you knew in real-time.
With Leaving Las Vegas, I let my preconceptions of love stories and Nicolas Cage colour my initial impressions, only to be challenged to reassess them with every minute of film – and this is what happened again with Billy Wilder’s The Apartment.
The Apartment opens with a black-and-white panorama of New York City, backed by the bouncy jingle-jingle swing of “busy city music” and Jack Lemmon’s hyper-excited run-on narration about life and work in The Big Apple.
“Oh boy,” I say.
At this point, I am anticipating a zany comedy about an excitable and likeable dweeb who bumbles his way through the big city and makes eyes at Shirley MacLaine’s adorable elevator operator. It should also be noted that at this point I have no idea what this movie is about. All I have to work off of is Jack Lemmon’s adorable mugging and reputation as a comedian, some quick synopsis I read somewhere about romance, and the trappings I associate with all goofy old black-and-white movies (broad comedy, impenetrable innuendo, etc.). But when I find out that Jack Lemmon’s C.C. Baxter often works late because he’s coerced by his intimidating superiors (and his own upward mobility) into renting out his dingy apartment as a hideaway for extra-marital affairs, I start to realize that I might be wrong.
But never crushingly so. You see, watching The Apartment is like getting to know a really cool old lady. At first, you’re guarded because she’s old, and you might not have the same cultural sensibilities or vocabulary and you’re worried you won’t be able to relate. Then, she cracks a funny joke, and you immediately lighten the hell up and realize that there is what to talk about because you actually do have stuff in common. And it’s not just goofing around, either. Despite the generation gap, you start to realize that you two get along because you are fully-rounded human beings, each with the laughs, loves, hopes, dreams and disappointments that unite us all across boundaries of time and space. Like Harold & Maude might suggest, age ain’t nothing but a number - and in my particular case, there certainly is quite a bit of mileage between Dan & The Apartment - but I found out that some things never go out of style.
Follow Dan on Twitter: @korbermite
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