Picking Five Movies That Define Me Was Harder Than I Expected
Get to know me with five films
When Pierce McIntyre issued the double challenge of “Five Songs/Movies that Define Me,” I thought the movie part would be the easier of the two. I was even more convinced when it took me two articles to finish the song part of the challenge (one with Springsteen songs and one without). Yet after entirely too much time spent pondering the film question, it is clear that I was wrong about how easy it would be.
The problem lies in the premise of the challenge (which I link to at the end of this piece). The title is “Movies that Define Me,” and in the article he goes on to say it should be films that help people get to know you better. While similar, these aren’t exactly the same thing, and even if they were I would still be flummoxed.
I’ve written numerous articles about the MCU, and with 25 films to choose from you’d think at least one Marvel movie would help you get to know me, but the only insight to be found there is that it took me far too long to start watching them. I considered The Godfather as soon as I saw the challenge, but simply because I consider it the greatest film ever made, and this isn’t a list of greatest films ever. And none of the myriad of historical films I love really define me.
All that said, a challenge is a challenge and I do not deter easily. The five movies I settled on may not exactly define me, but they do give a glimpse into who I am and how I got here, which I suppose is what Pierce was looking for all along.
Stripes (1981). Since I once wrote a story titled “How Bill Murray Movies Taught Me Everything I Need To Know About Life,” I don’t know why this wasn’t the first one I thought of. Besides running neck-and-neck with Groundhog Day as Bill Murray’s best film ever, it gives a more perfect depiction of Army life (at least as I experienced it) than any film I’ve seen. If you’re around me for any length of time, you will certainly hear one or more quotes from this film, though I have been quoting them for so long I’ve come to believe that I’m the original source of: “And then depression set in;” “I’m not parking it, I’m abandoning it;” and “Ma’am, I’m sure there are a lot of ways I’ve gone that you haven’t.”
If you’ve never seen the film, rectify that error today. It was Murray’s first big hit after his stint on SNL, his first on-screen collaboration with Harold Ramis, and has early performances by John Candy, John Larroquette, and Judge Reinhold as well as veteran actor Warren Oates perfectly cast as Sergeant Hulka. While I have tried my best to be the loveable slacker that Murray was in Stripes, fate had other ideas. More than halfway through my fifth decade of life, I have become more like Murray is in real life now than his character John Winger was in Stripes: sarcastic, irritable, and completely lacking the ability to work and play well with others. At least I got to be like my hero in one way.
The Great Escape (1963). How can one of the greatest World War II movies ever give you any insight into who I am? Two words: Steve McQueen. The film is superb, obviously, with an all-star cast including James Garner, Charles Bronson, James Coburn, and Sir Richard Attenborough. But it’s the King of Cool who stands out in his role as the Cooler King, even though he has less screen time early on than any of the other stars.
I’m not sure why his role in this film impacted me more than others of his like The Sand Pebbles, Bullitt, or The Magnificent Seven; in many ways, McQueen spent his life just being Steve McQueen, no matter what the character was called. And maybe that’s the point: when you are the coolest man to ever walk the planet you can do that, and just sit back while kids like me try to learn how to walk like you.
There’s one other thing this film says about me that will surprise some of you (and if you have not seen it, the following is a spoiler, so scroll past). I have seen The Great Escape at least fifty times, and probably more. Yet every time I watch it, I hope that McQueen will finally make that motorcycle jump over the barbed wire into Switzerland. The King of Cool made me a secret optimist, something even Springsteen struggles to do at times.
High Fidelity (2000). This film comes the closest of any I’ve seen to depicting the years I owned an indie bookstore. While it’s centered around a record store rather than a bookstore, the experience was eerily similar to John Cusack’s ongoing joys and struggles living out his dream. Like him, I had customers both wonderful and insane, debated endless Top 5 lists, and knew that as much as a business I had the best clubhouse ever. The only thing my store lacked that his Championship Vinyl had was Jack Black run amok and an awesome Springsteen cameo. If I had it all to do over again, I would add more records to my inventory.
The Godfather (1972). I know I said I wasn’t going to include The Godfather, but somewhere between that paragraph and this one I changed my mind. It is crazy to think that one of my all-time favorite films, and one I consider the best ever made, doesn’t give a window into who I am. Having grown up in Texas one thousand miles away from my Boston Italian relatives, this film is what really introduced me to the culture of one side of my family (without the extortion and murders and such).
Yes, the Corleones have a skewed view of what constitutes “honor,” but at least they have one. The theme of family, dysfunctional though it may be, runs throughout this film and its equally stellar sequel. Seeing things like the wedding scene make me long for the truly Italian upbringing I missed out on, though I did get Tex-Mex food, which is a fair trade. And I probably quote it as often as Stripes without even realizing it.
A Man for All Seasons (1966). The final film I’ve chosen to help you get to know me is from the year I was born and one you should absolutely see if you haven’t. The story of Sir Thomas More’s conscientious stand (both politically and spiritually) against King Henry VIII is worth watching for Paul Scofield’s Oscar-winning performance alone, but the supporting cast of Robert Shaw, Susannah York, Orson Welles, and John Hurt help make the film one for the ages.
Am I comparing myself to the future Saint Thomas More in any way other than that we’re both human beings? Certainly not. What this movie tells you about me is not what or who I am but rather, in my best moments, who I aspire to be. It’s easy to be an Army goofball (Stripes) or an unmotivated record store owner (High Fidelity), and it’s fine to want to be cool like Steve McQueen. But to stand on your principles knowing you will lose everything, including possibly your life, is something else entirely. In the end, that’s the real definition of a hero.
That’s five films that define me, in one way or another. What about you Eric Pierce, Simon Dillon, Sarah Paris, Arpad Nagy, Danielle Loewen, Aimée Gramblin, Kevin Alexander, Chris Zappa, and Terry Barr? Alex Markham wrote a fine piece on the subject here. And here’s the original prompt: