On the Difference Between Appreciation and Enjoyment, Or: CLOVERFIELD Sucks, But it's Ok if you Still Like it

I ask people, in the movie-business and not, what their favorite movies are, and maybe once in ten tries will I get even some top contenders, and only once have I ever gotten a straight #1 favorite named. Professors in particular tend to refuse any answer, no doubt because their degrees are not awarded for merit but for intellectual conformity. In the end, most of the individuals who aren't refusing to answer want to know if I mean which films do they think are the "best," or which films are their "favorites?"

This is artistic double-talk. What exactly do they think I'm asking?

"Well, we all know The Godfather is the greatest film ever, but I just can't stop watching Epic Movie." What? That's like saying "I think the Mona Lisa is awesome but I keep Playboys on my nightstand."

Which one do you think I want to have a conversation about?

Now, it's fine if you keep Playboys on your nightstand, just as it's fine if you can't stop watching Epic Movie, but when anybody wants to talk about what you enjoy in your media, what's there to talk about but what you think is worth talking about?

By this litmus test, we can ignore the question of "Wait, do you want my favorites, or what I think is best?" I'd say if there isn't anything you can think to say about your selection, you don't really like it, and if there is something (truthful) that you can say about it, who am I to say your taste is wrong?

Afterall, what is "My best or my favorite?" but a smokescreen? It's a fear of being talked-down to by someone who might be perceived as having better taste than you. It's a fear of embarrassment, because, afterall, if you like a movie, if it entertains you, then it's done its job, and by virtue of your being a fan, it's gotta be doing something right.

Take, for instance, Cloverfield (2008). This movie sucks. The shaky cam, meant to lend the film some cinema verite, is ruined when nobody changes tapes for 85 minutes, which shatters the aesthetic distance. Not to mention it focuses on nothing but CGI-choked "money-shots" for the film's entire runtime. The actions of the characters are little more than excuses to run to the next set-piece. The actors themselves weren't allowed to read the script until they had already signed on. This all points to disaster.

But some people like it. And that's fine. You know why? Because the film isn't all bad. The marketing campaign, for one, was amazing, and it's certainly what got me in a seat to watch the dang thing. The idea was good, too: let's destroy New York with a slick monster. The rest went bad, but those virtues remain solid.

See what we're doing? We're justifying your naming of a film that a lot of people don't like as one of your favorites.

Meh, I don't want to continue defending Cloverfield. I just wish "What's your favorite movie?" wasn't a party-ending question, because really, it should kick things off.

--Serge