Why I Don't Have a Favorite Movie

Three times in the last two weeks, I’ve been asked in person, “What’s your favorite movie?” Then tends to happen at the beginning of every film class as well.

My most common answer: “Well, um, uh, um, well, uh . . .”

It’s the typical introvert response, not knowing what to say when put on the spot, and then afterwards thinking of a halfway decent answer, only too late.

But having considered why my answer to the favorite-movie question is stutters and stammers, I think it may be that I just do not have a favorite movie.

Don’t worry, dear reader, I haven’t forsaken film itself.

The proper answer, it seems to me, is that I have a large matrix of favorite movies that fit wildly different purposes.

Now, you, reader can and maybe should have a favorite movie yourself. Go for it.

But to me, declaring a favorite is like getting a tattoo: how do I know I’ll still like it in ten years? There’s no guarantees here. And I can’t get laser-removal on an online declaration of a favorite movie, for the digital lasts forever, supposedly.

It’s All About You

My first thought when confronted with the favorite-movie question is: “who is asking me?”

Because I then enter a game of Gotcha.

1. Either I say a movie the person doesn’t know about, in which case I am set up to mansplain why this unknown motion picture is great, usually to a person who is not prepared to tolerate any said mansplaining.

2. Or I say a movie the person doesn’t care for that much, which means we are at odds about our taste in one film, which may mean we are at odds about our tastes in everything, which these days means we are mortal enemies who should be trolling each other mercilessly online.

I may be overthinking this, yet the favorite-movie question is indeed a trap that I cannot extricate myself from. Any answer could get me caught easily looking pretentious, snotty, stupid, old, or weird.

Or, typically, all of the above.

So what I think the favorite-movie question is about is a recommendation. The asker wants something to watch. My counter, after the stutters and stammers is, “well, what’s your favorite movie?”

From there I can use my knowledge-base, my own weirdo algorithm in my head, to then say “okay, I like XYZ movie and ABC movie, which are a lot like what you just said.”

This is the way I, as a people-pleaser, wanting to get along, not wanting to make enemies or create divisions where none need to be made, cope with the question.

Because whenever I’ve said “Tarkovsky’s The Sacrifice,” divisions can and will be made.

“Hey, have you ever heard of this weird Russian filmmaker who makes movies with takes so long you’ll fall asleep halfway through the first shot?”

It’s Also All About Mood

My last Substack just argued that probably no movies are universal in scope, like the epic.

So if that’s true, any Favorite Movie declaration would inherently limit me to a narrow range of topics and feelings, whatever that particular movie focuses on.

It’s even more complicated than that. What if I felt in the mood to watch a stupid movie to make fun of it with my kids? Then I would not use my favorite movie, which could not work for that purpose, unless my favorite movie was The Room because that’s my favorite thing to do with movies.

What if I felt sad? Joyful? What if I wanted a moody mystery? Romance? Mindless action? What if I wanted a grandiose work of art with the greatest cinematography I could think of?

It’s highly unlikely that my favorite movie, whatever that could be, could pull of all that.

A movie, like a lyric poem, offers a specific set of tones and moods that comes up occasionally-to-regularly in a general human condition. But it doesn’t capture everything I need to declare when I must tell people what my Favorite Movie Ever is.

Because, as you probably know, many people see favorites as identity markers.

Rightly or wrongly, this is just the way things are. A favorite is a declaration about yourself, about who you are in the eyes of others.

I, in my counter-cultural Gen-X defiance, don’t want to be pinned down.

And who knows, even if I were to declare a favorite, I might change next year. Or tomorrow. I know this because, being old, my favorite has shifted from children’s fare to college-bro fare to pretentious old art movies that almost nobody in my physical sphere of existence has ever heard of.

But Here’s My Favorite Movie