For What it Is

"Were we even watching the same movie?"

This is a line often heard when people's opinions about movies differ drastically. Same movie, two completely different reactions.

For those of you who've read Andy's post about Superman, I too attended the advanced screening of Superman Returns last week. As his post indicates, Andy felt it was possibly one of the greatest movies ever made. While I really enjoyed the movie overall, I walked away feeling a little disappointed. I couldn't put my finger on any one thing; the action scenes were phenomenal, especially the flying; the actors were pretty good, especially Kevin Spacey as Lex Luthor; the themes of regret and resposibility came across beautifully; and the story...well, other than the actual dastardly plot itself (he was growing a flippin' continent!), the story was also passable. (Ok, side rant, the continent thing? Lex had these super crystals; story-wise, the writers could have come up with any number of awesome possibilities for what he could do with those crystals. But growing a continent?? Um....rrrright.) Alright, rant over. I'm generally willing to overlook a silly plot for an entertaining story, so that didn't detract too much.

But somehow I just didn't see it as a spectacular cinematic achievement like Andy. I even had to stifle a little laughter when he said it was a near-religious experience for him. Apparently I was missing something.

And I was, most definitely. Not something about the movie itself. I was missing his perspective. As all who know and love Mr. Martinez can attest to, he is a diehard Man of Steel fanatic. So when a long-delayed, long-awaited, nine-figure blockbuster movie production comes out to bring the beloved characters back to life, one might imagine he could have some difficulty viewing it objectively. Anything that does even a passable job would be amazing to him, right?

That was pretty much the way I saw it, until I re-watched the movie Serenity the other night. Most of you have seen it, but I'll summarize the details briefly. Serenity is the movie follow up to the aborted television show Firefly, created by Joss Whedon. I have been a major fan of Joss for many years now, having absolutely loved his previous shows, Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He has a unique brand of action, adventure, compelling characters, and laugh-out-loud humor that always captures my imagination. Despite this, I didn't watch Firefly when it was on the air. I caught the series on dvd when I heard they were making a movie - I wanted to see what the fuss was about. So I watched all 14 episodes. Then I watched them again. And again. By the time the movie came out, I had seen them all probably 5 times. This isn't unusual - I own or rent many series on dvd and watch them repeatedly - but this show was particularly good, especially for the incredible potential it had. I loved the characters. I loved the setting. I loved the conflicts and the themes. I simply loved it.

So the movie came out, and I went with all my friends (re: you). I was positively blown away. They were able to perfectly recreate a story I loved on the big screen, and advanced it in exciting, meaningful, and at times heart-wrenching ways. I think everyone that went enjoyed it, but having seen the series and connected with the story and characters beforehand, I enjoyed it on a much higher level than anyone who went in cold. And now, if I tell people that Serenity was one of the top three movies of all time, I'm sure to get funny looks, even from people who enjoyed it. It was relatively low-budget ($40 mil), had no big-named stars, and it borrowed a lot from Star Wars and other of its predecessors. (The Mal/Han Solo comparison is obvious.) But for me, that was a nearly flawless cinematic experience.

So now I have a greater appreciation of Superman Returns, at least for what it means to Andy. There are certain stories that speak to each of us on an entirely different level than to everyone else; others can see something for what it is, but no one can see something for what it is to me.

Were we even watching the same movie?

No. No, we really were not.