The other day, my good friend and fellow writer Frank Zafiro
sent a newsletter titled, “Why Do We Rewatch the Same Shows?”
Most of us have a show or movie we’ve seen more than
once. Usually more than once by a lot.
It’s easy to call that nostalgia, and sometimes it is.
But I think there’s more to it than that.
Some stories become familiar territory. We know the
people. We know the rhythm. We know what’s coming, and that’s part of the
appeal. In a world that can feel noisy and unpredictable, there’s something to
be said for returning to something that already fits.
Sometimes we revisit stories because they changed us.
Sometimes because they remind us who we used to be.
And sometimes they’re just good company.
He went on to mention
a few of his (the first season of True Detective. Tombstone. Heat)
before asking what his readers always come back to.
For me, that’s a loaded question. I even have a schedule for
some movies. For example, the night before the Super Bowl we watch The Drop.
On my birthday, Get Shorty. Christmas Eve: The Ice Harvest. (The
climax of a run of “Christmas movies” that includes Bad Santa, Bad Santa 2,
Die Hard, The French Connection, and LA Confidential, though the
latter is subject to review at any time. And, of course, Elf and A
Christmas Story.) New Year’s Eve always features The Big Lebowski.
There are others I re-watch randomly. Butch Cassidy and
the Sundance Kid. The Frends of Eddie Coyle. The Wild Bunch. Appaloosa. Open
Range. Unforgiven. The Usual Suspects. Miller’s Crossing. Chinatown. In the
Electric Mist. The Nice Guys. And don’t forget the cult classics: Monty
Python and the Holy Grail. Animal House. The Princess Bride.
Why do I rewatch these? Some are comfort food, things I know
I can rely on for a pleasant evening no matter what else is going on. (Butch
Cassidy, The Nice Guys, Monty Python, Animal House, The Princess Bride, Get
Shorty, The Big Lebowski, The Ice Harvest.)
Sometimes I want to remind myself how good stories are
properly told. (The Drop, Appaloosa, Chinatown, In the Electric Mist.)
Sometimes I just want
to be swept away in the scope of a story. (The French Connection, LA
Confidential, The Wild Bunch, Open Range, Unforgiven.)
What makes all but the comfort food examples stand out is
that every time I rewatch something like LA Confidential, The Drop,
Unforgiven – or the greatest TV series ever made, Deadwood – I see things
I’ve not noticed before. They’re such layered entities there’s always something
to catch, even after repeated viewings. (I’ll include The Wire in there,
too.)
I’ve written about this before, so I won’t go into detail
here, but when I was working on my Master’s, one of the best teachers I ever
had (Benjamin Zander) told us that, since we had chosen to dedicate our lives
to music, we could no longer listen purely for entertainment. That didn’t mean
we couldn’t enjoy it – of course we could, and did – but our listening had to
be deeper. Why did we enjoy it? Why did we not enjoy it? What can we learn from
an artist’s interpretation? I became a much better musician than my meager talent
gave me any right to be, thanks to studious application of this admonishment.
The same is true of my reading and viewing now that I’m a
writer. Movies and TV have to pass the So what? Test, and I need to be
able to justify why they did, or did not, if only to myself. That’s where the
bulk of my repeated re-viewings earned their stripes. I’ll never get tired of
them because the more I know, the more I learn; it’s an endless cycle. It may
be a point of craft, or it maybe when it’s over I sit back and tell myself That’s
what you aspire to. It doesn’t matter that I know I’ll never attain the
heights of my favorites; I’m newly motivated.
One’s reach should always exceed their grasp. That’s why I
watch these over and over again. To remind me.
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