Make 'Em Laugh: How Graduating College Taught Me The Value of Entertainment

"Now you could study Shakespeare and be quite elite
And you can charm the critics and have nothin' to eat"
 -Donald O'Connor Singing in the Rain

Last night I watched Nora Ephron’s You've Got Mail and I absolutely loved it. Romantic Comedies can no longer be guilty pleasures for me, I unabashedly love them. Consequently, the “romcom” as it is and always will be is a critically derided genre. These are not Films, they’re Movies. Don’t expect heavy philosophical or moral themes you would find in a Bergman or Coppola film. Instead relish the escapism and social commentary on dating and falling in love. While I was watching the movie last night I realized that this was the kind of movie I actually really want to make, and I am heading in that direction. About a week ago I started developing a romantic comedy screenplay that will be as escapist as can be.  But realizing that I’m beginning my career with a romcom, I also realize that the “artist” side of myself who thrived in college is quickly fading away.

I’ll admit right now that I’m pretentious and snobby. I try not to be, but I just can’t help it sometimes. But I think since I’ve graduated from college I’ve gotten much better. It’s very easy to become a pretentious ass when you’re in college. You spend the majority of your time buried in a book and then spend class time arguing about Joyce or Faulkner. Then you go home and you argue with your roommate about Coppola and Scorses. And I was spoiled during my college career because I never had a job so all of my bills were paid by my parents (THANKS!) When there are no bills to pay and you’re surrounded by academically obsessed individuals, all your time is devoted to being the smartest one in the room.

In college I studied the film industry historically, critically, and from afar. I saw the sins of studios and success of individuals. As I was learning, the best films were created by the mavericks who rebelled against the studios, the corporations, nay! The Man. I thought, even I, the lowly Ryan Graves can make a great Film that will be revered by all! A film that will stand the test of time.  I won’t give into the studio’s demands, what do they know? After all, I’m the artist! But then I graduated, and I realized them bills needs to get paid!

You read That!?

Now that I work and live in Portland, I just don’t have the time to live like a student. I can’t spend hours reading Joyce or Forster or Austen. I need to read the books for my internship as a reader. I need to read the books that are popular so I can understand the entertainment landscape. I need to watch the movies that work; the TV shows that work, in order to understand what products would succeed in the film and television market. My entertainment diet still has a handful of Hitchcocks and Woody Allens, but they come after “The Hunger Games” and “The Middle” (Which are both really good! Honestly, check ‘em out!) In college I would always scoff at people reading or watching things that lay in the “Low Art” territory. Now low and middle art is where I live, work, and play.  

As a reader for a NYC based Production Company, I’ve been reading a lot of bad books.  But I learned very quickly that a bad book doesn’t mean it won’t make any money. Even if a book is poorly written, I can still see a TV show or film, so I pass it on to my boss for consideration. My college self would be horrified that I forgive certain writers for seriously bad stories, but the me of today realizes that this company needs to thrive, and very few companies can make purely artistic products. Not to say that the company I intern for is a sell-out. I’m just saying that a company has to make a profit, and if it’s in the red, it will not last. 

I’ve been studying the TV landscape, looking at shows that work, trends that pop up. I make my decision to adapt a show on whether or not it’s likeable by an audience, not the greatest story that can be told. The great artists whom I revere never seemed to have cared too much about audience expectation. James Joyce’s last book is almost incomprehensible, Terrence Malick’s latest film, Tree of Life floored me, but sent many audience members literally running. Romantic comedy filmmakers are intelligent and skilled but aren’t as indulgent as high artists. I’m sure Nora Ephron doesn’t see herself as Charlotte Bronte or Jane Austen. She’s a filmmaker who wants to make entertaining movies, and most of the time she accomplishes that. And I realized that I won’t be James Joyce or Terrence Malick. I want to make movies that people will enjoy. I’ve accepted that I won’t be an artist. I’m going to be a filmmaker, who will tell a great story as well as I can. And if I can make an audience think for just a bit about whatever the movie’s about, then I’ve done my job.

Now I just need to shut up and just write the damn screenplay.   

I don’t think they have a term for what I have. I guess I have to make it up. What do you call an addiction to the movies? Cineaddiction? That sounds like Sinaddiction. I guess we’re all addicted to Sin, it’s our depraved nature isn’t it? Anyway, I’m not writing about Sin (directly, at least) but my addiction to watching movies. 

I love movies. I know what that’s called. Cinephilia. But, oh. That sounds disgusting doesn’t it? “He had a terrible case of the cinephillia. Eeeeyuck. Or maybe Kinetophilia. No, that’s the love of movement. You would have to say, Kinetographophilia. That’s too damn long. And I’m rambling. On to the main attraction, ladies and gentleman. 

When I was in junior high, my first group of friends (who I’m still good friends with now) got together every Saturday night to have our weekly movie night. They were usually at my house, in our basement. Pizza was ordered, soda consumed, and the movie was chosen. Which film we picked was always very random. It was usually whatever stupid comedy that was popular around then. You know, the best work Saturday Night Live Alums were doing at the time. “Corky Romano” and “I Spy” are two films I still vividly remember watching at one friend’s house. ANYWAYS…

Every once in awhile there would be a random new girl who would show up, invited by anyone of us. Back then, I was a very passive romantic. I pursued women by either ignoring them, or smothering them. (I tended towards the latter, unfortunately).  Either way, these new girls showed up every couple of weeks, and I quickly developed crushes on them. But as I said, my romantic skills were stunted, and I was incapable of, oh, how do you say “makin’ some moves”. In my stead, my male counterparts were indeed able to “make some moves”. 

FLAMING JEALOUS RAGE! Did they not know my innermost secret desires? Were they unaware of such passion I treasured deep in my heart! Come on, they knew I had a crush on her, didn’t I call dibs?

No, I didn’t. So with raging junior high hormones, these Saturday evenings became very fiery for me. In the midst of my jealous rage, I had to distract myself somehow. I would be glaring at the girl cuddling up to my friend, and I would be screaming in my head “What the hell do you see in him?! What about me? Huh? I’m cuddly! Come on!” So I turned on my tunnel vision, and I stared directly into the TV screen. I soaked up whatever movie we would be watching. Who cares if it was starring Eddie Murphey or Mike Meyers, I was involving every fiber of my intellectual being into that movie, and truly escaped into the world of that movie. Anything was better than sitting next to the girl you just lost. 

Well, as we grew up, our taste grew up as well. We just started watching good movies. No, we weren’t watching Bergman or Coppola, but we were watching what teenagers should be watching. John Hughes, Steven Spielberg, and others. My passive romanticism stayed intact. I never developed in the world of dating. At first, I would pour all of my jealous energy into watching whatever movie was on. But then Saturday night just wasn’t enough. Soon, I began to watch many more films. Nothing intensive, but popular, critical films soon caught my eye, like the Coen brothers, or the Godfather films. By the time I entered college, I was a decent film buff. 

By the time college came, I was still in my shell. When I should have been out chasing girls, I was watching movies. Loneliness drives people to act. If you want to be with a woman, you get out there, you flirt, and you date. But I had learned (incorrectly) that any girls I take a fancy to will be snatched by some other guy I know. But it’s ok, I won’t be lonely. I’ll have the movies to keep me company. 

As college progressed, I slowly came out of my shell, and tried dating. I was not good at coming out of my shell. I didn’t know how to date, just passively fall in love with the girls I was already friends with. So the little bit I tried, I failed, and into the arms of cinema I ran. That’s where the escapism really comes in handy. It’s lonely to be 21 in Spokane. But I can escape to LA in 2017, and involve myself with the adventures of Rick Deckard in “Blade Runner”. And I would always feel better. I would forget that I had no girl, and I vicariously lived the life of the character on the screen. It was like every time I watched a movie like “Blade Runner”, I could get what Rick Deckard gets, I too would win the heart of Rachel, she would fall in love with Me. 

Well soon enough, I was watching a movie a day. All of my energy was poured into watching movies. It wasn’t all melancholy loneliness. I didn’t shack up in my room saying “Oh, woe is me, a man who suffereth from the single life, oh movies, deliver me from this sadness.” No, it was just how any addiction works. The substance of cinema feels essential to living. The more you do it, the more satisfying to your being, but the more you consume, the more you need. 

So now, I’ve identified the root cause of the addiction. And since I’ve moved out here to Portland, I’ve actually come out of my shell. Sure, when it comes to social activity with a woman, a movie is involved. But, come on, dinner and a movie? Classic date…I don’t know what to do about my addiction to cinema. I understand now how it all got started, but now I’m just truly addicted. If I go a few days without watching a movie, I get edgy, depressed. After I watch a movie, I’m always in a better mood, no matter how dark the movie was. My need to know more about movies than my peers is turning me into a certified ass. But I guess I’m just writing this out as a confession. If I knew how to fix it, then I’d do it. Of course, I’m frightened that the answer is a fast from movies. But I was born for movies, how could I step back from it?