'Growing Up Cinephile' by Leslye Headland

Photography by Bruce Gilbert, Provincetown International Film Festival[Editor's Note: Leslye Headland, whose debut film 'Bachelorette' opens on September 7th is today's very special guest blogger. I'm loving this memoir  -Nathaniel R]

When preparing for this guest blog, I thought about what I would’ve written about if I were guest blogging seven years ago as my blogger alter ego, Arden. Most likely I would’ve wanted to get super nerdy and introspective so here we go:

If you’re like me, movies are your life. They cheer you up. They bring you down. They connect you to people. They alienate you from others. You develop passionate arguments about the state of film today. You rehearse those arguments in your head then unleash them upon unsuspecting acquaintances during an otherwise friendly gathering. They can get you a job. (I truly believe my first assistant gig was secured by my encyclopedic knowledge of Star Wars). They can get you laid. (My number one turn-on in bed? Oscar trivia.)

As Truffaut said, we are sick people. But we weren’t always this way. What happened? Well, if you go back in your life, I bet you can find the most formative years were shaped by a handful of films. I decided to take a look at the symbiotic nature of what I watched and when I watched it.

SENTIENCE!

Love and Death (1975, dir. Woody Allen)

This is the first film I ever remember watching. I slept on the top bunk in the bedroom I shared with my sister. From there, I could see the TV in the living room and would watch films my parents put on when they thought we were asleep. Love and Death was mind-fuck for an eight year old. Absurd physical comedy coupled with Prokofiev? It looked like a grown-up film but it was funny enough to entertain a child. However all the Bergman references were unsettling. I was filled with joy and a tinge of dread. Later in life, a professor described my senior thesis directing project as “the work of a sincerely disturbed person who has an infantile sense of humor.” I blame Woody.

CHILDHOOD!

The Philadelphia Story (1940, dir. George Cukor)
Rear Window (1954, dir. Alfred Hitchcock)

 

Being brought up in a strict religious home where pop culture was shunned, it was all glamour all the time. No 80s teen movies or cartoons for me (I didn't see The Goonies til I was 27) ...

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I'm a Lebowski, You're a Lebowski

Michael C here. Have you heard that according to LA Weekly the Venice, California bungalow owned by the none other than Big Lebowski's The Dude is on the market and can be yours for the low, low price of 2.3 million dollars? 

Cozy place. Perfect for entertaining ferret-bearing nihilists or special lady friends you are helping conceive. Rug not included, but would really tie the room together.

Right about the moment I was chuckling to myself about the type of person who would make such an important decision based on movie trivia, a voice in my head chimed in to remind me that I am totally that person. It was not unlike asking yourself “Who is that total loser over there?” before realizing you are looking at your reflection. 

Fortunately I’m a New Yorker and can't be tempted by The Dude's iconic pee-stained floors. Still, I know in my heart that if presented with a similar situation I would jump at the opportunity. If the realtor mentioned I might recognize this as, say, Diane Keaton’s apartment in Annie Hall, the place could have exposed wiring shooting sparks onto the living room floor and I would still sign the lease on the spot. Then I would be out on the balcony trying to speak in subtitles before the ink was dry.

 

I put the question to you, the reader:
What movie character's residence would you pony up the dough to live in?