Two years ago I watched a film that my colleagues had programmed for our first International Film Festival of Ottawa, L.A. Tea Time, about a Canadian filmmaker travelling across the US to have tea with filmmaker Miranda July. I loved it so much, and the doc left me feeling so inspired to make a film, or just a YouTube video, like it. It reminded me of how I felt when I saw Miranda July’s Me and You and Everyone We Know as a teenager. That weird indie film made me want to be a filmmaker and make my own weird indie films. This got me thinking about other recent films that I love that make me feel the same way some of my favourite films from my formative years made me feel. Revisiting old favourites can be like a form of time travel, remembering how you felt when you first watched them, and what was going on in your life that made them connect so deeply. While finding a film that I connect with these days is still special, there’s nothing like those films that were truly a part of me as I was becoming a person. Thinking back to my favourite and most influential films I connected with as a teenager, I’ve paired them with recent films that brought back those exciting, crazy, deep feelings from teenagedom, but in a new adult way.
Girl, Interrupted (1999) > Unicorn Store (2017)
“That’s like me! I don’t see life like everyone else!”
Girl, Interrupted was the first movie that was “my favourite movie” and it remained so for a long time. I was very interested in what I then referred to as mental disorders. This was before everyone was admitting they’re anxious and mental health was talked about as a thing we all have. I didn’t know then, as a kid or a teen, why I felt so different and misplaced in the world (I’m 32 and I’m still not sure- despite my interest in mental health I have yet to get myself to therapy) so stories about girls/women who were also misfits were comforting and relatable. I didn’t see myself in any one character/diagnosis in particular, but I was interested to see all the different ways women could be and act that aren’t socially acceptable. Although living in a women’s mental institution in 1967 does not sound like a dream vacation, I realized I envied the kind of freedom that came with being “crazy” in one of those places. The women in there were weird because they could be- if you’re already in the loony bin, why keep up any pretenses? Yell if you wanna yell, say what you’re really thinking, move around how your body wants to. As an anxious, shy, introverted -whatever you want to call it- kid, I was definitely not comfortable around people. I wasn’t saying what was on my mind or expressing deep feelings or even letting my body move as I wanted to. I dreamed of being able to let my crazy out.
Like the women in Claymoore, Kit shows her weirdness on the outside. Kit doesn’t fit in. Not at art school, not with her family, with her peers, coworkers, seemingly no one. It’s hard to navigate the world when you feel like that. You build up defences because you’re used to not being understood. And it’s a struggle, as we see in Kit, to hold onto yourself when changing into what everyone else expects and wants seems like it might make life easier. I thought Unicorn Store would be a cute indie movie with one of my favourite actresses. I did not expect to be in tears for much of a movie about preparing to own a unicorn. When The Salesman said “it will love you forever” I felt that. Like Kit, feeling alone, the promise of a guaranteed friend for life is very tempting to me. Kit’s not actually crazy; she’s sane and smart enough to be skeptical of a man telling her he could get her a unicorn. But the promise of a unicorn, what it would bring to her life, is too amazing, even essential, to pass up the chance. Like seeing all the different types of crazy in Girl, Interrupted, seeing how I related to Kit’s desire to be herself and be unconditionally loved by someone/thing made me think about how I’m really living my life and what I truly want. Maybe if someone offered me a unicorn, I could also grow, in the process of preparing for its arrival, into someone who no longer needs one.
Thirteen (2003) > Mouthpiece (2018)
“Being a girl, at any age, is tough.”
I watched Thirteen when I was 13. Maybe 14. At that age, I had recently become interested in making videos with our new camcorder and in independent movies. I got my hands on a copy of Thirteen (forgive my youthful piracy) and I watched it many times over. I also would make my friends watch it when they came over; in part to show that I had discovered this cool movie and in part to passively show them a part of myself. Like a lot of girls, the teenage depression set in around 13 years old and by the time I watched Thirteen I was already experimenting with self-harm, like Tracy. Also, like Tracy, I had once had a friend like Evie- older, cooler, manipulative, and getting us both into trouble. Thirteen became a touchstone movie for me, both for the personal connection to the character’s internal struggles and for the indie inspiration. Knowing that the film had been written by a 14-year-old about her own life was very inspiring to a 14-year-old who wanted to make films (and was self-centred enough to want to make my art about me). Thirteen was unlike any film I’d seen so far, even among the other indie movies I’d started to watch. It felt real, it was messy, it had a darkness to it, but it was the deep emotional darkness of the characters that was expressed in the cinematography and editing, not just a dark mood and look like a gritty drama. It’s been a long time since I’ve watched Thirteen, and I’m interested to find out how I’d see it now. I’d always watched it from Tracy’s perspective, not understanding or paying much attention to what her mom was going through. To watch it now, I’m sure I’d see the whole story from a different perspective, no longer relating so deeply to any one character- I’m no longer a Tracy but as an adult woman I don’t relate to her mother very much either.
I love those times in life when a piece of art or media finds its way into my life at a serendipitous time. When I watched Mouthpiece, I was in the midst of writing this piece about how compulsory heterosexuality had affected me growing up and created a confusing dynamic with men that I still have. A lot of the thoughts and struggles that Cassandra was going through and expressing were also on my mind at that moment. I was not dealing with grief like she is in the film, but having an internal dialogue about why she cares about what men think of her while she hooks up with a man is the kind of contemplation I have when I catch myself modifying my behaviour around a guy because I want him to like me even though I know I’m not romantically or sexually interested in him. The two parts/versions/sides of Cassandra display the internal conflict I, and many women, have in moments interacting with men. We find ourselves smiling, going along with uncomfortable conversations with or even physical touch from men; internally screaming disgust and anger but knowing it will be easier to get out of there if we don’t make a scene. Cassandra isn’t a self-harmer, but she appears to be a self-sabotager. She acts out knowing she’ll invoke ire from people. She drinks excessively knowing she’ll be in pain the next morning. I use procrastination as my self-sabotage. (I started writing this piece two years before finishing it; I am a Master Certified Procrastinator.) Cassandra’s adult woman problems connected with me the same as Tracy’s 13-year-old problems did back then and both presented something new and interesting in filmmaking and storytelling to me that inspired me to tell my own story.
Me and You and Everyone We Know (2005) > L.A. Tea Time (2019)
“I want to make a movie now!”
By the time I saw Miranda July’s Me and You and Everyone We Know, I was settled on the filmmaker career/life path. I was soaking up every indie movie I could find, especially ones made by women, and something weird like Me and You with the filmmaker also starring as a character who makes weird little videos was a gold mine of inspiration. It told so many stories about people I had never before considered doing things I didn’t know people did. It felt like permission to put my weird thoughts on screen. I also found out that the film was edited on Final Cut Pro, which, while at that point I was still on iMovie, I knew was the editing program I would be learning in the college program I wanted to take. It was so exciting to me to see that a real film was edited on a computer not unlike mine- like filmmaking wasn’t so far away.
L.A. Tea Time brought me back to that teenage Tish place of being open to inspiration. Not just because, like Sophie, I admire Miranda July as a filmmaker, but if it hadn’t been Miranda July that Sophie was going to see, I wouldn’t have clicked so much with the film. The inclusion of Miranda July, who had inspired me so much as a teenager, brought me back to that young place of yearning to make films. Teenage Tish also dreamed of a US cross-country road trip. Thirty-year-old Tish also dreamed of road trips and documenting her adventures like this. I’d never seen a non-fiction film like L.A. Tea Time. Sophie created a planned, yet real, contemplative journey of self-discovery. That kind of filmmaking interests me, as someone who had been capturing her life on video for years in a combination of in-the-moment vlog footage and staged-but-real footage. In fact, later that year (2020), I planned and shot footage during my October road trip to turn into my own self-contemplative film (without any cool special effects). (Yet to finish said film. See: Master Certified Procrastinator.) Thirty-two-year-old Tish still dreams of filmmaking, be they weird narrative films or self-starring non-fiction films. I need films like these that inspire me to make something new and to not let go of that teenage dream of filmmaking.
Marie Antoinette (2006) > The Love Witch (2016)
“Pastels! 😍”
For my 17th birthday party I had to choose between two movies I wanted to see in theatres; Marie Antoinette and Factory Girl. I guess I decided Marie Antoinette would be more fun for a party since the movie looked like it was one big party. It’s not completely- the third act is quite dull and depressing. But when I think of the film, or feel in the mood to rewatch it, it’s because I want to feel like a pastel cream puff dream of luxury and opulent extravagance. I want neverending beautiful pastries, deliciously coloured fabrics on impractically large skirts, walls covered in multiple detailed patterned wallpapers and layers of mouldings, shiny jewels, big hair, fireworks, champagne coupes, oh my! You could call it superficial, to love a film primarily for how it looks, but I’d say you’re misunderstanding the medium of film if you think visual aesthetic doesn’t matter to the story or one’s enjoyment of the piece. And of course, it’s not just looking at a swirling montage of pastels and pastries that solidified Marie Antoinette in my favourite films vault. It’s also the story of a young girl, forced to grow up too fast, dealing with a strange unwelcoming new family and life by pushing the boundaries, making her own fun within the limits given to her, and not understanding consequences because she was literally just a goddamn teenage girl. Marie Antoinette balances on the edge between the worry-free elation of Versailles shopping sprees and the deep sadness of feeling alone, in over your head. It’s not just a story wrapped in a pretty bow; it is a pretty bow and a story.
It was love at first sight between me and The Love Witch. I saw a film still of a woman dressed in pink in a fancy tea room clearly imitating the 60s and I was sold- even before I saw the title beneath it, which sealed the deal further as I love anything witchy. When I was finally able to see it, it captured me from the first scene- the exquisite eyeliner of our protagonist, the perfect imitation of 60s film techniques, and the campy self-aware voice-over monologue expressing her feelings about men. When she got out of the car and walked up to the exact house that I had literally had on a Pinterest board for years, I had a little film orgasm- could this film be any more perfect?! It’s a ridiculous film. Elaine has extreme views of men and opinions on love. She magically seduces men, then is repulsed by their extreme emotional vulnerability. She wants to be loved, after being heartbroken, but doesn’t seem to trust herself or any man to be capable of giving and receiving love without the help of magic. The film goes to extremes to make its point and the style of the film, not just the wardrobe and sets but the dialogue and cinematography imitating a certain type of B-movies, creates a unique environment to tell this story that simply could not be done any other way. It may be their iconic pink outfits and distinct art direction that come to mind when I remember these films but if there weren’t strong stories intertwined with the aesthetic, they wouldn’t be life-long favourites.
Sucker Punch (2011) > Birds of Prey (2020)
“I could kick ass in pigtails if I wanted to.”
Sucker Punch is the outlier here in that it comes in later in my life, not my teen years like the other influential movies I chose. But when I realized recent fave Birds of Prey matched perfectly with Sucker Punch I had to include them. I had looked forward to Sucker Punch for a long time before it was released. I saw the promotional art for it and fell in love. They all looked super cute and so badass! I didn’t quite know what I was getting into with the movie, but I knew I’d at least love the look of it. And I really did and do. And you get so many different stylized worlds in one film! The real world, the burlesque club, and each fantasy world. I’ve come to find I actually love anachronistic movies (if it’s used purposefully, I don’t mean dumb mistakes in period pieces). It’s a fantasy movie! Why play by any rules? Make up your own! Steam-powered soldiers in a WWII trench? Sure! A helicopter dropping you into an orc army protecting a dragon? Why the fuck not? I am on board for these adventures, and the boggling idioms put forth by the old man before each of them. The film may seem convoluted and superficial to some but I get a lot out of it- more than just enjoying watching women physically kick some ass and look good while doing it.
As pumped up and ready to kick ass as I feel after watching Sucker Punch, or listening to its soundtrack, I felt walking to the bus stop after watching Birds of Prey. In fact, I downloaded the soundtrack as the credits rolled (free wi-fi) so I could listen to it on my way home to keep the ass-kicking energy going. I’ve had a thing for Harley Quinn for some time although I’m not a fan of her new pink and blue colour scheme. (The black and red is what made me like her! I also was very disappointed when I found out the character is blonde under her harlequin hat.) Birds of Prey isn’t nearly as dark as Sucker Punch, but it does have similarly dark beginnings. Harley is coming out of a period of abuse and isolation, being the Joker’s girlfriend. It’s hard to start fresh, get to know yourself, and create new personal relationships after something like that. I think the movie, as fun as it is, handles that very real human part of her history and character with its due gravity. Harley is on an amazing personal journey in this movie, as well as a hijinks-filled romp. I delight in the character of Harley Quinn, but I’ve never particularly related to her; that is until I saw how much she loves a good breakfast sandwich. Birds of Prey, while also revenge-fueled, is a lighter, more colourful comedic version of a revenge-fueled violent journey to both sisterhood and personal piece peace of mind. Both Sucker Punch and Birds of Prey are rewatched when I want to dive into their visual & musical aesthetics and need some riot grrl style empowerment.
Honourable Mentions
I haven’t found a recent match for these influential, important, life-long-loves.
MirrorMask (2005) has been one of my favourite movies since I first saw it in high school. I could probably find recent films with similar plots (it’s very Wonderland and Oz) but nothing I’ve ever seen comes close to MirrorMask in the way it looks, its weird sense of humour, the overall feeling. I guess MirrorMask will always be singular in its place in my film heart.
The Craft (1996) is a forever vibe. The reboot is actually comparable but doesn’t hit like the original, since I am too old to be really leaning into teen movies.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) also piqued my interest in filmmaking, with the special features showing how Michel Gondry did all the practical special effects. I haven’t seen anything lately that impressed and intrigued me in its filmmaking style the way Eternal Sunshine did back then.