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September Film Challenge 🎬

Day 5: A movie you wished you had seen on opening night

Citizen Kane (1941) - This film was not a success when it opened. Had I been alive then, maybe I could've helped spread the word that this film would be considered one of the greatest American films ever made.
citizenkane.jpg
 
Day 5: A movie you wished you had seen on opening night

I am not committed to opening night necessarily, but I saw Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse on blu-ray and while it was obviously very good, I would have loved to have seen it on a big screen.
 
Day 6: A movie you've seen more times than any other

Wouldn't it be nice if your apps could put a counter on movies so you could see how many times you've watched them?

I've watched this movie so many times I can quote lines from it which is saying a lot because I don't memorize lines from films very easily.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)

 
Day 6: A movie you have seen more than any other.
I know what Hell is like, thanks to a movie. Sort of.

To say my relationship with my father stunk would be an exaggeration. We would have had to have had a relationship for that to happen. I won't go too much into the backstory, but he took off when I was six, lived about ten miles away with his new wife, who had been his mistress, and I never set eyes on him after the age of eight. (At eight, in family court, I told the judge he was a "cheap jackass." I still don't regret that.) We communicated a bit, and he sent birthday cards with a bit of money in them and the like, but never spent any time with me or my siblings. And that went fine, until his mother died.

My maternal grandmother was the only member of his family who liked me. My siblings, both his biological children, blond haired and blue-eyed, they tolerated. Me? Adopted, dark haired, dark eyed? Not so much. But Oma was delightful, and became my pen-pal -- we never stopped writing to each other until about a month before she died. So I packed up and went to her funeral in Minneapolis, and fuck the rest of her family. I loved her and wanted to say goodbye. While I was there, I was quiet and respectful, in her honor. It helped that my father couldn't make it. But the family, mostly first-generation German immigrants, refused to speak English around me, not knowing I took two years of German in college. They spent the whole time, the better part of a week, talking shit about me with me right there, holding a blank look on my face. My choice was to put up with that, or hang around the hotel. The hotel's entertainment system was on the fritz, and only had one movie on rotation, 24-hours a day, the whole time I was there. (It could still be playing today.) So, given the choice between my family and a Drew Berrimore/Hugh Grant rom-com on infinite repeat, I chose the latter. Unlike my family, I didn't hate it. But...so many times...

Sartre was right: Hell is other people. And also a fucked up entertainment system in a crappy hotel. He left that part out, but it was implied.

Music and Lyrics. (2007)


Oh, the highlight of my trip? Saying heartfelt goodbye to everyone after the last memorial in my best college German.
 
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UnquietDreams said:
Day 6: A movie you have seen more than any other.
I know what Hell is like, thanks to a movie. Sort of.

To say my relationship with my father stunk would be an exaggeration. We would have had to have had a relationship for that to happen. I won't go too much into the backstory, but he took off when I was six, lived about ten miles away with his new wife, who had been his mistress, and I never set eyes on him after the age of eight. (At eight, in family court, I told the judge he was a "cheap jackass." I still don't regret that.) We communicated a bit, and he sent birthday cards with a bit of money in them and the like, but never spent any time with me or my siblings. And that went fine, until his mother died.

My maternal grandmother was the only member of his family who liked me. My siblings, both his biological children, blond haired and blue-eyed, they tolerated. Me? Adopted, dark haired, dark eyed? Not so much. But Oma was delightful, and became my pen-pal -- we never stopped writing to each other until about a month before she died. So I packed up and went to her funeral in Minneapolis, and fuck the rest of her family. I loved her and wanted to say goodbye. While I was there, I was quiet and respectful, in her honor. It helped that my father couldn't make it. But the family, mostly first-generation German immigrants, refused to speak English around me, not knowing I took two years of German in college. They spent the whole time, the better part of a week, talking shit about me with me right there, holding a blank look on my face. My choice was to put up with that, or hang around the hotel. The hotel's entertainment system was on the fritz, and only had one movie on rotation, 24-hours a day, the whole time I was there. (It could still be playing today.) So, given the choice between my family and a Drew Berrimore/Hugh Grant rom-com on infinite repeat, I chose the latter. Unlike my family, I didn't hate it. But...so many times...

Sartre was right: Hell is other people. And also a fucked up entertainment system in a crappy hotel. He left that part out, but it was implied.

"Music and Lyrics."


Oh, the highlight of my trip? Saying heartfelt goodbye to everyone after the last memorial in my best college German.
Click to expand...
I don't think I've ever seen that movie.
 
UnquietDreams said:
Day 6: A movie you have seen more than any other.
I know what Hell is like, thanks to a movie. Sort of.

To say my relationship with my father stunk would be an exaggeration. We would have had to have had a relationship for that to happen. I won't go too much into the backstory, but he took off when I was six, lived about ten miles away with his new wife, who had been his mistress, and I never set eyes on him after the age of eight. (At eight, in family court, I told the judge he was a "cheap jackass." I still don't regret that.) We communicated a bit, and he sent birthday cards with a bit of money in them and the like, but never spent any time with me or my siblings. And that went fine, until his mother died.

My maternal grandmother was the only member of his family who liked me. My siblings, both his biological children, blond haired and blue-eyed, they tolerated. Me? Adopted, dark haired, dark eyed? Not so much. But Oma was delightful, and became my pen-pal -- we never stopped writing to each other until about a month before she died. So I packed up and went to her funeral in Minneapolis, and fuck the rest of her family. I loved her and wanted to say goodbye. While I was there, I was quiet and respectful, in her honor. It helped that my father couldn't make it. But the family, mostly first-generation German immigrants, refused to speak English around me, not knowing I took two years of German in college. They spent the whole time, the better part of a week, talking shit about me with me right there, holding a blank look on my face. My choice was to put up with that, or hang around the hotel. The hotel's entertainment system was on the fritz, and only had one movie on rotation, 24-hours a day, the whole time I was there. (It could still be playing today.) So, given the choice between my family and a Drew Berrimore/Hugh Grant rom-com on infinite repeat, I chose the latter. Unlike my family, I didn't hate it. But...so many times...

Sartre was right: Hell is other people. And also a fucked up entertainment system in a crappy hotel. He left that part out, but it was implied.

Music and Lyrics.


Oh, the highlight of my trip? Saying heartfelt goodbye to everyone after the last memorial in my best college German.
Click to expand...
Being the "black sheep" amongst a toxic family is a big compliment even when it doesn't feel that way.
 
Day 6: A movie you've seen more times than any other


It is most definitely not this movie. It’s almost assuredly the movie that defined my generation. And if not that some shitty movie that was on constant repeat on cable as a youth.

But, if we’re talking movies I consciously and actively decided to rewatch as an adult human being with plenty of options, the list narrows significantly. Still not sure this is it but it’s on the list. I can watch this movie for 5 minutes and be happy. Or sit and watch it from any point it comes on. I can have it in on the background while I’m doing other things or sit and focus on it. It’s like a big hug in cinematic form for me. It’s not exactly my favorite movie but it’s absolutely the easiest movie for me to watch.

 
lavendersilk said:
Day 6: A movie you've seen more times than any other

Wouldn't it be nice if your apps could put a counter on movies so you could see how many times you've watched them?

I've watched this movie so many times I can quote lines from it which is saying a lot because I don't memorize lines from films very easily.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)
Click to expand...
Good choice
 
Day 6: a movie you've seen more times than any other

Hmmm, tough one. I have seen this many times, great cast and I am a bit of a history fan. A must watch if I come across it.

s-l1600.webp
 
Day 6: A movie you've seen more times than any other

This is a tough one.
A brilliant, young woman on this site called the kinds of films that are viewed repeatedly "comfort films" (shout out to curious_s!) I have several comfort films in my arsenal, but this film I like to watch easily once a year. *It also contains one of my favorite scenes in all of cinema.
Mid-Run-.jpg
 
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Bry1313 said:
Day 6: A movie you've seen more times than any other
This used to be on cable every night. If we are including partial viewings, it’s definitely this


I’m willing to spoiler a 30 year old movie

Click to expand...
I have never seen it. I loved the short story, and I wasn't avoiding it, I just never did. And now I have been told for decades it is the greatest film ever, I don't want to because it can't stand up to that. So I will accept it is amazing, but I probably won't ever see it.
 
Day 7: A movie you can quote every line.
There are probably several I could name, but this is the first. I still remember sitting around a campfire with a guy I had just met, reciting the movie back and forth, line by line. A year later, I was a groomsman at his wedding. It was bonding.


Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
 
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