My Rules for Avoiding Movie-inflicted Disappointment

In a perfect scene from Silver Linings Playbook, Bradley Cooper utters, “What the fu—!” as he slams the cover of Hemingway’s classic A Farewell to Arms and chucks it straight out the window. He was so pissed off by the ending that he couldn’t help but sling the book through the glass. I can’t say I’ve ever reacted quite so angrily after finishing a book, or after absorbing any work for that matter, but I can resonate with the sentiment behind his reaction.

It’s a funny scene, and it works because everyone knows what it’s like to be let down by an artist, writer, actor, producer, etc. Everyone has been there for the sequel that destroyed a franchise (Alien: Resurrection sure did it for me!), a bad book-to-film adaptation (To Kill a Mockingbird left out like half of the plot!), or a remake that was as bad as or worse than the original (choosing between Colin Ferrell and Arnold Schwarzenegger in Total Recall, Governator wins every time). The fact is that the entertainment industry is overrun with products that are sure to disappoint. And for the cynic out there — you know, that guy who always says, “Saw it, bro. Sucked.” — even some of the best works are still fraught with inaccuracies and missed opportunities, or somehow lack a certain je ne sais quoi that truly satisfies. So there has to be a system, a way to take in any media product and come out on the other side disappointment free.

Then what’s the method? How can you avoid disappointment and find some type of satisfaction no matter what the media product? In my own life, I’ve been working toward this ideal of satisfaction. It isn’t perfect. It can’t compensate for every contingency. It won’t make me like some things. But the point is not to trick oneself into liking everything. Rather, to find what is good in everything, to broaden the scope of critique to include as much grace as possible. It’s always an option to keep being the “Saw it, bro, sucked” guy forever, but I can’t imagine that guy is really all that happy. Nor that his opinion is worth a whole lot. Gosh, that guy is seriously the worst. Anyway, what I’m getting at is, for me, it made sense to develop some sort of code of conduct for film watching to help me appreciate every film I watch (and you can certainly apply across mediums). I thought up some rules, and while they’re not foolproof, they will get you and me both a bit closer to being satisfied. First the list, then elaboration. Here we go:

1. Enter each media endeavor with exceptionally low expectations.

2. Experience every film (or whatever) in a vacuum, without comparing it to anything else.

3. Appreciate the creative energy it took to create the final product.

4. Remember that no one owes you anything.

5. Remember that creators are real people with their own lives.

6. Look for the shiny nugget.

So, Rule #1: Enter each media endeavor with exceptionally low expectations. This rule might be taken from Vince Vaughn’s character in Dodgeball (a classic 2000’s teenage boy comedy if there ever was one) when he says, “I found that if you have a goal, that you might not reach it. But if you don’t have one, then you are never disappointed.” If you set that bar of expectation nice and low, there’s a pretty good chance you’ll hit the mark. I’ve had the opposite experience numerous times, when a trailer had gotten me overhyped, or my favorite actor was in the film and I knew they would nail it.

In recent memory, 2012’s Safe House starring Denzel Washington was a big one for me. Denzel had proven his acting chops to me in Remember the Titans, as a wisecracking football coach of a newly integrated high school team, Man on Fire, as a former assassin who swears vengeance on kidnappers of the little girl he was hired to protect, and Training Day as a crooked narcotics detective showing a rookie how to make it on the streets. Denzel is pretty much always a heavy hitter for the depth and versatility of his characters. So I went into Safe House monumental expectations, ready for Denzel to unleash his bad self all over the screen. Maybe I was confused about the actual plot, which is essentially his character being kept locked up in a safe house that gets attacked, but as I watched his flat performance, I lost all hope in this great man. “What have you become?” I cried out at the screen. (I didn’t actually do that.) My expectations were too high, and a movie that probably is not that bad — though I haven’t watched it again since — seemed like such a huge letdown for me. If I had walked in off the streets, no notion of who or what I was about to see, I’m sure I would have walked out feeling just fine. So, low expectations.

Rule #2: Experience every film (or whatever) in a vacuum, without comparing it to anything else. For this rule, sequels are a phenomenal example because no matter what the franchise, sequels will always be compared to their predecessors; it would be impossible not to because they are inherently linked together. It’s either a continuation of the original story, or sometimes (and I’m looking at you Die Hard 2, Sandlot 2, Hangover2) the sequel is basically a variation of the exact story from the first. And if I could just rant for a minute, seriously Hollywood, quit this sequel-that-is-kind-of-a-remake-but-for-no-reason-and-worse nonsense. More story=make another movie. Story is over=don’t make another movie. Okay. So with this rule, it can be beneficial to try to let each movie speak for itself, without being compared to whatever came before it. Sometimes it will still be bad, but not comparing it to the predecessor(s) can make for slightly greater enjoyment.

I wasn’t kidding with that jab at The Sandlot 2. The Sandlot was a staple movie for kids of the 90’s. It was a story about growing up, baseball, and retrieving stuff that went over fences. It had heart, humor, and plenty of good action scenes. It’s the kind of movie that I have watched over and over, quoting the lines all throughout, and that I always talk about with my friends. Then, twelve years after it was released, someone thought it would be good to make another one. It’s the kind of sequel I mentioned that is essentially a remake, whether the makers call it that or not. It doesn’t have the same characters, really, so it isn’t a continuation of the story, and the plot is that same, so, what is the point of making it? However, if taken out of the context of being the sequel to an arguably classic kid’s movie, the film itself is not all that bad. You get a somewhat interesting plot, some humor here and there. All in all, there are worse movies. Don’t compare, just let the movie be what it is, on its own, and go from there. It may still be legitimately bad.

Rule #3: Appreciate the creative energy it took to create the final product. The media we have set before us does not come from the great void; someone, or lots of someones, put it together, from idea to final product. Being able to recognize this aspect will ideally the viewer a bit more grace because they’ll see the film as the culmination of a long process. Even if the final product seems like something that some pre-teens threw together in a basement with their parents’ old videocassette camera, with play-doh monsters and bats on a string, dialogue that sounds like a robot spoke it, and a plot that meanders like a zombie with a broken leg, it still took creative effort and work to create. Recognizing this aspect will help reduce the “Monday morning QB” kind of criticism that often happens.

A perfect film for this rule is the cult classic, Troll 2. Generally hailed as a complete train wreck, it is still absolutely fun to watch. The story is some nonsense about a village of goblins disguised as people that turn visitors into plants so they can eat them. Its cast is populated by people who had never acted before, so the delivery is shoddy. It was produced for an estimate $200,000, which is exceptionally low, and it shows in the effects and props. It’s hard to even find on DVD. Yet, as arguably awful as this movie is, it is still an original product. Someone took the time to write out the story, flesh out vivid characters, scout a filming location, and gather actors. The documentary Best Worst Movie actually meets up with the cast and crew to hear some of their thoughts on the film, because it became a big thing despite being initially rejected by the general public. The directors talk about it like it was a very serious movie to them, like they invested themselves in it wholly. I thought it was hilarious, even though it isn’t supposed to be, but it’s a prime example of how taking the creators’ intent into account will make for a more gracious appraisal.

Rule #4: Remember that creators are real people with their own lives, and that no one owes you anything. Sounds harsh, but this rule is vital to being a long term media consumer. This is also the rule that applies the most broadly. What it means is that actors have their own dreams for life, directors lose heart before their masterwork, and lead singers sometimes run out of words. It means that creators sometimes have to make choices for themselves, rather than for their fan base. And it means that even though creators offer their products to us, they don’t owe their lives to us. Sometimes people do a great thing one time and then they go on with their lives.

This was a hard realization for me personally, but it really hit home recently when I was thinking about the sci-fi classic Aliens, from heavy-hitting director James Cameron. Considered by many to be a staple in the genre, many different aspects make it so memorable. For me, one of those aspects is the little girl Newt, who steals the show with her innocent but tough demeanor. This character is portrayed by young rookie actress Carrie Henn, who was only ten when the film was released. I’ll always consider it one of the great performances by a child actress, but when I did some digging into her bio, I found out this was the sole performance she ever gave. She was cast sort of by chance, and enjoyed the gig but ultimately decided the life of an actress was not for her. She went on to teach instead. And while it is pretty disappointing to me that she never acted again, it really shouldn’t matter to me. She could have turned the role down, and some other kid would probably have done a fine job. She could have gone on to act for decades, and maybe she would have been a star. Maybe not. But she made a decision to live a simpler life than the celebrity one, and I can’t hold that against her.

Rule #5: Look for the shiny nugget. This is the simplest, and easiest to implement, rule. It’s sort of the baseline rule, and if all the preceding ones prove too hard to employ, this one might just be enough to save the worst movies from completely disappointing you. I’ve seen some bottom of the barrel, one-star, “why does this exist” kind of movies, but even those usually have one small thing that pleases the viewer. This might be a hilariously memorable line, a spectacular shot or special effects moment, a good performance by one person, an interesting plot twist. Promise yourself, as a true appreciator of the arts, that you will find one little thing to be satisfied with.

It was the optimist in me that began employing this rule a long time ago, and it has increased my satisfaction. A good place to start would be After Earth, a sci-fi epic from Will Smith that absolutely flopped. I mean IMDB.com users gave it a 5/10, which is exceptionally low. I personally had high hopes for it and was let down big time. Yet, the rule applies: the visuals in this overall pretty boring survival movie were still incredible. It was beautiful to watch on the big screen even if I was fighting to keep interested. What about Ted? That teddy bear movie? I mean, I only went and saw it because a girl wanted me to, go figure, and I think people at large liked it, but I really hated that one. I guess maybe the humor just wasn’t right for me or something. But there is this part where Mark Wahlberg is trying to guess the name of a girl, a white trash name, and he rattles off about 40 names (literally) in rapid succession. It was hilarious and a pretty impressive feat of verbal agility. Lastly, why not finish off with that veritable mess called Spider-Man 3, which had too many villains, a weird emo Peter Parker that smacks Mary Jane, and an overall aimless plotline. Still, some serious eye-candy rises from the muck in the scene where Sandman’s body is reforming out of the individual grains. First a few granules started to move, then a pile forms, a partially humanoid shape which crumbles, then he rises into full stature, composed of thousands of grains as the music swells. That’s a nugget if I’ve ever seen one, and every other movie has one too, just waiting to be found.