How movies and shows give one confidence and passion
The transfer isn't seamless, but it does happen after a viewing or two.
Consuming art can have its rewards. Big or small, the effect can be felt in a matter of minutes or after a couple of hours. Seeing a painting can unlock pathways in the brain and heart that were locked for years. Something about its expression or composition strikes an area of the mind, and doesn’t let go. The viewer finds themselves trapped in it for an extended period, wondering if there is more to this visit than mere visual pleasure. People say a picture speaks a thousand words, and they’re not wrong. The truth is that only some pictures speak that loudly.
Movies and television shows are a different breed. As the late Roger Ebert eloquently put it, they build up empathy in our souls for people and things that were previously dormant. When I walked out of the Esquire Theater after viewing Heat back in 1995, my entire view of movies was altered. Seeing a cop and thief square off on the mad streets of Los Angeles wasn’t Shakespeare in motion, but there was a high quality to the art form that Michael Mann brought to the action thriller genre that pushed me to love and think about it more.
I couldn’t crack a safe or fire a gun on a loud airport runway like the characters, but I felt empowered by what I had witnessed and needed to tell as many people about it as possible. The same feeling happened after films such as Chef, End of Watch, Once Upon a Time in… Hollywood, and Road to Perdition. L.A. Confidential struck a chord with me because it was Kevin Spacey’s character finding a conscience again after years of denying it that powered the plot forward. In Quentin Tarantino’s last film, it was Cliff Booth’s feeling of being overlooked for his talents and his ability to be a top-notch best friend that resonated with me.
In Jon Favreau’s flawless film, it was someone moving away from the easy-to-please crowd of creation and back into his out-of-the-box comfort zone of culinary invention. Scarlett Johansson’s eyes and lips helped considerably, but that’s icing on the cinematic cake. Perdition was about a father doing whatever was necessary to keep his son and legacy alive against all odds, including a wickedly evil Jude Law. David Ayer’s cop film nailed the brotherhood of cops more than any other movie, capturing the selflessness of two men dedicated to each other for a shift at a time.
Recently, I revisited The Bear on Hulu in anticipation of its upcoming fourth season, set to air later this month. Watching cooks and chefs wheel and deal dishes of food in minutes is something I’d never be able to do. The practice, determination, and clear-headedness are off the charts. Jeremy Allen White’s Carmen Berzatto battling every demon in the book while keeping a family-owned restaurant alive is something most people can only dream about. Still, it was similar to watching Michael Jordan take the ball down the court with less than a minute left in the game.
It was like watching David Freese walk to the plate with two outs and the Texas Rangers on the verge of celebrating a World Series championship on St. Louis turf, and suddenly denying Nolan Ryan and company the pleasure of doing so. The emotions we take in while watching a piece of art that is particularly rapturous are endless, and they don’t just rush in during the first few moments.
Have you ever watched a movie and found yourself still thinking about its impact the next day? You’re sipping coffee and worrying about something else, and then the film’s third act comes into frame again. I did that with The Bear this week.
Christopher Storer’s show kicks off with the sudden death of Carmen’s older brother, Michael (Jon Bernthal, turning a cup of coffee into gold). Mikey takes his own life, leaves the restaurant to his little brother, whom he wouldn’t allow to work at the place, and the series leaves the tarmac. In an odd sort of transfusion, I took that made-up plot device and connected it to my personal life.
My brother, Bryan, is schizophrenic. It’s not a life-dooming condition by any means, but it can sever a connection between brothers like a light switch being constantly flipped on and off. From time to time, it works for a short conversation. For the most part, though, it’s just gone. He’s not gone, but our chances of being close and protective of each other all but vanished.
Watching Carmen survive in the world while doing something he loved and pushing back against everything that wouldn’t go his way—inspections, trouble with girlfriends, family strife—made me think about what I’m doing at 43 years of age in the real world. I’m not a top chef, but I am a day worker and writer. I’m a father, son, and husband who is trying his absolute best to keep it together. Watching something that wasn’t real yet created by real people made me feel less alone.
Will that feeling last or carry me into tomorrow or next month? Possibly, but that’s why the sea is full of great movies and shows. The Jon Hamm series on Apple TV, Your Friends and Neighbors, is another example of fiction checking on reality. My bank account won’t ever find the land of extra zeroes, but what those characters are going through isn’t foreign to me at the moment. We all face the brick wall of life, no matter how sharp we are or how much cash is in the bank.
Consuming art can be done in various ways. You can take it for what it is and how it looks, and quickly discard it. Or, you can pull it in close and see if it can help you on a deeper level. I don’t watch as many new movies and shows as I used to, but I spend a lot of time with the ones I love and trust because it helps me get by.
Thanks for reading.