Why I Adore Film, A Valentine’s Day Love Letter
My dearest film,
I’ve been trying to recall the first time you engulfed me in your static embrace and encompassed my life.
I’ve been rummaging around in my brain, and failing to find exactly when you first came into my world. All I know is that you are emphatically part of me, and have helped to shape my perception of the world, despite being based in fiction.
Your ability to impress and enchant me has continued to grow over the years, and you have been there to passively support and influence me – a feat few have managed quite as you have.
I can’t remember where I put my keys, or what I had for dinner, but I’ll be darned if I can’t recall the opening scenes of Die Hard like the back of my hand. Where other brains leave a space for birthdays and appointments, mine has one reserved solely for you.
When we were young, we passed many a dull Sunday afternoon with The Railway Children, Bedknobs and Broomsticks and The Amazing Mr. Blunden. It inspired so many play times, which included (but are not limited to): making potions in the garden, recreating tissue paper outfits for my dolly, and making my Pocahontas Barbie swan dive off the sofa.
In my adolescence you were cathartic and empowering. Thirteen showed me what a path of hedonism would achieve, while Beetlejuice gave me serious goth hair inspiration. As I grew, it seemed that you did too, and before I knew it I was claiming ownership of you. Nobody could love and understand you as much as I could, I was the only one that really saw what you were trying to say, and as a result your voice got louder.
When I eventually began studying film, I realised that this was (to an extent) true. I could easily understand how Rear Window and Invasion of the Body Snatchers could be viewed as a comment on Communism, and I effortlessly drew parallels between Singing in the Rain and Sunset Boulevard. Then I started to come up with my own theories and I began to get a handle on the relationship we have.
When I understood that I could read between the lines, I came to the realisation that you were reading between mine, too. My unoccupied childhood weekends watching Labyrinth, Drop Dead Fred and The Goonies were not coincidence, and the hidden messages I took from them were invaluable lessons.
This is why you have saved me. You have helped me to understand so many things about society, culture and history. You have guided my subconscious and imprinted on me. You have forced me to laugh when I would have cried, cried when I was trying to keep it in, and soothed me when it got too much. I know myself better through knowing you, and I cannot thank you enough for all you have given me.
This is why you are, without a shadow of a doubt, the love of my life and my bestest friend.
Happy Valentine’s Day you sexy art form. Stay brilliant, relevant and accessible.
Lots of love