Many years ago, my then-girlfriend confided in passing that the reference being made by the jokey character name “Charles Pfister Krane” from the Laverne & Shirley episode “Citizen Krane” had sailed right over her head because she had never seen Citizen Kane.
Like any proper film snob, I was taken aback.
Of course, we had to watch it right away. And like many people who arrive at the film’s doorstep later in the game, having already heard it spoken of in hushed tones and with divine reverence, she came away from it saying something along the lines of well, ok, that was good.
But imagine! Someone who claims to love movies…that hasn’t seen KANE!
There may be no mystery as to where I’m going, but as someone who also claims to love movies, and someone who has seen thousands upon thousands of them in my lifetime so far, I really had no business being so shocked. There are quite a few movies designated “classic” that have managed to escape my attention all the way up ‘til now.
Let’s get the Magilla Gorilla of confessions out of the way straight up:
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Pinocchio, Dumbo, Bambi, Alice in Wonderland, and Peter Pan
All the way through? Not a one. My Walt Disney feature-length cartoon watching got started with Beauty and the Beast (in the theater), and by that time I was a full-fledged adult. And then I followed through with a good many of them, all the way through to the Pixar era and beyond. What can I say? I grew up more with Dirty Harry than with Disney. Well, that’s not exactly putting it correctly. It’s better to say that to me, cartoons were all about superheroes, wascally wabbits, deth-picable ducks, and The Flintstones. Otherwise, I wasn’t much interested.
I have no concrete explanation for what failed to lure me to the Mouse House in any significant way—perhaps I tried a Mickey cartoon once, failed to respond, and bailed on the whole Wonderful World of it entirely. But it’s true. Not a single one of those have I yet seen from start to finish. You could name almost any Disney film pre-Beauty, cartoon or live-action, and the response would likely be the same. I have seen Fantasia—terrific.
I saw the Roberto Benigni version of Pinocchio. Like every other person who set eyes upon it, I was horrified.
That just saves more time, because I’ve seen The Searchers, and, uh…well, I’ve seen The Searchers.
The Western was never at the top of my list of favorite genres, and probably because neither of my parents were real Wayne fans, these movies were never on the television. I do love Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I think I may have shed actual tears of joy when Unforgiven cleaned up with so many Academy Awards, so I guess it just depends. (Maybe too much Clint Eastwood is somehow my answer for every one of these categories?)
Oh, wait, I just remembered. I saw Stagecoach, too.
Does Showgirls count?
Bette will always be Baby Jane to me. But I recognize the deep shame I bring upon myself having neglected this renowned movie, having spent a considerable amount of time both on and backstage.
Oh, God, mother!
You know, the only Hitchcock movie to win Best Picture, too. Now I do feel like hiding my head. I am pretty confident with this admission only because, having seen most of the rest of Hitch’s greats, this is one I try to recall and just can’t, so even if somehow I had seen it, I may as well say I haven’t.
As a horror junkie, I felt I needed to include something in that category, and this recent (and very well-received) release already deemed a classic fits the bill. This is one of those films that simply slips by time and again based on certain circumstances. I missed its theatrical run; I got spooked by the whole subtitles controversy and wanted to wait until it was re-issued with the “correct” translation; and this was one of those cases where sometimes, you just want the hype to die down a little so you can look at it with objectivity…not that that’s always the ideal thing.
And finally…
Could I actually be kicked out of the city for admitting it? Does it help if I say I have seen every Rocky picture numerous times, not to mention Trading Places, Philadelphia, 12 Monkeys, and every $%#!#$ M. Night Shyamalan movie? I love Stewart and Grant. Hepburn’s appeal for me is very conditional on the movie. The African Queen, thumbs sky high. Little Women? Not so much.
(Only because I prefer the Winona reboot, uh, remake, of all three versions. And yes: I have read the book.)
It’s simply too painful to go on, so just accept this confession for what it is—a tour that each one of us must take at some point in our movie-watching lives, a journey of self-discovery where we undertake to figure out how in the world we missed this or that, and then, more importantly, whether or not we’re going to make time in our busy lives to add those particular works to our own personal canon.
After all, there are also a great many Repeat Viewings to be done, which is another mild struggle the cinephile faces when two (or more) hours are suddenly at your disposal. For, every time one chooses to revisit a beloved picture you’ve already seen, that’s one more new experience that has just fallen away from view, perhaps forever.
Just the other week, I excitedly pushed my DVD of the Charles Bronson classic The Mechanic into the hands of a friend who had to admit he’d somehow never had the pleasure of grooving on one of Old Stone Face’s most monumentally entertaining screen appearances.
How dare he.
