Book Adaptations - Revisiting Personal Cinematic Landscape

 

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As much as I love movies, I have even more space in my heart for books. A trip to Barnes and Noble during a sale is one of my favorite things. Finding a book older than my mom at a used bookstore is even better. A good book can be a release, a comfort, or just a kickstart to get me working on my own stories.
 
Movies that adapt books, however, can be hit or miss. Sometimes the people adapting the story get everything just right, but let’s be honest – that’s rare. It’s more likely that people who love the original book are going to be disappointed. Not as common, but still possible, the movie could actually ruin the book for fans completely. Then there are those adaptations that add more perspective, extending scenes from the book – or cutting out some of the filler – causing fans to love the story more.
 
There are a ton of ways a book adaptation can go.
 
In my original article I talked about The Princess Bride (1987), The Hunger Games (2012 -), and Harry Potter (2001-2011). For the most part, all three of those adaptations aren’t bad. I wasn’t so fond of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004) as an adaptation, but as a movie it was good.
 
I would like to add one more adaptation to that list that has affected me in a good way. That film is: Dune (2021).

It’s been a very long time since I read Dune (1965). I remember taking an abnormally long time to read it. It was a great story, but there was so much in the way of slow-paced politics that I hate reading about. That’s a problem because, with ADHD, that makes it almost impossible for me to retain information. There were chapters I had to re-read because I’d finish them and find that nothing stuck. I didn’t remember anything I’d read.
 
I’m a heavy reader, so it’s rare that a good story will take me all that long to finish. In fact, I read the last book in the Harry Potter series in one night. The only reason the last book in The Hunger Games took me a couple of days to read was because I had to put it down when Prim died and walk away for a bit. I devour a good story like it’s the air I need to breathe. So, the fact that I couldn’t do that with Dune, despite it being a good story, was a problem for me.
 
Now, Dune has been adapted before, but if you’ve seen those films, you know why they didn’t make much of a difference for me. One of them has a cult following, but it’s certainly not the best adaptation of the book. The 2021 version, though, was incredible.
 
It brought the book back to my memory and helped me process things I simply couldn’t when I read it. Things made more sense than they did when I was reading and re-reading chapters. It didn’t hurt that it was an absolutely gorgeous film with actors that brought every character to life flawlessly. It added something to the reading experience that I lost because of my disability. It was the first movie that really made me understand that sometimes, the adaptation process could be a matter of accessibility.
 
Unfortunately, not all the adaptations that have shaped the way I view movies are for good reasons.
 
Let’s talk about Eragon (2006).

I love reading with friends. Either when someone recommends a book to me, or I recommend it to them, I love having the discussions that follow. In the case of Eragon, my best friend came to me with the story. My friend, at the time, was not as big of a reader as he is now. In fact, Eragon was the first series he ever recommended to me (outside of comic books). So, I took it seriously.
 
I finished them all in about a week. The series was outstanding, and I understood his love for it. Naturally, when we learned about the movie, we were both excited.
 
We didn’t get to see it together, which is a shame because the adaptation of Eragon straight-up requires emotional support for fans. I’ve never seen a movie get a book so wrong in my life. It felt as if the casting director picked actors out of a hat. Not only was each one of them wrong for their part, but they didn’t even put enough energy into their performances to try to convince fans of the new take on each character. The story barely even went in the same direction as the books, and the dragons felt as if they’d been made by a photoshop novice.
 
The adaptation was so awful that I have trouble looking back on the books fondly. Every time I try, I remember some bullshit from the film. I have, on occasion, wondered if the author should have tried to sue the production company for defamation.
 
When movies and books come together, it gets complicated. You can get a masterpiece like Dune, but you can also get a horror story like Eragon. I think one of the best ways to go forward with an adaptation is to include the original author in the movie creation process. When adapting older works, it’s not always possible, but I do wonder how good Eragon could have been if the original writer had been given some control over the final product.

B-Movie - Revisiting Personal Cinematic Landscape

B-movies can be divisive. Due to how low their budgets are the graphics sometimes wind up questionable, less experienced actors are hired, and other cost-cutting measures are taken. They’re rarely shown in theaters, few people are putting money on them, but they can be a bit of a time-risk. No one wants to spend hours of their time watching something that isn’t all that great. They’d rather put their hard-won free time toward something better.
 
For movie fans that do enjoy B-movies, there’s almost a cult-like feel to their enthusiasm. I’m not gonna lie, I’m a part of that side of the argument. There are B-movies that I quote more than any other movie I’ve seen. In fact, as I mentioned in my original personal cinematic landscape article, my friends and I religiously quote The Gamers: Dorkness Rising (2008).
 
Why do movies like that stick with us?
 
It’s my belief that because the makers of B-movie don’t need to answer to multi-billion-dollar corporations, they don’t wind up having to speak for people who have nothing in common with their demographic. The geeks that created The Gamers: Dorkness Rising spoke directly to other geeks without having to sacrifice anything because some billionaires thought they needed to speak to a wider audience.
 
I was talking to a friend about horror movies last night. He’s not the biggest fan of newer polished, over-done, films. The old-school 80’s cult horror flicks speak to him more. The face peeling of Poltergeist (1982), the stop motion gore of The Evil Dead (1981), the high-pitched soundtrack of A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984). All those films can be found on the National Film Registry protected by the Library of Congress, but if they were made today, big-budget companies would strangle the charm out of them.
 
The charm in that low-budget creativity leads much easier to a cult following, which is why so many cult films are B-movies.
 
Hell, my favorite comedy flick, Clerks (1994) – which is on my list as part of the comedy genre – was funded completely by the director maxing out his credit cards. The constraint of less money leaves room for more creativity.  
 
The best example of a low-budget B-movie that got even more creative due to lack of funds is Deadstream (2022).
 

Deadstream is one of the newest movies going on my cinematic landscape. It came out just last year and I had no expectations for it. I’m not a huge fan of found footage. In fact, I dislike the sub-genre so much that I don’t even go over it as part of this article series at all. Falling in love with Deadstream was something no one could have expected of me.
 
The main character of the film is about as obnoxious as he can get. He’s a narcissistic streamer working to get past a bunch of scandals while trying to survive a night in a haunted house. As someone who loves to watch YouTubers/streamers it was easy to figure out where a lot of the inspiration for the character came from. They had plenty of material to draw on from bad apology videos and dumb mistakes others have made. A big production company might have forced them to tone that down.
 
It's a small thing, but something that added to the depth and reality of the character. People outside of online culture might watch and think it was a little far-fetched, but those of us who have followed ukelele apologies and seen people arrested for dumb pranks used for clout – we know better. It’s more realistic than we wish it was.
 
Aside from that, the entire movie took the found footage sub-genre and elevated it. The video is steadier because of the web-cam component, which allows people like my co-author, Cat, to watch it despite the vertigo she deals with. Going back and forth between the cameras allows for less graphic needs while the practical effects are much sleeker than anything CGI would have created at their budget.
 
Deadstream was a welcome change of pace by both critics and audiences, and I can only hope that other found footage creators learn from its successes. In 10 years, I hope I’ll be able to see it up for its own spot on the National Film Registry listing. I want it to alter the way others make movies the same way it’s altered the way I view them.
 
There’s another side to the B-movie genre: movies that aren’t made to be good. They’re made to mock the industry or just as a fun parody of movies in general. No big-budget company is going to pick up the kind of movies that aren’t made to speak to anyone, really. They’re just made for the fun of it. Not all of them turn into anything watchable, but when they do… they become so bad, they’re good.
 
The most recent flick I’ve added to that part of my landscape is the one that will probably become the first film I think of when anyone says “it’s so bad, it’s good.” That film is VelociPastor (2018).
 

When people think of B-movies, VelociPastor is what they’re thinking of. The costumes are ridiculously unreal, there’s not a single actor taking things seriously, and the graphics are… unbelievable at best. Yet, I cannot properly express how much fun I had watching it.
 
There were ninjas and dinosaurs, there was parody and humor. The creators of VelociPastor knew what they had. They leaned as far into the silliness as possible. One of the very first scenes exhibits a take on low-budget CGI that I’ve never seen utilized. It caught me so off guard that I had to pause the film until I was done laughing.
 
It doesn’t matter how bad a film is, if it makes you laugh so hard that you actively need to catch your breath, it’s good.
 
VelociPastor is never the type of film that I’d go around recommending to people looking for a real movie. That said, at a friend gathering with a bunch of people looking to laugh and drink while watching something to giggle at, it’d be the first thing I pull up.
 
I’ll always have a deep love for low-budget films. I grew up watching marathons of them on Halloween, and they are probably some of the first movies to ever affect the way I watched other films. 

Anthology - Revisiting Personal Cinematic Landscape

I’ve been sick for a few weeks, which is why these articles have been a little slow to come out, but I’m finally on the mend.
 
Moving on.
 
One of the things that have happened since the first time I wrote about my personal cinematic landscape was the pandemic. Say what you will about that time, but it felt pretty apocalyptic when it was going down. I’m from New York, the city that never sleeps. During that time, it slept. The streets of Times Square were barren, the sounds of the city quieted, and even the food trucks went on their way. Reports of deaths mixed with the sour tone of conspiracy theorists telling the world that our vaccines had tracking chips in them. People faced the fear with everything from a strange game where astronaut jellybeans killed each other in secret, to splattercore books (a genre I didn’t even know existed until then), to video chatting, to straight-up denial. I kidnapped my mother so that she wouldn’t be alone for, what was supposed to be, a couple of weeks but it stretched into almost a year.
 
I’d seen some scary things before COVID, but that was the first time it felt like the apocalypse could be more than just something that happened twice a season on Supernatural (2005-2020).
 
The pandemic definitely altered the way I view films in the apocalyptic genre.
 
I’m not entirely sure I still agree with the list I originally gave. Although I enjoy Zombieland (2009), I don’t think it’s really altered my cinematic landscape the way I once did. Same goes for This is the End (2013). They’re good films, but my take on apocalyptic movies would be the same without them. At least now. World War Z (2013) also doesn’t feel like an addition to the apocalyptic genre to me, but more of a flick to consider where adaptations are concerned.
 
World War Z, the book, is a compilation of various tales of people entering a zombie apocalypse. It’s set up as a kind of case study. None of the characters in the film are ever even seen in the book. I think the flick shows an interesting way to adapt that kind of novel. Instead of telling a story already told by author Max Brooks, the creators opted to add another to the anthology. From an adaptation stance, I think that’s brilliant. From an apocalypse perception, however, it’s basic zombies.
 
Cargo (2017) is the only film I originally listed that would still be a part of my apocalypse landscape today.
 
So, what apocalyptic films DO alter the way I view the genre?
 
I’ll start with the one that that means more to me now than it did before the pandemic: 28 Days Later (2002).
 

Watching that film in the aftermath of COVID gave me chills. Seeing London as empty as Times Square in 2020 was much more harrowing than it had been before. There’s a certain hollowness, a hopelessness, that grips me when watching that scene now. It’s the embodiment of what an apocalypse feels like, and it puts me on my heels as I watch the rest of the events unfold.
 
The zombie aspects are better than in most undead movies (fast, easier infection, etc.), but it’s that overall feel in the beginning that reflects something I’ve now actually felt. It allows me to relate on a deeper level and creates a more frightening experience.
 
There’s something to be said for pulling from real situations for a horror film. It makes the impossible seem more realistic and terrifying.
 

Then there’s Train to Busan (2016). Although it came out before 2018, I only saw it after my original articles were put out. It instantly became one of my favorite zombie movies. It also opened me up more to Korean cinema, which is where I prefer to find my horror these days. The story of a not-so-great dad taking care of his daughter and redeeming himself as the world turns to rot is one that tugs at the heart strings and absolutely destroys me by the conclusion.
 
Without Train to Busan I’d have seen maybe half the apocalyptic films I have by now. Most of them I watched because this one Korean zombie flick opened my eyes to them. Without it, my taste for the sub-genre would be much more basic.
 
The last addition to my personal cinematic landscape for the apocalypse sub-genre is A Quiet Place (2018).
 

I had to choose between three options for this spot because they all felt like a possible entry for the same basic reason. The other options were Bird Box (2018) and Blood Quantum (2019).
 
In all three films there’s an entire group of people that are unaffected by the subject of the apocalypse. In Blood Quantum, indigenous people have a quality to their blood that keeps them from being infected with the virus. While in A Quiet Place and Bird Box it’s a disability that protects people from invaders.
 
I decided to choose A Quiet Place for this article because it’s the one that does it best. I almost put it in the minimal dialogue category, but there’s actually quite a bit of talking that happens. The majority of that conversation just happens to be in sign language.
 
The idea of an entire group of people being protected from an apocalypse was relatively new to me with these films and, as it turns out, it’s an idea I really love. That idea that something can protect a person that’s completely out of their control – whether it’s heritage or a physical issue – is something that I feel gives a lot more depth to a story. I see it done more now, and I do tend to gravitate toward those plots when I see them. If A Quiet Place wasn’t as amazing as it was, it might not be something I looked at all that hard in the future.

Anthology - Revisiting Personal Cinematic Landscape

I’ve always found anthologies to be divisive among movie fans. There are a lot of people that just don’t concern themselves with the genre at all. The only anthology flicks most people tend to gravitate toward would be along the lines of Love Actually (2003). It’s a film that flows like the recipe of a typical rom-com. The framing device is something that is only really seen for three minutes split between the beginning and the end, the rest of the film plays out as if there’s no real anthology aspect to it.
 
Most anthologies don’t tend to play to a wider theatrical audience the way Love Actually does. They often have a different writer/director for every segment. Sometimes each entry is even filmed in a different style. As a result, a lot of people tend to steer clear.
 
I tend to prefer anthologies that present themselves as they are. I like a strong framing device that’s seen several times throughout the flick, and stories that revolve around a main theme but are otherwise completely different.
 
Anthologies give a short look into the work of various artists which helps me decide if they’re people I want to see more of. An unfamiliar name in an anthology can introduce you to a whole new filmography of work. A good anthology can even lead to several introductions.
 
In my original personal cinematic landscape, I covered anthologies of both styles. I wrote about New York, I Love You (2008) and If These Walls Could Talk 2 (2000) – both anthologies that exhibit the Love Actually style. I also discussed The Animatrix (2003) and The ABCs of Death (2012) which are more like the latter description.
 
There are two anthologies I’ve seen since the last look into my cinematic landscape that deserve to be added in. Both for the exact same reason: V/H/S/94 (2021) and The Mortuary Collection (2019).
 

The V/H/S series is pretty well known. Most of the movies in it, however, aren’t all that memorable. Even those that have decent reviews tend to get lost to history. Still, the found footage VHS tape framing device – especially for the horror genre – is a stroke of genius. I think that’s the reason the series has had so much staying power over the years.
 
V/H/S/2 (2013) was the first of the series that I greatly enjoyed, but it wasn’t until V/H/S/94 that it had any effect on the way I perceived anthologies.
 
Each of the various stories in V/H/S/94 kept me glued to the screen. Even if they hadn’t, though, the framing device had its own interesting story with its very own twist. It was so interesting that it held up to the short stories being told throughout the rest of the flick.
 

In The Mortuary Collection that twist in the framing device is more pronounced. In fact, I’d say the framing device is the best story told in the entire film. It’s so memorable that I can replay it in my head scene for scene even though I’ve only seen it once, several years ago. (I looked it up to see if it really was something I remembered scene for scene – and it is. So, I’ve seen it twice now.)
 
The framing device being its very own story in an anthology is something I believe could heighten the popularity of the genre. It feels less like someone sitting there telling tales than other anthologies with the same style tend to. It becomes almost like a game to try and figure out how each short ties together – on their own and within the frame.
 
It’s even better when the framing device has that ending twist that turns everything on its head. It elevates even a mediocre anthology into something worth watching – and recommending. I hope to see a great deal more of that in the future.

Family Animation - Revisiting Personal Cinematic Landscape

We’ve covered adult animation, so I think it’s time we look at family animation.
 
In my original personal cinematic landscape article, I discussed Disney greats The Lion King (1994) and Aladdin (1992). It would have been blasphemous to go into animation important to me without bringing Disney into the conversation at all. For a first look at the films that altered my perception of cinema, those made sense. However, there was a later Disney film that dug its claws into me, too.
 
As much as I enjoyed Frozen (2013) when it came out, it took on even deeper meanings to me after my daughter started watching movies.
 
Naturally, I tried to start my daughter on the Disney films from my past, but she wasn’t having it. She showed no interest in Aladdin. The Lion King proved to be too scary for her upon the death of Mufasa. She wasn’t even into Cinderella (1950) or The Little Mermaid (1989). Finding a flick for her to sit through was harder than trying to limit myself to only one book from Barnes and Noble.
 

One day, we tried my husband’s favorite Disney movie: Frozen. My daughter adored it immediately. She sang the songs, danced with Elsa, tried to get me to buy every Anna toy she saw… it was her first real Disney experience.
 
From an adult perspective, I was awed by Frozen when I saw it. Unlike the majority of the rest of the Disney filmography, it wasn’t geared toward romantic love. In fact, the twist ending where the ‘true love’ aspect involved Anna’s connection to her sister almost landed it on my personal cinematic landscape as part of the Subverting Expectations category. On first watch, in the theater, there wasn’t a soul in that room that believed anything but a kiss from Kristoff would unfreeze Anna. When it turned out to be the familial love from Elsa, there was an audible gasp.
 
It was just shy of making my list last time. Now, as a mom, I have a softer feeling toward it because I got to see it become the first movie to shape my daughter’s cinematic landscape. It’s become the guide for what I look for when choosing other movies for a family movie night. It’s that movie that can usher a whole new generation into Disney films.
 

Another animated flick that should have probably been on my original list is All Dogs Go to Heaven (1989).
 
All Dogs Go to Heaven was the first animated film I ever saw that had a bittersweet ending. Every other animation I’d seen up until then ended on that ‘happily ever after’ note. If you’ve followed Trust the Dice for any length of time, you know that my preferred ending is a bittersweet one. I find they have more of a lasting effect on me.
 
That all started with All Dogs Go to Heaven.
 
Watching Charlie go from a gangster stray to orphan’s-best-friend, was a ride I enjoyed as a kid. At the end Charlie comes back from the dead for a few minutes to say goodbye to Anne-Marie and Itchy. You can see the little girl reflected in his eye for a few moments and, as much as I enjoy the rest of the film, that’s the moment that always stuck with me. It still causes me to tear up when I think about it. Up until that moment, I don’t think I knew that animated films could have bittersweet endings.
 

There’s one more film I need to add to my family animation landscape. It’s a newer film that has absolutely no comparison to anything from the past. It is, in my opinion, the greatest animated film ever created: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018).
 
It would be easy to accuse me of saying Into the Spider-Verse is the best because I’m a Marvel fan girl. That’s not it, though. If we ignore the main character, the story, the acting, and even the writing, Into the Spider-Verse would still alter my cinematic landscape.
 
More than anything else, what Into the Spider-Verse did was raise the bar on animation quality.
 
Everything about the animation is crisp and flawless. The use of the old-time comic feel juxtaposed against various other styles – like anime, childish, noir, etc. – was insane. I haven’t seen Across the Spider-Verse (2023) yet, but I have heard it’s got the same base style. I imagine once I do, it will merge with the first film to affect my animated landscape on an even broader level.
 
Quite frankly, Into the Spider-Verse has given me reason to expect more from family animation. It’s given me hope for what comes next.

Adult Animation - Revisiting Personal Cinematic Landscape

The first time I discussed my personal cinematic landscape, I only had one section dedicated to animation: family. A lot of people have anime films they could add to their cinematic landscapes, but most of the anime I watch is in the form of a series. As a result, I hadn’t really seen much in animation that was geared toward adults. At least, nothing that altered how I felt about animated films in general. I discussed Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988), but it was from a genre-hybrid stance, and The Animatrix (2003), but that was from an anthology perspective.
 
Since then, there have been a great many animated films that have crossed my desk that have not been geared toward young children. Only one of which absolutely altered the way I consume animated films.
 

From the moment I learned about the existence of Mad God (2021) I was excited. The legendary Phil Tippett gave us a claymation horror film that no one would ever confuse as a children’s flick. It altered everything I thought I knew about animated movies. The man in charge of the practical effects of Jurassic Park (1993) – a movie that stands up even 30 years later – found a way to create an animated film with nothing but practical effects. If anyone had asked me a few years ago if that was even possible, I’d have thought there was no way.
 
Tippett began work on Mad God in the 80s. As time moved on CGI became better and studios began overusing it. It was disheartening and he almost stopped, but the people he worked with convinced him to continue and even put it on Kickstarter once that became a thing. A revolving door of students was used as help in completing the project and it was released in three parts. Those parts were eventually put together and released on Shudder.
 
It was an hour and a half of some of the most grotesque footage I have ever seen, and I mean that in the best way.
 
The main character never spoke a word, but there was a clear story and a hellish landscape filled with so much that it was impossible to look away. Nothing I had ever seen could have prepared me for what Mad God delivered.
 
I have a different outlook on what animation is now. A word that used to conjure up mostly thoughts of moving drawings and bright colors now has an added, more mature, picture. That image is of hundreds of human hands slowly moving tiny sculptures in a way that builds a unique story that no amount of pretty colors or live-action could have told.
 
It’s almost as if, in that moment, animated films split off into two very different categories for me. It altered my personal cinematic landscape forever.

Alternate History - Revisiting Personal Cinematic Landscape

I’ve always preferred alternate history movies to the more strictly historical ones. With historical films, we know how it ends. Some movies use it to their advantage, like Titanic (1997). The entire audience is aware that the ship will sink in the end. The movie uses that knowledge to make everything seem a little more intense. Everything feels like a necessary moment because those moments will end. I find most historical flicks don’t do the same thing. As a result, they mostly feel boring to me.
 
In alternate history films there’s just enough of a tweak to keep you guessing – even when there’s no other genre mixed in.
 
Surely, no one knew how X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) or Watchmen (2009) would end. Yet both stories, as I mentioned in my original personal cinematic landscape articles, show us the state of our history if we were to drop in superheroes.
 
I also mentioned Inglourious Basterds and Red Dawn. In the former, we got to see a history that brought Hitler a much swifter death, while Red Dawn turned the cold war hot on our shores. Both gave us a look into well-known areas of our history, but we didn’t have a clue where they were going to end up. It maked them more exciting and, I’ll say it again, I will never tire of watching Hitler and Nazi’s get their comeuppance.
 
The four films I mentioned in my original article are also four of the most thought of films when someone brings up alternate history. It’s almost expected that they appear as part of my landscape.
 
Over the years there’s only been one more film that affects how I feel about the alternate history genre, and some people are going to find it a hell of stretch. The movie I need to add to the list is Klaus (2019).
 

I’m not suggesting that Santa Claus is real. However, his lore is. It’s been passed down across the world, from culture to culture. From Turkey to the Netherlands, his story has been told. Whether he’s a saint or a mythical being, most cultures that celebrate Christmas have their own version of jolly old Saint Nick.
 
Klaus offers a new take on Santa Claus that portrays it as a kind of history lesson. To the best of my knowledge, it’s a completely new take on the lore, and it’s framed as someone telling us about it.
 
When it comes to tales told in various cultures, it’s extremely important to who they are as people. The stories told in each area, that are untouched by other cultures and are handed down, are unique. What people in those areas believe and, in some cases, how they act comes from those very stories.
 
As a result, I would argue that lore is absolutely an important aspect of history.
 
In this case, Klaus gives us an alternate look at Norwegian lore by telling us the story of a postman that encounters a desolate toymaker in Smeerensburg, which is a town based on a whaling settlement that was located on Svalbard Island. He convinces the man to take on a Santa Claus role, uniting the otherwise warring town.
 
Klaus has become, by far, my favorite holiday movie. It’s also changed the way I look at alternate history as it pertains to folklore and mythology. With this new view, there are movies I would consider part of the alternate history genre that I never would have considered before. Without it, my viewpoint of the genre would be much narrower.

Adventure - Revisiting Personal Cinematic Landscape

The adventure genre mixes easily with any other genre. There may be tightly choreographed sword fights, terrifying monsters, a heartbreaking romance, far-away worlds, or just about anything else you can think of. It’s one of the most versatile genres out there. The one thing every single piece of media utilizing adventure has in common is that the setting takes on its very own characterization.
 
It’s less about what’s happening and more about the setting or the destination – the protagonist’s goal.
 
I originally included The Goonies (1985), Jumanji (1995), and An American Tail (1986) in my cinematic landscape. I also discussed the Lord of the Rings (2001-2003) original trilogy, but that was more of an influence on me from a fantasy stance. I wouldn’t keep that as part of my adventure landscape.
 
I kept every genre to 4 movies (or less), in the original series of personal cinematic landscape articles, and I didn’t repeat any. Lord of the Rings accidentally slipped by into two genres. It is an adventure, but it’s just more important to me as a fantasy.
 
There’s really only one film I’d add to the adventure landscape list.
 

I, for the life of me, have no idea how I failed to put Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey (1993) in my original adventure landscape. It was one of the very first adventure films that I took to.
 
Just before writing this article, I decided to throw on just the ending of Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey. Even without watching the entire film over again, the tears still welled up in my eyes as Chance came over the hill and ran to his little boy. Then the cat, Sassy. And, as the anticipation drew out and Shadow didn’t immediately show himself – I still ugly cried. I knew what was going to happen. I’ve seen the movie hundreds of times. Yet, Shadow’s delayed return still gets me. It might even get to me more now than it did when I was a kid. At this point in my life, I’ve loved and lost an old dog that would have done anything to get home.
 
Even as a young girl, though, that ending was something that stuck with me and affected me to my core.
 
The animals had voiceovers, which was not a very prevalent thing in the 90s. It’s common now, but there were only a couple of films that did it previously and they were critical flops. Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey is the first flick that did it successfully. I watched it within a year or two of its release, and it was completely new to me. I’d never seen a live-action animal with a voice over. The idea blew my mind at the time.
 
It’s still better than the majority of films using that kind of voice over.
 
Between the ending being one of the first that inspired an ugly cry from me, and it being among the first that offered voiceovers of live-action animals, Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey left a huge influence on me.

Action - Revisiting Personal Cinematic Landscape

Pic created using www.freepik.com

My first stop on the journey through my updated personal cinematic landscape is the action genre.
 
Action and adventure are almost always mentioned together. The genre itself is marked with a slash between them. If there’s so much as single explosion or fight scene, it’s marked as action/adventure. I’ve never agreed with that. I don’t think all actions are adventures, and vice versa.
 
For instance, one of the first movies I mentioned in 2018 for the action genre was Die Hard (1988). As action-packed as Die Hard is, I don’t think anyone would rush to call it an adventure. Because it’s not. John McClane doesn’t go anywhere. He spends the entire time in one building. As exciting as it is, it’s certainly not adventurous.
 
I see action and adventure as two very separate genres that complement each other. Much like romance and comedy do. As a result, I will only be touching on the action genre in this article.
 
Aside from Die Hard, I also talked about how Kill Bill (2003-2004), Gladiator (2000), and Battle Royale (2000) all shaped the way I perceived other films of the genre. You can read about those opinions in my Week One: The Effect of a Personal Cinematic Landscape (https://www.trustthedice.com/2018/08/week-one-effect-of-personal-cinematic.html) article. The way those flicks affect me hasn’t changed, but I’ve seen 2 movies since then that have reshaped the way I look at the genre.
 

I’m going to start with Extraction (2020).
 
If you follow the blog at all, then you’ve seen me go on and on about Extraction. It was a great film, but it had some of its slightly off moments. I’m not saying it’s the next Die Hard. That’s not why it’s here. If anything, it’s not even the film that shapes my perspective, really. It’s the director.
 
During my research into Extraction, when we were setting up our Top 20 article for the month of its release, I looked into Sam Hargrave (Thor: Ragnarok, Atomic Blonde, The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 2) and found an impressive stunt resume behind him. He had 80 stunt credits to his name at that time. There was everything from Avengers: Endgame (2019) to Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest (2006) on his credit list. He’d stunt doubled for Chris Evans, Hugh Jackman, and Jensen Ackles (among others). He was credited with just about every stunt job in Hollywood. But as a director, Extraction was the first full-length feature film on his list.
 
It made me seriously consider what it meant for a stuntman to move into a director’s seat. I found myself researching other films that had been created by people better known for their stunt work and found a bit of pattern. A high number of those movies had some of the best action sequences. I put my prediction up that Extraction would go that same route and Hargrave proved me so right.
 
The action sequences in Extraction raised the bar for other action films. Not only that, but there were scenes that only a stuntman could have caught. In one case, he took the camera and jumped off a building with the protagonist just to get a unique point of view and it was insanely memorable.
 
Extraction altered how I saw new directors in the action genre. Now, whenever I see a new name credited as a director, I don’t just research what else they’ve directed. I investigate their background work. What they did as crew members affects what I expect from them in that director’s chair.
 

Then, there’s John Wick (2014).
 
I’m just going to say it. The first John Wick had the worst marketing. I was convinced that it was just going to be another bullshit, fast-made, low-quality, old-guy in an action flick. As a result, it took me over a year to even bother to see it. Even after the great reviews started coming out.  
 
When I did watch it, I found that it was a whole new experience.
 
From the very first frame of the film to the very end, the character of John Wick is easy to sympathize with. The story goes hard straight from the jump, but it doesn’t give you a real glimpse into the world the story takes part in until you’ve already decided you’re on Wick’s side.
 
Then the story starts to unfold into these complex layers of underground societies, gangs, favors owed, and strange relationships that are impossible to look away from. What was marketed as just another straight-up, kill ‘em all, action actually had a unique world with gloriously blooming roles and complex figures in it. It wasn’t a turn-your-brain off anything. You needed every inch of your mind to follow the threads of plot and connection the flick was showing.
 
Even more impressive was that the quality and world building spread out and continued into a second, third, and fourth film. Every one of them hovering around the same quality as the first. That’s unheard of.
 
I’ll still watch fun action films with much more basic stories and be fine, it’s not as often that I’ll go out of my way to offer them significant praise based on the setting, though. I might go hard to praise their banter, or their characters, but very little compares to the world built by the John Wick writer, Derek Kolstad (Nobody, The Package, One in the Chamber).
 
Where Extraction raised the bar for the combat in an action film, John Wick raised the bar on story quality.
 
Between Extraction and John Wick what I expect from the quality of an action film has changed completely. I now see exactly how good certain aspects of these films can be. With the bar raised, I still find greatness in other action films, but I expect more from their writers and directors.
 
In the next installment of my personal cinematic landscape examination, I’m going to look at the adventure genre.  

Revisiting Personal Cinematic Landscapes - Introduction

Pic created using www.freepik.com

I wrote a series of articles in 2018 explaining the importance of identifying our own personal cinematic landscapes.
 
The general cinematic landscape includes movies that objectively matter to all widely consumed media and society as a whole. Regardless of how they make you feel, personally, they have unquestionably shaped the movies we see today. You may not be a fan of musicals, but West Side Story (1961) still represented one of the most famous works of Shakespeare and brought it to a whole new generation in an accessible way. It changed how people looked at musicals, and how they were presented to the public. You may find Citizen Kane (1941) boring next to the movies of today, but it still offered a brand-new method of cinematography that awed the movie world when it was released. Maybe superheroes aren’t your thing, but Iron Man (2008) rebirthed a whole genre of films and altered the expectations of both audiences and Hollywood. 
 
Whatever your personal opinion, every bit of that is a fact. The National Film Registry is where you can find a list of movies that audiences and critics have voted to preserve because they are deemed “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” It’s not about whether the movies are good or bad. It's just about their importance. It was set up as a part of the National Film Preservation Act of 1988 and includes films going as far back as 1891. Most of which you can find on various streaming services and YouTube.
 
When I talk about a personal cinematic landscape, I’m not referring to those films.
 
Just as the movies in the National Film Registry have affected society and film, our personal cinematic landscapes affect the way we see other movies. Although 12 Angry Men (1957) is a harrowing and impressive film that is still very much relevant today, it’s not going to mean anything to someone who’s never seen it. On top of that, remakes and reboots may speak louder to newer generations because they're updated to represent our current reality.

 
A personal cinematic landscape can’t be argued against because it’s completely subjective. It’s all about how a person feels. It’s about what they like and what they’ve experienced. The movies that come to make up their personal mosaics of cinema will undoubtedly shape what they look for in other films.
 
It’s why no two critics have the same exact perspective on the same film.
 
I know that I like creature features. I grew up on Jurassic Park (1993) and Jaws (1975). When I saw the trailer for Sharknado (2013), I knew it’d be nowhere near as good as those, but I also knew it’d be fun for me to watch. My best friend, however, hates creature features. He tolerates Jurassic Park, but will not even try to sit through Jaws. I cannot describe the level of eyerolling he gave me when I turned on Syfy to watch a tornado full of sharks.
 
Neither of us were wrong. Our experiences with previous films guided us on how to react to that movie.
 
We’ve been over most of this, even though it’s been a while. What we’ve never talked about is just how much a personal cinematic landscape can shift over time.
 
It’s easy to consider how watching movies new to you might alter how you see things. Since 2018, I’ve watched hundreds of films, some that I’ll never remember and others that have found spots on my list of favorites. What people tend to forget is that what we experience from year to year can change what previous films once meant to us.

 
As we get older, we face new challenges and learn. Over the past 5 years, I’ve had a baby, I’ve moved away from the only city I’ve ever known, I’ve gone through at least 3 different apocalypse scenarios… I’ve changed. The world has changed. And so has my perspective.
 
That’s what I’ll be going over in this series of articles. I’m going to revisit my personal cinematic landscape from 5 years ago and see how it’s been altered. I’ll examine why things may be different and how I expect the changes will affect the way I digest films in the future. New movies will be added, and older movies may mean just a little more than they used to. Some of the movies I once felt were incredibly influential to me, may not mean as much. I hope you’ll join me on my journey.

 
Last time, I did many different genres in each article. It made the posts long and a bit difficult to follow. This time around, I’ll narrow my focus to one genre at a time. I’ll also go over some new genres that I didn’t touch last time. It will take a while to go through them all, but with the WGA/SAG-AFTRA strike going on, we’ve got nothing but time. I’ll be posting at least one genre per week and, depending on what else we post, possibly more.
 
I’d love to know what your personal cinematic landscapes look like and how they compare to mine. Feel free to leave a comment and let me know!
 
The first of the articles will be posted on Wednesday, July 19 at 6pm EST. We’ll be kicking it off with the action genre.

Week Three: The Effect of a Personal Cinematic Landscape

This is the final article in my cinematic landscape series.

We’ve discussed my personal take on controversial topics, nearly 100 movies, and quite a few different genres/categories. By now, you get the basic idea.

If you want to read into what I’ve already discussed, you can click either of the links below to take you to a previous article.

Part One

Part Two 

I hope that I’ve been able to introduce you to some new ideas. I also hope that I’ve helped you reflect onto your own personal cinematic landscape and that it’s given you insight into why you judge films the way you do.

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SPOILER ALERT

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14 – Crime

I go back and forth about whether or not the crime genre is even really necessary to me. Most crime stories can be housed under the drama or thriller categories.

Whenever I find myself thinking that it’s not needed, though, I consider my issue with caricature/parody films. Does a courtroom drama really have any chance against a full-on drama film? Does an investigation story really have enough in common with a thriller to be in the same category? It tends to keep me from writing off the genre altogether.

Still, it’s sometimes difficult for me to realize that I’m appreciating a film for its specific reliance on crime as a plot device.

Seven (1995), for instance, is a phenomenal thriller. Without the actual investigation, though, seeing it from the killer’s perspective, it would lose that ‘why’ factor that makes it so successful. If we’d been in the killer’s mind from the start, the ending simply wouldn’t have as much impact.

The whole story is interesting, but it’s elevated by an ending that fully engulfs the main characters into the murder mystery. Not all stories do that. Most of the investigation stories out there have two basic outcomes: the cops get their guy, or they don’t. Yes, there are plenty of movies where the killers directly target the investigators, but none that are quite like Seven.

One of the earliest crime films that really affected me was A Bronx Tale (1993).

A Bronx Tale goes into a different kind of crime film. We don’t follow officers as they figure out why a crime occurred. Instead, we follow a boy as he grows up in the Bronx, watching the gangsters in the area and dreaming of being like them.

I briefly considered including this film in the period piece category, because I AM deeply affected by the 1960’s setting and getting to see what a place so close to my own area was like. I also considered putting it in the social commentary category because the racial tensions involved had such a huge part, but that gangster aspect has always been the real reason for me to watch it.

Watching A Bronx Tale is always a great experience for me. I love everything about that film, but there are definitely crime movies that have affected me more.

Pulp Fiction (1994) may be one of the greatest crime-based movies that are out there. Following various different people as they commit and react to crimes is incredibly entertaining.

It’s violent, but funny. Cringey, yet thrilling. There’s not really anything about it that doesn’t strike me as awesome. The first time I watched it just didn’t feel like enough and I wound up watching it a second time right after.

The crime film that’s affected me the most, though, has to be Snatch (2000).

Reminder: I’m not saying that Snatch is a better movie than Pulp Fiction. That’s not what this article is about. I’m saying it affected me more, and there’s one big reason for that.

It’s not just about the movie for me. Sure, it’s ridiculously quotable and I can’t watch any film with Vinnie Jones (Deception, Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Gone in Sixty Seconds) in it without immediately thinking back to his Bullet-Tooth Tony character, but the movie could have sucked and it still might have affected me the most.

As an older teenager I hung out with a group of kids that would sit around in our friend’s basement drinking beer and watching movies. Snatch was one of the films we could all agree on. Together we’d watch, drink, and speak the words as it played. It was a bonding experience. For an hour and a half, we were all undeniably connected by that piece of crime art.

While Snatch is a phenomenal crime film, what it taught me had nothing to do with any of the categories, not really. It taught me about how movies could be use as a friendship tie. It taught me how private jokes and interpersonal connections could be heightened by entertainment.

It’s one of the most important lessons a film has ever taught me.

13 – Family Films (Animation)

The first thing you might notice here is that I don’t have a category for animated films that are not family films. My reason for this is simple: I haven’t seen enough of them. My only real interactions with animated films that are for adults comes from TV – anime and Adult Swim-type stuff. I think I’ve only seen a handful of actual films that were fully animated and rated PG-13 or higher. None of them have really affected my love of movies or how I judge other works of entertainment, either. So, I’m going to have to stick to family films in the animated category.

The Lion King (1994) is one of the first ones I’m going to have to discuss.

It’s kind of difficult to cherry pick the Disney films that have affected me most and still leave room for the films produced by other companies that also have. Even with that, The Lion King was an easy one to decide on.

I’ve never fully agreed with the G rating on this film, I think it should have been PG. Just because the person murdering Simba’s father was an animated lion, doesn’t mean that wasn’t a terrifying scene to watch as a kid. Hell, I still get a little chill watching it.

But that’s the thing. The Lion King never stopped being a good film for me. I’m in my thirties now and I still appreciate it on almost the same level I did when I was twelve. There aren’t many movies that work like that. It was one of the first films I watched as a child that delved into darker themes: murder, guilt, anger – even running away from your problems. I learned a lot from Simba and Musafa. I can’t wait for Rosie to be old enough to watch my favorite lions in action.

Charlotte’s Web (1973) was one of the first animated family flicks that stuck with me.

I’m talking only about the original. I don’t know anything about the 2006 version, if I saw it, I don’t even remember it. That 1973 version, though, was filled with hilarious songs, vocabulary/life lessons, and animated creatures that I quickly looked at as friends when I was six.

Not only did it speak to me, but my mother always enjoyed the music as well. While we were walking around Kings Highway and I was holding my mom’s hand we’d sing Templeton’s song “A Fair is a Veritable Schmorgasboard-orgasboard-orgasboard” (yes that’s actually the title of it) as we went on our way to get lunch.

A family film should be like that, it should give you something to look back on as a good memory when you’re older. It’s not just a story for kids, it’s a part of growing up.

Now, Aladdin (1992) was a little different. I enjoyed it as a child, but I really fell in love with it as a teenager.

One of the best things about Aladdin is that it speaks to a wider audience than most Disney films from that era. It has important lessons for children… but for teenagers those lessons are more important. During a time in my life when there was pressure from all sides to conform to other people’s ideas of what was normal, Aladdin was teaching me that pretending to be someone I wasn’t would never be the answer.

The best thing about the lessons in Aladdin is that they’re all disguised behind the Genie’s funny songs and the love story between Aladdin and Jasmine. So, I was learning without realizing it.

My top pick for animated children’s films might be a bit controversial. Not only is it not a Disney film, but it hasn’t even been out for a full decade yet.

How to Train Your Dragon (2010) was well received by everyone – audience and critic alike – but you’d be hard-pressed to find someone my age who calls back to it as being one of the more influential animated family films in their life. I’ve done my polling and independent research and you wouldn’t believe how few people call back to this movie as one that greatly affected their lives.

I think people are nuts.

This film was filled with the same lessons that Disney movies touch on, but showed real consequences – irreversible consequences. I had never seen that in an animated family film before.

At the end of the movie when Hiccup loses his leg? That is a powerful statement. Not only does it give handicapped kids someone to look up to in the next film, but the fact that he picks his ass right up and immediately deals with it, tells kids a lot more about getting up when you fall than any other film I’ve ever seen.

Sure, you get the same lessons from watching Toothless learn to fly while missing a wing, but on a lesser level. It becomes much more powerful when you watch the same thing happen to a human.

I’d even argue that How to Train Your Dragon is one of the best movies in general for this category, but that’s not what this is about.

The third film in the series is set to come out in 2019, and you can bet your ass I’ll be looking forward to it the whole time. I don’t expect it to be as influential to me as the first, but I’m all about supporting the series.

12 – Fairy Tales

For those of you upset that I haven’t mentioned much in the way of Disney animated films so far, don’t worry. This category is chock-full of them.

Disney really is a titan of fairy tales. Almost all the movies in this category are from Disney. My number one pick isn’t, but we’ll get to that.

The Little Mermaid (1989) has one of my all-time favorite soundtracks, but it’s the actual story of Ariel that has stuck with me most throughout the years.

Sure, there are some issues with it. People often point out the fact that Ariel and Eric fall in love based on looks and that Ariel is just a contrary teen for the most part. They’re quick to point out that if King Triton hadn’t gone all nuts about Eric that the love story might not have even happened.

Ok, they’re likely right, but fairy tales aren’t supposed to be rooted in reality. That would defeat the purpose. You’re supposed to believe that Eric can see something passed Ariel’s exterior and that King Triton really was just holding her reigns a little too tightly. Growing up, all the suspension of disbelief worked just fine. I never saw issue with the story until I was much older and it was pointed out by the most critical of the audience.

Still, I look back at the tale with a great deal of love. It’s just generally an interesting take on mermaids and what it’s like for teens to grow up. The quest of Ariel is more important than the love story, in my mind, and it’s relatable for a teen that always feels like their parents can’t see that they’re not babies anymore.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (1937) was Disney’s first fully animated feature film – and I always thought it held up pretty well.

It’s one of those classic fairy tales that everyone can look back on as influential to their lives. It’s not that it’s particularly relatable. It’s not. I mean, an evil queen trying to eliminate a teenager because she’s more beautiful than her is a little far-fetched, but that’s part of the appeal in this case.

It’s complete fantasy. A complete escape. The way most fairy tales are.

We all know that none of us would be stupid enough to take an apple from someone like the witch that appeared at the dwarves house. We all know that there was something weird going on with a prince kissing a seemingly dead girl, but it’s not that big of a deal. The movie is still something to watch and enjoy.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarves reminds me that you don’t have to relate to something to appreciate it.

Growing up, Beauty and the Beast (1991) was my favorite fairy tale. It was the first fairy tale that introduced a love story that showed one of the main characters a physically imperfect. In a time when almost every princess was blonde haired, blue eyed, and complete perfection, when every male love interest was literally Prince Charming, having a brunette smart girl and a literal beast fall in love was almost a risk for the production company.

It was a fairy tale that I could look up to and dream of. I loved reading and the idea of adventure. The fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast made me appreciate that there was someone out there for everyone and may very well have shaped my romantic interests as I grew older. I never really looked for a Prince Charming. I was always looking for the right Beast.

I’m opting to ignore the Stockholm Syndrome here. Just leave me to my delusions on that.

The fairy tale that affected me on the deepest level wasn’t just not a Disney film, it wasn’t even animated.

Ever After: A Cinderella Story (1998) is still one of the best fairy tale movies I’ve ever seen.

It’s a Cinderella adaptation, which might leave you questioning what exactly is so special about it. Aren’t all Cinderella adaptations essentially the same?

Yes and no. You get the same basic plot that you always get with the shoe-losing princess. Dead father, evil step-mother, evil (or manipulated) step-sisters, a loyal and loving prince… etc. However, this film is a different take to the story that shows the title character saving herself.

At the end of the film, Danielle (the Cinderella in the story), is sold off to a man in order to clear the family’s debt. However, her father had trained her early on to protect herself and, after some particularly lecherous actions, she draws a sword on her owner and blackmails him – his life or her freedom.

The prince rides up too late to save her, she’s already walking out when he gets there. For me, that makes the love story in it so much stronger, because it doesn’t rely on the prince being her savior. The love is still there despite her strength and ability to stand on her own two feet.

It’s really the first film I’d ever seen like it, there’ve been many since, but Ever After: A Cinderella Story is still the best of them.

11 – Creature Features

I’m well aware that this category is not for everyone. Creature features include giant creatures (or just a lot of them), with a usually corny script accompanying campy violence. Most of them won’t exactly be winning awards (though there are exceptions). Still, I’ve always loved the horror sub-genre.

The first movie I need to mention is… well, ok, it’s ridiculous. It’s an awful film and I don’t care because I love it anyway. It’s actually the film I saw that made me want to delve more into the ‘stupid’ kind of creature features.

Enough stalling. The movie I’m talking about is Snakes on a Plane (2006).

I don’t have a good excuse, either. I can call up the idea that Samuel L. Jackson (The Hateful Eight, The Hitman’s Bodyguard, Avengers: Infinity War) and Julianna Margulies (The Good Wife, Stand Up Guys, ER) are both really great actors and that the addition of the crime aspect makes things more interesting – but that’s not why I love the film.

Snakes on a Plane affected me simply because it was an awful film that was a lot of fun to watch. Jackson is only a part of why I loved it because of the quotes he delivers that make the film as hilarious as it is. It could have been ridiculous in a bad way if it weren’t for him.

This film really opened a whole new world of movies for me. I liked creature features before it, but after I saw Snakes on a Plane, I actively started seeking out ridiculous creature features. Sure, they’re not the greatest movies in the whole world, but they’re fun to watch – especially with friends.

Arachnophobia (1990) was the first creature feature I’d ever seen.

I’m not scared of spiders. My uncle used to keep bugs and arachnids as pets. He didn’t really tolerate unnecessary fear all that well. When I WAS scared of something he kept as a pet, he would continue to expose me to it until it just became normal. I’ve held tarantulas, scorpions, bats, lizards, snakes, giant Madagascar hissing cockroaches… pretty much anything you can think of that isn’t too venomous. (Of course, that kind of exposure didn’t always help. He had a giant millipede I used to hold and those suckers still frighten the shit out of me.)

I think that’s why I never saw the horror in Arachnophobia. To me, it was a full-on comedy. At the time, I didn’t realize that there were people out there who couldn’t even attempt to watch the movie because of how strong their fear was.

To me? It was just an introduction to a new genre – a funny new genre.

You might be asking yourself why Arachnophobia is credited as being the first creature feature I ever saw and not Jaws (1975). After all, Jaws came out almost a full twenty years earlier. What’s up with that?

My mom had weird movie rules. I was allowed to see Arachnophobia early in life, but not Jaws. Every time I tried to watch it, she thwarted my attempt. After a while, I forgot to keep trying. As a result, I didn’t actually see Jaws for the first time until my late twenties.

Even though I saw Jaws later than most people my age, it still affected me a great deal. It might have been my first choice if I’d seen it earlier… but what can you do?

The way that Steven Spielberg (Ready Player One, Catch Me If You Can, Minority Report) used the idea of the shark more than the actual image of it to heightened suspense really stuck with me. As I continued on to watch more and more creature features, I began to wonder why other directors didn’t adopt that same idea when they didn’t have the budget to make the creature they were working with look real.

The entire film is really well made, and it holds up after all this time. It was only the second really serious creature feature I’d ever seen and I loved the idea of something that could be found in nature, without any kind of mutation, being an antagonist.

Jurassic Park (1993) was the first serious creature feature I ever saw and fell in love with.

Before the infamous dinosaur films, I thought that creature features HAD to be campy and ridiculous or they didn’t fit into the genre. When I saw Jurassic Park my world completely flipped onto its head.

The sci-fi aspects of the film stuck with me plenty. The idea of cloning dinosaurs from million-year-old DNA made me want to know more about the science behind it, but I’m betting if it was about plant DNA the movie wouldn’t have affected me nearly as much. It needed the giant creatures involved to make me care.

Personally, I’d say the entire series of films – even the retconned ones – have affected my love of the creature feature genre, but I’ll stick with the original movie for the purpose of this list.

Before Jurassic Park, I’d have argued that creature features didn’t belong in either a blockbuster or horror genre. If anything, I would have put them into a comedy genre – or as a B-movie variation. Spielberg really brought the category into the horror genre for me, and I’ve never looked back.

10 – Coming of Age

Coming of age films can sometimes feel like the same story being told over and over again, and there’s a reason for that.

Don’t you remember growing up and believing you were the only one who could possibly understand what you were going through? We all did it. We all spent at least some time forgetting the authority figures around us had once been our age.

I accept tropes as a necessity more in coming of age stories than I do for any other category. Sometimes the skull of a teen can be thick and teaching them that other people get it, takes retelling the story a few hundred times. Still, there are films in the category that truly stand out.

As an 80s baby, I have no choice but to admit that The Breakfast Club (1985) is one of my picks for stand-out coming of age film. I know that will be a basic-bitch choice to a lot of you, and I couldn’t really care less.

Most people my age will bee-line to The Breakfast Club as a movie that affected them in their teen years because it’s a phenomenal film to explain the lives of various different high school stereotypes. Back then, the tropes of high school films were as strong as they were because that’s what high school itself was like – but The Breakfast Club was different. It fully humanized each one of the stereotypes and finally answered the question most teens had about people in other cliques: “why are those people like that?”

In this film, the audience learns that the bully has a tough home life, the jock is being pushed to the edge of his sanity, the princess is afraid of imperfection, etc. The entire movie is about teaching kids not to judge people, because no one can know someone else’s life.

You can’t possibly know what makes someone them who they are.

I find the lessons taught by The Breakfast Club to be things I refer to consistently as I grow older. You can bet my Rosie will be watching it early in life.

Coming into the current millennium there was Mean Girls (2004).

When I watched Mean Girls for the first time, I wasn’t expecting anything all that special. I expected it to be another trope-filled walk through high school. In some ways, I was right. Still, it felt familiar and new all at once.

The transformation of Cady into a ‘Plastic’ was interesting to watch and, even though you had to expect it, her crash back down to earth gave the audience that feeling in the pit of their stomach that you usually only get when you’re on a diving roller-coaster. The speech at the end was cringey enough to make it hard to watch, but necessary enough that you couldn’t look away.

The idea of something getting out that you don’t want getting out reminded me distinctly of Junior High School. I’ve always been a writer and I brought a story into school that I wanted my friends to read. By lunch, the entire school had either read it or morphed it into something it wasn’t – to the point that the principle called me into his office to lecture me about things that shouldn’t have even been an issue. From that point on I was the subject of some horrific bullying, and short a group of friends that had betrayed me.

Mean Girls spoke to me on a personal level. It did exactly what coming of age films are meant to do – it made me not feel alone.

Some coming of age films don’t only concentrate on the teenage years, though.

Now and Then (1995) shows more than just the childhood of the main characters, you see how they wound up as well. You follow the change that occurs between their teenage years and when they become adults. It’s an interesting take on the basic coming of age story.

In this case, you’re meant to believe there’s a supernatural twist, though it’s really all rooted in reality. You see four vastly different teens that have ignited a group friendship and grow up with them as they deal with personal tragedies, childhood crushes, and experiencing their own growth. Then you see what they became. What their adult lives are like, where they work, what their families are like. You find out what parts of their childhood they left behind, and what parts stuck with them.

As a teenager, I saw Now and Then as a film that allowed me to look into my future a little. I knew after watching it that somethings would change for me at such a level that I would barely be able to recognize myself, and other parts of me would never change. Either way, I felt like I was more prepared to accept the parts of my childhood that were painful to me as things that would be helpful later in life.

The coming of age story that affected me the most is not nearly as well-known as the others on this list.

Angus (1995) was about an overweight science nerd that had a crush on one of the cheerleaders in school. His best friends were his grandfather and a lecherous little gnome (not literally, it’s live-action). Throughout the movie he deals with trying to get into college while having to shrug off some severe bullying.

This movie was the first to make me feel equipped to stand up for myself against bullies. My favorite quote from an adult in one of these kinds of films is in Angus.

After explaining some of the stuff he was dealing with at school, the title character’s grandfather offers the best advice he could have in that situation: “As for what anybody else thinks, always remember these words and live by them: screw ‘em!”

It seems like such a simple thing to say, but at that age most adults told me to ignore the bullies and they would go away. That never worked, it always made it worse. Then adults would tell me to tell an authority figure. Well, I did that. The teacher I told made it so much worse that it actually caused me to not trust ANY authority figures for… well… I still don’t.

That idea of looking at the people hurting me as if they didn’t matter, as if the shit on my shoe was more important? That was advice no one had offered me before and it helped me learn how to deal with the people who took up that bully title. Even now, I refer back to that quote constantly. Whether I’m trying to take my own advice, or give it.

I think Angus deserved much more recognition than it got.

9 – War

I used to think I wasn’t all that into war films, but as I was writing up the outline for this article I realized how way off I really was. Narrowing down the war films that affected me to no more than four of them took a distinct amount of effort. More than I thought it would. Apparently, war films have been a huge part of my cinematic landscape. I think they may very well be the reason that loyalty developed into such an important part of what I expect from people I develop relationships with.

I hold loyalty above everything, even honesty.

I will admit that I don’t know how true to life the majority of the war films I’ll talk about are. One of them I do, but I’ll explain why later.

I’ve never been a member of any branch of the military. I have a great deal of friends who have – mostly Marines – but that second-hand knowledge/research will never compare to what they’ve been through and seen. As a result, accuracy is not something I’m going to be looking at for the most part. My take on these films is absolutely from the viewpoint of a civilian. Keep that in mind.

Black Hawk Down (2001) is the first one I’ll talk about.

There’s something terrifying about the concept of being trapped behind enemy lines. I find it more terrifying than your random horror films. It’s something that feels like it could happen to someone in wartime and there’s no questioning the motivation of the antagonists due to the setting.

Black Hawk Down was the first war film that actually scared me. It brought the fear to a relatable level for someone who hadn’t been to war. Everyone can acknowledge that they wouldn’t want to be in the hands of someone that hates them, regardless of whether or not there are weapons involved.

The Hurt Locker (2008) introduced me to another aspect of war or, rather, warriors.

The idea of getting addicted to the adrenaline rush of war and being unable to understand how to return to civilian life was almost as terrifying to me as being stuck behind enemy lines. This film suggested that some warriors can’t really understand how to go back to the ‘boredom’ of a regular life.

I want to stress that I know that not every soldier goes through this, but the idea of it affecting anyone like this opens the door to understanding a lot of the lasting effects of war on our warriors.

Full Metal Jacket (1987) introduced me to the difference between training and real war.

Through the journey of Pvt. Joker, Full Metal Jacket explained just how unprepared even the most well-trained people could be for actual battle. It showed differences on how each individual could react to the same circumstances and offered a look on how the atrocities of war can’t really be prepared for until you’re in the thick of it.

More than any other film, Full Metal Jacket made me realize that I couldn’t accurately put myself in the shoes of any of my military friends. There’s no way to really ‘get it’ unless you’re there.

The war movie that affected me the most was Saving Private Ryan (1998), and that had nothing to do with the story. 

I was dating a Marine the first time I saw it. It was one of his favorite films and he wanted to share it with me, but I don’t think he’d seen it since he’d been overseas. We got to the beach scene and he started shaking uncontrollably. Not minorly, either, it was very noticeable.

I had no idea what to do – I was young at the time, I don’t even think I was 20 yet. I agonized over whether or not to recommend turning off the film. I remember thinking frantically: Would he be offended if I recommended it? Would he be appreciative? Should I pretend to be too scared for it or would he see passed that?

In the end, I just asked him if he was alright. He said yes, and we continued watching the movie.

I still think I should have done more, but in the moment, I really couldn’t figure out what. I’ll always feel sorry for that.

Due to his reaction, Saving Private Ryan has always stuck out in my mind as a film that was likely as close to realistic as a Hollywood work could get. I could be wrong, but I will never forget his reaction. I think about him every time I watch that movie.

8 – Dance

I decided to go into a more upbeat category to follow war, simply because I feel it’s necessary to maintain an emotional balance when talking about films. It’s easy to forget just how emotional some movies can get me until I open up about them.

Dance is something I’ve been interested in all my life. I started in dance class when I was seven and went on with it until was 13. I didn’t quit because I lost interest in the subject, I quite because I went through a great deal at that point and couldn’t find interest in much of anything at the time. I didn’t see the point in dance for a while.

But there is a point and that point is expression.

Just like writing or painting, or any other kind of creation, there’s an expression in dance that helps people get their pain, and every other emotion, into the world. Every culture has their own kind of dancing that they break out for celebration, or war time, or prayer… anything can be represented by the rhythmic movement of one’s body.

I regret quitting dance. If I ever wind up with the time and money to spare, I intend to go back to it. In the meantime, I rely on entertainment for my dance fix.

One of my earliest exposures to a dance film was Dirty Dancing (1987). (Yes, my mom let me watch this before she let me watch Jaws. Weird movie rules.)

The romance story was kind of a moot point for me, I didn’t care about it. In fact, even though the story wasn’t all that interesting to me as I grew up, I didn’t much care about that either. What I cared about was the ballroom dancing.

I absolutely fell in love with the main characters as they twirled and swayed to the music. It was my first time seeing a film that told its story through dance and wasn’t considered a musical. I also saw it for the first time while I was still in dance class.

If I’m honest, I still watch the film more for the dancing than for the story.

Footloose (1984) came to me later in life. It wasn’t even one of my first exposures to Kevin Bacon (Tremors, The Following, Super).

The story of Footloose goes into the importance of dance woven through a coming of age story. I appreciated that in a way that I couldn’t appreciate the story of Dirty Dancing. It was an alternate world for me. I’d never experienced someone telling me not to dance.

Seeing how different a teens life was without the inclusion of music and dance affected my love of both in general, I appreciated them more than I ever had.

Going into dance stories with a more impactful plot, Save the Last Dance (2001) comes to mind.

Save the Last Dance was the first dance movie I saw that had a serious plot that went into grief and racial relations. It examined the concepts of privilege and the shift in lifestyle after a dancer lost her mother and had to go live with her less well-off father. She meets people that are from a world she’d never been a part of and they teach her how to get back up and love life again.

It’s an important film that really showed me the potential of other dance movies. It would have been my first choice, but the next movie I talk about had such an impressive use of music that I would never overlook it.

Center Stage (2000) is a highly underrated dance movie.

I remember a lot of that pushing and critique from when I was in dance school, and I can tell you there’s a lot of reality involved in this film. That self-consciousness, that pressure to maintain a body-type, the mentality that nothing should matter nearly as much as practicing… it’s all stuff that my school imparted onto me even at the young age I started. There were weeks I practiced until me feet bled. Center Stage doesn’t shy away from the ugly side of the dance world.

The use of music is also remarkable. I firmly believe that the dance choreographed to “The Way You Make Me Feel” by Michael Jackson was one of the best uses of that song I’ve seen in any movie. The main character draws your eyes like a magnet and the song is a great finisher to the ballet she’s performing.

7 – Romance

Romance isn’t one of my all-time favorite genres in the least. A lot of them come across as unrealistic or corny to me. Never-the-less, there are a few that have stuck with me over the years and reminded me about just how good this genre can be when it’s handled right.

Don’t laugh, but the first film I’ll be discussing is Lady and the Tramp (1955).

I know that Lady and the Tramp is usually thought of as more of a comedy with a little romance thrown in, but that’s not how I remember it at all. In my memory the romance and drama stands out much more drastically than the comedy – or even the music.

I remember how the Tramp grew because of Lady and her perspective was widened by his presence. I remember very clearly how terrified I was by certain aspects of this film as a little girl, and how watching the couple of dogs try to deal with their differing lifestyles affected me.

I’m well aware that the fact that the main characters are dogs takes away some of the ‘romance’ credibility. That said, it still taught a very young me about the importance of understanding in love.

The next film I discuss is going to make a lot of people roll their eyes, and I’m still going to give it the credit I think it deserves.

The Notebook (2004) spoke to me the moment I saw it. I loved everything about it, from the cast to the basic plot.

Maybe it’s because I don’t voluntarily watch a lot of primary-genre romance films, but this movie stuck out as wholly original and it tugged at all of my heartstrings. The conflict shown between Allie and Noah always felt somewhat realistic to me, but the effect the film had on me went much deeper.

It was the first romance film I remember seeing that acknowledged that love is not just a state of being. It didn’t just cover the fall and the honeymoon phase. It showed love as something you have to work at, something you need to actively decide to be a part of. Noah and Allie loved each other despite being drastically different people. They continued to love each other even when they were apart and right up until the end when she couldn’t even remember who he was.

The scenes where Noah and Allie are older and well into the sunset of their lives are some of the most effective scenes I’ve ever seen in a romance. Even with the harsh reality of Alzheimer’s Disease portrayed, there’s a matter of hope displayed as well. It’s heartbreaking and still incredibly touching.

Don’t come at me with the differences between the book and the movie, I haven’t read the book yet. I’m judging The Notebook completely on its worth as a film alone.

I’m about to give you a bit of whiplash here, you’ve been warned. We’re going from one of the most heart-string-plucking romances to one of the most strange romance films out there.

For those of you thinking I’m about to get into that film about the color grey, shame on you. Those films have no worth what-so-ever in my mind. No. They won’t be showing up on this list at all.

Instead, I’m talking about Secretary (2002).

Secretary does go into the same D/s lifestyle as the films that I will not name, but there’s something drastically different about it.

It’s actually interesting and worth something on informing non-scene viewers about what goes into the lifestyle.

I don’t actually agree with IMDb labeling Secretary as a comedy. I think it only seems like it belongs in that genre because of the odd subject matter. Back when it came out, there was no way the mainstream was looking at the D/s lifestyle as anything but a dangerous counter-culture – so someone finding romance within it was viewed as weird and awkward.

I, however, saw a lot of worth in the story and script. Secretary was one of the first films I saw that showed me there was more than one kind of romantic love. It opened the door to experimentation and research into cultures I was less familiar with. In the end, I learned a lot more than the film taught me simply because it encouraged me to go out and research.

My top pick for the romance category has to be Silver Linings Playbook (2012).

Again, I need to remind you that I’m judging it solely on its worth as a movie. I haven’t read the book.

That said, it’s another film labeled as a comedy that I don’t really agree with the categorization of. A lot of the ‘comedy’ found in the film has to do with the assumption that people will laugh at the emotional disorders portrayed by Pat and Tiffany – which I did not.

What I DID appreciate was watching two vastly flawed and realistically portrayed people fall in love.

There was no perfection in this film. Every character, from the main characters to the support had some kind of issue. Even the psychologist was painted as a real person and not just a product of his occupation.

I loved the idea of seeing that neither main character was there to save the other with their overt perfection. Instead, their introduction to each other was more about helping each other find growth and move on. It was so real that I had trouble looking away.

Silver Linings Playbook didn’t just offer the idea that imperfect people deserved to fall in love, but they painted emotional disorders in a light that offered a look at both the lows and the highs.

I’m sure some of the ways the film affected me had to do with the chemistry between Bradley Cooper (Burnt, War Dogs, Limitless) and Jennifer Lawrence (Joy, American Hustle, House at the End of the Street), as well. I feel like that’s worth noting.

6 – Romantic Comedy (Rom-Com)

Romance and comedy are both their own categories in this series, so you might be asking why I need a separate one for Rom-coms. In both the romance and comedy categories, I only consider how that specific subject affected my cinematic landscape. Rom-coms are a different creature because you have to consider both subjects at once. It’s usually a completely different kind of film and it balances the two genres in a more delicate way.

The first romantic comedy that comes to mind is Clueless (1995).

It’s easy to put Clueless squarely in the comedy category, but I would argue that without the romantic aspects, the film would not be the same. Cher’s interest in Christian – and eventual coupling with Josh – are only minor steps into the romances that affect the overall feel of the film. There’s also Dionne’s steady relationship with Murray and Tai’s back and forth decisions between Elton and Travis.

The movie IS primarily about friendship, which is why it’s only the first film I’m discussing in this category. Still, the balance between romance and comedy is one that is so subtle that it’s almost difficult to remember it as a romance film.

For the 90s, this movie was absolutely iconic and the romance aspects have stuck out, for me, since the first time I saw it.

You know it’s an iconic film when a rapper can use it as the inspiration for a music video almost twenty years later and find that it’s still relevant enough for people to get what she’s doing on a wide scale.

Love Potion No. 9 (1992) is a much less-known film, but it affected me more on a romantic comedy level.

There’s a lot about the movie that’s very typical. The nerd types don’t find love until they change – and then they find love with each other. The movie offers looks into the friend zone that mirror a lot of what you’d expect of a 90s movie as well. Nothing about this film is perfect. It doesn’t immediately even stand out.

Still, it’s pretty rare to have a full-on rom-com that takes a hard look at toxic relationships and consent issues. Especially a rom-com that’s successful in putting that comedy in.

Love Potion No. 9 follows two scientists who come upon a gypsy woman who sells them a concentrated substance that they find affects the vocal chords. When drank, the substance makes the user irresistible to members of the opposite sex that can hear them speak. Together, they find a way to dilute the substance and use it to improve their dating lives – agreeing to never speak around each other when under the influence.

Both of them use the substance for their own means, but it comes back to bite them in the ass. For Paul, he gets screwed when a prostitute finds the substance and uses it to convince him to help her burgle him. For Diane, her abusive ex gets a hold of the substance and uses it to convince her to marry him.

It seems like a simple and trope-y story, and in some ways, it is… but the way it’s handled is good enough to keep the audience involved in the story and get its point across without being too graphic.

You’ve read me talk about the next pick.

Set it Up (2018) is a very new film, but it still changed my perspective on rom-coms.

In the 2010s rom-coms have become a kind of joke. Almost all of them are paint-by-number stories with absolutely nothing special to set them apart from other films in the genre. Most of them rely on super-cringe and raunchy humor. It sometimes seems like the rom-com genre might have nothing left to offer the general cinematic landscape.

When I saw the trailer for Set it Up, it looked mildly interesting… but I highly doubted anything would come from it. I figured it would be one big trope and, at most, it might be a cute take on something already seen.

That perspective changed after I saw it.

There were definite tropes in place. However, there were some aspects to it that turned Set it Up into its own, highly original film.

That said, there was a single scene in the movie that took me to places no other rom-com ever had. It wasn’t even a scene that revolved around the main character. It actually revolved around Duncan and Rick. It was just such a realistic and natural thing that I could absolutely see my best friend doing that in the same situation… and it was so funny that I nearly fell right off the couch. I had to actively pause the film because I couldn’t catch my breath.

What Set it Up taught me was that there can be one single new or unexpected aspect in a film that can elevate the whole thing way above where it should be. The movie itself was decent and there was some expectation subversion, but I will forever remember it for that singular scene that Pete Davidson (Trainwreck, Sober Companion, School Dance) owned.

The romantic comedy that affected me most was definitely Crazy, Stupid, Love (2011).

Despite coming out in this decade, Crazy, Stupid, Love is original and offers an air of unpredictability to the audience.

In the film, the romance aspect doesn’t just follow one character. Every member of the main family is followed along their independent romance roles. That means you get several very different romantic stories that all tie together into one world.

You get the cringe-y and rauchy humor that you’d expect from the 2010s, but you also get something sweet beneath it all. For instance, when Ryan Gosling’s (Blade Runner 2049, La La Land, The Place Beyond the Pines) womanizing character finally gets to bring Hannah home, with every intention of instigating a one-night stand, they wind up just talking and falling asleep together. That’s pretty far from what the easy-road would have been for the writer/director to take. Most films would have had them sleep together and then follow it with your typical post-coital relationship-gone-wrong plot.

When I think of romantic comedies, no film comes to my mind as quickly as Crazy, Stupid, Love.

5 – Dystopian

People seem to get dystopias confused with post-apocalyptic plots a lot. Although the two ideas do go well together, they’re different genres. An apocalyptic film shows the end of the world and post-apocalyptic movies follow the world as it exists after the ending. Sometimes, a post-apocalyptic world can be rebuilding with a dystopian edge, but that doesn’t mean all post-apocalyptic worlds will go that route, or that all dystopias are born from world-ending occurrences.

Both categories are huge parts of my personal cinematic landscape, though.

For those of you who don’t know what the term ‘dystopia’ actually means, it’s the exact opposite of utopia.

In a utopian world, everything is seemingly perfect and happy. In contrast, a dystopian society is deeply flawed and highly undesirable – usually portrayed with either a fascist or totalitarian government. In some cases, a dystopian world could have no government at all and be shown as completely anarchistic.

One of my picks for the dystopian category is How I Live Now (2013).

This is a film some people would argue with me putting in this genre. How I Live Now is a rare film, indeed. The people who argue with me that it’s not a dystopian movie are right; but I am, too.

That’s why this film had such an impact on me. It starts out in the real world; a young girl is sent to stay with relatives in England. It’s our world, with our governments. Then everything changes and you actually get to watch the birth of a dystopian society ruled by Nazi-like fascists. It’s not apocalyptic at all, but for the main characters involved it might as well be. THEIR world ends and they’re introduced to work camps, an army that kills children indiscriminately, a world that could break the mind of an otherwise mentally healthy young man.

Generally, in a dystopian film, you’re dropped in the middle of the story. Sometimes you find out what happened, but not always – and that’s fine. In this case, you get to watch the start of it and it’s an incredibly emotional and harrowing journey as you watch the small family try to find where they fit and how they can save themselves, knowing they can’t save anyone else.

The film left me with a stomach ache and I think that’s what it was trying to do. I bought the book shortly after seeing it, but haven’t read it yet.

My next pick is a good example of a post-apocalyptic dystopian society. Tank Girl (1995) is one of the first dystopian stories I was exposed to and I fell in love with the genre immediately. I credit it for helping my love of dystopian plots thrive.

The world Tank Girl takes place in is devoid of water. Every drop of what’s left is used by the water company to control the population. The water company even develops an item that sucks the water out of a person as it kills them.

Lori Petty (Orange is the New Black, Dead Awake, A League of Their Own) played a strong survivor in the dystopian setting that rebels against the company in question. It’s a thrilling film and I don’t think the dystopian category would be such a big deal to me without it.

Starship Troopers (1997) is another movie in this category that people have argued with me over.

Yes, I’m aware that the book is vastly different from the movie. Of course, it is. The director didn’t even finish the book because he thought it was boring and depressing. I don’t care whether or not the book shows a dystopian world – the movie does.

It’s a fascist future where there is complete military control. You can’t even have a child without having a license from being in the military. Never mind the bug situation or the complete annihilation of Argentina… just the basic everyday life of Earth in that universe is undesirable. You’re not even considered a full citizen without serving.

Don’t get me wrong, I have a huge respect for our troops, but there will always be people unable to serve. The Starship Troopers universe, as told by the film, excludes handicapped people of every kind from being able to be citizens. It raises the question of what happens to a woman and her child if she gets pregnant without having served first. If you need a license to procreate, does that mean the government is doing something to restrict fertility – or do they just forcibly remove the problem if it comes up? Both options are terrifying.

The dystopian world of Starship Troopers is subtle. You’re thrown in the middle of it and just accept it as truth without much added thought to start out. It just seems like a basic science fiction at first, but the more you watch it, the deeper the story runs.

My number one pick for dystopian stories is Snowpiercer (2013).

I cannot tell you how much I love the Snowpiercer film. There’s no part of it that feels off to me, though I don’t know the graphic novels that it came from.

The story is based in a world where significant climate change forced the last few people left in society onto a train, where they were meant to live until a solution was found – possibly forever.

With no end in sight, the humans left are forced into a caste system that shows a huge difference between the ‘rich’ and ‘poor’. From the food they eat to the cars they’re allowed to be on. In the story, a child from the low-class cars goes missing – a semi-common occurrence – and the main character mounts a rebellion while searching for them. In the end, it’s found that children who go missing from the low-class cars are used as workers to replace the parts that break in the train. It’s morbid and sickening and something that perfectly represents a dystopia to me.

I feel like a dystopian story needs to have that kick of sickening morality. Not just from the differences in class or oppression from the government – but from a widely accepted alteration of ethics in that world.

I particularly enjoy when a dystopian story doesn’t have a happy ending, or at least has something bitter-sweet. I feel like giving a dystopia a happy ending causes the story to lose a little something. There needs to be a kind of hopelessness for a dystopian story to meet its full potential in my mind – Snowpiercer meets every single one of my preferences and requirements… and is part of the reason those preferences even exist for me in the first place.

4 – Apocalyptic/Post-Apocalyptic

I decided to mix apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic for no other reason than I don’t see much of a difference. Either way, I’d be referring to that film because of the way the apocalypse itself is handled. If I get to see what happens after, that’s spiffy – but not why I’d seek the film out. I seek it out for the horror of seeing the world end.

The first thing I feel needs saying is that I love zombie stories. I do. I loved them before they were all over the place and I still love them now that they’ve gone passed mainstream and into the ‘overdone’ category. Don’t care. Love zombies. Three out of four of the films on the list for this category are zombie-related. I have no shame at all.

Moving into the actual list, I’ll start with World War Z (2013).

Now, for a pleasant change, I’ve actually read the book this movie took its title from. That’s really all it took from the book. The title and the idea of zombies. The book is more of an anthology. So, I have no choice but to take this film on its own merits without considering the book.

As a movie, World War Z really took a lot into account for the end of the world, and we got a unique perspective. Although we see the zombie apocalypse from the eyes of the military in a lot of books, it’s rare to see that – from the beginning – in a movie. In this case, the main character is a person highly valued by the military and we get to see how the government handles one their own in this crisis.

The zombies are the terrifyingly fast kind, which I immediately consider a bigger threat than the shambling slow ones. It brings more suspense and dread to the story.

What I really love is that you see the whole world in relation to the apocalypse. You see how each country is dealing with the threat, how it spreads, and how people are reacting to each other. Normally, you get stuck in one place, witnessing the apocalypse take place just there. I really liked the new take on the story-telling process for this kind of story. I guess that part was also taken from the book if you think about it long enough.

Some people had issues with the ending and how they managed to start fighting back, but I thought it made perfect sense. A lot of predators avoid attacking sick creatures. I think people were just looking for an issue because they were sick of zombies.

Speaking of being sick of zombies, Zombieland is my next entry on this list.

Comedy apocalypse films are just so awesome in my mind. You take this horrifying and chill-inducing idea of the world literally coming to an end, and then make people laugh at it. Zombieland does that really well.

I mean, how many films could really have pulled off Bill Murray (Extra Innings, The Jungle Book, The Grand Budapest Hotel) starring as himself and getting killed?

The movie is hilarious and still winds up having this awesomely horrific world for the characters to exist in. The fright is lightened by that comedy, but you still get the distrust and hopelessness of a full-blown apocalypse film. It’s a great mix.

This is the End (2013) undoubtedly pulled off that terror/humor mix better, though. I almost considered it for my first pick.

As much as Zombieland affected my take on the comedic apocalypse story, This is the End fleshed it out more.

Not only did this film walk a similar line of horror and comedy, it also brought the story spectacularly into our world by making everyone play themselves. Sure, they likely altered their behavior for the giggles, but with all their names the same it leaves one with the curiosity of ‘what if this actually happened’.

I never really considered the idea of bringing an apocalyptic story into the real world like that. It threw me off-guard and I loved it from the start.

The most influential apocalyptic movie I’ve seen was much more recent: Cargo (2017).

I had some decently high hopes for the film when I saw it, but I wasn’t anywhere near fully prepared for what I got. I haven’t ugly cried for a movie on that level in years.

It was not funny. There was no comedy at all. It’s strictly a drama/thriller and it examined the basic humanity and dread that comes with the certain knowledge that you and everyone around you is going to die. You can’t do anything about it and you can only do your best to last as long as possible.

Martin Freeman (Black Panther, Carnage, Sherlock) pulled off that doomed aspect so well that I can’t even consider the possibility that anyone else would have been able to pull it off.

Cargo may well be the best apocalyptic film in existence.

3 – Mind Fuck

All the movies in this category could fit in other genres, but are unquestionably more of a force of influence in my cinematic landscape for the fact that they are total mind fucks. You know the kind of film I’m talking about. You’re watching one story and then suddenly it’s flipped on its head for a big reveal at the end that you never saw coming. On the other hand, it could also be the kind of film that you can’t really tell what the real world is because it’s so surreal that your brain can’t comprehend it.

Whichever way it goes, a mind fuck movie always leaves me feeling like someone slapped me out of nowhere. That “oh shit” feeling is what I’m in it for.

I’m going to be incredibly vague about the endings of these films. Although we’re under a strict spoiler warning, two of the films in this list are all about that ending. They lose something when you go into them knowing how it ends.

The Usual Suspects (1995) is one of those films where the ending is everything. If you go into it knowing who Keyser Söze is, then you lose the whole point of the film.

There are very few people who wouldn’t put The Usual Suspects on a list for this category.

Black Swan (2010) is another movie that absolutely shaped my take on mind fucks.

My husband is so creeped out by this film that he won’t actually watch it a second time. The ending isn’t nearly as important in this movie as the journey that it takes to get there.

In it, you follow the story of a dancer as she slowly loses her mind during the practice and production of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. The meshing of fantasy and reality leaves you with a sense of confusion and by the end of the film there’s no way for you to tell what’s real and what’s not. It’s creepy and insane and reaches every single goal it sets for itself.

It’s definitely a film that got the ‘what just happened?’ plot right. When I look at other films that try to mind fuck me in the same way, I expect them to reach a similar level of success or I get disappointed.

Sucker Punch (2011) is another film that uses that brand of fantasy meeting reality, and it had a huge influence on me.

This film leads me into a lot of arguments because I absolutely believe it’s a phenomenal movie, straight to my core. Nay-sayers will never convince me otherwise. I understand the arguments against it, but I simply don’t agree. In fact, I think it’s such a polarizing movie because of its mind fuck qualities. There’s so much to argue about with it, that some people find it hard to move past.

I find movies like that mentally stimulating and fun. I enjoy the debate. That added ability to go forward with extra arguments makes it feel like the movie lasts longer and is worth more. No film shows that side of things to me as clearly as Sucker Punch.

The mind fuck movie that affected me most was Fight Club (1999).

Without revealing anything of note, the big twist at the end really caught me off-guard the first time I saw it. It took a few watch throughs before I caught all the foreshadowing that would have told me what I needed to know to predict it.

Going forward, I always thought back to fight club when a movie had a big twist. It made me aware of what decent foreshadowing was.

There’s not much else I can say about the film. It’s just generally awesome.

2 – B-Movie

B-movies are not for everyone. They’re usually low budget, filled with strange ideas, and geared toward a non-mainstream demographic. Unlike cult movies, they usually don’t have super big names in them – even from before they got big – and don’t tend to have huge rabid followings that bring them into the mainstream.

Of course, that’s not saying that a B-Movie can’t make the transformation into a cult movie with the right audience.

I, however, LOVE B-movies. There’s something so satisfying about seeing what a small company, or low budget, can create. The movies can be more violent, or dip into more controversial ideas because there’s no suit upstairs telling them to calm shit down. Sure, not all of them are the best thing in the world, but a lot of them go into that group where they’re fun to watch even if they are bad.

The best B-movies are the ones that toe that line between bad and good. They become great films that work well when you watch them with friends. When an interesting one comes up, I get a group of friends together, make themed foods, and sometimes even dress up for the occasion. It’s an experience. It’s not always a great movie, but it’s always fun – and that’s what matters.

I wish I could remember the name of the first B-movie I ever watched. The theme and scenes stuck in my head so severely that I never stopped thinking about it… but it was the product of a rental accident. I rented a film from the neighborhood video store and the movie was in the wrong box. I never KNEW the name of it. Even though I watched it at something like 12 (WAY too young for the subject matter), it is still a movie I think about and it got me interested in watching the less-known, lower-budget films out there.

Getting into the list, I’m going to start with a movie that kind of rides the line between plain B-movie and cult film.

Machete (2000) is one of the most violent B-movies I can remember watching. I can’t remember if the part where Machete grabs a guy’s intestines and uses them as a rope to swing out of a high-floor window is in the first or second film… but that scene was so unexpected that it blew my mind. I can’t help but refer to it on that ‘brutal’ meter when watching other films.

Whether or not that particular scene was in the first movie, doesn’t matter. Both films are so brutal that they are absolutely unforgettable. When I watch a mainstream film that someone describes to me as being overly violent, I tend to go into it with the ‘sure, whatever’ mentality. That’s because of my experience watching Machete and its sequel. Most films feel tame in comparison.

To the best of my knowledge, Machete has a fan base, but not nearly as big of one as it would need to have in order to be considered a cult film. By all means, correct me if I’m wrong.

The next movie I have to discuss is a Japanese film I saw early on in Trust the Dice’s life.

Alien vs. Ninja (2010) was one of the funniest B-action movies I’ve ever seen.

The dialogue is corny. The concept is beyond ridiculous. The costumes are 100% unbelievable. It’s definitely not the kind of film a big mainstream production company would ever green-light, let alone fund.

Regardless of all its faults, it’s a seriously fun movie to watch. There’s that fun ninja-type fighting, only a lot of the moves are raunchy or ridiculous. There are some serious fighting moments, but they’re immediately eclipsed by something to make fun of it all.

It’s a great movie to watch when you want to see something that doesn’t take itself too seriously. It could easily have Asylumed itself into trying to be a serious film which would have ruined the whole damn thing.

Then there’s The Gamers: Dorkness Rising (2008).

I very nearly put this film in the sequel category instead. I enjoyed the first movie, but it was a little too low on the production scale for me to really want to watch it over and over again. It’s got some good quotes and a decent story, but you can tell it’s a first attempt at something and not a completed project.

As a sequel, The Gamers: Dorkness Rising is miles above the original, but that’s not what this list is about.

This film has a very small demographic. It targets a sub-sect of the geek culture: tabletop role-players. It was filmed on a micro-budget by a group of friends and it is filled with private jokes and references that only that sub-sect would get or relate to.

It’s about a group of friends playing through a Dungeons and Dragons scenario and getting super into it. You follow not only the players, but their characters.

I’m a part of that sub-sect and watching The Gamers: Dorkness Rising is an experience that’s INCREDIBLY fun to take part in with friends. We call out some of the one-liners, reminisce about old games the plot reminds us of, and just generally enjoy our time watching it. It’s like having an old friend to talk to about things you don’t have as much time for anymore.

Building a role-playing campaign and having my friends systematically destroy it with their insistence on playing characters that shouldn’t exist and getting so distracted that we had to create something like a meme to get everyone to concentrate again was a huge part of what I did as a teenager. Hell, it went on well into my twenties, until everyone got real careers and no longer had time for a sit-down table top game.

As a result, this film is almost nostalgic to us. Even those of us who don’t normally enjoy B-movies like to reference this one.

The B-movie that has affected me the most is Knights of Badassdom (2013).

This is another film based around role-playing, but it focuses more on the live-action role-play aspect (LARP). The story follows a group of LARPers as they accidentally raise a real demon and pretty much cause the end of the world.

The cast of this film is phenomenal and should definitely indicate a cult-status, but for some reason it doesn’t seem to. Again, if I’m wrong, let me know. The story is ridiculous and fun to watch. The script is hilarious… there’s really nothing about this film that doesn’t scream “awesome” at me.

I brought the Blu-ray to Dragon Con so that I could get Summer Glau (Sequestered, Firefly, Arrow) to autograph it. It was one of my favorite take-aways from that convention. She’s just the kind of actress that’s easy to love.

But I digress.

The twist from hilarious and ridiculous to suddenly horrific supernatural story is jarring – to say the least. There’s no way a suit would have OKed it, but it absolutely made the movie great.

1 – Horror

Horror has been the most influential genre in my personal cinematic landscape. Most of this list isn’t created in order of importance, but I couldn’t put horror anywhere but in that number one spot anyway. It’s my favorite genre and I tend to prefer horrors with a thread of comedy – though there’s only one movie on this category’s list to reflect that.

That movie is Gremlins (1984).

I saw Gremlins at a very young age, likely because my mom thought it would have less violence in it than it did. I mean, it was rated PG. You can’t really blame her for this one. The MPAA failed her.

It’s very possible that this film is the whole reason that horror is my favorite genre. Instead of scaring me as a child, I was absolutely fascinated by it. There were a few moments that MAY have given me a nightmare or two, but for the most part I remembered it fondly – and I watched it a lot.

That comedy that entangled with the jump-scares and weird frights made it easier to watch. To be fair, it was very common in the 80s and early 90s for horror films to lean toward a comedic angle. This one just did it the best in my mind, and it still kind of holds up. It gave birth to my favorite genre in my mind.

On another note I remember the first time I watched Final Destination (2000).

I didn’t watch this film for the plot or because of some interest in the trailer. I watched it because I loved Devon Sawa (Idle Hands, Nikita, The Exorcism of Molly Hartley) as an actor and I gave every movie he starred in a chance, just on principle. Seriously. I even have copies of his rare TV Movies on VHS in my closet. I’ve always seen him as an eclectic and involved actor – and when I was a young girl I just thought he was hot. I’d still follow Sawa to whatever project he stars in and expect the best from it.

That said, I may not have watched Final Destination for its value as a stand-alone film, but it definitely proved itself to be worth it upon my first watch-through. That idea of being hunted by an unstoppable force was so terrifying to me that it gave me chills throughout the whole thing. The rest of the movies in the series were ok, but the first one really took that suspense to a peak I’d never been at before.

It scared me on a primal level and brought up philosophical arguments between me and my friends. It’s been 18 years and we still debate those philosophical ideas we got from this film.

With Red State (2011), there were other things to consider.

When I went to go see this film on its premiere tour, it was because I love Kevin Smith (Mallrats, Yoga Hosers, Dogma). I was dying to see what the comedy giant could do with a real horror film. Despite my overall faith in Smith, though, I expected to mostly just be there to support his new project. I didn’t expect to like it.

It was his first attempt at something that wasn’t comedy and I expected it to feel like that.

Oh, it didn’t. It was absolutely horrifying to watch. It followed a group of zealots that were a lot like the Westboro Baptist Hate Group (I told you, I won’t refer to them as a church – I don’t give a fuck what they call themselves). That amount of hate on its own is terrifying – when you add in the cult-like quality Smith gave them it reaches a height that’s hard to come to terms with.

It taught me about pre-judging films. I still do it occasionally, I’m human. We make mistakes. But I do it a hell of a lot less in my post-Red State life.

The horror film that affected me the most was Saw (2004).

That kind of torture-porn horror is absolutely everywhere now, but back when Saw came out, it was almost completely original. It was the first time I’d seen a horror film that made me cringe and yelp. It brought up philosophical debates, too – like Final Destination did, but they were deeper arguments.

What would you do? Could you kill someone to save yourself? Would that really be saving yourself? Would you have the balls to saw off your own leg?

A lot of people have issues with certain aspects of the film. A lot of the ‘holes’ in the plot can be explained by later sequels – though they aren’t as good as the original. That twist on the end, with Jigsaw just stiffly getting up off the floor was outstanding as well. A twist I couldn’t have possibly seen coming.

The movie has stuck with me on many different levels, but as a horror film – it’s still my all-time favorite.

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There you have it, my personal cinematic landscape laid out for all to see. It got a little long winded, and I probably should have split it up into more parts. I might go back at a later date and split it into more posts so that each one is much shorter. Check back in a week or so for that. You’ll find them in the same days that the originals were posted.

What do you think of the idea of a personal cinematic landscape? Do you think it’s as important as I do? How has yours affected you? Let me know!