My 2013 Movies: Zero Dark Thirty (2012, at the theatre)
We all have movies we love, and movies we can’t stand. Directors and writers and actors we stand by regardless of material, and filmmakers who drive us insane with rage. And there are the things we know about the act of actually going to the movies: the things inside us that we trust as movie-watchers - and then there are those delicious, unexpected discoveries.
And - speaking now only for myself - there are movies that we love watching, love absorbing, dig the ever-loving hell out of their artistry…but somehow know that we’ll probably never watch them again. And yet we still love them.
Right now, at this moment, that’s how Zero Dark Thirty stacks up for me.
I loved watching this. Loved. There are moviegoing experiences where you’re simply sitting there in the dark and that bright screen is just so big and the deep bases are rattling your stomach and you just love to soak down into it and give in. Give in to filmmakers you trust. I’ve grown so much in appreciation for Kathryn Bigelow’s movies over the years, her particular vision and style, and she’s one of those directors that I get just so excited to hear what’s coming, and how she’ll handle it. The unpredictability of her efforts really gets to me; it puts me into that theatre seat each and every time.
I enjoyed how much ZDT reminded me of Zodiac in its years-long narrative; its slow-but-never-dull procedural details; its secondary characters given little but crucial things to do (that White House hallway chat between Mark Strong and Stephen Dillane!); its sublime thrills; its main-characters-with-no-outside-lives.
ZDT is crafted just so well. Every frame. I love how it avoids big eureka movie moments, never panders to gung-ho booyah macho posturing, provides us in Maya with a character with so very, very much going on inside her without ever telling us what that is, besides the obvious. Chastain is luminous in this, just spectacular.
But I can’t shake this feeling that it’s a movie I’ll likely never revisit. And it’s not because of the uncomfortableness of some of its topics; it’s not because the controversy enrages or disenfranchises me. I simply feel like the story is told now, definitively, and I may not get more out of it if I watch it again. Maybe I’m afraid I’ll find flaws, or I’ll like it less, but I’ve experienced this before with cinematic milestones that I loved watching - but not rewatching. And I think - think - that it’s not because I didn’t like it, or that I doubt its quality. There’s a difference, somehow, in something you loved and want to experience again, and something extraordinary that you just want to leave alone. Leave it to that solitary experience.
Is this just me, or do you have titles like that? A movie you love but don’t feel like watching, maybe ever again? Schindler’s List is also like that for me.