Why You Should Never Again Take a Cinema Studies Class Until You Die and Go to Hell

pretentious: demanding a position of merit, especially when unjustified

Remember that word because it is exactly what you are going to get if you sit through another goddamned cinema studies class. You are twenty years old, you have taken film classes before, and yet it is so uncomfortable to try and get used to it. In high school we were all pretentious because that was the new thing. You heard Mr. Walch mention the name Bergman and you were not even sure which one he was referring to but your ears sprang up erect—as did other areas—because you loved Autumn Sonata. You take your time to think about it all and learn to express yourself through la Nouvelle Vague. In the midst of the anxiety right before college, you lock yourself in your room in a hazy daze to watch action clicks. You even grow your hair in all different shades of shaggy because there simply is no time for grooming when you have to get through all of Nic Cage’s filmography.

And then there is college.

I have seen two movies named The Freshman, and they are both terrifying. One of them was even directed by a third Bergman. But no one cares about Harold Lloyd in your college classes. They seem more interested in flaunting what other black and white films they know of, which is funny because I had no idea school was made so that people would show up to list all the critically acclaimed movies they have seen. I do this for free when I try to hit on intellectuals, so why am I sitting through hours of this nonsense, clenching my jaw as the weed wears off?

Some time ago we concluded our first unit in my History of Motion Pictures class. We said goodbye to Chaplin and Keaton and nodded as the professor introduced us to German Expressionism. Then a classmate raised his hand: “Are we going to watch The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari? Because that film…”

…something something about how much he knows about Wiene's distortion galore. Ugh. I stopped listening at some point. I knew this guy before; I used to have lunch with him in tenth grade, but do not remind him because then I would have to say hi to him, and I simply do not have time for that. And though that adds another layer to the story, the pretentiousness of his statement is neither aggravated nor lessened by the fact that I always found him to be annoying.

The professor is pretty cool, so if I can pretend to read people well, I can be certain he is on my side. “If we get around to Nosferatu and Metropolis, sure,” he answered. Of course, he was polite about it, so it did not sound the way it does in my head as I type it. Still, fuck you, anonymous student whose name rhymes with bazookas. Who do you think you are wasting our time just throwing up titles? Are we on a metaphorical journey through Wikipedia or something?

My biggest problem with his statement, like everything he says in the class, is that he is doing it all wrong. This marks the difference between pretentiousness and genuine zeal: pretense is characterized by priding yourself in having fine tastes when there is nothing obscure about these masterpieces that are readily available for the common public to consume. I mean, come on now, who has never heard of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari? It is like taking a History of Music class and asking if you are going to listen to The Beatles. Although no, that would be Citizen Kane. I guess an artist such as, oh I don't know, Billie Holiday is more like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari of music. Everyone has heard of Billie Holiday. Maybe you cannot recognize it and when asked if you like it you are all like: “I love him.” But you know that someone who is really into music has listened to Billie Holiday. Thus you do not take a History of Music class and ask if you are going to listen to Billie Holiday. You go listen to that by thee, thyself, and thou.

Some of us are naturally skilled at having opinions about things, especially things we know nothing about. My best conversations are those when I have no idea what is being discussed. But what is being awesome at pretending good for if I am not getting anything in return? Does bazooka think he is earning our respect? Because there are better methods to accomplish that, such as establishing your intelligence when it is needed. Do not be a little bitch about it. Wait for the right time. I found mine when the professor asked who was the 19th century French science fiction author that Méliès loosely adapted for the screen. Uh, are you guys stupid?

That is the right time to come in. And you raise your hand and say in a sensual voice: “Jules Verne.” Then everyone is like whoa. But you cannot raise your hand after watching A Trip to the Moon and ask: “Are you going to tell us that Méliès was inspired by Jules Verne? Because I love Jules Verne.”

Do not get me wrong. There are heavy emotions attached to cinema. Who has not flipped through a book on film and felt full of love because you were tweaked out smoking cigarettes indoors while your eyes twinkled with tears? Goddammit, you love movies! You do! And when you are in class sometimes a clip of that movie you just fucking love starts playing, and you do not care that everyone everywhere has seen Fight Club, it is still as good as it ever was, so you sigh loudly. The girl next to you looks at you and she sort of laughs because she loves Fight Club too. And everyone is quoting in their head. Some even do it out loud, fuck it. We are all going home to listen to Pixies, anyway. I guess you are not a beautiful or unique snowflake after all.

I have another film class with the same professor the following day: Understanding Motion Pictures. There is this other guy there whose name does not rhyme with anything who is always making comments that at first might sound similar to bazookas', but eventually you realize that no-rhyme has strong opinions about things that matter to him, like Facebook, for instance, which he went on a paranoid rant about while I was trying to read some Philip K. Dick during a break. So when no-rhyme gets antsy during a lecture on screenwriting and blurts out something about William Goldman, no-rhyme will say how he feels about William Goldman’s work, not that he adapted Misery. Although maybe no-rhyme does agree that Kathy Bates is totally nuts. I should ask him. I should befriend him.

I guess what I mean to say by all this is that it is okay to like German Expressionism just as long as you do not think knowing what that is makes you the fairest of them all. Be modest. Use every opportunity you can to show off how bitchin' brilliant you are, not how pestering you can get, ya feel me?

Or whatever, bro, these are your decisions to make. Please, I would love to hear shit off an IMDb trivia page. I also hope you love it when I conspicuously roll my eyes at you and then pop a cap in your eye à la Chinatown. Enjoy movies now, kitty cat.

- Dragon