It’s about a lonely man, Theodore, who falls in love with his computer operating system, Samantha. Just to be clear, he isn’t simply infatuated with the voice of his smartphone. Samantha is not just an OS, she’s a learning, evolving artificial intelligence, a consciousness. She is her own person, she just isn’t human.
Samantha comes into Theodore’s life a year into his separation, when he knows he needs to sign the divorce papers, but still isn’t ready to let go. She breaths new life into Theodore just by the nature of her own newness. She tells him, “I want to learn everything about everything, I want to discover myself,” and he’s swept up in her enthusiasm and in experiencing the world through her fresh eyes. She’s excited about living, and he’s excited to be with someone who is excited about living.
That feeling of renewal we get when we embark on a new relationship is only one of the topics in this movie that I could explore. I love a movie with many layers, that makes me think, especially about my own life and how I’m living it. Can we discover new things about ourselves well into adulthood? Do we need a body to be considered a “real” person and have relationships with others? Are our emotions real? Can we learn from the mistakes of past relationships and move forward? Can a relationship survive when one person is going places the other can’t follow? The advertising for these artificially intelligent operating systems asks: “Who are you? What can you be? Where are you going? What are the possiblities?” These are all threads that weave themselves through the film.
Her asks lots of questions, but in the end it’s a love story.
Love can open us up and expand our souls and take us places we never even dreamed existed. And it can chew us up and crunch our bones in its teeth. You can say we do these things to each other, and that’s true. But without love, the pain and joy we feel wouldn’t reach such depths and heights in the first place.
All relationships are complicated. All relationships have their difficulties. Some will thrive and prosper, and some will shrivel and die. This movie is the study of one relationship. Will it work or not? It’s a movie about how wonderful and scary and frustrating and complicated and exhilarating love can be. Falling in love, the possibilities of love.
So, my favorite line:
Theodore: “Will you come with me?”
He asks this of his friend Amy, and she doesn’t ask where, or why, or do I need a jacket. She just nods her head and follows him out the door.
That’s the only thing we absolutely know we can control, is our willingness to open ourselves up to the possibilities of love or friendship. To be vulnerable enough, daring enough, hopeful enough to ask that question. Will you come with me?
And when someone asks us, to be vulnerable enough, daring enough, hopeful enough to go.
IN WHICH I SQUEEZE 10 YEARS INTO 52 DAYS ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When I think 80’s movies, I first think Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, Footloose, Some Kind of Wonderful, and Say Anything. They all have some form of teen angst at their center, so it’s no wonder they stuck out most for me when I was going through many of the same kinds of emotions myself.
But when I sat down to make a real list of the 80’s movies I liked, it got out of hand pretty quickly. And then , when I searched movies by release year, fuhgeddaboudit! I realized I’d have to majorly spread my movie picks out over this year, and it would still be too many films. So be forewarned: I love movies, this is my blog, and I’m gonna put as many picks and write as much as I like on these posts. Continue at your own risk.
To start, here’s a sampler of movies that made a lasting impression on me for one reason or another:
E.T. (82)
I’m 44 years old, and last week I cried my eyes out when E.T. died. Or didn’t really die. Doesn’t matter, I’m gonna cry every time, even though I know he’s coming back in the next scene. Then I cry at the end, too. You know, just for good measure. This movie never, ever, ever gets old. It just gets better every time I see it. Ahem, in its original, pre-“fixed” state, the way God intended E.T. to be watched. Here’s a super fun scene (though I’m not a fan of the CGI ET face), and one of my favorites:
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Terms of Endearment (83)
I haven’t watched this movie in years, but I always remember this particular scene. I especially love it when she starts to climb in. It resonated with me from the first moment I saw it, and it’s one of my favorite opening scenes of any movie ever. Also, I’ve done this to my dog countless times, poor guy. Terms of Endearment is still alive as a pop culture reference today, but typically when this movie comes up, people quote the hospital scene. You know, the “give my daughter the shot!” scene. But this is the one I love:
Eddie and the Cruisers (83)
I was captivated by this movie when I first saw it at about 15 or so, and I always remembered it. I watched it again about six months ago. It’s kind of dated, and I couldn’t stop focusing on how every person in every scene is smoking a cigarette. But it’s still good; I was still hooked on the hope and melancholy and regret and acceptance. And the music! Not so believable lip-syncing, but awesome music by John Cafferty & The Beaver Brown Band (as Eddie’s voice and band). I totally owned the hell out of that movie soundtrack on cassette tape, ya’ll. Here’s the trailer and a song:
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Red Dawn (84)
This one made a big impression on me when I was younger, but when I watched it last year, it upset me a lot. A lot, a lot. I couldn’t get it off my mind for a long time. It was years between viewings (mine’s on VHS, if that tells you anything), and I had no idea it would hit me so hard. But the older I get, the more I understand about love and loss and the preciousness of life. Movies like this have a much greater impact on me than they did when I was 16 or 18 or 25.
I didn’t like the characterizations in the remake; they basically ripped the heart and soul right out of the film. I felt like, “that’s too bad,” when the first Wolverine got killed in the new movie, whereas I felt absolutely soul-gutted in the original. This scene from 1984 is not as vibrant as the remake, the color and sound, the special effects, but everything about it feels more real and more heartbreaking. In this clip, green and ill-prepared kids experience combat for the first time, against an enemy that looks and acts a lot like them:
Night of the Comet (84)
I saw this in the theater when I was 14, and it’s the only time I’ve ever heard people cheer at the movies. The whole audience, not just one little group. I just watched it again on YouTube, and I still got a kick out of it after all these years (shout out to the boombox, cordless phones with extendable antenna, and the awesomely 80’s shirt Reggie wears through most of the movie).
Hey – one guy gets eaten (off camera) by a zombie-like person in an alley, and another is chased through the house by a zombie-like kid. Those two scenes have popped into my head at random times over all these years. It never occurred to me until now that maybe this movie is how I got my zombie fear. Hm.
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Prince of Darkness (87) I’ve only seen three scary movies in the theater, and two of those were in the 80’s. This one still haunts me as the scariest movie I’ve ever seen ever. Ever, ever. And that includes The Exorcist. And The Shining – oh my goodness, The Shining! This is worse than The Shining, you guys. I’m sure it’s small potatoes to all the horror fans out there, but I wouldn’t see this movie again if you paid me. Even this trailer freaks me out:
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Dirty Dancing (87)
I loved this movie, and it’s still one of my sentimental favorites. The oldest theater in town (which is now a shopping strip) had dollar movies on Wednesdays, and my friends and I saw Dirty Dancing three Wednesdays in a row. We were in love with Patrick Swayze (and who can blame us), with the dancing and the music, and with the adorable, awkward, awesome Jennifer Grey as “Baby”. We were tickled and delighted and left the theater on little happy clouds week after week. This clip has subtitles, but it’s the only one I could find of the entire scene when Baby first meets Johnny. I’m still like Baby, gawking at the moves – lots of music and dancing and awkward in this one! Not to mention, she “carried a watermelon”.
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Heathers (88)
This is another movie I never forgot, but for being the complete opposite of fluffy fun. Heathers is delightfully odd and twisted and a cult classic. It’s a dark comedy about “teen angst bullshit”, and I can’t think of 80’s movies without this one rearing up its psychopathic head. It’s like the Mean Girls of the 80’s. But with a body count. The trailer pretty much tells it all:
The Accidental Tourist (88)
Here is another film about odd people who you just can’t forget. I’m not a great William Hurt fan, but there are roles for which his stiff style are the perfect match, and this was one of them. And Geena Davis, my gosh, so good in her role as Muriel. This is a film full of quirky characters who are so vulnerable and irritating and thoroughly likable. You can’t help but root for each one to find what it is they need to make their lives feel complete.
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Platoon (86) – My most memorable movie experience.
The movie started, and I was gone. When a snake slithered across the screen, a lady screamed and I was amazed to “wake up” in a full theater. I gave a nervous titter with the rest of the audience, and then disappeared again. I was that absorbed: I was inside the movie instead of watching it, I was a pair of eyes in a theater. I forgot about my body, the crowd and the uncomfortable seats. When it was over, there was silence. Just a mass of eerily silent people, sitting still in their seats or slowly shuffling out of the theater. I felt shell-shocked and numb and at a loss for words myself. When I got home, I stuck my key in the lock and suddenly burst out crying.
Unlike Red Dawn, Platoon impacted me less as I aged; the memory was more powerful than the film. What felt dramatic and real and emotional at 16 and 25, touched on self-importance, and even felt a bit contrived, as I watched in my mid-thirties. But I think that’s just because there’d been so much in between. Movies like Platoon are the point of a wedge, carving a path for others to follow. But in so doing, that sharp edge dulls a little in comparison to what comes after. Even so, for me this is still one of the most memorable and impressive films of the 1980’s. Just seeing the trailer gave me chills and brought back memories of that first amazing viewing. I want to know what I think of it now, and I guess I need to keep up that ten year pattern.
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So that’s the first movie list, just a sampler of 80’s films that stick out in my mind.
What are the 80’s movies that made a lasting impression on you?
So, I’ve been talking about that Clay Morgan guy a lot recently; after all, October is UNDEAD month. Maybe you’re wondering why I’d give a month of my space to Clay or his book. And that’s a good question; thanks for asking. Maybe you’re saying, “Why don’t you give up all of your space to someone who knows what they’re doing?” But that’s not a good question, and I’m just going to pretend you didn’t say that.
Okay, so the short answer is that I believe in them. I like both Clay and his book, and I believe in what they have to say.
Of course, the long answer is longer.
Here’s where I explain the book…sort of.
I’ve found it difficult to nutshell Undead; when people ask, my thoughts scatter in about ten directions at once. In my defense, I’ve heard Clay Morgan himself explain the book in about five different ways. The truth is that Undead covers a lot of territory, like doubt, the emotional tombs we crawl into, giving selflessly and how it’s not that easy to follow in Christ’s footsteps. Here’s my try at a description:
In the beginning, Clay asks, “What if there isn’t just death and life, but death and undeath?” From there, he leads us on a journey through a history of the undead, from ancient stories of the dead arising to why we’re still so fascinated with these creatures today. Primarily, he recounts the six recorded incidents of the dead being brought back to life in the bible and uses those varied scenarios to discuss contemporary Christian life. Pop culture references are effectively woven throughout the narrative as well, particularly the zombies that Clay employs so well to illustrate a shambling state of existence.
Above all, Undead asks the question, “Why isn’t this working?”
“This is the thing I always believed was part of the answer to life, as in I just need this to be happy and fulfilled. We try all kinds of things in hopes of finding the right this.” So why isn’t this working? Many of us are like spiritual zombies, shuffling through life, “unfulfilled by either pursuing or obtaining the objects of our desire.” And “what happens when we have everything and still wake up feeling empty?” Undead’s answer is that “God came to the land of the living dead so that the dead might live.” We just have to choose life.
What I like about this book is that…
Undead offers me hope that I can be more than the zombie I sometimes act like, but never pretends that choosing life over death, choosing to be reborn, is easy. Clay is very open and honest about his personal struggles and what he has viewed as his own spiritual shortcomings. So instead of feeling my particular imperfections sharply contrasted against what I “should be”, I am shown that I’m actually a normal human being. Yes, I can be more, I can strive to strengthen my relationship with God, to live more fully in my faith. But questions, doubts and my internal struggling don’t make me a bad Christian. Let me tell you, there’s something compelling about recognizing yourself on the page, being told that someone gets you, and feeling that they are speaking to you. And beyond that, being told that you are okay, that you’re not alone – you’re not the only one, alone in this apocalypse.
Undead tells me something about myself. When I read a book like this, I ask, “Can I take a lesson from what I’m reading? Does it make me ask questions about myself? Does it challenge my viewpoint, my perspective, and offer me a different vantage from which to see?” Undead fulfilled all of those needs for me. It reminded me about who I am and who I am striving to be. It gave me new insight into my religion and my relationship with Christ.
About Clay Morgan…
The thing about Clay is he’s a nice guy. I believe in the message of the book, and that the nature of the writing will help speak something wonderful into many ears that haven’t been listening. But I know I wouldn’t put this much effort into promoting Undead if it weren’t for Clay. I truly feel that his heart is in reaching out to people, particularly the youth community, and that he wants us to find what we’ve been looking for, to fill the emptiness of merely existing with the fullness of truly living. I’m sure he wants to be successful for so many reasons, but if I thought his primary motivation was self, then you wouldn’t be reading this right now.
A couple of months ago, Clay helped me. I didn’t ask for help, he just offered it, in response to a simple, frustrated tweet. And then he followed through. I’m sure he doesn’t even remember it, and I imagine it wasn’t a big deal to him at all. But it was a big deal to me. Truthfully, I’m really spoiled. I know that I can come here and find kindness and encouragement. But this is my home, and you are my family. As much as your support and caring are a continual wonder to me, I’m blown away when I find that kindness coming to me from the outside. And I’m a sucker for people who are nice to me.
So there you go.
♦
But wait, there’s more!
I’ve got a signed copy of Undead that I’d love to give to one of you! Just include the word Undead in your comment, and I’ll put you in the drawing. I’d love to hear your thoughts either way.
Click here to visit Clay Morgan’s site and find out more about Undead:
I’d never seen a trailer for a book before, but this is cool, ya’ll:
Today’s movie quote is sponsored by Clay Morgan. And by sponsored, I mean he knows nothing about this post. That’s Clay’s new book, Undead, on the side bar – give the cover a click to see what it’s all about! (It’s zombie non-fiction, so chew on that a minute. Chew on that, haha. I did zombie humor, ya’ll!)
Lars and the Real Girl is about a young man who buys a life-sized doll to be his girlfriend. Before you click away!, this isn’t a creepy movie, I promise. It’s actually – oh my gosh, this movie – it’s sweet and funny and sad and touching and it’s just so many things. It’s quirky and unusual, which I love, love, love. And I cry every single time, no matter how many times I’ve seen it. I won’t tell you when I cry, because it would be too much of a spoiler, and also it kind of makes me feel super foolish. But I guess that’s the thing, is this movie makes me cry (every single time), even though what I’m crying about is kind of ridiculous. The emotions they’ve built up behind this crazy scenario are just so deep that I can’t help myself.
(Fine, I sob. But let’s just keep that between us, okay?)
Family, community and relationships are at the heart of this movie, as well as loss and fear. Lars doesn’t know how to have relationships with people. I think he fears the thing he wants the most, which is so relatable. I have struggled with that, certainly not in the same magnitude, in such a life-defining way, but I know what that feels like. And so Lars buys this doll as a kind of emotional bridge: his interactions with this fake human are the first steps in enabling him to interact with real people.
In Undead, there’s a section about how we offer food to people when they need to be comforted. Clay talks about something I never paid attention to before, how Jesus would bring someone back to life and then tell the family to feed that person. “Jesus just brought you back from the dead… Let’s eat!”
That passage immediately brought to mind a scene from Lars that left a big impression on me. It’s one of those quiet and simple and wonderful scenes that speak so much, at least to me. I’ve written before about not knowing how to handle grief situations, especially not knowing what to say. It’s so difficult to know how to console someone , and that’s what this scene is about.
Ladies from the community have come over to sit with Lars while he’s hurting. And that’s it. They quietly do their needlepoint and knitting, just being there with him. And they feed him.
Lars: I feel terrible that all this is happening so close to the baby coming. —Mrs. Petersen: That’s how life is, Lars. Everything at once. Mrs. Schindler: We brought casseroles. —Lars: Thank you. Um, is there something I should be doing right now? Mrs. Bruner: No, dear. You eat. —Mrs. Schindler: We came over to sit. Mrs. Petersen: That’s what people do when tragedy strikes. —Mrs. Schindler: They come over and sit. Lars: Okay.
These women give Lars physical and emotional nourishment, food and companionship. They don’t offer up platitudes or condolences. They don’t give advice or talk about their own experiences of loss or heartache.
They come over and sit.
I feel like that’s a good lesson for me, in situations where another is suffering, to open my heart instead of my mouth.
I’ve found it difficult to nutshell Undead; when people ask, my thoughts scatter in about ten directions at once. In my defense, I’ve heard Clay Morgan himself explain the book in about five different ways. The truth is that Undead covers a lot of territory, like doubt, the emotional tombs we crawl into, giving selflessly and how it’s not that easy to follow in Christ’s footsteps. Here’s my try at a description:
steadily skipping stones 