Going Sideways

I'm a firm believer that the impact a movie has on you has almost as much to do with timing as it does with quality. Sure, a good movie has to have the goods ... good script, strong performances, direction that doesn't insult the viewer. But for a movie to become great, the viewer has to believe it. I don't mean believe it intellectually, but with your heart. You form a connection to the film because of the type of person you are and where you are in your life.

Sideways was one of those films for me. It has all the nuts and bolts needed -- amazing performances; a beautiful, genuine and original script; stunning camera work; and a brilliant yet underappreciated director. That is enough to make it a very good movie. But for me it was great and I'll tell you why. It could have been my story.

I'm happily married, but there is always that "what if." What if my marriage hadn't worked out. I saw myself in Paul Giamatti's character, a man who has reached middle age with not much to show for it except disappointment. He dreams of being a well respected author, yet his novel, what he has poured his soul into is not very well received. In essence, the things he saw for himself have come up as failures. In the story he searches for some sort of success or redemption -- not just professionally but in love, relationships, and himself.

I'm getting near that middle age and although I have had success in a number of areas, I have more than my share of failures. I know that many of the things I saw for myself have gone away. Either changed to something else or simply expired, failed. Sideways moved me. For me, it was a great film, but if I had seen it 10 years earlier I doubt it would have meant as much to me.

The list of my "all time great movies" includes a few staples -- pantheons of the screen, if you will. Yeah, Casablanca and Scarface are there. The General sits right alongside Chinatown, and Dr. Strangelove and Citizen Kane came to the party. But a few others are there because of what they meant to me when I saw them.

The Piano, Jane Campion's masterpiece, is one of those films. I was a struggling actor in Hollywood having some success, but not quite enough. Time had been passing me by and I was starting to realize that some dreams don't come to fruition. When I saw Holly Hunter pouring her heart out in silence, a number of feelings and fears and wishes coalesced into an unforgettable two hours in a dark movie theater. Everything fell away except me and the movie. When I got up from my seat I was forever changed. I realized that life is unfair sometimes and you can't, as Mick sang many years ago, always get what you want.

Big Fish, the labor of love by Tim Burton, affected me even more. It's number one on my list. My wife took me to see it on my birthday. I had already gone back to school, and I had realized that I was here to tell stories. That is what the acting was about and why I added a Journalism major. I had been writing my memoirs for about a month before I saw the film -- reliving old memories and getting reacquainted with my family and friends through reflection.

The mystical joining of mind, heart and movie happened at the theater. Everything fell away from me but the movie. Here was this story of an old man that told stories and the son who becomes a friend during his dying days. I balled throughout the film and couldn't stop thinking about it for weeks after. That's the beauty of movies. Some of them, because of their art and your willingness to let them in at a particular time, wrap you up in a celluloid cocoon and leave you changed when their magic falls away from you.