How do I begin my life in films? Do I start with my first hazy recollection of encountering one in my friend’s living room (which was Monsters Inc) or maybe my very first trip to the cinema as a five year old (which was Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit)? In all honesty, films did not really become an important part of my life until I discovered Mark Kermode at the age of 15, and up until that point I had only been to the cinema a handful of times. But that doesn’t mean certain films during that period and beyond didn’t leave an impact on me.
Bee Movie (2007) dir. Simon J. Smith and Steve Hickner
Although DreamWorks’ absurd animation starring Jerry Seinfeld about a honey bee who sues the human race barely holds any resonance to me nowadays, I remember watching it avidly on repeat at home when the DVD came out, months after first seeing it in the cinema. The jokes surrounding bees and Ray Liotta passed over my eight-year-old head but there was something about its depiction of human society through bees that bizarrely fascinated me at a young age, as well as its comforting eco-friendly morals.
Even though Bee Movie has now morphed into the internet meme to end all memes, I’ll remember it as offering some form of endless entertainment as I started junior school. It also started a shared enjoyment for all things Seinfeld with my Mum that continues to this day.
The Italian Job (1969) dir. Peter Collinson
Despite an American remake from 2003 that continues to be well received, I think many will agree that the original version of The Italian Job is still an all-time British classic. It’s also my favourite film of all time. My first exposure to this influential crime caper however came from a Playstation One tie-in video game from 2001. It looks outdated and clunky by today’s standard,s but many hours of my summer holidays in Spain were devoted driving round 1960s London in a Mini Cooper, pursued by police and performing outlandish stunts in glorious 32 bits.
When it finally came to watching the real thing, there was immense pleasure in seeing my gaming fantasy being realised on film; whether it’s the opening sequence in the Alps, the climactic getaway in Turin and Michael Caine’s iconic lead performance as Charlie Croker. Just last year, I was given an authentic Japanese cinema poster of the film for my 21st birthday. As much as it hanfs with cinephile pride on my bedroom wall, it simultaneously solodifies my childhood adoration of Caine, Mini Coopers and that classic line “you’re only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!”
Agent Cody Banks (2003), dir. Harold Zwart & Agent Cody Banks 2: Destination London (2004), dir. Kevin Allen
Both Agent Cody Banks films from the early 00s are terrible. If you haven’t seen them, they star Frankie Muniz of Malcolm in the Middle fame as a teenage super-spy who embarks on dangerous undercover missions. Meanwhile he’s trying to avoid his secret life being discovered by his family and friends. Add a supporting cast that includes Hilary Duff and Ian McShane in the first movie alongside Anthony Anderson and S Club 7’s Hannah Spearitt in the UK-tinged sequel, and you have a noughties-tinged double bill that sounds (and is) ridiculously naff.
At ten years old though, it was the coolest thing in the world. Watching Cody Banks skateboarding down a hill to stop an uncontrollable pram brought plenty of enjoyment. It’s true that revisiting them again at 18 felt like a little part of my childhood dying thanks to both cringe-inducing scripts and dire performances. But while everyone at school was getting into superheroes, Agent Cody Banks was my form of movie escapism.
The Revenant (2015) dir. Alejandro González Iñárritu
Like Bee Movie, I don’t hold much fondness for Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s snowy thriller The Revenant. But in early 2016, it offered a valuable lesson at the time as a young naive film critic that I try to uphold to this day. Just before the film’s release, myself and my friend Caleb had begun recording a podcast called Fortnight in Film where, as the title suggests, we discussed a variety of films every two weeks. It was my first foray into film criticism, and even though we haven’t released an episode since 2017, it still holds a very dear place to my heart.
When it came to reviewing The Revenant, we were so caught up in the award season whirlwind that our review was essentially overhyped praise. I remember describing Leonardo Dicaprio’s performance as one of the best pieces of acting ever. I said that The Revenant will define the decade and be remembered for generations to come—two statements that, unsurprisingly, haven’t come to fruition. Nonetheless it was an important learning curve about not over embellishing your words amidst waves of praise. Out of all the films I reviewed on the podcast, The Revenant sticks out the most.
Persona (1966) dir. Ingmar Bergman
I want to conclude with arguably a rite of passage for any film writer; my first trip to the British Film Institute (BFI) Southbank in London at 18 years old. Entering through the Southbank’s doors is like stepping into the centre point of British filmmaking. The film that I saw was Persona which, according to Thomas Elsaesser, is for critics and scholars what climbing Mt. Everest is for mountaineers; the ultimate professional challenge.
Persona is mesmerising in its sheer complexity. Crucially it offered one of the most tense film screening I’ve ever attended. Despite somebody in the back row falling asleep halfway through, any sight or sound of human movement was deemed disturbing with audience members showing signs of discontent. The atmosphere was so on-edge that at one point when I took in an audible breath, the person sitting on my right quickly turned and glared at me intently like a meerkat on alert. The film itself is a masterpiece and I’ve since endured more pleasurable experiences at the Southbank, but I doubt my experience of watching films will even be as intense again as watching Persona.
Honourable Mentions: Don’t Look Now (1973), Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 1 (2010), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), Escape to Victory (1981), Onward (2020).
Words by Theo Smith
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