I’ve just completed a series of daily Facebook posts—I wasn’t nominated, and I didn’t nominate anyone. In fact, I made up my own thing. Each day I featured a movie I quote all the time. I would describe the movie, talk about the line I most often quote, and then tag a friend I’d most like to watch the movie with. It was a surprisingly pleasant exercise. I didn’t know how far I would go, or if I would run out of people to watch movies with. In the end it became a kind of game, pairing up ideal people into ideal movie groups.
To begin, I listed four or five movies that I knew I quoted all the time, listing their lines as well (Highlander “There can be only one”; Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, “Excellent!”). Then, as the days went on, whenever I’d find myself quoting a movie with my wife, I’d jot it down on the list. I ended up posting some nineteen films. (I could have done a few more, but I ended on my birthday with my favourite film of all, Willow.)
The exercise prompted some reflective thinking, of course. Is there something unique about this set of movies that they are stuck in my head? Can I learn anything from looking at the data? It turns out, I could.
I posted 19 times, but there were actually 23 movies on the list. Curious about relations between the films, I made a chart, documented their release dates, the ratio of comedy to dramas, and noted any repeat figures in the movies. What did I find? The movies I quote most often range in date from 1980 (The Empire Strikes Back) to 2006 (Nacho Libre). An overwhelming majority of the movies fall between 1984 and 1993 (78%), with half of them falling between 1984 and 1989. Almost 80% of the movies I quote most often are comedies. Four of the movies feature Christopher Guest, three of them Val Kilmer, while two each featured Mike Myers and Harrison Ford respectively.
There are a few observations to make about this data. First of all, as much as movie quotes play a significant role in my daily discourse, the truth of the matter is that I used to quote movies a lot more. I distinctly remember the feeling when I was learning Greek back in university that the space in my brain that was previously dedicated to movie quotes was being repurposed for Greek vocabulary. That’s of interest because, of course, I graduated in 2002, roughly coinciding with the upper limit of my movie quotes date.
It is also interesting to note just how many of the films are nestled in that 1984-1989 spot. I was only aged 4-9 during those years, so I certainly didn’t see these films in the theater (excepting Willow, the first movie I saw in theater). Instead, I watched these all later, on home video—on VHS, to be exact. The idea of VHS these days is a moniker for nostalgia, but the truth of the matter is that it points to a kind of shared experience in my generation. One of the things we did was get pizza, put in a VHS, and watch movies together—often the same movies again and again. Highlander, Wayne’s World, and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off were everyday fare for me and my friends. It’s what we had at hand to do together. And, just to be explicit, we had no YouTube, no Netflix, no internet even. It was just you, your mates, the TV, and maybe some one player video games.
But here’s where the quoting comes into play—it seems to me that, for us, quoting a movie was a way to extend the pleasure of the viewing experience. We had all seen a thing together, and now we could re-enter that thing, make one another laugh, use it to interpret experience afresh. It touched base with the experience we’d shared, reaffirming our friendship in the process. To guffaw at So I Married an Axe Murderer and then to spend the rest of the day talking in Mike Myers’s exaggerated Glaswegian accent was not just funny, it was a kind of community reiteration.
But it extended beyond your immediate friends. When you discovered another person who had seen and loved the same movie, quoting the film was an easy doorway into community. We know the same things, have laughed at the same things, have loved the same characters. Quoting movies foreshortened the distance to new relationships.
Of course, this foreshortening process is crucially limited to people who have seen and remembered the same movies I have seen. Adults in my generation (whatever the heck we are—Xennials, The Oregon Trail Generation, I dunno) have recourse to a similar set of influences. But it makes me wonder what the set of shared experiences for later generations will be? YouTube rewinds? Memes? Things move so quickly there’s hardly time for stable, repeat viewing of content in the same room with your mates. In the absence of these shared experiences, what aspects of collective memory will bring people together?
It’s interesting to me that I don’t quote many, or really any, movies after 2006. On the one hand, the world had changed. On the other hand, I had grown up. I no longer had time to lay about watching movies with my mates at all hours, eating cold Little Caesar’s pizza and lukewarm Orange Crush. The network of people who activated movie quotes was gone. At the same time, by 2006 I was married. The only person I was regularly watching movies with was my wife. Fortunately for me, she appreciates—and dishes out—a great and well-timed movie quote.
But of course, sometime after we got married we stopped adding new quotes to our relational vocabulary, hence the tapering off at 2006. Why would this be the case? On the one hand, we were busy with jobs, school, and life. I was getting my master’s degree and Liesel was working full time. Then I was a full-time pastor and Liesel was a young mom. Kid’s movies, while occasionally entertaining, are not typically known for their quotable value. One kid became two, then three, and finally four. The last eleven years of our lives have been consumed with work, school, and early parenting. We’ve not had time to watch, and re-watch, and quote new films together.
All the same, I’m still quoting movies—it’s just that I’m most often quoting this set of 23 movies. And in the context of marriage these quotes serve an important role. Like with my friendships in childhood, they have the power to reaffirm shared experience with my wife. It’s like saying, “Hey, remember this thing that we both laughed at?” Quoting Inigo Montoya during an argument is a great way to deescalate a frustrating conversation (“You keep using that h’word. I do not think it means what you think it means”). Dropping a Corky St. Clair reference can extend empathy and humor at the same time (“Thatssss not a good thing”). Above all else, movies are quoted in my family to spin the plate of collective memory, to reassert our own shared experience, to keep alive—and enliven—the ongoing conversation.
All that to say, I’ve learned something interesting about myself during this quarantine experience. It’s that I love movies (I knew that already), but I miss watching them with my friends. It’s also renewed my gratitude for a wife who is a friend with whom I can watch, and quote, silly movies.