What Makes A Classic?

“Classic – of the first or highest quality, class, or rank.”  Dictionary.com

What is a classic? 

Well, there was a time when the cable network, TNT, used to gloat about its “new classics” line-up.  This included movies like Back to the Future, Top Gun, Shawshank Redemption, even The Lord of the Rings trilogy.  Movies released within the last decade were given an honor that’s usually afforded to the likes of Casablanca and Citizen Kane.  Was it safe to decree any of these actual classics?  Has enough time passed to which we can comfortably seat Humphry Bogart next to the likes of Gollum?  One could argue most of these films have earned the brand, although some critics and other aficionados (snobs) wouldn’t dare utter the names of Don Corleone and “Iceman” in the same breath. 

Classic is a word used liberally.  We sometimes use to refer back to entertainment that dazzled us during an earlier time, but now are merely relics from another era.  Some are merely staples in our heart based on how we remember them – not what they really are.  

I had a reawakening to 80s cinema — my childhood — recently.  The Carolina Theatre in Durham held its annual Escapism Film Festival: a weeklong extravaganza filled with dozens of films that tickled my nostalgia.   I was given a theater seat to manhy childhood gems — and given a prime opportunity to reassess each with a fresh adult perspective.    

One of my first screening was for George Lucas’ 1988 fantasy, Willow.  Well, I rekindled the same discomfort I felt during my preteens: this film is no classic.  (Actually, it isn’t very good…period.)   Its age revealed the cracks underneath its ugly crevice; its surprisingly uninspired story and characters; its humor was lousy; its much-touted spectacle was no longer rousing.    

However, on this same day, I was privileged to revisit another fantasy, 1987’s more comedic (and much more cherished), The Princess Bride.  The audience turnout was unbelievable, roughly 500-600 in attendance for my screening alone.  There was audience members dressed as the romance leads Wesley and Buttercup as well as the loveable giant, Fezzik. 

In keeping with Escapism tradition, the show started with a theatrical trailer for another film that would have been released during the same year.  In this case, it was Dirty Dancing, a film I never loved, yet it remains a coveted gem for the female demographic.  The moment the preview revealed Patrick Swayze’s trademark flowing hair and buttoned-down shirt, you could feel the collected awe – the kind that sighs you’d hear whenever Taylor Lautner removed his shirt during a Twilight film.  To many, Dirty Dancing epitomizes the definition of classic. 

Then Princess Bride played and received constant wave of laughter and applause, starting when Peter Falk’s unnamed grandfather strolled in Fred Savage’s bedroom.  There was also the very faint sound that only comes when hundreds of people grin simultaneously.  There were the expected cheers, such as when Inigo uttered probably the longest quotable line in the history of cinema, “Hello.  My name is Inigo Montoya.  You killed my father.  Prepare to die!”  (OK, perhaps Roddy Piper’s “bubblegum” quote from They Live is longer.)

But the best response was saved for end during Falk’s exit when bestows his warm closing line – staring right into the audience, “As you wish…” It was an emotional moment.  We all felt its deeper meaning; three words that spoke volumes and reinvigorated our immortal love for a good old story — one that reaches out and touches our souls.   It echoed even more profoundly today than it did in 1987.  This…was a classic.   

Later, after I had posted my last blog on 2015’s theatrical lineup, I decided to revisit the Back to the Future films for pure nostalgia – and laugh at all the false promises (hover boards, flying cars…) 

1985’s Back to the Future.  A Classic?  For certain!

I firmly believe the first installment is a classic.  The films dated elements actually enhance the story, not deter it.  The references to 1985’s culture beautifully clash with our present world as does the strange world of 1955 where (or should I say when) our hero, Marty McFly, is accidentally sent.  The moments when Marty encounters his teenage parents is strange, unbelievably funny, and surprisingly touching.  There are the crowd-pleasing moments; the school bully getting knocked out or the last-second return to the future are all trademark 1980s cheeseball moments.  Yet, despite all this, I always felt that Back to the Future rewards us with multiple viewings and says a lot about relationships and the immortal, sometimes strange, turbulent bonds and traits shared between parents and children.  It reflected a kind of innocent poignancy that we’d see in any of Frank Capra’s films.  You know?   The classics. 

Of course, when Back to the Future hit theaters in 1985, it was a smash, destroying records and becoming the biggest hit of the year.  However, it only won a single technical Oscar win along and garnered three additional nominations.  It’s one major accolade was a screenplay nomination.  But the film was not in contention for Best Picture.  The actual nominees were Witness, Prizzi’s Honor, Kiss of the Spider Woman, The Color Purple and the winner Out of Africa. 

1985’s Kiss of a Spider Woman

Despite my affection for some of these films, I would choose Future above them all.  This comes after numerous revisits and heavy scrutiny.  It’s a crowd-pleaser, and certainly falls into the B-movie category.  But it’s also a well-told story, perfectly paced, wonderfully acted, and hellishly funny and intelligent.  And, after 25 years, it holds up.  We cherish it. 

There’s obviously a continuous line drawn between mass appeal and art.  But there’s been room afforded to movies so powerful that they break beyond the boundaries of being merely popcorn fodder.  I believe Future ranks along with Star Wars, Jaws, and Raider of the Lost Ark – all Best Picture nominees and AFI Top 100 winners – as a film the successfully succeeds in both – as well as Princess Bride.  

When I think of classic films, I always reflect on Roger Ebert who, during his latter years, when his voice had already been taken by cancer, was asked how he knows when a film is great.  Ebert merely tapped his fingers over his heart.  You just feel it.  It should be a movie that stays with you, allows you to ponder, and has the power to change you in some small fashion. 

I always believed that films should either dazzle our minds, our souls, our hearts.  Overall, I think Ebert was right — it all falls back on to the heart.  It’s hard to articulate, but I’ve always believed in a bond that connects the mind with the heart.  For example, I can watch 2001: A Space Odyssey and feel something that tells me it’s a masterpiece, even if it’s built firmly around ideas instead of emotions.  Somehow, the ideas trickle down into something that fixates into my emotional psyche. 

Yet, 2001 was originally a movie I hated!  It was slow, disjointed, and confusing.  However, as the months transpired since my initial viewing, I began to reflect on it, even obsess over it like I would over a puzzle.  A second viewing removed some of my preconceptions and barriers.  I was able to accept the ambiguity and merely ponder.  It was also a film that baffled critics and remained under-appreciated in its day.  However, it has cemented its status as a classic in ways similar to Bride or Future. 

Naturally, it’s all based on subjectivity.  The factors are so many, such as the point in time when you first experience something; whether you were an adult, a child, or weren’t alive to experience it at all.  This present period has become a surreal time for me.  I’ve reached an age that films I experienced are slowly being filtered between those that are aged, harmless or a timeless.  I’m also meeting members of the younger generation who have neither seen nor (gasp!) heard of films like The Princess Bride.  I plan on letting one of these poor souls borrow my bluray copy.  Introducing these movies from my era to the next is probably the purest lipnus test to determine what lifespan these films actually have.  Are these films genuinely classics that transcend time or is our fondness being clouded by our nostalgia?

I suppose that tunnel-vision pushes me to hold films like Superman: The Movie and The Secret of Nimh in higher esteem than they actually deserve.  I have a feeling that had I grown up with Dirty Dancing or Top Gun, I would share the sentiment with so many Generation Xers. 

However, I have denounced pieces of entertainment from my past that was once cherished.  For example, my Dukes of Hazard obsession no longer remains.  The cartoons by Hannah and Barbara, overall, were pretty awful in retrospect.  So, perhaps my fondness for certain childhood treasures is based on the films’ actual immortality.

I’m certainly not open to lauding every film from my youth as a classic.  There are so many films from the 80s that I watch and remember fondly but recognize as trifle amusement rides.  However, time has been kind to films like Ghostbusters, The Princess Bride, Raiders of the Lost Ark, E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial.  I cannot deem the same for Best Picture winners like Gandhi or Driving Miss Daisy. 

1984’s Ghostbusters.  Great Film?  You Bet.  Art?  Doubtful.  Classic?

There’s the other side of the spectrum: a laundry list of legitimate classics that are considered “art” category which remains shunned by the masses who speak volumes about Back to the Future.  These are legitimate films that cater to cinephiles but remain ignored by casual viewers for defying conventional cinematic rules…or for being in black-and-white…or for daring to speak in foreign tongues and subjecting us to reading English subtitles…or for being so old that they don’t even speak at all!  Critics will champion this brand of movies as the true definition of classics and would readily decree that they stand shoulders above the crowd-pleasers I mentioned.

The debate lingers, but I’ll always support great movies, whether they speak another language — despite being in English — or appear, at least on the surface, to be entertainment rather than art.  “Three men hunting a killer shark.”  For most creative entertainers, it’s merely that, but director Steven Speilberg handled Jaws like a true artist. 

My tastes in film remain and personal definition of classics remain eclectic.  If the film touches me in some fashion, reaches into my soul and holds tight, it’s earned a place.  Popularity will never be the defining measure for greatness.  The Transformers films have grossed $1 billion worldwide and they’re crap.  I’ll leave it to another generation to determine those films’ legitimacy and replay value.  

I can only attest that the 600 who saw Princess Bride alongside yours truly genuinely shared something magical – even after all the years. 

Is it a classic?   

As you wish…