I was born on April 5th. A Wednesday, just like my brother and sister and father. This year, my birthday falls again on a Wednesday and it feels like a cycle ending and starting again. My life feels like it’s ending, just a little bit, as I step into the time where I will move away and attempt to become a real person. There will soon come a day where my father and I won’t watch HBO together on Sunday nights, and our secret movie picks as a family will stop. I know I will only feel more alive after I abandon this house, move out of my bedroom, but it only feels like dying. Hanging in the doorway, waiting for my mother to call my name, and I can stick my arm out to meet her hand.
I’ve been putting off writing something of this nature for a while, even though I’ve been wanting to. How does film make me who I am? I feel like all these other pieces, these newsletters, whatever, answer the question better than I could say now. I’ve become a different person that I was before I knew I wanted to be a filmmaker, but not in a bad way. Rather, I’ve grown into myself. My skin fits my body now.
When I was seven and eight and nine and ten and eleven, I wanted to be a marine biologist. I threw myself into it. So much passion in my too tall body, and it felt like I knew everything. I was so sure of myself, that this was all I wanted to do with my life. No matter how hard I try to remember, I cannot pinpoint the exact moment I stopped wanting to do this. But I know the end came only from fear. A realization that I am terrified of the ocean, and I’m scared of drowning, and God, I don’t want to die swallowed by waves. And that was it. No matter how much admiration I harboured, the fear sunk in and I couldn’t live like that. (We’re going to the aquarium for my birthday. I hope that the little girl I was has a good time.)
My fifth birthday party was at a movie theater. I remember it like it happened last week. It was special because it was my “champagne birthday” (although other people might call it something else), where I turned five on the fifth. They took us into the projection room and showed me how the movies got splayed out on the screen. I found it to be magical. That was over a decade ago. When I turned thirteen, I watched What’s Eating Gilbert Grape and The Basketball Diaries and Knives Out for my birthday. I’m not sure where this selection of movies came from, but I know I loved them all. I watched Fight Club for the first time around that time, and I was ruined. It’s so silly to say, but my life is as follows: Before Fight Club, and After Fight Club. That evening had been odd. I started out on the couch with my sister and father. And slowly, they slipped away and I stayed downstairs. I stared at the ceiling for a little while after I finished it. I watched it because my dad told me it was good. If my dad tells me something is good, I believe him. And he hadn’t lied to me then.
And then I couldn’t stop watching movies. Movies my dad loved, movies he’d never even heard of. It was like I was starving my entire life, and for the first time I’d found something that made me feel full. It’s silly to say, but truly, that is what it was. And then it was my dad who suggested the idea of becoming a director. I was a writer already, he knew that. We were in the kitchen together, tossing around ideas, talking movies, and he asked me, had I ever thought about it? And then, it was all I thought about.
Being thirteen was one of the worst things that had ever happened to me. But it turned me into who I am now.
I used to see maybe two or three movies in theaters a year. And then, it became like a church. I started seeing great movies in the theater. Last year, I had my dad take me to an independent theater in Vancouver to see Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey because I’d never seen it, and I thought it would be better that way. We saw The Godfather for its 50th anniversary. I did a double feature of The French Dispatch and Spencer two Novembers ago.
Ever since I turned thirteen, I’ve watched Fight Club on my birthday every year. A tradition that belongs only to me. I’m gearing up again for another watch as I write this, on the Sunday before my birthday.
I guess what I mean is this: my most formative year was when I was thirteen, because it opened the door to cinephilia, and has led me to all this. I spent a lot of time alone that year, so I spent a lot of time diving into myself. I swam between the bones of my ribcage and stared at myself in the mirror. I’ve always felt that I do not know I am real until someone calls my name. I still feel this way, but now I know that I can call my own name and know that my body is there.
I wanted a love that consumes me, although I never figured it would be film. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Through film, I can know myself better, and the people around me can understand who I am. It all started with Fight Club, and it continues and now I don’t know how to do anything else.
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I really began to understand my sexuality around the same point that I dove into film. There was a comfort to be found in asking my dad what some of his favourite movies were and him listing off famous queer films, ones I’d both heard of and didn’t recognize, and showing them to me when I hadn’t seen them. Watching Brokeback Mountain with my sister was a formative experience, and the mark it left on me is deep, scarring, and permanent. I’d never seen two men on screen love each other like that. And it meant something to me, to read article and watch videos of the lead actors defending this story, talking about it as though no other story told is as important. It wasn’t a joke, and as other people laughed, the actors did not. Queer love was something to be talked about. And Brokeback Mountain was only the start. I watched other movies - one of the most important being Portrait of a Lady on Fire - and I realized all the way women could love each other. And after spending years confused by it, I understood one of the most important aspects of myself. And it altered how I saw myself, because suddenly, I wanted to tell everyone about it. Bit by bit, film showed me how grand life could be, and all that I could know about myself.
I write this on a Sunday, but when I publish it, it will be my birthday. One year older. I never really enjoyed celebrating my birthday, but something this year is different. I think I owe it to the girl that I was, who I denied many good things. Every birthday since I turned thirteen I wonder, what movie will I watch? This year, along with Fight Club, I’m considering The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, after our aquarium outing.
When I was a kid, to be thirteen was the most grown up thing in the world. There was nothing better than that. To be thirteen meant I could have the whole world in my hand. It’s been a long time since I was thirteen. Sitting on the back porch with my mother at my side, and it felt like the moment would go on forever, and then the stars would overtake the sky, and we’d walk each other to bed.
This is getting out of hand. My thirteenth year was the worst year of my life. I spent a lot of time angry and sad, and I ruined myself over it. But because I lived it, I am able to write this newsletter and I know a passion I’ve never felt before and I can live for a dream without worrying it will go away. I owe it all to that one night I watched Fight Club, and every movie I watched after that. I’ll end this now, before it spirals into something even worse.
If you’re reading this, just know, you’re invited to my birthday party.
It's heartwarming to learn about your close bond with your dad, especially through your love for movies. Having gone through a similar experience in the past year or so, I can relate to your worries about your relationship evolving as you fly the nest. Remember that change is inevitable, but the unbreakable connection you share through your passion for movies, as well as the love you have for each other, will continue to bind you no matter the distance that may separate you. Beautiful article, and happy belated x
this is one of the most beautiful pieces i’ve read in a long time. happy birthday abby 💌