Sometimes I wonder if I see too many movies.

Especially in the summer months, when it seems there are at least two potential blockbusters opening each week. Even before I started the side gig of reviewing films for the paper, I was often in the movie theater. Now, however, it's become like a second office to me.

Over the past 11 days, I have been to a movie theater six times. Granted, five of those were for work (I did pay to go see 'The Dark Knight' again last weekend). But when I look back at my past two weeks of work, I realize a good majority of it has been spent in the dark watching a comic book drama, three of this summer's most-anticipated comedies and a documentary.

On top of that, there have also been several films I've watched on DVD during that time. In the past week I've screened "Vantage Point," "4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days," "Lars and the Real Girl," "The Bank Job," the final four episodes of "Curb Your Enthusiasm's" sixth season, "The Naked Gun," "The Devil Came on Horseback" and a three-hour "Battlestar Galactica" miniseries. This weekend I hope to catch the new "X-Files" movie, Gus Van Sant's "Paranoid Park" and the DVD of "The Producers" musical. On Sunday, my birthday, I will be going to the Detroit Film Theater for a 90-minute program about the Muppets.

So a case could be made that I watch too many movies. But I would disagree.

Everyone has an art form that speaks to them. Some people spend hours each week listening to music, be it in the car or just spending some time in their room with the stereo cranked. Others hit the theater as often as they can to see a new stage production and could break down the best scenes of their favorite plays. Still others immerse themselves in literature on the porch with every free-minute.

All of these are great art forms that I do enjoy. But I'm a casual observer. I can only listen to music when I'm driving or as background noise when I'm at my computer; I get restless just sitting in my room listening to music. I love reading but I can only do it for so long before my eyes get tired and I need to get up and move.

But film--when it's done right, it's magic to me. It speaks to me in a way literature and music don't and there have been times when film has provoked me to introspection, contemplation and even worship in a way sermons haven't. I'm thankful for the many ways in which I've learned, matured and grown because a film has spoken to me or sparked my interest.

Of course, that's not why I started loving the movies. As many things do, film-going started as an act of rebellion before turning into something that I believe can be God-honoring and honorable.

As I've written before, I was raised in a strict, fundamentalist Baptist church in Hazel Park. My dad was a deacon and he had to sign a form saying that our family would not listen to rock and roll music, would not dance and would not go to a movie theater.

During the summer, my mom would be stuck at home with three kids who often had friends over. And although we were always willing to play outside or go in the pool, there were times when it was raining or too hot where we would be cooped up inside and, in hindsight, driving her nuts. So every once in awhile we would sneak off to the movies. I seriously remember going to see the "Care Bears" movie and having to be sworn to secrecy; obviously the powers-that-be at the church were concerned that I might abandon Christianity to follow the Cult of the TenderHeart Bear.

It's here that I feel I should point out the inherent hypocrisy in this rule: It was "wrong" for my mom to sneak us to a movie theater and see "The Care Bears Movie" (and "The Care Bears Movie II: The Next Generation"). But it was perfectly acceptable for a church member to go to a video store and rent an R-rated movie (I'm thinking the assumption was that people could fast-forward through the R-rated parts...show of hands as to who has actually ever done that in their life?).

But I think it was that prohibition that first piqued my interest in film. It made the experience of going to the theater not so much a rebellion, but a rarity. It was like a secret trip to me, where every once in awhile we would go into a dark room and be transported for 2 hours into a magical world. It didn't happen often, but when it did...whoa. And I think the general prohibition surrounding it lent it an air of mystery and excitement; it spoke that filmgoing was powerful stuff that could lead to disastrous consequences if wrongly approached (something I actually wholeheartedly agree with).

My dad wasn't a deacon for long (no, we didn't get 'found out.' But church stress and problems prompted him not to serve again and have, likely, formed a reason for my attitude to never become a deacon or elder--something that, I confess, needs to be worked on and is probably a subject for another post). When he stopped being one, the floodgates of moviedom opened up. Coincidentally, I was just hitting 10 or 11 at that time and suddenly movies weren't about cartoons any more. Suddenly I was immersed in "Ghostbusters," "Back to the Future," "Jaws," and that old favorite, "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles." Suddenly these weren't just hand-drawn movies...the magic was happening on the big screen and in live action!

It was also about this time that I think I began to first notice that there was a tone and style to movies. I remember going to see "TMNT 2" (that's the Vanilla Ice one) and realizing that, while I was laughing, it felt odd and that the humor seemed toned down; it felt watered-down. That's pretty heavy stuff for a kid to realize; but I digress.

I should also note that the same parents who snuck me into movies as a kid were not ultra-permissive or undiscerning. If a movie was PG or higher, they had to watch it first to okay it. I remember when we went to a new church in 1992 and found out that the pastor's kids had seen "Terminator 2"--my parents didn't budge; it was R-rated and went unseen by me for about three years until it was shown (edited) on network TV.  When I was 15 I had to put up a fight just to see "Forrest Gump" and "Speed" (on VHS) and it wasn't until around the age of 16 that I was even taken by my dad to see an R-rated movie (I believe that was the summer of "Crimson Tide" and "Die Hard With a Vengeance")--once I got my car, however, I did quickly learn which theaters would let a 16 year old into an R-rated movie without an accompanying adult, although this was before the days of "American Pie," Judd Apatow and the Farrelly Brothers. Basically I was sneaking in to see "Broken Arrow" or "The Rock".

That didn't matter to me, because to me it was never about what I could get away with, but about being lost in a story. We switched churches, as I said, in 1992 and it was about a year before that, when I was entering Middle School, that we moved to Warren from Ferndale. Between that, the toughness of high school years, and the awkward first few years of college when I didn't have a great deal of friends, movies provided an escape for me. When "Jurassic Park" came out in 1993, I remember sitting in a theater shaking in my boots as the surround sound and the special effects convinced me that THIS WAS REAL (I saw the movie six times in the theater--still an unbeaten record for me). The escapism of film was a genuine power and, although I tried to watch some of the 'artier' fare the critics loved, I just couldn't get into it.

Then came college.

I was a film studies minor in college and it was there I learned about the artistry of film. My freshman year at community college I took an "introduction to film" class and, for the first time, was taught to look at a film and find out what it was saying. I remember being shocked and disturbed by Francis Ford Coppola's "The Conversation" and then sitting with my instructor and deconstructing it, figuring out what was going on. I remember writing about "Wall Street" and the themes of personal responsibility inherent therein.

It was at Wayne State that I first learned about the history of film. I learned about cinematic language by watching "The Great Train Robbery," "Birth of a Nation" and "Citizen Kane." I discovered the power of an image and montage through watching "Battleship Potemkin." In a foreign film class I remember learning about French New Wave, German Expressionism and being utterly swept away by the beauty of "Red Sorghum." And it was then that I began to pay attention to movies as an art form. It was then that I learned Roger Ebert's famous saying that movies are not about what they're about; they're about how they're about them.

1999 was, for me, the year that I changed from Joe Moviegoer to a film lover. I was 20 and that was the Summer of "The Matrix." I went into that theater expecting a standard science fiction film and found myself engaged in countless discussions afterward about how the film delved into topics of religion and spirituality. I watched "Fight Club," expecting bone-crushing action and walked away with a film that resonated through my  young adult years about materialism, prolonged adolescence, nihlism and meaning. I saw "The Sixth Sense" and went back to see it twice more to see just how M. Night Shyamalan pulled the wool over our eyes. And there was the night I went to see "American Beauty," expecting a drama or comedy. I spent the evening rattled, walking around my subdivision trying to decide whether I liked the movie or if I was offended by it and then, discovering, that I liked it BECAUSE it offended me.

And now, the greatest part of my job is something I do for free. I'm technically a staff writer but I have thrown myself into the opportunity to write about film not because I get to see movies first or get to see them for free but because I get to be in a position to see something great and tell people about it.

People often complain that critics don't like anything. And, as a critic, there is a frustration in seeing something of inferior quality make such a high mark while true gems go ignored (there is an inherent injustice that '21' was such a huge hit while 'The Visitor' was relegated only to art theaters).

And there are some critics who are pretentious and only like the films that qualify as high art. Other critics sometimes appear to not like movies at all and condescend to the medium. I've tried to always be transparent that while I love my foreign and indie films and documentaries, I also have a soft spot in my heart for the "Lethal Weapon," "Anchorman" and "Naked Guns" of the world.

But I've also learned that those get tiring after awhile. Big budget blockbusters are spectacle, but often empty (this summer's 'The Dark Knight' is a major exception, as is "WALL-E."). In the past week I watched the summer's big three comedies--"Step Brothers," "Tropic Thunder" and "The Pineapple Express." I laughed a lot but I also found myself tired after it. And then I saw "American Teen," which is not necessarilly a great movie (I'll say more in my review) but it's refreshing. It's emotional, thought-provoking and emotionally honest.

Likewise, I enjoyed "Vantage Point" and "The Bank Job" on DVD this week but turned them off and went about my business or went to bed right afterwards. Yesterday morning, though, I watched the superb Darfur documentary "The Devil Came on Horseback" and found myself thinking it over in my head for hours and wanting to get my friends together to see it and talk about it. I felt the same way after rewatching "Lars and the Real Girl" last Saturday night; even though it finished at about 12:30 a.m. I still wanted to think about how positive, gentle and joyful the entire film is.

I've seen a lot of movies this summer and I've felt very tired by it. But last Fall and Winter I was seeing more movies--I was seeing the Oscar contenders and watching DVD screeners nearly every night. And I wanted more. I wanted to see more movies like "No Country for Old Men" and "There Will Be Blood," which led me back to the Bible to explore our inherent depravity and the choices we make when left to our own will ("The Dark Knight" is a wonderful bookend with these movies--same themes, but more hope). I watched "Juno" several times simply because I felt like I knew these characters and that visiting them again was like meeting up with old friends. I wanted more experiences like "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly," which reminded me of the power of hope and the beauty of life in the midst of circumstances. I wanted to be surprised and moved like I was with "Once," a low budget musical that knocked me flat off my seat with its beauty.

And so I'm thankful for film. I'm thankful that it entertains me, to be sure. But I'm also thankful that we have been given a medium to express the deep thoughts and problems of humanity, to spark discussion about life and existence and to use as a tool to help us try and understand this thing called life.

Cdubbs

...Yes, there may be a limit to the amount of movies I can do in a week.

I've done three movies in two days. "Pineapple Express" last night, "Tropic Thunder" this afternoon and "American Teen" tonight. And I'm exhausted and am perfectly happy not to set foot in a theater until next Tuesday night when I'm supposed to screen "Swing Vote."

Here's the weird thing; they're not bad movies, either. "Pineapple Express" was utterly hilarious, "Tropic Thunder" was clever and funny and "American Teen" was a well-done, if not great, documentary. But summer movies are so loud and empty that, at the end, it sometimes just feels like noise.

Last fall I had periods where I'd have maybe five screenings in a week and then spend time catching up on DVD screeners for end-of-the-year consideration. And the films were of such great quality and so thought-provoking that while it was tiring it was also exhilerating.

So here's hoping for a more thought-provoking fall.

Cdubbs

Well, the world of movie reviewing just started to suck a little bit more.

At least Roger's still putting his reviews up on the Chicago Sun-Times website. He's the best critic out there.

Statement from Roger Ebert

// /

After 33 years on the air, 23 of them with Disney, the studio has decided to take the program named "Siskel & Ebert" and then "Ebert & Roeper" in a new direction. I will no longer be associated with it.

The show was a wonderful experience. It was a great loss to me when surgery in July 2006 made it impossible for me to appear on the air any longer. Although I remained active behind the scenes, I feel that Richard Roeper and several co-hosts, notably Michael Phillips and A.O. Scott, have excelled at carrying on the tradition Gene Siskel and I began in 1975 with "Sneak Previews" on PBS.

Gene and I felt the formula was simplicity itself: Two film critics, sitting across the aisle from each other in a movie balcony, debating the new films of the week. We developed an entirely new concept for TV. Few shows have been on the air so long and remained so popular. We made television history, and established the trademarked catch-phrase "Two thumbs up."

The trademark still belongs to me and Marlene Iglitzen, Gene's widow, and the thumbs will return. We are discussing possibilities, and plan to continue the show's tradition.

-- Roger Ebert