Ask me my favourite films, and I’ll quick-draw you a list before you blink.
I’ve stayed true to the same titles throughout the years. Some of my picks elicit nods of obvs (Goodfellas), some give me classic cinema props (Double Indemnity), and others prompt film-guy goatee strokes (Raiders of the Lost Ark, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind).
Whenever I name Defending Your Life as an all-time favourite, I usually get blank looks and summon indoor tumbleweeds. So much so, that I’ve often omitted the film from my list to save myself the defence.
With the new HBO documentary on Albert Brooks streaming, I feel validated in my choice. It’s not that the genius of Albert Brooks isn’t universally embraced or that this movie is even obscure. But now I can simply point to this tribute as shorthand as to why I’ve loved Defending Your Life since its 1991 release:
There’s no need to type a rambling Goodreads-like synopsis. If you’ve seen it, you love it. If you haven’t, you will love it.
Defending Your Life is offbeat, romantic, tight, arching, allegoric, and extremely funny. Yes, it has the heartbreaking hairstyles and pacing of a 1990s movie, but like the film’s characters in the afterlife (“Judgement City”), the movie is searching for something big, never ages, and somehow feels eternal.
There are some long Defending Your Life scenes kicking around YouTube, none of which act as a decent synecdoche for the whole experience. Instead, I call your attention to Meryl Streep’s finest role, hands-down. Her character shines with such effortless likability, that I forget I’m also absorbed in an ideal romantic comedy. (Take the 3 minutes to watch her and Brooks navigate the sin of gluttony in Judgement City):
But I’ll do you one better. Not only is this comedy dear to me—it contains the funniest, most throwaway moment I know. Ask my ex to name my Number One Laugh over 30 years since the film’s release, and she’ll roll her eyes and say “$13.50.”
What can I say. Laughter is abstract and incalculable. For me, almost habitual. Little kids screwing up in unison? That brings me joy.
Vulture senior editor and Good One Podcast host Jesse David Fox addresses the nebulous idea of what makes us laugh in his erudite new book Comedy Book: How Comedy Conquered Culture—and the Magic That Makes It Work. Fox has the distinct honour of being the only ‘comedy journalist’ that all the greats respect, from Tig Notaro and Judd Apatow to John Mulaney, Michelle Williams and Patton Oswalt.
“The sense of what is funny,” he writes, “is so subjective—so completely built into your persona—that it feels objective.”
I suppose that shift—our personal comedy seeming objective and exemplary—is why we love making lists and pushing our favourites on others with such annoying enthusiasm. It’s what’s behind the egotistical phrase: you just don’t get it.
Perhaps it’s not important to defend the things makes me happy. Being emboldened by the new documentary enough to declare Defending Your Life as important a film as Godfather II, I saw the need to stay true to what I like.
My age lives in a sweet spot, nestled between a young man trying on pop culture hats, and an old Wilford Brimley fart stuck in his ways. It’s a good age, because I still discover and seek out new experiences, and get to reinvent the second half of my life creatively, socially, and spiritually. I’m now confident enough to know what I truly enjoy, without premise or explanation. It’s liberating, yet feels resolute.
After rewatching Defending Your Life this week, I made a list of other interests I’ve firmly accepted on which side I land.
UNAPOLOGETIC LIKES:
Dollarama Shopping - If I ignore the lighting. And sadness.
All the Meats - My health is fine, knock-on-colon.
Yahoo over Google search, sometimes - I can’t explain.
Bono
UNAPOLOGETIC DISLIKES
Skiing - the culture, the cost, the cold.
Muffins - I’d rather eat a balled-up pair of brown socks
Any Book or Film Featuring Wizards - or dragons, magic forests, and straw roofs.
Bono
This weekend, Stephanie promised me we would watch Defending Your Life together, and I promised I wouldn’t mansplain its timelessness. After all, she does like books and movies with wizards. And I do not, knowing I’m in the minority and will probably never read Tolkien or watch Game of Thrones, no matter the mythology and storytelling magic.
I’m just partial to $13.50. And that’s OK.
If Stephanie likes my 1991 comedy, fantastic. If she doesn’t, I won’t take it personally. The truth is what matters—after all, we should be confident in our tastes by now. I’m learning late in life, that absolute compatibility is not the key to relationship happiness. Being complimentary over compatible is the endgame.
That being said. If she doesn’t laugh at that classroom scene, I will fight off heartbreak, and find the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. Then continue to enjoy the movie with her, quietly eating my Dollarama off-brand BBQ chips.
Always a most enjoyable and enlightening read, Jordan. Please keep doing this despite what may (wrongly) appear to be slow engagement.
Thank goodness it’s okay to like what I like now. No apologies for a preference to gravitate to the Best Sellers section in the book store!