I watch it alone in my own zone. Or sometimes if I’m feeling bad about my industry, say I’m having trouble getting a film financed—if I’m ever feeling tweaked out about film, I watch, oh, at least the first half, maybe more, of Barton Fink. I mean, maybe all of it if I’m in the mood, but at least three quarters of Barton Fink.
That’s the perfect one when you’re feeling that cynicism about Hollywood and the industry. I mean, it’s the ultimate writer’s block movie.
Yeah. Yeah. If I ever have any. So, those are two perennials I return to for... That’s emotional support in its own way.
Totally. My first viewing of Videodrome was when I was fifteen. I was at a party with some friends the night before, and I woke up at six in the morning, super sick and had to call my sister to come pick me up. I got home, curled up in bed, and watched Videodrome for the first time as the sun was coming up. It totally soothed me. That was twenty years ago, and I still go back to it as a comfort movie.
It’s amazing what can be comforting. Videodrome, I’m old enough to have seen it in the theater when it came out. And I don’t know if I totally appreciated it. I mean, I liked it, but it wasn’t until I watched it on video, you know? You got to watch it on video. You can’t watch it in the theater. Watch it on a video by yourself. Then you’re like, “Oh, here’s how it should be seen.”
It feels like something that you’re watching in secret, right? It’s a little bit like, you’re not supposed to be seeing this.
And you really shouldn’t stream it. I mean, you really should have a VHS tape. [Motions putting a tape into a VCR.] I caught that era of watching it on a VHS tape. Yeah, that’s the pure Videodrome experience.