Moms! What’s wrong with them?! Mothers, in all their forms, get a bad rap in cinema, far worse than fathers. From basic mommy issues to monstrous mothers, ideas of motherhood are as wide and weird in movie land as they are in the real world.

As Molly asks in her Letterboxd list, what is with our obsession with trying to prove that it’s the mother that killed her child? Plug “good mothers” into the Letterboxd search tab and you get a paltry few lists, mostly about mothers who are not having a good time. Maybe it’s because being a mother is a nightmare in itself, a mental illness? No wonder, when the role is so relentlessly undervalued, and the rights of a person to make their own decision about whether, when or how to become a mother are so persistently legislated against.

But hey, you know where mothers do have a good time? At the movies! Where it’s dark and quiet and nobody’s tugging at your hem and there’s eye candy and literal candy, maybe some plot up on the screen, possibly even a badass mother in the mix. We know, because we asked our own moms.

So for Mother’s Day 2023, please enjoy this journey through the movies our mothers love. And remember what Michelle Yeoh told us right after her history-making Oscar win just a few weeks ago: “I think what mothers do is they’re constantly reminding you to be better. And they do it with love.” We love you, Letterboxd moms.

You’ve Got Mail (1998)

Directed by Nora Ephron, written by Nora Ephron and Delia Ephron, adapted from The Shop Around the Corner (1940), written by Miklós László
Recommended by Zack’s mom

Sometimes it’s not the movie, but what it means. You’ve Got Mail is my mom’s favorite film. She and my dad have fallen asleep to it every night for twenty years. I’m not kidding. If she used Letterboxd, this would be her diary:

“It became my favorite movie because one summer, your sister and brother had it on every night, and the next day they’d tell each other how far they made it before falling asleep,” Mom says. “When they went back to school, we were so used to it we just continued to put on in our room. I miss those times.”

That’s her in a nutshell. You’ve Got Mail is her favorite because it reminds her of family. My parents are always fast asleep long before the credits roll. Watching the movie isn’t the point. With their children gone and the two of them occupying the same (quieter) house, You’ve Got Mail is simply the sound of pleasant memories.

My mom wouldn’t call herself a cinephile, but she is responsible for my love for movies. My earliest memory is seeing Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs with her (I left insisting I was Snow White and she was the handsome prince). I stayed up past my bedtime watching The Wizard of Oz with her and my dad, and she checked us out of school to see The Little Mermaid on opening day. My love for Superman was born when she recorded Superman III for me. She introduced me to another of her favorites (which she saw theatrically with her grandmother), The Sound of Music. I’ve watched it countless times since.

It’s funny the unexpected ways our mothers shape us. I guess I’m a lot like my mom; the movies I love the most are the ones tied to my memories too, and many of my fondest ones were with her.

The Devil Wears Prada (2006)

Directed by David Frankel, written by Aline Brosh McKenna from a book by Lauren Weisberger
Recommended by Mia’s mom, Andrea

The Devil Wears Prada is one of six DVDs my mother owns. While she harbors a deep affinity for Hugh Grant rom-coms (something that turns out to be genetic), Meryl Streep in haute couture is her true lodestone. When I ask her why it’s this movie in particular that she watches over and over again, she simply says that it brings her joy and makes her forget about all the bad things in the world, which is pretty funny considering it’s 109 minutes of Anne Hathaway (whose character my mom shares a name with) being psychologically tortured by her boss.

Her favorite line is when Miranda Priestly (Streep) says, “No, no. That wasn’t a question.” Her favorite outfit is Andrea “Andy” Sachs’ (Hathaway) “cap with a white button-down collared blouse and an off-the-shoulder black sweater.” Her favorite moment is near the end, when Miranda smiles to herself about Andy’s career decision because, in her words, “she respected her and was thinking she’s gonna do fine.”

My mom hesitates to say outright that she identifies with Miranda, but there are definite similarities. Being reared by someone who relates to an infamously demanding fashion magazine editor-in-chief is not the horrid fate one may expect: it means she’s capable and confident, with a sharp eye for style and sky-high expectations that may feel suffocating in the moment, but ultimately push you to be the best version of yourself. It was her tenacity that propelled me into the Oscars press room to ask Michelle Yeoh about her own fellow Asian mother’s indomitable influence. As Mitski sang on ‘Your Best American Girl’, “Your mother wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me, but I do, I finally do.”

It’s A Wonderful Life (1946)

Directed by Frank Capra, written by Frank Capra, Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett
Recommended by Ella’s mum, Joëlle

My mum does not watch many movies. She doesn’t like fantasy and will not go near horror; rather, she spends most of her time taking care of her children and grandchildren (and husband!) and generally doing everything for everyone. She says she doesn’t need hobbies, because she has her family (and the one habit she will stick to forever is a daily aerobics session, over Zoom, with her sister Betty).

I’d never heard her mention any other film but Midnight in Paris since her French lycée days and years at the Sorbonne, but the second she told me one of her favorite films was It’s A Wonderful Life, it made sense immediately. I’m not sure she knows I wanted to name our cat after Jimmy Stewart, or that The Shop Around The Corner would be my own festive Stewart fave, but I saw, somehow, a bit of George Bailey in what she had to say about Frank Capra’s wondrous movie. That man who wanted nothing more than to get back to his family—the rest, be damned.

“I loooved the raw paternal love, in all its tenderness and protective instinct,” she told me in a text message. The extent of mum’s film reviewing over the years has been to review my own reviews (I have a “very incisive pen”, thank you), but that distillation of Jimmy-as-George’s affection for his family, the only thing keeping him tethered to this sorry world, felt eerily beautiful to read from a parent who doesn’t realize she’s been doing the same thing for decades. Oh, and maybe she might have unconsciously clocked my love for the man over the years, because her follow-up, empathetic and astute but to-the-point as ever, was: “The acting was also brilliant.”

The Piano (1993)

Written and directed by Jane Campion
Recommended by Matthew’s mum, Susan

After a brief exchange on a few films she might have picked as her favorite, Mum locked in The Piano. I was initially surprised, but shouldn’t have been, as soon as I took a moment to consider my own taste for all things bleak. While we didn’t watch it together, its innate New Zealand-ness, its somber mood, what has come to be known as our “cinema of unease”, appeals to us both for all the same reasons. Here’s what she says:

“I loved Jane Campion’s haunting 1993 film, The Piano, the first time I watched it, an impression which has only deepened on revisiting her artistry over the years. Strengthened along the way by the passion forged when my London-based, photographer/filmmaker niece, Anna (now 25), first set foot on the black sand beach at Karekare with me as a child, exploring her New Zealand heritage. She, too, was captured by The Piano.

“That isolated beach on Auckland’s west coast is the dramatic opening setting for the arrival of Scotswoman Ada McGrath (Holly Hunter), mute since childhood and sold into marriage pre-departure, with her young daughter, Flora (Anna Paquin). Abandoned in this desolate spot by the crew of a Victorian sailing ship to face life in New Zealand in unimaginably bleak conditions, along with the film’s namesake, Ada’s beloved baby grand piano.

“Campion’s exquisite vision oozes through her directing and writing, perfectly combined with Stuart Dryburgh’s moody, earthy cinematography to capture the overall grit of this film. The use of New Zealand’s wild landscape gives a character all of its own and an ideal setting for such a passionate and emotive story.

“Michael Nyman’s beautiful music has an enduring magic. ‘Haunting’ again comes to mind. Sam Neill, Ada’s contracted husband, recalls Nyman’s ‘extraordinary soundtrack saturating all of the filming… the forest, the beach, the rain… it haunts me to this day’.”

Growing up, I didn’t watch nearly as many movies with my mother as I did with my dad. But my mom was always reading. From poetry to criticism, she supported every word I’ve put down on a page (well, maybe not every word; some got me in trouble). She encouraged me to apply for a film critic job at the local newspaper when I was only eighteen, which I would’ve thought impossible to get at my age, and I actually got it! She framed my first newspaper paycheck, which was for reviewing Almost Famous.

I haven’t seen The Book Thief, but it is very much my mom: a desire for justice, an anger that it often doesn’t come, a love of literature and a fear of history being doomed to repeat itself when books and education are being clamped down—which happens with alarming frequency in her home state.

Little Women (2019)

Written and directed by Greta Gerwig from a book by Louisa May Alcott
Recommended by Marcie’s mom

My grandma had a huge impact on my life, especially in regards to helping me fall in love with watching movies. As I got older, I loved finding newer films that we could enjoy together. When I saw Greta Gerwig’s Little Women, I kept thinking about watching the movie with my grandma. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott was her favorite book, and there was something so fresh with Greta’s version that I knew she would really enjoy it.

Fast forward just a month and half later: the pandemic had started and I was not able to visit my grandma for a very long time. There were many phone calls and emails telling her I had a movie I wanted to watch with her. Eventually our conversations would always end with how much we were looking forward to sharing the movie. Finally, after two years of waiting, we watched Little Women last April. We laughed together, and we held each other’s hand while crying together.

It did not matter that her television was on full volume due to her trouble hearing, nor that we were sitting in the most uncomfortable chairs—what mattered was that she could not stop smiling and loved every moment of the movie. Sadly, a couple months later, my grandma passed away. Little Women was the last movie I ever watched with her, but when I think of that day, I remember all of our movie-watching memories and how special each one made me feel.