Hello and welcome! Let’s talk about my most favorite movie, Holiday. Not only is it a delightful romantic comedy in the best sense, but it’s also a whole movie based on the premise that in order to know what you’re working for your whole life, you should take some time off and figure out who you are and what’s important to you. This message didn’t play very well with audiences struggling to find their own jobs (this came out in 1938), despite the person taking the time off, Cary Grant as Johnny Case, being a young man who’s worked since the age of 12 and is just now taking his first break ever. And I get that; it is a particularly bourgeois notion, that you need to travel to far-off places to figure out who you are and what you want to do with yourself. Only people with a fair chunk of change and time see this as an actual possibility, not to mention a valid use of precious resources like time, money, and energy. I’m not unaware of this fact. But that doesn’t mean that it’s an invalid use of those resources, if you have them to use, and if you’re a conscientious traveler. At least, that’s what I’m hoping, for my own purposes.
Anyway, the premise is enough for me to be intrigued, but the pairing of Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn clinches it. They work their way through the movie to their inevitable pairing at the end with charm, wit, and acrobatics. (Grant started out in vaudeville, and he shows off some impressive tumbling in this film. Hepburn was a noted athlete who always did her own stunts.) Johnny starts the movie engaged to Julia, but when he meets her lovely, directionless sister Linda (Hepburn), it’s clear who he should be with. The film addresses issues of class, gender, and familial relationships, all delivered in a brilliant script and serviceable if unexciting cinematography. I also relate to just about every one of the characters and feel close to it personally.
I’m generally wary when people base their evaluation of the QUALITY of an artwork solely on how well they are able to relate to that artwork on a personal level, whereas it’s entirely reasonable to base your ENJOYMENT of an artwork on such a personal connection. Think of the woman in your sophomore English class who loves The Secret Life of Bees because OMG, she is totally like the main character and really felt like she could relate to her, and all the supporting characters are such good friends, just like her friends. Or your ex-boyfriend who totally dug The Matrix because, like, he’s smarter than everyone too and really good at computers and stuff and would so be Neo if anyone just gave him the red pill already. Those are two examples of artworks that definitely have their merits and their problems, but for these readers/viewers, none of that matters, because they just liked it. They conflate their enjoyment of the work with the quality of the work, and that’s where shitty New York Times bestsellers and unearned Oscars come from.
(Similarly, I can APPRECIATE a work of art for its merits without actually ENJOYING it. For example, I can see how Reservoir Dogs is an important film in cinema history, what with its introduction of mainstream fun into the indie art film scene, its legitimization of pop culture obsession, its stylized dialogue and spare setpieces, and of course that infamous ear scene, so perfectly done. I also hated every minute of watching it. If I never see another gratuitously violent, indulgently macho, thoughtlessly nihilistic film again, it will be too soon. Feminist defenses of Tarantino’s later films notwithstanding.)
But anyway, back to the personal connection thing. Holiday is a great film by film standards, including wonderful acting, a sharp script, and a strong story, so I’m not worried that enjoyment of the film is hindering my ability to evaluate it for the great work of art it is. But I sure do enjoy it in large part because I feel so close to the characters. I find my wanderlust in Johnny, my restlessness in Linda, my romanticism in both of them, my desire for security and comfort in Julia, and my fears of change and being in charge of my own life in Ned. I sympathize with all the characters and understand why they do what they do, but of course we’re meant to root for Johnny and Linda and their happy ending, and it’s so easy to do that. Their love for each other and their love for adventure and the way they combine the two–well, it’s enough to make this traveler look around for her own Johnny. Every time I see Johnny do a belly-flop backflip as Linda comes running onto the ship for their trip around the world, my heart does a flip of its own.
A YouTube user’s collection of favorite moments from Holiday
Stowaway Travel Writing & Editorial Services 
Regarding enjoyment vs. quality: Jeannette Winterson says something in “Art Objects” about how she learned how to appreciate art when she was able to go beyond “like” and “don’t like” and talk about why she did or didn’t like it. (Something like that, it’s been awhile.) There was an implication, I think, that talking about the “why” allowed her to appreciate art that she didn’t otherwise enjoy. But that’s kind of a side note, I just wanted to mention it because the point she was making was similar to your point about the Secret Life of Bees and Matrix lovers.
I think a large part of it is that most people don’t have much of an understanding of art beyond enjoyment. Perhaps that’s just the inverse of saying “they conflate their enjoyment with the quality of the work,” but I think we can take it a little further.
If, for them, art is something that you consume and that entertains you, then the quality will almost definitely be based on enjoyment. (Are you entertained by something you don’t enjoy? Possibly, in a bitter kind of way. But probably not all that often.)
If, instead, you think of art as something that someone has created as a type of communication, an entry into an ongoing cultural conversation, then enjoyment is only one small aspect of quality, and sometimes may be completely irrelevant to quality. But you can’t even get there if you just think of art as something you consume to pass the time, completely separate from the rest of life.
This comment brought to you by: Sessily’s ignorance of Holiday and inability to comment on the movie at all.
Back to say: In the above I’m mostly using enjoyment as a stand-in for “relates to the artwork on a personal level.” There’s a whole other conversation that could be had about what people find enjoyable and why–I definitely feel a strong pull towards artwork with which I identify, but I also enjoy artwork for other reasons (word-play, social/cultural analysis, artistic analysis, beautiful and/or skilled construction, etc), many of which, I think, fall under the conception of art as cultural conversation.
As usual, you are brilliant. Because of course if “art is something that you consume and that entertains you, then the quality will almost definitely be based on enjoyment,” so the conflation isn’t just predictable, it’s necessary to the whole enterprise of engaging with art at all. And that’s mostly what’s happening when I watch Super Troopers for the umpteenth time.
But the cultural conversation, of which we are all a vital part — yes, this is what I mean by appreciating art and evaluating its quality, and once you enter into this way of looking at it, you get to see the history of the art form, sociopolitical context, the artist’s personal life vs. artistic vision, community responses to art, etc., etc. I find this very exciting, so much so that even something like Super Troopers will spurs an interest, because it’s not just “hey that’s hilaaaarious” but it’s “look where this fits in the history of parodies” and “their comic timing is fantastic” and “whoa that was even a comment on race in America.” I love this way of watching it almost as much as I love watching it stoned.
Some people wonder why I can’t just enjoy the movie/book/TV show already and stop trying to analyze it, but analyzing that movie/book/TV show is part of what helps me enjoy it.
For another take on analysis-as-enjoyment, see this hilarious and true post: http://www.racialicious.com/2009/12/21/and-we-shall-call-this-moffs-law/
As a re-reader (and re-watcher), too, I think the books and movies I’m most attracted to experiencing again are the ones that take a little bit from all of the above. I enjoy them for the story–whether it’s humor or drama or tragedy–and the emotional connection I make to the story, empathy or sympathy or what have you. But to bring me back to them again and again, I also have to engage with them on something of an analytical level, whether because I’m fascinated by the train-wreck and wonder how it got there, or because I’m taken away by how perfect it is, and how did they pull that off, how did they even think to go there?? (Or simple admiration for a well-executed turn, even if it’s been made many times before. There aren’t any easy dichotomies here.)
Which probably sounds dry to people who don’t enjoy analysis, but it isn’t. Those are the times when I go beyond pleasant enjoyment to pacing back and forth in my apartment so excited I wish I had a cat to talk to (or a human, but they’re more difficult to keep on hand). I think even people who do enjoy analysis don’t want to acknowledge that they enjoy it–at least that’s how I rationalize the people who’ve told me that they don’t read for pleasure because they’re too busy tearing everything they read apart to enjoy it. I mean, add a bottle of wine and you’ve got a party. The rejection of analysis seems part of the general distrust of the intellect that seems to be going on in the U.S., and it’s sad. (I think there’s also a distrust of imagination–but maybe I’m just feeling paranoid because I’m tired.)
I have other thoughts but they’re eluding me. Can you tell you hit on a favorite topic? (I’m also avoiding the question of “quality” because my thoughts are confused on it and I am tired–I think even with telepathy letting me avoid these pesky word-things I wouldn’t make any sense.)
lisa,
i am totally sold on watching this movie now. also, i had NO IDEA that you actually have a favorite movie and that is fab.
so glad that it’s ‘holiday’ that you love and not ‘the holiday.’
Ew, The Holiday. That was an exercise in beige.
Or your ex-boyfriend who totally dug The Matrix because, like, he’s smarter than everyone too and really good at computers and stuff and would so be Neo if anyone just gave him the red pill already.
I adore you so much. For the above paragraph alone.
Why thank you.
I believe our Mutual Admiration Society may have the highest percentage of satisfaction of any such clubs.
I saw Holiday last year, I think, and I love, love, love it. Because yes, I identify with the characters, and the acting and dialogue are great, but also because it’s so subversive in its way. Have you seen You Can’t Take It With You? I think you’d like it if you love Holiday so much.
I did see You Can’t Take It With You, and I liked it okay, but not nearly so well. (I also find it difficult to enjoy any production of that play other than the one put on by my high school sophomore year — my friend M. played Essie and the guy playing Ed would accompany her ballerina moves with the Beastie Boys’ classic “Girls” on xylophone. It was awesome.)
Other delightful films featuring fiery romances and rapid wit from the same Golden Age (in case you’re looking for some more): Bringing Up Baby, The Philadelphia Story, It Happened One Night, The Thin Man, The Awful Truth. I don’t like His Girl Friday as much as other people, because most of the movie has the leads in separate scenes, and the whole point is to see how much they can tease or antagonize one another before ripping off each other’s clothes.
Pingback: What I Do When I Read « Wild Beasts and Dangerous Lunatics