MY FAVORITE MOVIE

First, please note the operative word in that title above. “Favorite”. Not “Best”. Not “Most Artistic”. Not “Most Famous” or “Most Seen” or “Most Commercially Successful”. No, it’s “Favorite”. 

If you were to ask me, “What’s the BEST movie?”, I’d hem and haw, I’d protest that it’s impossible to pick out one movie as the best movie. 

Then I’d trot out my usual “Best” suspects: CITIZEN KANE, THE SEARCHERS, SEVEN SAMURAI, THE SEVENTH SEAL, 2001 A SPACE ODYSSEY, THE GODFATHER, or, if I was in a “lighter” mood, maybe DUCK SOUP, THE GAY DIVORCEE, SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN, ANNIE HALL …But then, after you’d backed me to the wall, “well, if I have to name just one as The Best, then it would be…DR. STRANGELOVE. Of course.” 

We could debate that. No one’s mind would be changed, but a discussion of artistic merit would be possible. 

But “Favorite”...that’s another animal. There’s no debate there. A favorite is a favorite, period. If you tell me your favorite movie is FINDING NEMO, I’d simply say, “oh, okay. That’s a nice movie.” No debate would be forthcoming. If you said your favorite was TANGO AND CASH, I’d probably give you a funny look, but…okay. If you told me your favorite movie was THE HUMAN CENTIPEDE, I’d nod and smile as I backed carefully out of the room, trying to find a safe place to hide. If you told me your favorite movie was TWILIGHT, I’d just say… no… sorry. There are limits. If you offered TWILIGHT as your favorite, I’d say, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

A favorite movie need not be a great movie. It need not be on anyone’s list of “Best” candidates. It’s just your favorite and pfffft, that’s that.

My favorite movie IS also a great movie, but I’ll acknowledge that it wouldn’t make my Top 10 BEST. Still a great movie though. My choice is Bill Forsyth’s Scottish comedy from 1983, LOCAL HERO.

Actually, “my choice” is the wrong phrase. I had no say in the matter. I saw the movie, I loved the movie, I continue to love the movie. It became my favorite, I didn’t choose it. If anything LOCAL HERO chose me.

LOCAL HERO, for those unfortunate enough to be unaware, concerns an American oil company’s plan to buy a small seaside Scottish village lock, stock, and barrel. The cool, canny, modern American businessman sent to Scotland to seal the deal becomes entranced with the people and the village. That’s about it for story.  The movie does have a wonderfully happy ending. Which is also heartbreaking. 

I’ve seen the movie at least ten times, maybe as many as twenty, including just a couple of weeks ago. I’d like to watch it again. Right now.

LOCAL HERO is a comedy, but the gentlest of comedies. I think there are some laugh-out-loud moments, but others may not bark a single giggle. I’ll guarantee you, however, that you’ll start smiling a few minutes in and you won’t stop.

But it has teeth, too. It’s not “just” a comedy. It has things to say, little bits of wisdom to drop, most of them tucked inside a tasty sweet.

I’m convinced that, in the old days of video shops, when clerks were asked for recommendations, the specific question which they heard most often was, “what do you have that’s like LOCAL HERO?” 

The problem is there’s nothing like it. The closest I can think of are GREGORY’S GIRL, the movie Bill Forsyth made before LOCAL HERO, and COMFORT AND JOY, the movie Forsyth made after LOCAL HERO. But, lovely as those movies are, they’re not really like LOCAL HERO. Because nothing is.

A few years back, long after LOCAL HERO had played the theatrical circuit and retired to the Home for Old Movies, I read a news article which related that the red phone booth which plays an important part in the movie had become a genuine tourist attraction. People would go far out of their way to visit the little Scottish village just to see, to touch, to have their picture taken with that phone booth. It was a palpable touchstone for those who were then and always lost in the movie’s spell.

None of us spellbound folk can ever get enough of LOCAL HERO. We want to live in that movie. We want to be in that village, meet those people, drink in that pub, walk that beach, goggle at the Northern Lights in the Scottish sky. So, we do the best we can. All those tourists travel to pay homage at a red phone booth. The more couch-potatoish of us just watch the movie over and over, always hoping that this time there will be more. Somehow there will be new footage which we’ve not seen before or, at least, some tiny incident we’d never noticed. Or, maybe even better, we could dream about the world of the movie. Maybe for one night’s sleep we can be among the population of Ferness, borrowing “tens” to make a call in the red phone booth.

One day, about thirty years ago, I got on an elevator here in New York to find one solitary passenger traveling down 29 floors with me. It was Peter Riegert, the star of LOCAL HERO. I recognized him immediately and wanted to speak to him, but hesitated. Maybe he didn’t want to be bothered. Maybe I’d be intruding. So we rode down all those floors together as I debated with myself--speak to him or not?  Ultimately I said not a thing. At the lobby, we got off and went our separate ways.  Almost instantly I was drowning in regret. It’s still there, that regret. Of course I should have spoken to him. I’m such an idiot.

All I wanted to say was, “Mr. Riegert, thank you for LOCAL HERO. It’s my favorite movie.”