Classic Movies I've Avoided And Why My Reasons

For years, I've intentionally steered clear of certain cinematic classics. It's not that I don't appreciate film history, but a combination of factors has led me to create my own personal list of movies I've actively avoided. In this article, I'll delve into some of these titles and the reasons behind my choices, offering a hopefully unique perspective on films often considered essential viewing.

The Elephant in the Room: Citizen Kane (1941)

Let's address the elephant in the room first: Citizen Kane. Orson Welles's masterpiece is a perennial fixture on "greatest movies of all time" lists, and its innovative techniques and complex narrative are widely celebrated. So why have I avoided it? Well, to be frank, the sheer weight of its reputation is a significant deterrent. It feels like approaching Citizen Kane is less about enjoying a film and more about tackling an academic assignment. The pressure to fully appreciate its artistry, to dissect its symbolism, and to understand its historical significance feels immense. This pressure, ironically, makes me less inclined to actually sit down and watch it. It's like the cinematic equivalent of a required reading list – the more it's lauded, the more I resist.

Another factor is the era in which it was made. While I certainly appreciate classic Hollywood cinema, I often find myself drawn to more contemporary storytelling styles and pacing. The deliberate, often theatrical acting, the black-and-white cinematography, and the sometimes-stilted dialogue of early films can feel, to me, like a barrier to entry. I worry that I won't be able to fully connect with the characters or the story on an emotional level, and that the experience will feel more like an intellectual exercise than a genuine engagement with the art form. Furthermore, the constant references and allusions to Citizen Kane in other works have, in a strange way, diminished my desire to see the original. I feel like I've absorbed so much about the film through cultural osmosis that the actual experience of watching it might feel somewhat anticlimactic. It's a strange paradox – the very thing that makes it a classic, its influence, is also what makes me hesitant to watch it. Perhaps one day I'll overcome my trepidation and finally see what all the fuss is about, but for now, Citizen Kane remains firmly on my list of films I've avoided.

Musicals and Me: Singin' in the Rain (1952)

My aversion to classic musicals is another area where my cinematic tastes diverge from the mainstream. While I can appreciate the technical skill and elaborate choreography involved, the inherent artificiality of characters bursting into song and dance often feels jarring to me. Singin' in the Rain, often hailed as the quintessential movie musical, is a prime example. The vibrant colors, the energetic performances, and the iconic dance numbers are undeniable, but the core concept of a musical still presents a challenge for my suspension of disbelief.

My reluctance stems from a preference for cinematic realism, or at least a sense of groundedness in the narrative. Musicals, by their very nature, operate in a heightened reality where emotions are expressed through elaborate song and dance routines. This can feel disconnected from the way I experience emotions in real life, making it difficult for me to fully invest in the characters and their stories. I understand that musicals are a form of escapism, and that their appeal lies in their joyful exuberance, but I often find myself longing for a more nuanced and subtle portrayal of human emotions. The grand, sweeping gestures and the larger-than-life performances can feel overwhelming, leaving me feeling like I'm watching a spectacle rather than a story. Furthermore, the often-formulaic plots of classic musicals can feel predictable and uninspired. The focus is often on the musical numbers themselves, with the narrative serving as a mere framework for the song and dance sequences. This can lead to a sense of detachment from the story, as I find myself waiting for the next musical number rather than being fully engaged in the characters' journeys. However, I acknowledge that my perspective is subjective, and that many viewers find great joy and emotional resonance in musicals. Perhaps one day I'll be able to fully appreciate the artistry and craftsmanship of Singin' in the Rain, but for now, it remains a classic I've chosen to avoid.

The Western Frontier: The Searchers (1956)

The Western genre, with its iconic imagery of cowboys, vast landscapes, and dramatic showdowns, holds a significant place in film history. However, certain Westerns, particularly John Ford's The Searchers, have remained on my avoidance list due to their complex and often problematic themes. While The Searchers is lauded for its visual beauty and John Wayne's powerful performance, its exploration of racism and obsession makes it a difficult film for me to engage with.

The protagonist, Ethan Edwards, is a deeply flawed character driven by a relentless and racially charged quest to rescue his niece from Native Americans. His prejudice and unwavering hatred are central to the narrative, and the film grapples with the consequences of his actions. This focus on a deeply flawed and morally ambiguous character is what makes me hesitant to watch it. I often find it challenging to invest in stories where the protagonist's motivations are rooted in prejudice and hatred. While I appreciate the importance of exploring complex and uncomfortable themes, I also find it emotionally draining to spend several hours in the company of a character whose worldview is so antithetical to my own. Furthermore, the portrayal of Native Americans in The Searchers, while arguably more nuanced than in some earlier Westerns, still relies on certain stereotypes and tropes. The film's depiction of Native American culture and society can feel reductive and insensitive, and I worry that watching it will reinforce harmful stereotypes. I understand that The Searchers is a product of its time, and that its portrayal of race reflects the prevailing attitudes of the era. However, this historical context does not necessarily make it easier for me to watch the film and grapple with its problematic elements. Perhaps one day I'll feel more equipped to engage with The Searchers and its complex themes, but for now, it remains a classic I've chosen to avoid due to its challenging subject matter and potentially harmful representations.

Epic Length, Epic Aversion: Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

The sheer length of certain classic films is another factor that contributes to my avoidance. David Lean's Lawrence of Arabia, a sprawling epic clocking in at over three and a half hours, is a prime example. While I appreciate the grandeur and scale of epic cinema, the time commitment required to watch such a lengthy film can feel daunting.

My aversion isn't necessarily about a lack of interest in the story itself. The historical figure of T.E. Lawrence, his adventures in the Middle East during World War I, and the film's stunning visuals are all undeniably appealing. However, the thought of dedicating such a significant chunk of time to a single movie often feels overwhelming, especially in an era of ever-shrinking attention spans and readily available entertainment options. I find myself weighing the time investment against other activities and commitments, and often the lengthy film loses out. Furthermore, the pacing of epic films can sometimes feel slow and deliberate, which can exacerbate the feeling of time commitment. The long takes, the sweeping vistas, and the extended dialogue scenes, while often beautiful and artistically significant, can also test my patience. I sometimes find myself longing for a more streamlined narrative and a quicker pace, which makes the prospect of watching a three-and-a-half-hour film feel particularly daunting. I acknowledge that Lawrence of Arabia's length is integral to its epic scope and ambition, and that the film's deliberate pacing allows for a deeper immersion in the story and its themes. However, for me, the sheer time commitment remains a significant barrier to entry. Perhaps one day I'll find the right moment to dedicate myself to Lawrence of Arabia, but for now, its epic length keeps it on my list of movies I've avoided.

Final Thoughts

My list of avoided classic movies isn't a judgment on their artistic merit. Rather, it's a reflection of my personal viewing preferences and the various factors that influence my cinematic choices. Perhaps one day I'll conquer my reservations and delve into these cinematic landmarks. Until then, there are plenty of other films waiting to be discovered. My reasons may seem trivial to some, but to me, they are valid. Film viewing is a personal experience, and we are all entitled to choose what we watch, and what we avoid. Perhaps you have your own list of classic movies you've avoided, and your reasons are just as valid as mine.