Movies: Introducing Our New Culture Writer, Anthony Pizana
Go inside what inspired Anthony's love of film and what pushed him to write about the art form
While riding in the back of a mid-1990s, dark blue Chevrolet Lumina one bright, sunny Saturday in 2005, I was affected by a lulling hum created by the car’s movement over the road, though it was occasionally supplanted with random hums and vibrations.
I don’t remember much about this day otherwise, but I can guarantee a certain routine that occurred during those times: waking up at an ungodly hour, turning on the CRT in my room and watching television on my bed on a low volume, and then eventually heading out of my room to eat breakfast.
In the living room, my tired Mom takes care of my 2-year-old sister. I’d swing on the doorway into the kitchen where I would be pleasantly surprised by seeing my stepfather eating a concoction of butter cookies, two cups of coffee and the cereal Pops mixed into a small pot. I would make myself a bowl of cereal — preferably Cheerios or Apple Jacks — and sit there eating.
Heading back to my room, one plastered with Spider-Man covers, sheets and wallpaper, I’d get back to watching television or reading until I hear the noise of a car pulling up, I realize who it must be and I blast out of my bedroom and open the door to see my father who promptly receives a bear hug from me.
Going forth, this day in 2005 wasn’t an ordinary one, it was May 5 and my little self did not know what was going to happen during the rest of it. My father and I did our normal routine, which included some window shopping at the toy and department stores near my mom’s house in Hobart, Indiana, and I expected us to merely go back to dad’s house in the Vet’s Park area of Chicago.
What I did not account for was a stop over at the River Oaks Mall in Calumet City, Illinois. I remember being shocked and having a big wide smile appear on my face immediately after waking up from a drifting consciousness. Still, it was not the best part of that day.
A three-minute drive from River Oaks to Cinema 8 Lansing followed, one of the longest three minutes in my life. It was the opening weekend for Sam Raimi’s “Spider-Man 3.” I remember my father struggling to find parking, but somehow managing to end up in the front row of the parking lot. The Cinema 8 logo was so big and mesmerizing, as I crossed the building’s threshold I entered the vast lobby smelling buttered popcorn while standing in line with my father to purchase tickets.
We grabbed middle seats and upon plopping down in them I felt at one with the theatre and its projector screen. I was enthralled with the whole movie — with the plot lines surrounding Peter Parker, the visual effects that brought Venom to life, the acting from Tobey Maguire and Thomas Haden Church, everything.
I felt transported to a different world, a comic book world that showed me just what was possible on the big screen, it blew me away. I’ve been left more indifferent on “Spider-Man 3” upon subsequent viewings, but I will always adore Sam Raimi and that film for cementing my love for movies and film-making. “Spider-Man 3” wasn’t my first experience watching a film in a theatre, but it was my first fully aware experience. I was only 5 years old.
More than 16 years have passed since that defining moment and I have seen more than a thousand films in that time frame. It is wild to put into perspective. A great portion of those films I saw during time left to myself while my parents constantly worked. A lot of credit should also be given to my uncles, aunts and cousins rubbing their tastes onto me and putting me on to more films while spending time with them. When movies could function as an escape to the world around me that’s when they most resonated with me and thankfully I had a cousin willing to take me to the movies in a timely fashion, especially when new superhero flicks released.
I feel at home in a certain odd way when watching a movie. It feels like communing with a higher power when I see an artistic piece painted across a screen, whether it’s a phone screen, a television set, computer monitor or being projected on a wide screen.
When it comes to my favorite movies, its always hard to choose because I enjoy a lot of films, from psychological horror pieces to absurdist comedies. My Top 5 list is ever-changing, that is primarily due to the art form constantly growing and my constant discovery of movies released prior to my time along with the newest industry offers. Most of my favorite films lie in the genres of comedy, adventure and drama with a particular soft spot in my heart belonging to murder mysteries.
A current top five of releases from within the past decade: “Babylon,” directed by Damien Chazelle; “Moonrise Kingdom,” by Wes Anderson; “Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse,” by Joaquim Dos Santos, Justin K. Thompson and Kemp Powers and “Rye Lane,” by Raine Allen-Miller.
Commonalities between these movies include their shared focus on romance, destiny, fate and finding oneself in the sea of life. But my fondness for these movies are most influenced by the specter of my favorite film in the whole entire world, one I have already seen endless times and one I will truly I never get enough of — “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” directed by John Hughes.
My first viewing of Ferris was not long after I saw “Spider-Man 3,” but unlike that my resonance for it has grown across time and its a work that hasn’t left my side since then, especially when I was 18-years-old and ready to graduate at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic.
I feel at home in a certain odd way when watching a movie. It feels like communing with a higher power when I see an artistic piece painted across a screen, whether it’s a phone screen, a television set, computer monitor or being projected on a wide screen.
During one particular viewing of Ferris I was wrapped up in a large, red Mexican flower blanket, my head rested on the back side of the wall in my room while staring at my wide-screen television set. I was extremely sad, reeling from the depression meds I took an hour earlier, and I get to the scene in Ferris where Alan Ruck’s Cameron delivers an impassioned monologue, and I start feeling tears shedding from my eyes and internalizing the message being laid out by Hughes’ writing in this film.
“That whole time I was just thinking things over. I was like – I was like meditating. Then I sort of watched myself from inside. I realized it was ridiculous – being afraid. Worrying about everything. Wishing I was dead. All that sh*t, I’m tired of it… it was the best day of my life.”
It made me realize the movie was never truly about Ferris Bueller, it was about getting Cameron Frye to live. A part of me always knew this, but it was finally unlocked in my perspective of being anxious and dreading life in general.
Cameron was finally having a day where he can leave his depression, anxiety and sickness aside to hang out with two of his closest friends in the heady time right before transitioning to college. Ferris Bueller and Sloane Peterson want to show that they care for him through absurd means, even if it meant going on a reckless trip of a lifetime. As much of a love letter it is to the city of Chicago, Ferris Bueller is also a love letter to those who suffer silently and a call to those people to get up and conquer their fears. It’s okay to be selfish at times, because we are ultimately living only one, short life that’s steady passing us.
So many things were here before us and will continue on after we’re gone. While we’re here the most we can do is enjoy the moments we have. This realization made me cry endlessly for five minutes straight. I felt at one with Cameron, a true connection shared in a deep understanding.
That is what movies and film-making is all about. Its a medium that propagates commentary about the world around us with details of love, fear, ambition, warning, and life. They are visual stories, snapshots that root in time but can ultimately transcend time. Ultimately, the medium is designed to be analyzed endlessly and dissected whether in perspective of the creations themselves or the industry that allows those creations to be produced and platformed.
Whether beloved or loathed, there is something that can be always taken away from a film. I find that truism to be quite beautiful, poignant and reflective of life and the people around us.
My name is Anthony Pizana, I currently live in Vet’s Park on the Southeast Side of Chicago. I am a 21-year-old bisexual who is eager to cover films as they release throughout the year and I am excited to be a part of WARR Media, writing on and recommending what you should see, whether immediately or a little bit down the line. You never know when the right movie hits you at the right time.
If you are ever curious on what I see or do in-between my pieces here, feel free to follow me on Letterboxd (@TonyCPizana) or Instagram (@TonyCPizana).
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