The more you learn about film, the more a certain problem begins to grow and grow: a separation from films you grew up on. Yes, nostalgia can make the growth of taste difficult. We can’t hate the movies we’ve watched again and again when we were young. We have fond memories. Also, it’s perfectly fine to watch films for different reasons. Want to have a mental exercise? Put on Stalker. Want to have some fun? Put in Airplane!. Want a bit of both? There’s always The Phantom of Liberty. Before I digress too much, my point is that films can serve different purposes. Nostalgia is one of those.

Before I can go too deeply down this path, I’ll need to get into my own personal childhood desecrations. I loved Space Jam, Batman and Robin, Matilda, Harriet the Spy, and The Pagemaster, amongst many other films. I don’t watch a single one now (although Matilda is still not bad to revisit every now and then, and Batman and Robin is my bad movie night jam, so exclude those two). When you’re young, your introduction to film is limited, and you have a very different set of interests than when you’re older. Thirty one year old me has certain family films I like, but a good portion of them aren’t ones I grew up on, but rather they’re works I discovered later. The Lion King, The Secret of NIMH, and the other occasional works are a little different. They’re the rare film I loved in my youth that I still love now.

So, I find it resourceful to know when to put on nostalgia goggles, and when to take them off. I put on Space Jam the other day, and could not stop hurting. Those nostalgia goggles came off. I couldn’t bear seeing some of my favourite basketball players mugging that badly, and the Looney Tunes have never tried so hard. For me personally, that’s not a film I get a nostalgic rush with. I can’t bypass its flaws. Then there’s Matilda, where I can admit the film isn’t perfect, but I remember each and every line, how I felt the first time I saw the film, and more. I kept those nostalgia goggles on. For a little while, I didn’t need to grade this film. I just basked in a set of feelings I haven’t experienced since I was a child.

A big bite I’ve had to learn to chew is that not every film I’ve loved as a child is one I can tolerate now. The more one studies film, the more past favourites will either get better or get worse. It happens to every film student. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the reality. The only way to know what works and what doesn’t work is to revisit these films. Matilda will always have a place in my heart. I won’t rank it amongst my favourite films, but I know I can fall back on it when I want to feel young again. It’s a work I can bond with my children one day. I do think that trying to feel connected to films you just don’t identify with on any capacity is harmful, though. Some films are better left as the memories I have of when I once loved them. It’s a gamble I’m willing to take, since revisiting them is the only way I’ll know for sure if I still like them or not.

It’s like Orpheus trying not to look back at Eurydice. Do I try watching Pocahontas knowing that it’s a critically and audience-wise divided Disney work that may or may not sit well with me now? Or, do I let it be, knowing that enough of my childhood films have become tainted by my over-analytical-critical mind that not even nostalgia goggles can shield? In my mind, Pocahontas is still that film that six year old me adored, and my siblings and I had the plushes, PC games and books to prove it. Do I allow that to exist as memories? Do I take the leap of faith and see if it’s a childhood favourite that I can still derive my youthfulness from?

In a way, this sounds completely overly complicated. I used to not understand how someone could love a film that wasn’t very good, just because they grew up on them. I was a know-it-all undergrad, of course. I’ve come to realize that films serve many functions, as I stated before. Now, I’m almost envious. Sure, I have discovered many brilliant works from many countries, eras, styles, and conventions. However, I’ve lost the cinephile side of me that just kicked back, relaxed, and watched a film like a highlight reel of my youngest days. It occasionally comes back, with the odd film. I’ve grown envious of people who can watch these films and have a great time.

As a critic, we try not to let nostalgia get in the way almost permanently. As a guy who just wants to watch films, it’s a world I wouldn’t mind enjoying again, if my critical intuitions just didn’t keep getting in the way. If you watch childhood or teen-hood favourites, don’t let tainted badgers like myself get in the way; we’re only sour that we’ve lost that side of ourselves. If you want to discover more films outside of your comfort zones, don’t let nostalgia get in the way. Try to find that happy medium, because venturing forth down the road of cinematic scrutiny will eventually cut these films off from you for good (save for a few survivors). That’s the end of this melodramatic look at nostalgia.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.

Taking Off and Putting On Nostalgia Goggles