This is the story of how I rediscovered my two very favorite movies. As my first two blu-rays I got Fight Club and Goodfellas, uh duh, because I’m not retarded. I got this crazy, awesome TV. I’m finally in stead with young 20-something men or the paunchy mid-life crisis sect in terms of my electronics level and I wanted my two favorite movies to christen my new PS3. (I was a good girl this year.)

So along came Tyler Durden, restored, remastered, sparring whilst sweat slowly dripped off his glistening abs in glorious 1080i. It wasn’t my first night at Fight Club, but I came to fight; well after talking through the first 20 minutes about how incredible it looked, so much so that the movie had to be restarted, because I hadn’t watched it for seeing it. I know. I must’ve been a boy in a past life.

Every shot, every extra detail, every camera trick was so familiar, yet so new and plainly visible, my brain exploded with possibility. When I was a kid, I only ever saw The Wizard of Oz on a 12 inch TV, that is until we got one of those giant rear-projection monstrosities and a laser disc player, when I was in high school. When I saw it I was like “Holy shit?! That’s what this movie looks like?”

This was the same experience. I saw details of the Paper Street Soap Company I never noticed, because my TV was so terrible. Bottom line, get the blu-ray. It’s your turn to fight.

Next Goodfellas, what a treat! Marty at his best, and the filmmaking was the star. Every shot, every camera angle, pure pristine planned perfection.

I sat around most of my freshman year at NYU, in all black, smoking ditch weed from Washington Square Rastas, and arguing which was a better tracking shot Goodfellas or The Player. To be fair, I don’t have The Player yet on blu-ray, nor am I still smoking from the Rastas (it was mostly dirt anyway), but this was like watching God himself in cine-motion. Forgive my gushing, but that tracking shot was worth the price of the blu-ray alone. Details I’ve never seen; jokes I never noticed.

For the love of God, I mean, his father is wearing a patterned wife-beater when he smacks Henry in the beginning for not going to school “IN MONTHS! MONTHS!” I never could see that level of detail before on my tragic massive tube TV.

So, what have I learned from my two new blu-rays? That A) THEY’RE AWESOME! and B) They’re great movies. I can’t believe the level of detail that I was now able to see. It so heightened the tension that for the first time, I winced a little while Billy Batts got his beating to Atlantis. It was so real, it was like I was there. The gore was palpable and terrifying and I was in love again. I hit rock bottom and I was reborn, scarred and shipped off to egg noodle and ketchup obscurity. I, like Dorothy, was always home, and suddenly I could see how fantastic it is.

Dear Tyler and Henry, my heart still belongs to you. Now get into the blu-ray ring. No shirts, no shoes and the first guy to tap out, the fight’s over.

Holden Caulfield, the jail-bait Tyler Durden, and I didn’t meet until I was 20. He was just a stunted high school boy and I was a super-sophisticated, college girl. But it seemed wrong to completely dismiss him, without even so much as a text message hook-up, especially as my friends thought he was the sexiest literary character since Fabio.

So, my sophomore year, wearing a lot of black and feeling very grown-up, I succumbed to my friends’ peer pressure and finally read “Catcher.” And when I closed the book, Holden’s high school problems, as I predicted, seemed so beneath me. I simply couldn’t relate to his anguish. I was in a different place in my life. Because we met when I was 20 and he was still 13, Holden Caufield wasn’t power-ballading the anthem of my childhood, Holden was just a whiny little bitch who needed to grow up, go to college, drink some Jaeger. Jaeger, woooooo!

Then, last week, when my best friends staged a film, gunpoint, A&E style intervention, I wasn’t surprised. Apparently when my alien leaders dropped me here, they neglected to mention to watch Napoleon Dynamite. How I managed to avoid it, I can’t tell you. It wasn’t because I was a hater. I somehow just missed it, like “Catcher.” But according to my captors, I mean friends, not only was I going to watch this movie and love it because Napoleon Dynamite is the best movie I’ve never seen, it’s sorta like the best movie ever, gawd! We never got as far as the “or else.” Jeff VanVonderen got me to agree to watch the movie.

I want to be very clear about this “intervention.” It was less like an intervention and more like an on-going, harrowing, pitch-fork-wielding, water-boarding with homemade guacamole. Since “my friends” (I doubt if that’s even their real names) discovered this flaw in my cultural downloading over a year ago, every outing is “Give me your tots.” I would smile, nod, realizing I would’ve probably found it funny had I been in on their “oh-so-clever” inside joke. But they’re Evildoers. What do you expect? They water-board with homemade sangria. Evildoer Janelle, the ring leader, was more like “Please do borrow my copy and keep it for as long as you like. And here’s some leftovers wrapped in a tinfoil swan,” but whatever, you get the point. Evildoers, just the same.

Armed with was was purported to be the Citizen Kane of Indie Comedy, I gave it a watch. I can’t tell you I hated it, but I also can’t tell you I loved it and felt connected to it like they do. It was just okay. I laughed. There were funny moments, interesting characters, a world that was well-drawn and unique. It had many excellent qualities. So, I figured, maybe Napoleon Dynamite is one of those movies where the more you watch it, it starts to grow on you like the best kind of toe mold. So, I watched it three times more. I liked it less. It turns out, just like Holden, it’s just not my bag, man.

After about the first 15 minutes, I actually said out loud “What the hell am I watching?” And honestly I still don’t know. According to Jon, another of the band of Evildoers, for me to even bother to deconstruct is ridiculous because I’m missing the whole point. The whole point is that there is no point. That’s what makes it genius. It’s not about an A to B to C plot, but rather the small moments that strings everything together. But I disagree. Every good movie has a point, every good movie has a definable journey either for the protagonist or the whole arc, every good movie satisfies, and for me, Napoleon Dynamite left something to be desired.

A script is an upside down pyramid. Everything that comes after your first scene rests on the structure you’ve built below it. So, when I find myself watching a movie and I’m an hour in and I still couldn’t tell you what the movie is about, I start to question where is the narrative? A movie cannot solely rest on the laurels of clever lines or quirky moments and be counted as a successful creative endeavor. Well, at least not in my book.

Emotional growth, pathos, goals, motivation are the necessary components of a successful film and script, and for me Napoleon Dynamite had none of that. It was a lugubriously paced, meandering, low-energy romp through Valium Village. There were no road maps or street signs, just a never-ending prairie road that lead to more of the same Nowheresville quirkiness. At any given point, I couldn’t tell you if I was in Act One or Act Three because the protagonist’s goal hadn’t been properly established from the outset. And that’s just frustrating.

What Napoleon Dynamite did have going for it, were the awesome characters who were inventive, fresh, and outrageous. Each character was a gem in their own right. They were simply drawn, yet deceivingly complex and they were all surprising and a delight.

Way to rock the side pony, Deb! Nice low rider, Pedro! You keep training to be a cage fighter, Kip. It’s gonna happen. I believe with with Lafawnduh’s true, chat room love, anything is possible. Uncle Rico’s high school football dream “gerbil wheel” was understated yet honest. And those bits, those details, those special moments and minutiae really are all genius.

However, when the pieces are put together, on the boneless skeleton I felt was missing, it was hard for me to care when Deb and Napoleon danced to “Forever Young,” even though the song is still stuck in my head. Liking a character, or what they say, isn’t enough to carry me along. I need the structure of a satisfying story to fulfill me on every level.

One of my criteria for a “repeat offender” movie is that I have to enjoy the energy of the film. And for me, Napoleon Dynamite didn’t speak to me. I thought that while it had an energy, breakthrough characters and awesome set design reminiscent of David Byrne‘s True Stories, it lacked Byrne’s social commentary and heart. It felt like it suffered from 5 minute nonsensical Famiy Guy style cutaways.

Quirk with no substance behind it. For me it was cotton candy: sweet, delicious, and it instantly melts away, leaving you wanting something heartier. Napoleon was indeed a well-crafted, well-drawn character, and his sweet drawings of “Ligers, bread for their skill and magical powers” is totally rad by itself, but it’s not enough to propel a story forward. And for me there’s a breakdown there.

The Coalition of Evil BFF’s non-stop whipping me with lines from this movie, forcing me to like it before I ever saw the first frame might’ve accidentally soured me. I get you want me to vote for Pedro. I get it. Evildoer Jon and I had a call that went something like this: “You’re just a hater and you missed the whole point… This is the voice of my whole college life, you just don’t get it.” The call with Janelle went, “Friendship over.”

I recognize and appreciate Napoleon Dynamite for its fresh, bold characters, its clever moments, but maybe, like my aborted love affair with Holden Caulfield, I just missed connecting with it at the right time in my life. Maybe Evildoer Jon is right; maybe it’s isn’t about the story, it’s about the experience. So, I’m just gonna go “make myself a quesadilla,” and “just do what ever I feel like. Gawd!”

Well, Bob, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen Office Space, mostly because I’ve lost count. And another thing, Bob, I can’t recall a week since I bought the DVD where I didn’t watch it. It is to me as TPS reports were to Peter’s 8 bosses my only reason to live.

Not really, but I do really like the film. I like it because it’s simple and comforting, not necessarily because it’s outstanding. It’s mashed potatoes, it’s mac and cheese, it’s mind meatloaf. It’s plated up with a nice vegetable side. Everything works out for Peter as we hoped. He gets the girl, he gets a job where he’s finally happy, Lumbergh is presumably jobless and the evil Initech empire is reduced to so much a pile of soot. And Milton may not have received a piece of cake or been able to keep his stapler, but he had three hundred thousand of Initech’s dollars and a sunny Mexican beach on which to drink. It was a satisfactory resolution for all of those characters; a “happy ending.”

There are many choices when ending your script, and picking the right one is of paramount importance. In a comedy for example, you need to let the audience know that it’s all going to be okay for the main characters. At the end of a drama, the conflict has most likely been resolved, the emotions are still raw, and you want to capture that intense anguish without beating your audience over the head with a leg of lamb. You want just enough subtlety to tug at your heart, but enough nuance to remain sophisticated.

While, of course, some movies do still employ the classic happy ending, most films now go out of their way to choose simple, clean, quirky endings as a way to shine. It’s a writer’s last chance to send their audience out into the lobby, with a bigger and better smile on their face.

A happy ending, to me, is one in which the protagonist satisfactorily completes his journey and has demonstrated growth as a result. He participates in a conclusion that marks the character’s growth with a hint that his future is going to be okay; that we need not worry because this person whom we’ve become so invested in, will thrive in the next phase of his life.

Recently, I saw 500 Days of Summer. I generally hate romantic comedies. But in this case, I was charmed. I liked the notion of telling the story of “the girl before the girl.” Every man has had their heart broken and it is through that pain that they become the men we marry or couple with. I find the story of the woman that helped make my man the man he is, fascinating. To me, this was a wonderfully quirky ending. Tom moved on. He chose to live and thrive. And then, he meets the girl we’re lead to believe is “the girl.” Tom has a happy ending. A classically happy one? No. But a happy one nonetheless.

Before I saw Tootsie, I felt every movie should end with the hero and the heroine driving off together, into the sky, in a cherry red convertible like Grease.

Instead, the ending is this: Michael and Julie stand on a Manhattan sidewalk on a beautiful spring day. His female persona no longer. Julie asks to borrow Michael’s yellow Halston dress. Being cheeky, he refuses to lend it to her. And so he starts to walk down the street away from the camera and Julie follows protesting, and that’s it. They just keep on walking until they vanish into New York, the end credit music lulling us to the final fade out.

Oh what a revelation! You mean to tell me, endings didn’t have to be a magical, Disney-wedding, extravaganza, in 3-D, on ice in order to sell the simple idea of love? It seemed preposterous, yet also plausible.  It doesn’t have to be wrapped up in a nice neat  bow.

When Boogie Nights came out, I was a big fan right from the get go. I’ll never forget leaving the theater, with my mother. (Yes, it was sort of awkward.) We got into the biggest fight over the ending. I felt that it was a happy ending. Dirk was back together with Amber and Jack and Roller Girl and even though he was doing porn, it felt to me that Dirk had come “home.” He was a sad kid looking for parents and in a sick way, Amber and Jack filled that void. Roller Girl was like the sister he never had and while none of them were actually related, and they were all screwing each other on film, they were a support system who loved and cared for each other. These loners in the world, for them all to come together to be happy as a “family” seemed sweet, in an albeit creepy sort of way. That ending to me is both a happy and satisfying one and it is an excellent use of a non-traditional happy ending.

SPOILER ALERT! Fight Club, I would call that a happy ending too. Tyler became whole and he created an army and finally earned the respect his life so profoundly lacked. He got the girl, and his plan succeeded. That’s a happy ending. As those buildings fall down, Tyler takes Marla’s hand as the Pixies play and you just know, everything is going to be okay. How the hell it is? I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Chuck Palanhuik about that one. But for my money, that’s a happy ending.

Think about Shaun of the Dead, he gets the girl and his best pal, who’s really not that much worse for the wear even though he’s now a zombie. The Sound of Music, the Von Trapps might be on the run from the Nazis but they’re climbing every mountain together, headed for a better do-ray-mi-tomorrow. There Will Be Blood, when Daniel Plainview was done smashing Eli’s face in with a bowling pin, he was his happiest and he was done!

The Royal Tennenbaums ended with a funeral and a wedding but it was still a happy ending. It showed a family reunited, idiosyncrasies healed and lives put back on track. A Clockwork Orange totally has a non-traditional, happy ending. Alex is cured! What a brave new life is in store for Alex, filled with the old in-out, ultra-violence and Ludwig Van.

I always want a happy ending for my characters, even if the choices those characters have to make are hard ones. I want to know as a writer and as an audience member participating in another writer’s story that these people I have invested my time and my love into, are going on to better journeys that just haven’t yet been written. It gives me hope, even in their bittersweet parting and that satisfies me. That’s a happy ending.

So as you’re closing your film, think about subtlety, think about nuance. Reconceive a touch of the hand, a walk down the street, a long zoom out, whatever you choose to make your ending happy, make sure you make it fresh, twist it around and stand it on its head. It’s both stand out and delightful for your audience. Not every movie needs to end with a giant wedding cementing the characters’ fate, being clever and inventive is exciting. Sometimes, all you need is to show your characters finding a red stapler in the rubble of a once proud software company to perfectly articulate that “it’s all going to be okay.”