When Did Movies Forget How to Just Be Movies?

 

I don't know if it's just me getting older, but I swear watching a new movie feels like attending a three-hour meeting where someone forgot there was supposed to be entertainment.

Remember when you'd grab popcorn, sit down, and watch a simple adventure? A hero, a villain, maybe a car chase, and a happy ending. Now I'm twenty minutes in wondering why the squirrel is giving relationship advice, the raccoon has a better vocabulary than my high school English teacher, and the bear is apparently just misunderstood.

Somewhere along the way, Hollywood decided every animal needed a voice actor.

Don't get me wrong—they're funny on the screen. But in real life? That adorable raccoon isn't looking for a hug. He's looking through your garbage while quietly considering whether your fingers are worth investigating.

The same goes for bears, moose, coyotes, geese, and about every other wild animal. They're not evil—they're just wild. Most of the time they'll give you plenty of warning before things go sideways. Growling, hissing, puffing up, stomping the ground, flattening their ears, or giving you that look that says, "You've got about five seconds to rethink your life choices."

Ignoring those warning signs and then acting surprised when things go wrong is like walking onto a construction site wearing flip-flops and wondering why everyone is yelling at you.

Then there's the mystery of modern movie plots.

Every other movie seems to need a serial killer, a world-ending disaster, twelve plot twists, and enough emotional backstories to fill a family tree. Halfway through, I can't even remember who the bad guy is because everyone has switched sides three times already.

And sometimes it feels like filmmakers are working through a checklist instead of asking one simple question: "Is this making the story better?" Great characters come in all kinds of backgrounds and relationships. When they naturally fit the story, nobody notices because they're invested in the characters. But when any element feels like it's was added just to satisfy a checklist, audiences notice—and not in a good way.

Maybe that's why so many of us still rewatch movies from twenty or thirty years ago. They weren't perfect, but they knew what they wanted to be. They entertained first and lectured later... if they lectured at all.

Call me old-fashioned, but I'd rather watch a movie where the biggest surprise is the hero saving the day instead of discovering the talking beaver has been secretly running the government.

Until then, I'll keep watching the classics, respecting wild animals from a safe distance, and remembering one important life lesson:

If the goose starts hissing, that's not Disney dialogue.

That's your cue to leave.

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