Why Amoeba Records and the Academy Museum reduced a film geek like me to tears

As a film enthusiast who has spent countless hours immersed in the rich tapestry of cinema, I wholeheartedly resonate with this heartfelt narrative. The struggle to find visibility for cinematic gems that don’t fit the narrow mold of streaming platforms is a battle many of us have fought.

During my second evening in Los Angeles, I found myself irresistibly drawn to Amoeba Records. Whilst others were engrossed in the seemingly endless rows of records, I headed straight towards the back of the store. Here, a treasure trove of DVDs and Blu-Rays waited patiently. Amongst them, I couldn’t help but grin with delight at all the merchandise available for purchase. An authentic hardcover edition of Star Wars: The Clone Wars – The Complete First Season, complete with a booklet, stood proudly on a shelf dedicated to Star Wars media. Another display showcased works by directors such as Sean Baker and Mario Brava. Rare, obscure B-movies in 4K Blu-Ray format, just as intended by Roger Corman and William Castle, were scattered throughout the store.

In a surprising turn of events, I found myself deeply touched by the extensive collection presented, which seems rare nowadays with fewer stores prioritizing physical media over digital options. While Best Buy and Target have abandoned Blu-Rays, Amoeba Records remains a beacon of hope. The sight of various cinematic forms united in one space left me strangely emotional, but I couldn’t quite explain why I felt this way at the time. It wasn’t until my visit to the Academy Museum the next day that I realized what had stirred such feelings within me.

The Academy Museum of Cinematic Arts debuted in September 2021, serving as a tribute to cinema as an artistic medium. Managed by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (the body behind the Oscars), this multi-story temple of film already seemed intriguing. Yet, I wasn’t fully prepared for the profound emotional response I experienced upon encountering the initial exhibit in this museum. Situated in a secluded room on the same level as the entrance, visitors are invited to step into a dimly lit room. Inside, you can experience, on an enormous screen, a heartfelt tribute to different periods of cinematic history. Snippets from diverse films spanning a particular decade or year play simultaneously in various areas of the screen, with one snippet broadcasting its sound.

For me, a movie enthusiast who frequently revisits the 90th Academy Awards montage, this exhibit was perfectly tailored to my interests. It wasn’t hard to understand that it would tug at my heartstrings. But what took me by surprise was the impact of seeing movies like “Happy Together”, “Titanic”, and “Beau Travail” together on one screen. Despite their distinct differences, they were all united here. This juxtaposition beautifully showcased the diverse wonders of cinema. What particularly moved me was a clip from “Miss Juneteenth”, which was released in June 2020 but didn’t get a theater release due to the tumultuous year. It could have easily been overlooked, but here it is, kicking off the joyous beginning of the Academy Museum, with Channing Godfrey Peoples’ directorial work and Nicole Beharie’s performance being highlighted.

As I wandered through the halls of the Academy Museum, a wave of feelings washed over me at different turns. Eyes welled up as I watched old Oscar acceptance speeches, felt the proximity of costumes from films like “The Favourite” and “The Man With the Iron Fists,” and marveled at tributes to artists such as Agnes Varda. The sheer scale of cinema on display was truly breathtaking – who would have thought that Lucy Liu’s famous outfit from “The Man with the Iron Fists” could be found here? From practical Porg puppets to showcasing Pedro Almodovar’s works, the museum offered a broad spectrum of cinematic love that was hard not to appreciate.

As I sat taking in the last display at the Museum, that’s when it struck me what I had been feeling. This display was somewhat similar to my beloved 90th Academy Awards montage. It featured a trio of screens sprawled across a massive wall, each screen showing a hodgepodge of clips. “Batman Begins”, “A.I.: Artificial Intelligence”, and “Wings” were among them. Suddenly, as tears fell, I realized this display was challenging the way films are packaged today. The diversity here stands in stark contrast to modern film presentations as “content”.

Today, films are primarily accessed as small preview images on platforms like Apple TV+, Disney+, and Netflix. Executives boast about new movies being just “content”. They design business strategies that disregard independent cinema owners who question if they can show movies like “Glass Onion” or “CODA”. Streaming services are accumulating film libraries based on algorithms intended to provide you with more of the same content repeatedly. The aim here isn’t variety, but rather filling you up to your satisfaction.

The term “accessibility” is often met with resistance, as streamers tend to guard their content with paywalls, holding onto their titles dearly. Unfortunately, movies like Spike Lee’s Da 5 Bloods, Todd Haynes’ 2023 classic May/December, and Garrett Bradley’s 2020 masterpiece Time are not readily available for purchase or rental. In fact, these movies can only be viewed if one is willing to part with more money, typically belonging to Jeff Bezos.

In today’s world, the insatiable appetite of streaming giants has made it more challenging than ever for timeless films such as “Shirkers”, “Crip Camp”, and “Dick Johnson is Dead” to gain recognition. On the other hand, you can easily purchase “Bucky Larson: Born to be a Star” on Blu-Ray at this moment, but not “Crip Camp”. This situation seems absurd. Furthermore, it’s worth noting that streamers tend to dislike films produced before 1985, labeling them as “boring”. The preservation of classic cinema is often overlooked and undervalued, requiring constant advocacy to prevent executives like David Zaslav from dismantling channels dedicated to such cinema, like Turner Classic Movies.

In contrast, Amoeba Records’ film section embraces a diverse range of cinematic styles. Here, various filmmaking techniques coexist harmoniously. From the quirky humor of “Frankenhooker” to the profound depth of “Daughters of the Dust” and the poetic beauty of “Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans”, you can explore the vast expanse of cinema. This realization hit me strongly at the Academy Museum, where I was reminded of the incredible versatility of filmmaking. The museum’s exhibits, encompassing works like “Boyz n’ the Hood”, “The Godfather”, and various expressions of science fiction, serve as a testament to the numerous ways cinema can captivate us.

Streaming algorithm selectiveness has no place here. You do not get to choose or cultivate what kind of movie montage you witness. It’s all such an exciting subversion of dangerous modern cinema norms limiting options for consumers. The Academy Museum could certainly do even more in recognizing all corners of cinema (I noticed a dearth of various strains of Indian cinema recognized in various montages). Still, there’s something enthralling about watching montages in making room for both Blade Runner 2049 and Night of the Kings. Can you imagine those titles occupying a Netflix homepage?

On a more intimate level, walking through this movie museum stirs something profound within me, as if it validates my affection for films. As a child immersed in the world of cinema outside of my family, I often faced dismissal from adults who considered my passion mere trivia. Over the years, I’ve grappled with feelings of embarrassment and inadequacy for cherishing this art form.

At the Academy Museum, the displays resonate with me deeply, indicating that there are others who share my passion for cinema. It seems as though someone else treasures every aspect of filmmaking too. There are people out there who become emotional over movie montages just like me. This medium, with its ability to transform into countless forms, holds meaning beyond what I initially thought. Perhaps it’s not so insignificant after all? The tributes to filmmakers like Varda and works such as The Thief and the Cobbler make me feel less isolated and remind me of why I adore this art form in the first place. It is indeed a beautiful, praiseworthy, and thought-provoking medium that deserves appreciation and exhibition.

Whenever I step out of my apartment, I adorn my wrists with a set of friendship bracelets. Some of them carry movie-inspired messages, such as “Todd Haynes”, “Isabel Sandoval”, or “I <3 Titane”. The Academy Museum seemed like a five-story embodiment of those bracelets, overflowing with fervor and breadth for all things cinematic. Alongside the diverse selection at Amoeba Records, it was refreshing to take a break from the algorithm-driven contemporary art scene. Movies can take on countless forms, with memorable lines ranging from “pimps don’t commit suicide” to “what if this is the best version of me?” The potential of this medium is boundless, and it’s all too easy to forget that sometimes. Visiting those Los Angeles spots served as a heartening reminder of the power and emotional resonance of great films.

2024-09-12 19:15

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