Bergman Can Wait
Fridays are special. At least they’ve always felt that way to me. When I was a 9-5 working stiff, Fridays were the entrée to the weekend, before Saturday shenanigans gave way to Sunday Scaries. But the vibe was set well before that, in an ancient era marked by tube socks, Tang, and peak Cold War anxiety.
For those who didn’t grow up in the early 80s, VCRs were luxury items—my family didn’t own one, but on Fridays we’d rent a machine along with a couple of movies. We’d stop for pizza on the way home, then hook up the magic contraption to the trusty cathode ray television in the living room and dim the lights.
The movie almost didn’t matter. What mattered was the ritual—the darkened room, the novelty of the pause and rewind buttons, the sense of freedom from obligations like homework or chores.
That feeling has never entirely left me. A Friday night movie isn’t just a film you watch on a Friday. It’s a sacred ceremony; an invitation to the fun and cheesy (like the pizza). A comfort, sure, but also a portal to whatever the weekend might become.
There’s a reason I bring this up. Apocrypha publishes Mondays and Fridays. End-of-week posts are a little looser and off-the-cuff—CaseyTime™ stuff: movies, music, whatever’s been rattling around. I thought I’d kick things off with a question. I have a few thoughts; I’d love to hear yours.
What makes a Friday night movie?
For me, a Friday night movie should be entertaining without being demanding. Thought-provoking is fine, but something you can show up a little tired to and still be carried along.
This rules out a lot of great cinema. Bergman is not for Friday night. Neither is anything with subtitles that require actual concentration, or a knotty plot that needs untangling. Those are Tuesday movies. Friday night is about unbuckling and doing easy.
I don’t watch a lot of comedies these days, because my kids are funnier than most screenwriters. But Friday is perfect for a good comedy, or even a not-so-good one. Genre pictures work well in general; for me it’s noir, horror, science fiction, even a certain kind of thriller, one with more atmosphere than plot mechanics.
Not because Friday night is necessarily lowbrow, but because genre usually makes it clear what kind of thing you’re looking at. That contract is itself a comfort. Of course, blended genres are fun, too. Some of my favorite flicks, Friday or otherwise, are genre hybrids—from Sunset Boulevard to Bugonia. Maybe I’ll do a little overview of my favorites next Friday.
In the meantime, here’s the question I’m putting to you: what are your Friday night movies?
Apocrypha is back Monday for a look at ”the dark side of IFS,” or at least the sensationalist media reports about it.
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Three Things I’m Listening To
SHEBAD, “INNER OPENINGS” (single) — this track is dope af, trust me.
The Messthetics and James Brandon Lewis, Deface the Currency — delicious and nutritious jazz-prog-fusion-psych from Fugazi’s rhythm section along with one of my favorite contemporary guitarists, Anthony Pirog, and blistering saxophonist Lewis.
Fabiano Do Nascimento & Vittor Santos Orquestra, Vila — An L.A.-based Brazilian guitarist, a killer arranger, and a trombonist walk into a recording studio. . . what comes out is lush, elegant, samba jazz that tickles the synapses while making your butt wiggle.