Horror movies have been around since the very beginning of cinema.  From F.W. Murnau’s classic vampire flick Nosferatu (1922) to Universal Studio’s monster movies like Dracula (1931) and Frankenstein (1931), audiences have made watching scary films a long standing tradition.  And, like most other genres, horror has grown and evolved with the times, satisfying the changing tastes of it’s audiences.  In the 50’s, we saw the rise of the Sci-fi monster movies and in the 60’s and 70’s, “schlock” horror began to become popular, thanks to relaxed restraints over acceptable on-screen violence.  It is a genre that has more or less stayed strong in every decade and is much more adaptable than any other genre of film.  But, in recent years, I have noticed that there has been a severe drop off in horror movies that actually leave a mark.  It seems that today, studios are more interested in quantity over quality and its a trend that is having a negative effect on the genre as a whole.  My belief is that studios are using the horror genre as a way to generate a quick influx of cash, knowing that there is a built in audience of people who watch horror movies no matter what it is.  That’s why you see so many horror films quickly drop off after their opening weekend.  There seems to be the belief nowadays that you can pass off something as a horror movie if it has one or two big scares; but the reality is that the best horror films don’t always rely on things that make us jump out of our seats.

What makes a great Horror movie is the use of atmosphere.  This has been the case since the very beginning; back when cinema was still silent.  F.W. Murnau’s silent masterpiece Nosferatu shows exactly how atmosphere can be used to signify terror.  In the movie, we see how simple staging and effective use of shadows can be used to terrifying effect.  The vampire Count Orlok, played by actor Max Schreck, is able to strike at his victims using just his shadow, an image in the film that is made simply with the movie’s use of lighting, but still done with chilling effectiveness.  Early Hollywood horror films likewise made great use of atmosphere.  If you look at a movie like Dracula, there is actually very little on-screen violence present.  Instead, the film presents a feeling of dread through the gloomy atmosphere of the vampire’s castle.  Thanks to that, and Bela Lugosi’s iconic performance, you don’t need to see the bloodletting of Dracula’s victims in order to be scared.  This has helped to give these movies lasting power over so many years.  It’s amazing that movies made in the early days of cinema can still be scary, given all the limitations they had.  And given all the bad things we’ve seen happen to movie vampires in recent years (I’m looking at you Twilight), I’m glad that Lugosi’s version of the Count still can create a chill.

Understandably, the horror genre has had to grow and evolve with the times in order to survive, but for many years there was still an emphasis on atmosphere at play.  The more rebellious era of the 70’s allowed for more use of onscreen violence, and while many filmmakers perhaps went a little overboard in this period, there were a few that actually made an impact.  Dario Argento created films that were not only gory but also artistically staged like The Cat of Nine Tales (1971), Deep Red (1975) and the very twisted Suspiria (1977), which showed off how atmosphere could still be used to enhance the gore on film.  Director George A. Romero likewise used atmosphere effectively in a sub-genre of horror that he helped create; the zombie flick.  Despite the fact that these directors were given more leeway to do what they wanted, what made their early work so effective was in how they showed restraint.  You can show a lot more in horror movies nowadays, but sometimes what remains unseen becomes the scariest element, and that’s why films of this era managed to be effective.  The filmmakers knew when to be shocking and when to show restraint, based on what the horror movies that inspired them had done in the past.  But, as generations of filmmakers become more desensitized to what can be allowed in a horror movie, that sense of restraint also goes away.

The problem that I see in most modern horror movies today is that there is no self-restraint left in them.  For the most part, the filmmakers chose to throw atmosphere out the window in favor of “jump scares.”  A “jump scare” is when something suddenly pops onto screen out of nowhere in an attempt to make the audience scream and jump all at the same time, usually accompanied with a loud music cue to maximize effect.  A “jump scare” can work, when it is used sparingly, but too many films today are overusing it, which diminishes it’s effectiveness over time.  One of the best examples of a jump scare is actually in a film that you would consider more of a thriller than a horror movie; Jaws (1975).  The scene in question is when scientist Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) is investigating a shark attack on a fishing boat at night.  While examining the hole in the bottom of the boat, a severed head pops out suddenly, creating a genuine scare for both him and the audience.  This scene is effective because it is unexpected and is built up thanks to the atmosphere of the moment.  Also, it is one of the few times that director Steven Spielberg actually uses a “jump scare” in the movie.  The  fewer times it happens, the more effective it is, and unfortunately that’s a technique that few horror filmmakers today understand.  When you use a technique too many times, it becomes tiresome and the audiences become more aware of it.  Unfortunately, too many filmmakers get carried away and have too much fun creating these kinds of “jump scares.”

One other problem I have noticed with modern horror films is the over-abundance of CGI.  While computer effects can sometimes be helpful in a horror film, like making it look like a character has lost a limp or manipulating an environment in a way that defies physics, there is a larger problem of effects work making moments that should be scary less so.  The problem is that most computer effects look too artificial.  Of course, when you see puppetry and prosthetic work used in horror movies, they are far from realistic too, but those effects are at least are physical in nature and actors can still interact with them.  When you see a horror movie use CGI too much, you just know that the actors are reacting to nothing else but a green screen effect.  A recent movie like Mama (2013), loses all effective chills when you see the digital apparition in it appear.  This is more apparent in smaller budget horror films, which you can kinda excuse due to limitations in budgets.  But when a bigger budget horror film, like the upcoming Carrie remake, looks so pathetic because of the overdone CGI effects, then you begin to see how digital imagery has a negative effect on the genre.  Even a good horror film like World War Z suffered from some unnecessary CGI work, which had the unfortunate affect of making the zombies less frightening.  If ever there was a place where I wish horror filmmakers would show more restraint, it would be here.

One other problem that I see plaguing the horror genre is the lack of original ideas.  Today we are seeing an overabundance of the same kinds of ideas used over and over again.  Seriously, how many haunted house movies do we need?  Not only that, there are far too many remakes and sequels in the horror genre.  Do we really need seven Saw movies and four Paranormal Activities?  Horror sequels have become so absurdly common, that we have ridiculous titles like The Last Exorcism 2 and A Haunting in Connecticut 2: Ghosts of Georgia appear as a result; and yes that second title is real.  I see it as commerce taking precedence over artistic vision, and the fact that film studios are more likely to invest in something already established than in something new.  Every now and then, you do see a movie with a fresh idea come about, like Paranormal Activity in 2007, but even that was driven into ground with too many follow ups with diminishing returns.

Remakes are also a negative factor in horror movies today.  What you usually see in these horror remakes are films that get rid of all the atmosphere from the originals in favor of upping the gore factor and the scary bits; just because filmmakers have the ability to do now what could only be implied at in the past.  The problem with this is that it completely misses the point of what made the original films so effective in the first place.  A particular example is the terrible remake of John Carpenter’s The Thing, which loses all of the substance of the original in favor of just making the film as gory as possible.  Gore does not equal scary.  Filmmakers like Carpenter knew that, and that’s why they used gore sparingly.  The sad thing is that remakes try to one up these originals because the tools today are so much better; but it fails miserably every time.

Thankfully, despite the attempts by Hollywood to try to push the Horror genre into more exploitative territories, the classics still hold up all these years later.  Even a 90 year old film like Nosferatu still gives audiences chills to this day.  And I think that it all comes down to atmosphere.  It’s like how people tell ghost stories around a campfire.  Would you rather listen to the story that builds up to a chilling ending that’ll leave you with nightmares, or would you rather listen to someone’s story that gets caught up in the gory details and then just ends without a payoff?  That’s what’s being lost in horror movies today.  The classics knew how to build their stories around scary ideas, and not just the imagery.  The Twilight Zone became popular on television because it presented us with unsettling scenarios that made us anxious the longer we thought about them.  Not once did we see the monster on the wing of a plane attack William Shatner in the famous episode; it was the frightening possibilities that could have come about that made the episode scary and also Shatner’s paranoia in his performance.  The best horror movies have staying power because they knew that their audiences had the imaginations capable of filling in the gory details that remained unseen.

So, is horror a dying genre?  Of course not.  There is an abundance of terrible horror movies out there, but that’s only because the market has been flooded.  Every now and then, a fresh new idea comes along and not only makes an impact, but it will also go on to influence the genre as a whole.  One thing that I would like to see an end to in the horror genre is the over-abundance of terrible remakes.  Just looking at the new Carrie remake trailer makes me laugh, because it’s taking everything that worked in the original and makes it less subtle.  I believe it strongly; CGI, and shaky-cam for that matter, are making horror films less frightening.  They are showy techniques that ruin atmosphere needed for a good horror movie and I wish more filmmakers would show more restraint.  I’ve stayed away from horror films generally because of this, and the horror movies that I gravitate towards are ones that have been around a long time.  If you’re wondering which one I consider my favorite, it would be Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining (1980).  Talk about a film that makes the most out of it’s atmosphere.  I hope that other horror filmmakers take a look at what makes the classics as scary as they are, and learn the effectiveness of restraint.  You’d be surprised how much a little scare can go when it’s built up well enough.

If there was ever a place where the word “bad” could be considered a relative term, it would be in the movies.  Over the course of film history, we have seen Hollywood and the film industry at large put out an astounding variety of movies, and not all of them have hit their targets the way that the filmmakers had intended.  If you produce hundreds of products within a given year, the odds are that some, if not most of them are not going to be good.  But like most things, one man’s trash can be another man’s treasure, and that has led to a fascinating occurrence in the film community.  Some “bad movies” have actually earned a fanbase all on their own, finding an audience in some unexpected ways.  This has been the case with films that have built a reputation over time, but nowadays, we are actually seeing intentionally bad movies become phenomenally successful upon their initial releases, as was the case with the premiere of Sharknado on the SyFy Channel earlier this summer.  How and why “bad movies” find their audiences is still a mystery to many, but what I love about this trend is that it shakes up our preconceived notions about the film industry, and makes us reconsider what we find entertaining in the first place.

So, what is it about these “bad” movies that makes them so entertaining to us?  The truth is that there is no “one thing” that defines the success behind these films, and usually it’s all relative to each individual movie.  Sometimes it’s the incompetency behind the making of the film that we find so entertaining.  Sometimes it’s because the film is so out-of-date that it becomes hilarious.  Sometimes it’s the lack of self-awareness and ego behind the director’s vision.  And sometimes it’s the filmmakers just not giving a damn what other people think and just going all out with their material. The formula has no consistency, and yet we see many film’s fall into these many different categories of “bad” films.  Usually the best of the these are the ones that fulfill the criteria of a “bad” movie so perfectly, that it becomes memorable and re-watchable.  Only in rare cases does this work intentionally, and usually the best “bad” films arise from an unexpected accident.

Some of the best “bad’ movies have come out of turmoil, which makes their existence all the more fascinating.  Usually this is attributed to movies that were made despite the fact that their filmmakers didn’t know what they were doing.  One of the most notorious examples of this was the 1966 cult classic, Manos: The Hands of Fate.  Manos was the creation of Hal Warren, a fertilizer salesman from El Paso, Texas who made a bet with a screenwriter friend of his that he could make his own movie without any help from Hollywood.  Making good on his wager, Mr. Warren wrote and directed this schlocky horror film centered around a cult leader named the Master (pictured above) who holds a family hostage in his compound, which is watched over by a lecherous caretaker named Torgo.  Hal Warren shot the film with a camera that could only shot 30 seconds of film at a time with no recorded sound, and most of the movie was shot at night with set lighting attracting moths in almost every shot.  The finished film is a convoluted mess and it ended any shot for Hal Warren to pursue a career in filmmaking.  However, many years later, the film was rediscovered by the producers of the show Mystery Science Theater, who then featured it on their show and created a renewed interest in this odd little film that no one outside of Texas knew about.  Manos became a hit afterwards because people were fascinated by how silly this poorly made film was, something that the MST crew had a hand in.  Since then, Manos has earned a reputation for being among the worst films ever made, and that in itself has made it a favorite for people who gravitate towards that.

While Manos represents an example of a disaster turned into a success, there are other bad films that have become fan favorites just out of being incredibly dated.  These movies usually make up the majority of what people consider good “bad” films, since most films are a product of their times.  Whether people are entertained by these because of their “out-of-date” nature or merely because of shear nostalgia, there’s no denying that time has a way of changing how we view these kinds of movies.  The 1950’s has become an era that many film fans find to be full of some good trash, mainly due to the rise of the B-movie in this period of time.  Some cult hits like The Blob (1958), Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954), Attack of the 50 ft. Woman (1958), and The Thing from Another World (1951) all rode the surge of a sci-fi craze of the post-war years, and while everything from these films, like the visual effects and the acting, feels antiquated today, they still have a camp value that makes them watchable all these years later.  The “cheese factor” plays a big role in keeping these films entertaining long after their relevance has diminished.  You can see this also in the beach party movies of the early 60’s, which are charming despite their paper-thin plots. The one other era that has produced it’s own distinctive set of dated films would be the 1980’s, with it’s collection of dated fantasy pictures and culturally infused fluff, like He-Man inspired Masters of the Universe (1987) or the E.T. wannabe Mac and Me (1988).  By all accounts, these films would have long been forgotten outside of their era, and yet they have lived on with audiences who still find something entertaining in them.

One of my favorite types of “bad” film is the kind that comes from a complete lack of control from either the director or the performer.  There have been some directors that have actually gained their reputation as an filmmaker by staying within the B-Movie community.  The most famous of these filmmakers has become Ed Wood Jr.; a person who some have claimed to be the worst director in history.  Ed Wood’s notable contributions to cinema have been the cross-dressing comedy Glen or Glenda (1953), the Bela Lugosi-starring Bride of the Monster (1955), and what many consider the director’s “masterpiece,” Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959).  Whether or not Ed Wood was earnest in his vision or whether he made his film’s intentionally bad is still debated, but there is no doubt that Plan 9 is a special kind of “bad;” a movie so aggressively cheesy, that it is hard not to be entertained by it.

Other filmmakers who were more aware of their B-Movie status have still gained an honored reputation with audiences.  Roger Corman, a man who prided himself in making movies both fast and cheap, has actually become influential to a who generation of blockbuster filmmakers.  His Little Shop of Horrors (1962) even inspired a Broadway musical.  Also, sometimes a way out there performance can often make a “bad” movie worth watching.  I would argue that this is the case with most Nicolas Cage films, like Vampire’s Kiss (1988) or Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance (2012).  One film that has become a cult classic mainly due to one “out-of-control” performance was 1981’s Mommie Dearest, where Faye Dunaway chews the scenery in a good way as a way over-the-top Joan Crawford.  Usually a lack of restraint by the filmmakers can sink a film, but these movies actually prove that it’s not always the case.

While many films usually become a cult hit over time, there a select few that attempt to achieve cult status right away by being intentionally bad.  Like I stated earlier, Sharknado became an instant hit when it premiered on cable, and having seen the film myself, it’s clear that the filmmakers behind it knew what kind of movie they were making.  Rarely do you see filmmakers try to aim for that intentionally “bad” gimmick for their movies, because obviously if audiences don’t accept it, then you’ve just made a bad movie.  Director Tim Burton tried to create a homage to B-Movie sci-fi with his 1996 film Mars Attacks, but the film was an odd blend of tounge-in-cheek mockery with earnest storytelling, and the end result doesn’t achieve what it set out to do.

But, one example of an intentionally bad film that did click with audiences is the campy musical The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975); a movie that pays homage to campy horror and sci-fi, while mixing in 50’s rock music and trans-sexual humor.  Rocky Horror tries so hard to be so bad, you would think that the whole thing would be a mess; and yet, it remains entertaining and it has one of the most dedicated fanbases in  the world.  I think the reason why a movie like Rocky Horror works is because of the fact that it just doesn’t care what people will think about it.  It is what it is, and that’s why people gravitate to it.  It’s a one of a kind.  A movie like Mars Attacks didn’t click as a throwback, because it didn’t have that same kind of assured belief in itself, and that shows why it is hard to make a bad movie feel good.

When it comes down to it, “bad” movies are usually determined by the tastes of the people who watch them.  We have made some of these “bad” movies our favorites because of the value we find in their chessy-ness, or by our fascination with how badly it gets things wrong.  For a movie to be all around bad, it has to lack any kind of entertainment value in the end.  For those who are wondering, the worst movie that I have ever seen, and one I see no redeeming value in, is the 1996 film Space Jam.  To me, it was the worst experience I have ever had watching a movie, mainly because I saw it as a blatant self-serving production piece for a sports super star (Michael Jordan) and it ruined three things on film that I love dearly: NIKE, Looney Tunes, and Bill Murray.  But, I do recognize that the film does have its fans, so in the end it all comes down to taste.  But, it is fascinating how our tastes leave room for something as poorly made as a Manos or even the more recent Birdemic: Shock and Terror (2010), a movie that needs to be seen to be believed.  There is certainly value in seeing something that we find entertaining, and perhaps that is why these films live on the way they do.

This week, two very different biopics open in theaters, both ambitious but at the same time controversial.  What we have are Ashton Kutcher’s Jobs and Lee Daniel’s:The Butler (you can thank uptight Warner Bros. for the title of the latter film.)  Both are attempting to tell the stories of extraordinary men in extraordinary eras, while at the same time delving into what made these people who they are.  But what I find interesting is the different kinds of receptions that these two movies are receiving.  Lee Daniel’s The Butler is being praised by both audiences and critics (it’s receiving a 73% rating on Rottentomatoes.com at the time of writing this article) while Kutcher’s Jobs is almost universally panned.  One would argue that it has to do with who’s making the movies and who is been cast in the roles, but it also stems from larger lessons that we’ve learned about the difficult task of adapting true-life histories onto film.  The historical drama has been a staple of film-making from the very beginning of cinema.  Today, a historical film is almost always held to a higher standard by the movie-going public, and so it must play by different rules than other kinds of movies.  Often it comes down to how accurately a film adheres to historical events, but that’s not always an indicator of a drama’s success.  Sometimes, it may work to a film’s advantage to take some liberties with history.

The Butler and Jobs make up what is the most common form of historical drama; the biopic.  In this case the subjects are White House butler Cecil Gaines, portrayed by Oscar-winner Forrest Whittaker, and visionary Apple Computers co-founder Steve Jobs.  Both are men who hold extraordinary places in history, but in very different ways.  Despite the differences in the subjects, it is the history that surrounds them that plays the biggest part of the story-telling.  Filmmakers love biopics because it allows them to teach a history lesson while at the same time creating a character study of their subject.  Usually the best biopics center around great historical figures, but not always.  One of the most beloved biopics of all time is Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull (1980), which tells the story of a washed-up heavyweight boxer who was all but forgotten by the public. Scorsese was attracted to this little known story of boxer Jake LaMotta, and in it he saw a worthwhile cautionary tale that he could bring to the big screen.  The common man can be the subject of an epic adventure if his life’s story is compelling enough.  But there are challenges in making a biopic work within a film narrative.

Case in point, how much of the person’s life story do you tell.  This can be the most problematic aspect of adapting a true story to the big screen.  Some filmmakers, when given the task of creating a biopic of a historical figure, will try to present someone’s entire life in a film; from cradle to grave. This sometimes works, like Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Last Emporer (1987), which flashbacks to it’s protagonist’s childhood years frequently throughout the narrative.  Other times, it works best just to focus on one moment in a person’s life and use that as the focus of understanding who they were.  My all-time favorite film, Lawrence of Arabia (1962) accomplishes that feat perfectly by depicting the years of Major T.E. Lawrence’s life when he helped lead the Arab revolts against the Turks in World War I.  The entire 3 1/2 hours of the film never deviates from this period in time, except for a funeral prologue at the beginning, and that is because the film is not about how Lawrence became who he was, but rather about what he accomplished during these formidable years in his life.  How a film focuses on it’s subject is based around what the filmmakers wants the audience to learn.  Sometimes this can be a problem if the filmmaker doesn’t know what to focus on.  One example of this is Richard Attenborough’s Chaplin (1992), which makes the mistake of trying to cram too much of it’s subject’s life into one film.  The movie feels too rushed and unfocused and that hurts any chance the movie has with understanding the personality of Charlie Chaplin, despite actor Robert Downey Jr.’s best efforts.  It’s something that must be considered all the time before any biopic is put into production.

Sometimes there are great historical dramas that depict an event without ever centering on any specific person.  These are often called historical mosaics.  Often times, this is where fiction and non-fiction can mingle together effectively without drawing the ire of historical nitpicking.  It’s where you’ll find history used as a backdrop to an original story-line, with fictional characters participating in a real life event; sometimes even encountering a historical figure in the process.  Mostly, these films will depict a singular event using a fictional person as a sort of eyewitness that the audience can identify with.  You see this in films like Ben-Hur (1959), where the fictional Jewish prince lives and bears witness to the life and times of Jesus Christ.  More recently, a film like Titanic (1997) brought the disaster to believable life by having a tragic love story centered around it.  Having the characters in these movies be right in the thick of historical events is the best way to convey the event’s significance to an audience, because it adds the human connection into the moment.  Titanic and Ben-Hur focus on singular events, but this principle can also be true about a film like Forrest Gump (1994) as well, which moves from one historical touchstone to another.  Forrest Gump’s premise may be far-fetched and the history a little romanticized, but it does succeed in teaching us about the era, because it does come from that first-hand experience.  It’s that perspective that separates a historical drama from a documentary, because it helps to ground the imagination behind the fictional elements into our own lives and experiences.

Though most filmmakers strive to be as historically accurate as they can be, almost all of them have to make compromises to make a film work for the big screen.  Often, a story needs to trim much of the historical elements and even, in some cases, take the extraordinary step of rewriting history. You see this a lot when characters are created specifically for a film as a means of tying the narrative together; either by creating an amalgam of many different people into one person, or by just inventing a fictional person out of nowhere.  This was the case in Steven Spielberg’s Catch Me if You Can (2002), which followed the extraordinary life of Frank Abagnale Jr. (played by Leonardo DiCaprio), a notorious con-artist.  In the film, Abagnale takes on many different identities, but is always on the run from a persistent FBI agent named Carl Hanratty (Tom Hanks). Once finally caught, Abagnale is reformed with the help of Hanratty and the film’s epilogue includes the statement that, “Frank and Carl remain friends to this day.”  This epilogue had to be meant as a joke by the filmmakers, because even though Frank Abagnale is a real person, Carl Hanratty is not. He’s an entirely fictional character created as a foil for the main protagonist.  It’s not uncommon to see this in most films, since filmmakers need to take some liberties to move a story forward and fill in some gaps.  Other films do the risky job of depicting real history and completely changing much of it in service of the story.   Mel Gibson’s Braveheart takes so many historical liberties that it almost turns the story of Scottish icon William Wallace into a fairy-tale; but the end result is so entertaining, you can sometimes forgive the filmmakers for making the changes they did.

But while making a few changes is a good thing, there is a fine line where it can be a disservice to a film.  It all comes down to tone.  Braveheart gets away with more because it’s subject is so larger than life, that it makes sense to embellish the history a bit to make it more legend than fact.  Other films run the risk of either being too irreverent to be taken seriously or too bogged down in the details to be entertaining.  Ridley Scott crosses that line quite often with his historical epics, and while he comes out on the right side occasionally (Gladiator and Black Hawk Down) he also comes up with the opposite just as many times (Robin Hood, 1492: Conquest of Paradise, Kingdom of Heaven theatrical cut).  Part of Scott’s uneven record is due to his trademark style, which services some films fine, but feel out of place with others.  Tone also is set with the casting of actors, and while some feel remarkably appropriate for their time periods (Daniel Day-Lewis in Lincoln for example) others will feel too modern or awkwardly out-of-place (Colin Farrell in Alexander).  Because historical films are expensive to make, compromises on style and casting are understandable for making a film work, but it can also do a disservice to the story and shed away any accountability in the history behind it.  While stylizing history can sometimes work (Zack Snyder’s 300), there are also cinematic styles that will feel totally wrong for a film.  Does the shaky camera work, over-saturated color timing and CGI enhancements of Pearl Harbor (2001) make you learn any more about the history of the event?  Doubtful.

So, with Lee Daniel’s The Butler and Jobs, we find two historical biopics that are being received in very different ways.  I believe The Butler has the advantage because we don’t know that much about the life that Mr. Cecil Gaines lived.  What the film offers is a look at history from a perspective that most audiences haven’t seen before, which helps to shed some new light on an already well covered time period.  With Jobs, it has the disadvantage of showing the life of a person that we already know everything about, and as a result adds nothing new to the table.  Both films are certainly Oscar-bait, as most historical films are, but The Butler at least took on more risks in its subject matter, which appears to have paid off in the end.  Jobs just comes off as another failed passion project.  What it shows is that successful historical dramas find ways to be both educational and entertaining; and on occasion, inspiring.  That’s what helps to make history feel alive for us, the audience.  It’s the closest thing we have to time machines that help be an eyewitness to our own history.  And when it’s a good story, it stays with us for the rest of our lives.