What Makes A Movie Good?

"A good movie makes the audience feel like they've journeyed with the characters."

While in film school, I was forced to watch a lot of different movies from a lot of different times, places, and schools of thought. One day we’d be watching Gone With The Wind and analyzing its massive impact on studio filmmaking, and the next we’d be shown Sholay and wonder how it’s possible to fit so many genres into a single film (and how it was in theaters for five straight years). Sometimes we’d listen to lectures about film theory that tackled everything from history and theme to character arcs and the use of music, and the next day we’d be on set learning about lighting setups, camera settings, or how to direct actors well.

Film school isn’t like any other type of program out there. Unlike agriculture, engineering, or criminal justice majors, we weren’t always learning hard facts about our areas of study. Rather, we were tasked with creatively explaining or performing what we’ve learned about technique and story in order to make it our own. We learned that Nolan is just as much a talented filmmaker as Spielberg, and though they may use different techniques and tackle vastly different themes, the end results are still major motion pictures.

The longer you study film, or watch movies for that matter, the more obvious it becomes that there’s no “one way” of doing things. There may be only one way to screw in a lightbulb, or only one combination of numbers that opens a safe, but there are countless different ways you could make a movie. Give 10 directors all the same script, and you’ll walk away with 10 different films.

Art, unlike most things, is largely subjective. There are paintings that could move one person to tears while being completely ignored by another. Some movies invoke a deep response in one person, while the other walked away bored. It’s true that there’s no real “right” or “wrong” response to art, and, not unlike how a person might enjoy one sort of food and loathe another, it shouldn’t be world-ending if someone didn’t like the movie you showed them last weekend (unless it’s The Lord of the Rings, then they’re just wrong).

Personal taste is one thing. Everyone has it, and everyone knows what they like and what they don’t. Personal taste means that you can enjoy all of the latest Fast & Furious movies even though they’re sort of trash.¹ Of course, personal taste also means that you can dislike films that are technically proficient, films that have won Academy Awards and been considered some of the greatest of all time.

Personally, I don’t really like The Godfather. I understand the visual mastery of it, and I agree that the performances are outstanding, but I much prefer screenwriter Mario Puzzo’s work on Superman and Superman II to this gangster picture. Likewise, director Francis Ford Coppola’s Dracula or Tucker: The Man and His Dream are just as effective representations of his directorial ability and vision as The Godfather trilogy is. But that’s just my two cents…

This brings me to today’s big question: what makes a movie good?

Is it the brilliant composition of each subsequent shot? Or maybe some well-placed music during the film’s most powerful moment? Maybe it’s the performances or the cohesive vision or how compelling the script is. Or maybe it’s a combination of all these things, and then some. There’s no doubt that this is all true, and all important in the long run.

But is that all that makes a movie or a show good?

Earlier this week, I ran across a quote from author N.D. Wilson and it’s stuck with me like glue ever since. Wilson is the author of a few different fantasy series such as 100 Cupboards, Ashtown Burials, and Outlaws of Time, and he also co-hosts the Stories Are Soulfood podcast. That title alone is enough to make obvious the way Wilson engages with books, movies, and television.

“A movie can be absolutely magnificent technically—and be a piece of filth. Yeah, the cinematography’s great, the acting’s fantastic, the directing’s wonderful, the editor did an amazing job. So what? It can still be the worst movie of the year. Technical value is one of the big copouts used by high school and college kids to watch things they shouldn’t.” - N.D. Wilson

I couldn’t tell you how many movies or shows I’ve watched that have made my skin crawl. I couldn’t tell you how often I’ve sat on the couch, at my laptop, or in a theater and been uncomfortable with what I’m seeing, even if it’s a moment that only lasts a blink of an eye. What’s worse, is for a long stretch there in college, I became so desensitized to those feelings that I rarely cared at all what I was consuming.

Wilson’s thoughts on what makes a film good are compelling, but more than that they’re challenging and even convicting. He later expands on his case, explaining that a well-made movie or show can be just like a painting made by an artist of something we should’ve never been looking at in the first place. “The fact that they’re very talented makes the painting more dangerous,” Wilson argues. “It doesn’t redeem the painting, it makes it more hostile to you.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not arguing that anything with violence or suggestive themes needs to be thrown out. That’s both unrealistic and a white-washed portrayal of our world. It’s disingenuous. Rather, it makes me think back and question the ideas, themes, and concepts behind the movies I chose to watch or rewatch now.

For example, Logan is a pretty violent film, it’s also one of my favorites of the last decade. It tells the story of a broken superhero who lives in an uber-violent world. Of course, he contributes to that violence and kills more people during the 2+ hour runtime than anybody. But that’s sort of the point. The film is careful not to glorify the violence but shows its negative impact.

The point isn’t that Wolverine is cool because he has knives that come out of his hands or that his death count is something to be celebrated (it isn’t), the point is that the violence he’s inflicted on others comes back to haunt him in the end. Each life he takes matters, and the very claws he uses to take human lives are the ones that pierce his own heart in the third act. With his dying words, he tries to convince his daughter to choose a different path than he did.

That’s a good movie, with genuinely good and compelling themes.

Contrast that with many of the John Wick sequels. Now, I’ll admit, I really like the first John Wick, and the violence within the context of the first film makes a lot of sense. After the death of his wife and then his dog, the old John Wick comes out and takes his revenge, becoming something his wife wouldn’t recognize. He has to fight to be the man he was for her, and the film plays on the tension between those ideas. But, when it comes to John Wick - Chapter 2 and beyond, it’s clear that the filmmakers are only interested in well-choreographed action sequences that produce as much blood as possible.

The difference between these two films, and others like them, is so subtle it’s almost indistinguishable, but it’s so important to recognize. In the John Wick sequels, there is no point to the endless massacres, it’s just senseless violence for the sake of entertainment. The film is no longer trying to say anything meaningful.² In contrast, Logan introduces us to a man who has forsaken his role as a hero, only to be forced to find that within himself once again as he pays the ultimate price for his life choices.

This is just one example, but there are others. I cannot stand Martin Scorcese’s Taxi Driver because I can’t get over how gross I feel watching it. I feel very similarly about Joker, largely because I’m sort of sick of stories that rewrite the villain to make them more sympathetic. Sympathetic villains aren’t bad, but blurring the lines between good and evil is. When we blur those lines, we don’t actually change what is good or what is evil, we just begin to accept evil as something that can be good.

The Denzel Washington version of The Equalizer tells a very similar story to Taxi Driver but does so in a way that makes us feel like our hero is actually that: a hero. Washington’s character is likewise a former agent of the US government (just like De Niro in Taxi Driver), but he’s much more aware of his mental state and uses his abilities to demand justice. The film doesn’t highlight the nature of prostitution or drug abuse, but it also doesn’t ignore those realities.

The Equalizer, like Logan, is good because it reinforces basic truths about the world and shows that there is something better. Wilson also expresses this idea, but he goes even a step further when he asks “Does God like it?”

“What does God think? Does He love it? Does He hate it?… Is the film telling the truth? Is it in alignment with the way God tells stories? Does it love what He loves? Does it damn what He damns? Is it the kind of narrative that actually pleases him? If it is, then it should please you as well. If it isn’t, good luck trying to explain to Him why you’re developing tastes outside of His.” - N.D. Wilson

This isn’t to say that everything has to feel like a Hallmark movie. That would be boring and it wouldn’t be a true reflection of our world. The Bible is full of hard, rough, violent, and even promiscuous characters. David, Solomon, Hosea, Jonah, Ruth, Esther, Jeremiah, John the Baptist, Sarah, Cain, Peter, Judas… I could go on forever, but you get the picture.

If anything is true about the Bible and history, it’s that God tells stories about pretty messed up people in messed up circumstances. Cleaning everything up to look nice isn’t the answer, nor would it be honest.

This is what most Christian movies tend to do, and it’s why they’re ultimately unsuccessful and unmotivating. While the themes and ideas might be good, the execution—those same technical elements that we praise in The Godfather or Taxi Driver—is missing entirely.

No, God’s Not Dead isn’t the type of film I’m advocating for, nor would I ever suggest that technique and skill are unimportant to filmmaking. A good movie doesn’t exist without good direction, acting, music, editing, or writing, even if the concepts themselves are good. Filmmaking skill and technique are almost as important as content and theme. Almost.

As I said before, personal taste is real. We like what we like, and there are probably clear reasons as to why. But when our tastes gravitate towards what Wilson calls “filth,” we should begin to question why it is that we like those things. Why do we enjoy stories that oversexualize women? Why do we watch uber-violent stories that are only that way for shock value? Why do we celebrate human depravity?

In a lot of ways, our favorite movies and shows reveal a lot about who we are. They can reveal what we truly believe about our world, our life, ourselves, and even God. The things we consume and continue to consume, in turn, influence who we are, and who we are becoming. It’s the whole “you are what you eat” mantra that our parents told us as kids so that we’d eat our greens. Of course, like anything, there’s some truth in even that.

Please don’t misunderstand, I’m not trying to tell you what you can and can’t watch, that’s entirely up to you. Sometimes we watch things not knowing what they are, but when we do we’re offered a choice: turn it off or keep watching. We turned off HBO’s Fahrenheit 451 adaptation the other night because it was a terrible adaptation of the book. Instead, we opted to watch Yours, Mine, and Ours, which was a bit more our speed that evening.

Stories matter, they’re “soul food” as N.D. Wilson puts it, and they inform our perceptions of the world. The Wizard of Oz is still beloved today not just because it’s a Hollywood classic that changed the way movies were made (though that is true), but because it’s a classic story about good versus evil wrapped in a mantra that proudly pronounces the truth that “there’s no place like home.”

Find good stories and make them your home, then share them with those you love. Stories are wonderful ways to look at the world, teach important lessons, and feel seen or heard. Just make sure you’re not only watching the bad ones.

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This Week’s Petty Picks

Chapel Street is a novel by Sean Paul Murphy dubbed “The Conjuring meets Hereditary.” It’s certainly that, but it’s much more. It’s a story about generational curses and facing your demons that is well worth the time. If you like Frank Peretti’s This Present Darkness, you’ll probably like this too.

Murphy has stated that the book is somewhat autobiographical, and has written up a detailed analysis of the real-world events that inspired the book. Chapel Street would make a great movie, and would no doubt have audiences talking for years. I read this one in only three days, and I’m a slow reader.

Talk about a good movie, Fallen is an underrated 1998 noir thriller about Det. John Hobbes (Denzel Washington) as he uncovers a hidden secret behind a string of killings that he thought he’d put a stop to. It obviously capitalized on Se7en’s success, but it deviates significantly. You won’t see the end coming.

Interestingly, Fallen is a bit like Chapel Street in some respects, though vastly different in others. If you’re a Denzel fan like I am, don’t sleep on this one! Once you’ve seen it, come back here and read a piece I did for Collider on the film titled “Denzel Washington’s ‘Fallen’ and the Terrifying Nature of Evil.”

The LA in me is showing now, but In-N-Out is where it’s at, and honestly, I’m craving one of their milkshakes right now. There’s no doubt in my mind that In-N-Out has the best fast-food burger, and it rarely ever makes me sick. Not only that, but their shakes are to die for. (Their prices don’t hurt either.)

Most people say they don’t like In-N-Out’s fries, but I think those are a bit underrated also. Not only are they the perfect crispy/salty ratio, but they never feel overly greasy compared to those from McDonald’s or Burger King. Hopefully, In-N-Out will expand into the northwest by the time we move!

1. Believe it or not, I’d actually argue that The Fast & The Furious, Fast & Furious, Fast Five, and Fast & Furious 6 are pretty good movies, at least from the technical vantage point. The first film especially is a genuinely compelling movie, while the large majority of the sequels are, well, uninspired cash cows.

2. This is the exact issue I take with that “church scene” from the end of the first Kingsman movie. Of course, there are plenty of other examples like this too. Mad Max: Fury Road could be seen as a senseless action movie, but it’s actually about the liberation of women (and people in general) from powers who would otherwise oppress them. There are some gross things within the movie, no doubt, but they’re meant to show the depravity of this clan of warriors.