‘How long is this movie’ is a question I oft ask my cinema companion that day if I do not already possess this knowledge. My reaction is always the same; if the film is under two hours it gets a sigh of relief; if the film is between two hours and two and a half hours it gets a slight huff of annoyance and if the film gets anywhere near three hours a full body reaction occurs, starting with eye-rolling, the reaction continues, sending my arms flailing in an exasperated fashion and ending with a nervous movement of the feet, as I mentally prepare myself what I am about to endure. However, it is strange that these reactions are elicited as described, because some of my all-time favourite movies, or movies that I regard in exceptionally high esteem, get pretty close or even perhaps exceed the three-hour mark. So, why is it that my body seems to have such a strong reaction to movies of any length.
Worry
There is a slight nervousness before watching a film for the first time, brought about by the unknown quality of the film in one’s subjective view. This worry is heightened by two things. One is very well documented; it is, of course, the expectation that one has of the movie as one takes their seat in the cinema. I believe that another cause of this worry is the length of the film. If a film is an hour and a half and it is lacking in the quality department, it is annoying, obviously, but it is only an hour and a half. Contrastingly, a three-hour film that is not up to the particular standards of the one watching is twice as bad, in a manner. One has to sit there for a whole three hours, feeling every muscle in one’s body start to go numb from the lack of movement all the while being shown a disastrous piece of cinema on a large screen (or perhaps an average screen if one is watching a movie for the first time at home) with others (or alone, if at home), many of whom may be suffering through the same torturous experience you are. Thus, when enquiring as to the length of the film a panic and worry sets in if the answer is anywhere near three hours, a dread in the case of the film in question suffering from a malnourishment of quality. To make this point I will invoke Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice (BvS) and Suicide Squad. Both of these films are bad. In fact, in some ways, BvS is a better film, or at least I can list more elements of the film that I liked, however, I believe Suicide Squad to be a better film simply because one does not have to suffer anywhere near as long. In fact, one has to suffer an entire hour less in “Suicide Squad” than one does in BvS. This goes to summarise the possible negative effects of extended length in movies – it prolongs the suffering.
Bagginess
An extended run-time can not only make an already poor movie, poorer so, it can also take a good movie and turn it into a mediocre one at best. ‘Baggy’ is the adjective used to describe an overlong movie by many a movie critic but particularly by movie critic and walking thesaurus Mark Kermode, who delivers the scorching criticism with a cold ruthlessness – “good, but baggy”. This brutal put down has been attributed to several movies by Kermode but, all ironic melodrama aside, he has a point. There are some good films that one sits through, enjoying the film, but fully aware that it is beginning to drag a little bit. This was the case for me last year, who felt this during Avengers: Infinity War (please don’t crucify me), particularly during the second viewing, which I suppose is to be expected. The second act (roughly speaking) felt to me to drag on a bit, leaving me not exactly bored but eager for things to progress along at a slightly faster rate so as to avoid the aforementioned ‘B’ word. Therefore, the film became ‘baggy’. Although, in the case of Avengers, many other aspects of the film made up for this problem. With Django Unchained a similar thing occurred but towards the end this time. Once Tarantino makes his obligatory, self-indulgent cameo I found the rest of the film to be extraneous to requirements. It simply was not necessary. This frustrated me a lot, considering how much I was enjoying the film before this, but the length eventually just wore me down and led me down a path of frustration (although not one of boredom which I guess is a good thing). Thus, a good film, possibly even an excellent film was brought down to a decent film purely due to its length, which I judged to be longer than necessary and consequently, the film became, in my eyes, worse.
Epic
I have hitherto noted two elements of my dislike of lengthy movies, now it is time to go into depth about the positive element of long movies. That is; the epic. When I come out of a long movie that was good, that did not feel baggy or otherwise worse due to its length, I feel an emotion that is hard to fully explain. It feels as if I have just gone on an exhilarating journey or an epic odyssey (pardon the pun). There is a sense of awe at the brilliance of the film, only heightened by the length as well as a sense of accomplishment at myself. There are few things in the world of cinema that can illicit as good a feeling as a long movie that was good, that felt epic. Truly epic. The feeling one gets when the end credits for There Will Be Blood roll up and Brahms’ Violin Concerto in D Major greets the ears. As one fully digests the final shot of Daniel Plainview sitting on the bowling alley floor, having defeated his evangelical adversary, the only feeling that one feels, at least that I felt, was that of awe at the epic nature of the film. That is really the only way that I can describe this particular feeling – awe – but specifically at the epic nature of the film that is a consequence of the length of the feature. This feeling I do not get when watching an equally good film that is not lengthy, say Requiem for a Dream, a film that I still think is brilliant but due to the length I do not have quite the same feeling (I have a different feeling entirely in the case of Requiem for a Dream) Thus, length can lead to love, via awe, a certain, unique and peculiar form of awe.
I will always react as I earlier described to the running time of films, but length in movies is not without merit if the film itself merits it. A rule that Kermode has, to bring him up again, is that if a film is longer than 2001: A Space Odyssey, a film that goes from the dawn of man to the evolution of a new species, then there had better be a darn good reason for it being so. A wary attitude ought to be taken when dealing with long films, they can certainly have their problems, or the length exacerbates already existing problems. Simultaneously, however, a long film that is brilliant can become more brilliant due to its length. Despite this, I still believe that an attempt should be made by a director to keep a film as short as is possible without detracting from the narrative, character or aesthetic qualities of the film, assuming that there are those things. Long movies can be both brilliant and torturous, yet like all things in art, it really is down to the beholder.
CineLiterate 