Growing up in any suburb, it gets boring– eventually you have to dig a little bit to find things to do that make life a little more interesting. Having spent a solid adolescence here digging for things to do, I sometimes feel like a pocket tourist guide for State College, with a little index of all of my town’s hidden gems. Delicious but overlooked restaurants, hikes besides Mt. Nittany, cool events offered by the library. I know what downtown festivals to avoid and which ones are worth catching, where to get free yoga classes and which parks are the best.

But since I’m a movie nut, my most prized gem of State College is the State Theatre’s Monday Movie Series. They show all kinds of films– a nice mix of indies from the last couple years and classics from decades ago. The best thing about their selection is that they’re all movies I otherwise wouldn’t have a chance to see on a big screen. I don’t mind watching movies on my laptop, or my family’s TV– it gets the job done, and I can enjoy a good movie no matter how I watch it– but there is something so exceptional and magical about watching a movie in a theater. And while State College has some great theaters, they’re expensive, and often leave something to be desired in terms of selection.

This movie series at the State Theatre is like a perfect antidote to the corporate, impersonal vibe of our bigger theaters. It’s small, located right downtown, and is actually a non-profit owned by the community. The fact that they typically only show one movie a week (and a unique one, at that) turns the viewing into much more of an event– it feels special to be there. Not very many people know (or care?) about the movie nights either, so the crowd is always relatively small. In these crowds, I always feel a strong sense of community. First, there is the feeling of closeness you get from experiencing a movie together– feeling the same emotions, laughing together and sometimes crying too. What I like most about it though, is how it feels like we’re all in on this secret of the treasure that is the Monday Movie Series– that we’ve all found and decided to support this special resource in our community.

I’ve been semi-regularly attending movies at the State Theatre for 2 or 3 years now, and I feel so lucky to have seen so many great films on the big screen. Movies like Ex Machina, Carol, Singing in the Rain, Amelie, Manchester by the Sea, and Mustang. Just this last Monday, I saw 20th Century Women, a movie from last year from director Mike Mills, which was such a treat. The lineup for the rest of the Fall looks great too, and I’ll be there every Monday I can be. If you’re interested, movies show at 7:30 and are just $4 with your Penn State ID. Here’s a list of upcoming movies I’m excited to see on the big screen (linked to their trailers):

10/9 The Salesman

10/16 Frances Ha (one of my favorite movies ever!)

11/6 Nocturnal Animals

11/20 The Sound of Music

12/11 Sing Street

You can find their full film program here.

Last week, I gushed about why I love soundtrack so much; this week I want to talk about some of my favorite examples of it. To narrow it down, I restricted myself to movies made after 2000, and (with one exception) used examples of non-diegetic music– music that the audience can recognize as being played outside of the story, not within it.

My first choice is one I actually talked about last week– the final scene in Sofia Coppola’s 2003 Lost in Translation.

This scene creates a really nice contrast with the opening of the movie: a montage of Bill Murray’s character Bob arriving in Tokyo, late at night. The neon signs and are hectic and overwhelming and in the dark you feel lost– it’s hard to get a bearing on what the city actually looks like. Now, at the end, Bob’s (and Charlotte’s) internal conflict has been solved and everything seems clear now: the city in the early evening light appears much more human and less intimidating. Jesus and the Mary Chain’s track “Just Like Honey” fleshes out the feelings in this scene perfectly. The lazy, dreamlike electric guitar is soothes the audience, but isn’t stuck in time. The bass drum creates forward motion; Bob and Charlotte are moving into the future, and into better versions of themselves.

The Royal Tenenbaums, “These Days”

Along with Quentin Tarantino, Wes Anderson is probably one of the modern directors most praised for their consistently amazing use of soundtrack. It was difficult to pick a favorite moment from all of his films, but I landed on a short but memorable scene from his third feature, The Royal Tenenbaums, set to Nico’s cover of “These Days.” This song, so filled with warmth and sadness and nostalgia is a perfect fit for the scene: a slow motion reunion of two characters with a history unknown to the audience. Both actors wear a poker-face, not giving any details about what the other could mean to them, but Nico’s crooning tells us all we need to know about the deep affection and sadness between these two.

Ex Machina, “Get Down Saturday Night”

Though diegetic, this soundtrack moment is too good for me to exclude. Up until this point, the film has been scored by quiet, ambient music designed to blend into the background but build tension at the same time. By the time this clip plays, Caleb and the audience have almost completely lost trust in his employer, Nathan, and the situation has begun to feel dangerous. Then out comes this incongruous, overwhelming dance scene set to Oliver Cheatham’s upbeat disco tune “Get Down Saturday Night.” This scene turns all expectation for the movie on its head. No one watching this film expects the sinister tech mogul to execute (amazingly, by the way) a disco routine with his maid. Like Caleb, the audience is left feeling shocked and almost horrified– along with a million other things. Every time I watch it, my mind scatters trying to figure out which way to feel: scared, uncomfortable, confused, nervous, amused? This overwhelming emotional dissonance snaps the viewer to attention. With this soundtrack selection, Garland doesn’t tell the audience how to feel: he challenges them to decide.

Soundtrack is one of my favorite tools of cinema. The first CD’s I ever owned for myself were soundtracks to movies I loved– sweet and silly ones like The Parent Trap, Freaky Friday, and Ella Enchanted. I played those CD’s in my room on repeat, watching the movies in my head just by listening to the music. Once associated with a scene in a movie, the songs became the story to me. It’s likely that I could go ten years without seeing those movies and still be able to tell you what happens on screen as each song plays.

I think the fact that movie soundtracks were my first foray into independent music-listening has heavily influenced the way I interact with music now. Music became an accessory to my life not because I had a passion for music itself, but because of its role in movies and storytelling. Listening to a good song on the bus that matched with my mood could make a tedious day of middle school suddenly seem like something worth watching in a movie. A walk to the grocery store with the right tune could feel like the start of a quest. A sugary pop song transformed an afternoon of shopping into a fantasy makeover montage. My relationships with my friends were never dramatic, but with the right angsty song (this one was popular with my sixth-grade self) I could enter a world where I felt alone and misunderstood and I would revel in those (fake?) emotions just for the sake of feeling like a character on screen.

These listening habits carried over through high school and into present day. (I’d like to think they now manifest themselves in a much cooler, less self-obsessed way, but the fact that I’m writing this is a clue I would be wrong.) As I started paying closer attention to movies and the music they use, these fantasy soundtrack worlds I enter have become more specific. Listening to songs, all I care about is where they would belong in an imaginary movie. My friends and I will show each other songs and say specific things like “this song is walking down the street after you dump your boyfriend” or “this song is an amusement park montage” or “this song is eating turkey subs with the windows down on a road trip.”

I project a lot less now (no more pretend angst) and instead use the music of my favorite movie moments process the actual happenings in my life. Now I look for understanding and guidance by placing myself within the world of the movie, within a specific moment. Though the literal context of a scene will rarely mirror my situation, it’s not difficult to find emotional resonance and feel connected.

For instance, one of my favorite movie moments is this scene from Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation. (Spoiler alert?) Though I’ve never had a profound, three-day friendship with a stranger in a foreign city, I know what it’s like feel grateful for something that was temporary, to be sad and happy at the same time, and to believe that something is going to be okay. And those are the moments that I listen to Just Like Honey.

Putting myself in these movie moments with my favorite characters and favorite stories is therapeutic. It helps me to process the way I’m feeling. It makes me feel known and grounded.

In conception, this blog post was going to be a list reflecting on some of my favorite soundtrack moments of this century. I got a little carried away with my introduction, so the actual list is going to have to wait for next time. Stay tuned y’all.