Eleven Screenings of 'The Godfather' and Counting: In Defense of the Rewatch
I've seen The Godfather eleven times. I know this because I keep a running tally in the notes app on my phone, right next to my grocery list and a reminder to call my dentist. Some people track their steps. I track my trips to the Corleone family compound.
And every time I mention this to somebody, I get the same look. You know the one. Half pity, half disappointment, like I told them I eat cereal for dinner. Which, for the record, I sometimes do.
But here's my confession for the day: I don't feel even a little bit bad about it.
The Tyranny of the New
We've all been sold this idea that the only respectable way to watch movies is to watch new movies. Open your phone and you'll find forty listicles telling you the 27 films you absolutely must see before the month ends. Your streaming service has a whole row dedicated to what's "new and hot," and heaven help you if you let it sit unwatched.
It's exhausting. And frankly, it's a scam.
Nobody hands you a gold star for watching something once. Film Twitter doesn't send a representative to your house to verify you've consumed enough fresh content this quarter. The whole thing is a treadmill, and I got off it around the time I realized I was watching mediocre stuff out of obligation while my all-time favorites collected dust on the shelf.
So I made a decision. If a movie is good enough to love, it's good enough to see again. And again. And yes, an eleventh time.
What a Rewatch Actually Gives You
Here's what the rewatch haters don't get: you're not watching the same movie. You're different. The film is fixed; you are not.
The first time I saw The Godfather, I was a young man who thought Michael Corleone was cool. I'm not proud of it, but there it is. Watch it now, at my age, and I see a guy destroying his own soul one "just business" at a time. Same frames. Same Nino Rota score. Completely different experience, because I brought thirty extra years of living to the couch.
That's the secret nobody tells you. A great film is a mirror, and mirrors show something new every time you look.
My Personal Hall of Repeat Offenders
Since we're being honest today, here's the shortlist of titles I've worn smooth from handling:
The Godfather (11 viewings). Obviously. Every rewatch, I catch something new — a background performance, a line delivery I'd somehow missed. It's the closest thing I have to a annual physical exam for my own taste.
Jaws (lost count around nine). The best two-thirds of a movie ever made about waiting for a shark. I watch it every summer like it's a law. Fourth of July weekend, you know where I am.
The Big Lebowski (eight, maybe nine). This movie gets funnier the more life has ground me down. The Dude abides, and so do I, apparently.
Groundhog Day (at least seven). A comedy about repeating the same day over and over, which is either ironic or a cry for help. I haven't decided.
Goodfellas (six). Yes, I have a type. No, I will not be taking questions.
The Comfort Argument
Look, I get the appeal of novelty. Nothing beats that first-time jolt when a movie surprises you. But novelty is a sugar rush, and comfort is a home-cooked meal. There are nights when I want to be challenged, and there are nights when I want to know exactly what happens and love it anyway.
You know what that's called? It's called knowing yourself. I don't pick up a new hobby every Tuesday. I don't remodel the kitchen every spring. Some things in life earn their permanent spot, and pretending otherwise is just marketing doing its job.
So No, I'm Not Sorry
Somewhere out there is a critic who thinks my eleventh viewing of The Godfather should've been spent on some acclaimed new drama. Maybe that critic is right. But that new drama won't know me. It won't greet me like an old friend or show me who I've become since the last time we talked.
The rewatch isn't a failure to keep up. It's a decision to actually enjoy the thing we all claim to love. Pop the corn. Dim the lights. Start from the wedding scene.
I've got a twelfth viewing coming, and I'm not sorry one bit.
