When I was a little girl, I could watch movies for hours on end.
I would lie underneath my blanket fort and get lost in The Neverending Story, The Princess Bride, and The Goonies—movies that brought the hero on a fantastic adventure far beyond the restrictive world they knew.
My life felt small and limited, and not always bright or easy. Movies gave me an escape from that, and a sense of freedom within the expansiveness of my imagination.
As I got older, I gravitated toward mysteries and psychological thrillers—such as Identity, Memento, and Black Swan—movies that bring you deep into the psyche of complex minds, tempting you to try to understand what compels some people to do what they do.
I consumed these movies voraciously, addicted to the heart-pumping, adrenaline-racing journey into madness. I was always looking to pierce the sheen of formality that prevents most of us from disclosing the darkest parts of ourselves. Shining a light on the darkness somehow gave me peace.
And I’ve always been a sucker for inspirational films. Watching George Bailey grapple with his fears and finally grasp his worth, seeing Andy Dufresne hold onto hope against seemingly insurmountable odds and fight his way to freedom, following Will Hunting as he h…