I’ve seen no movies. I do not know that movie quote, I cannot name that actor, I do not know the difference between an Emmy and an Oscar. I had made peace with this fact of my life.
But recently, I’ve grown worried that Letterboxd is trying to kill me.
It started with an X-Men movie marathon. My roommate is firstly a film major and secondly determined to make me see more movies, to arm me with my Top Four favorite movies: the film bro equivalent of your zodiac sign, enneagram number, or Myers Briggs personality type.
“I’m not even that much of a film bro,” my roommate would often say. (Top Four: “Little Miss Sunshine,” “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse,” “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” “Knives Out.”)
Cue: a four-hour long info dump about Wolverine followed by 14 X-Men movies. Across five nights, I consumed some of the greatest and worst pieces of cinema in superhero history. And my roommate demanded I log them all on Letterboxd to immortalize the achievement.
So into the app I went. Greeted by six to twelve movie posters. Popular films, what everyone’s watching. What I’m not watching. I heard a gravelly voice rise from behind the posters. Oh, you haven’t seen “Marty Supreme” yet? What a loser. The latest Rian Johnson? Do you know who that is? The new “Avatar”? You’re not a real fan unless you’ve seen the extended edition on Blu-Ray.
I ignored the voice, pushing my thumb to the green plus button 14 times to log every X-Men movie.
There I was, 14 X-Men movies, but an otherwise blank profile. So I spruced it up! A photo of me appalled while watching the worst moment in season 3 of “Stranger Things.” A bio: “I’ve seen no movies.” My top four, decided with great deliberation: “How to Train Your Dragon 2,” “Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves,” “Flushed Away,” “The Incredibles.”
I reordered the movie posters meticulously. Then the voice rose again from the profile edit screen. “Wah wah wah, I have no taste!” Ugh, do you know who directed “Kill Bill”? Can you even spell his name?
Shut up, voice in the app! I closed the Google tab for Quitting Taronimo. I went back to Letterboxd and stared at my lonesome profile.
Right, this is a social platform. I needed friends. On the app! Friends on the app! I have friends in real life. Leave me alone.
Roommate to the rescue: “Go to my following page and add anyone you recognize.”
The film major friends of a film major. Hopefully, they knew who I was when they saw the friend request and 14 logged X-Men movies. Why are they on this app? they might have asked. Don’t they know what happens to Letterboxd posers who don’t know who directed “Reservoir Dogs”?
They must have added me back to watch my demise.
But it was my opportunity to get caught up with the kids. Is this how you use Letterboxd? I checked out “new from friends” to see what they were watching.
All I saw was movie poster after movie poster after movie poster. “Bugonia.” “Superbad.” “The Substance.” Then an ad! Too poor for premium, are you? the voice whined. I scrolled on. “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” “Terrifier 3.” All of them watched “Sons of Steel” together. Without me. They laughed at me. I thought Tim Allen was Nick Cage in “Galaxy Quest.” I fell asleep during “Die Hard.” I can’t spell Quilt Tarimo’s name. I’m not one of them. “The Menu.”
Wait. I’ve seen that one. It has Anya Taylor-Joy! From X-Men! And Nicholas Hoult! From X-Men! Okay, I only ever saw the first hour of “The Menu,” but I’ll log it anyway! I clicked on the movie poster, and I saw my roommate’s friend’s review. I clicked on the poster again, and I saw the movie’s information page. Click, click, click, click, click. How do I mark a movie as watched? How many buttons must I click?
I began to see it was a test. A trial, for not having seen the whole movie, for not understanding its “thesis” or whatever. Complete this captcha. Provide a blood sample. Escape the labyrinth pursued by the minotaur. Sort these seeds from ash. Pay the bridge troll’s toll. Win rochambeau against the hundred-handed Hecatoncheires. Name three Quarter Talerico movies.
I reopened my tab for Quirky Toronto. “Inglorious Bastards,” “Pulp Fiction,” “Django Unchained,” it said.
I returned to Letterboxd. My laptop clock read midnight. As I typed in each Quarantine Talenti movie, a fur-covered three-fingered hand reached through the screen and grabbed my throat. A furby? Or some gremlin-looking creature?
No cheating! it screamed. What does a production designer do? How do you identify the act structure of a film? What’s a logline?
As I lost consciousness, I thought of how they’ll tell my tale: death by E.T.
I’m from “Gremlins” (1984), you fucking loser.
Amber Corkey is a WRD grad student at DePaul. Their creative work entails character-driven fantasy short stories and reflective nonfiction.