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With the ongoing pipeline of films, shows, and vertical content showering down on us like a never-ending atmospheric river, I find myself asking: Does anyone ever actually catch every raindrop? The metaphor might be a little absurd, but as a native of Southern California, it resonates.
As a desert dweller, the concept of capturing and harnessing rainwater always fascinated me. We all know that water is such a precious and scarce resource, and I think the idea of its “free” abundance feels almost magical. During one powerful El Niño in the early 1990s, I recall gathering every bucket I could find and placing them strategically around my house and backyard—under porch awnings, in the middle of the yard, and even under my neighbor's gutters. I felt empowered! I was taking advantage of a fleeting resource, capitalizing on the gift.
But when the clouds cleared and I went to inspect my bounty, what I found was an immense amount of murky buckets filled with roof sediment, leaves, and other mysterious debris. That’s when I started to question my intention. What the hell am I going to do with all of this? And why was I trying so hard to catch everything?
Strangely enough, that familiar impulse has followed me into adulthood, now shaped by streaming culture. Although the content may not be free all the time or fall from the sky, the sheer volume of content is overwhelming. And if you are paying for a service, that urge to watch it all, to “stay current,” makes the stakes even higher. Lately, I must admit, the longer I try to keep up, the more I start to feel… disconnected. Burnt out. Like maybe it’s time to sit out the next storm.
The Pressure to Keep Up
The conversation about breaking free from subscription overload is not a new one. Cancel this, pause that, resubscribe when that new season rolls around so we can see what Baby Yoda's been up to (Grogu, I'm aware). What if that logistical dance is something more profound—something psychological?
Have you ever confessed to a family member, friend, or pet that you haven't seen the film or show they're talking about? That mix of surprise, judgment, maybe even pity? Sometimes that reaction excites you—hello, FOMO, have a seat. And in other cases, their reaction can sour your experience even before you take a bite and make you avoid it altogether. (Looking at you, overly enthusiastic book lady in Myrtle Beach.)
Look, we all know the feeling: Ugh, there’s too much good stuff. I get it. It’s a privilege, and yet it's paralyzing. And when that pressure builds, it sometimes pushes us not toward action, but toward retreat. Retreat from stories, from inspiration, from the thing that brought us here in the first place: a love of the art form and a sense of community. And with more and more cinemas closing their doors, this is just about the last thing we need.
So, What’s the Alternative?
Sure, you can make a list and try to chip away at it. I’m a huge fan of lists, and they do work! I live by them. But lately, I’ve found more peace in pivoting. In turning to something that offers a little more intentionality, a little more depth, and a lot less noise. I’m talking about the classics.
A Break from the Algorithm
If you happen to be in Los Angeles, have no fear, a community of archival film exists! Why not purchase a ticket for a Classic flick at the New Beverly Cinema, or catch a 70mm roadshow at the Vista? Stuck on the other side of the 405? Well, the Aero Theatre or the Billy Wilder Theatre at The Hammer can satisfy this need, too.
Hey, what if I'm not based in LA? You're in Luck. TCM, Criterion Channel, Kanopy—they’re all streaming platforms technically, but their offerings feel different. They’re curated not by data scientists but by historians, critics, and filmmakers. They offer vaults of work that shaped the language we speak in our scripts and storyboards today.
Yes, Criterion sometimes highlights newer films (Anora, Flow), but if you dig deeper—say, into the silent films of Josef von Sternberg—you’ll not only time travel, but you’ll witness the architecture of modern cinema being built in real time. The fulfillment I get from watching those films is unmatched. And trust me—I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time looking.
Classics Aren’t (Always) Pretentious
I get teased constantly for my physical media collection. My partner jokes that it’s my “director starter pack.” Every time she finds a new Criterion Blu-ray in our mail. She's not wrong, and it does make me giggle. However, having a stack of DVDs and Blu-rays lets me unplug from the noise. And somehow, the lack of internet connection and data compression allows me not to think about it. It allows me to slow down.
And more importantly, it feeds my creative bucket.
When you stop sprinting through new releases, you start seeing things: like recurring visual grammar in Kurosawa, or archetypes in De Palma, emotional beats that quietly echo through Nora Ephron’s work. Having a safe place to gain that awareness has made me a better writer, a sharper director, and—though my DP may cringe—a little, a little more confident when it comes to knowing my lighting.
So, next time you feel the air shifting and can sense another content rolling in—pause. Don’t feel like you have to catch every raindrop. Dusk off a seat and visit with Billy Wilder, Barbara Stanwyck, or Pennebaker for starters.
No algorithm required.
Now, let me help you get started.
My Top Picks for July
TCM
‘80s Ladies Star of the Month (Tuesdays starting July 8)
Celebrating iconic 80's actresses like:
- Romancing the Stone (Kathleen Turner)
- 9 to 5 (Jane Fonda)
- Working Girl (Melanie Griffith)
- Protocol (Goldie Hawn)
Noir Alley & Mythology Nights
- This Side of the Law (July 5)
- Clash of the Titans (July 9)
- Oedipus Rex (July 23)
Spotlight on Directors & Stars
- The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald tribute – July 3)
- Tiger Shark (Barbara Stanwyck birthday – July 14)
- Apocalypse Now (Francis Ford Coppola spotlight – July 31)
Criterion Channel
Miami Neonoir
- Body Heat (1981)
- Miami Blues (1990)
- China Moon (1994)
- Out of Sight (1998)
- Bully (2001)
- Miami Vice (2006)
D.A. Pennebaker’s Eye on the Century
Includes Don’t Look Back, Monterey Pop, The War Room, Original Cast Album: “Company”, and more.
The Craft of Acting: Brian Cox
- Bad Day at Black Rock (1955)
- In Celebration (1975)
- Manhunter (1986)
- The Escapist (2008)
