By Sarah Sluis
A lot of movies are set in New York City. Many of the people who read scripts, many of the people who write them, and a large number of people who decide what movies get made live in New York City. Or, if they're based in Los Angeles, they're familiar enough with NYC, fly there regularly, and rarely make contact with the
rather dismissively named flyover states (a nickname I think is funny, nonetheless). That means that a lot of people in the United States have to watch movies about a place they've never been to, or maybe saw on vacation once. I think this is a problem.
Having been one of those people myself (I didn't visit New York City until I was twenty, and no, I was not a country bumpkin), I can say that this geographical focus has two effects. One: It glamorizes New York City, the island of skyscrapers and young people with great jobs and fabulous friends. It made me want to live there. Movies are escapism, so why not set a movie in a place so convincingly fabulous? A few movies like this is fine, but when every movie seems like it's set in New York, it brings you to point number two: It's alienating. A good 80% of romantic comedies seem to be set in New York City, as are an array of other genres. After a while, it gets tiring. You want something that reflects your own area. Why else would Minneapolis be one of the highest-renting areas for the Renee Zellweger flop New in Town? Why else would I sit through a terrible romantic comedy that I can't even remember the name of just because it was set in Seattle? (I think it had something to do with a meteorologist.)
Over the past few years, many movies with non-metropolitan settings and values have done extremely well at the box office. The Blind Side is the mainstream example, Fireproof the niche. Tyler Perry's movies, which appeal to a black audience and do especially well in Atlanta, espouse Christian values. Their success continues to surprise the news media, perhaps because this demographic is underrepresented in the occupation. Just today, Variety published a piece calling him the "most underrated force at the box office," though it seems this same piece has been running the past few years everywhere.
I also kind of hate the "city person goes to the country" plotline, which seems to be one of the most common ways to incorporate rural regions into movies. As if it would be impossible to understand country people except through the missteps of city people trying to adapt to the lifestyle. In the (unmatched) fight between Brokeback Mountain vs. Did You Hear About the Morgans?, the rodeo at Brokeback wins, hands down.
The thing is, as the success of Brokeback demonstrates, people in metropolitan areas are curious about rural life and people outside of the New York metro area would like to see an accurate portrayal of their own area. An undercurrent of projects is trying to accomplish this. I'm very excited about Butter, which is about a Midwestern butter-carving contest (no one says you can't make fun of traditions!). There's also The Help, a best-selling book club novel about the relationships between black maids and their employers, which is set in the Deep South. And in a low-budget production reminiscent of Fireproof, actor Corbin Bernsen plans to make a movie about soap-box derbies in Akron, Ohio, using local financing and involving the community.
But this Friday? Catch Date Night, a comedy set in Manhattan.
