In The Art of Watching Films, Dennis Petrie and Joseph Boggs claim that “One of the most difficult prejudices to overcome is that which leads us to dismiss certain categories of films,” and we certainly can acknowledge the veracity of at least half of that claim. We make decisions about what we like and dislike oftentimes based on limited experiences, and we then allow ourselves to be guided almost entirely by those snap judgments. One person catches twenty minutes of an old black and white film as an adolescent and then categorically rejects black and white films from his future movie choices. Another is forced to endure an annual television viewing of The Sound of Music with her family and, having heard “Do-Re-Mi” a few hundred too many times, refuses to ever see a musical again. We make similar judgments about actors, directors, and styles of film. But are we really ensuring that we don’t waste time watching movies we know we’ll hate, or are we limiting our opportunities to experience different worldviews, potentially great art, or even just some great entertainment? When we limit ourselves based on the film prejudices we’ve developed throughout our lives, what are we missing out on?
Once upon a time, I hated Will Ferrell. Well, “hate” is a strong word, but I certainly did not appreciate his style of humor. "He's stupid," I thought. (Real mature attitude there, teach.) I refused to watch any movie he played a major role in. Then one day, I decided to give him another chance. I was bored and has time to kill. I couldn’t find anything that grabbed my attention at the video store, so I rent a copy of Elf. 
That was eight years ago, and to this day, Elf remains part of my annual Christmas movie marathon. In fact, I usually watch it at least twice every holiday season. After that, I was open to viewing more Will Ferrell films, and Stranger Than Fiction joined my list of all-time favorite movies as well. What if I had continued to let my prejudice dictate my movie choices? I would have missed out on some of my favorite entertainment, not to mention a profoundly intellectual and philosophical insight into two of my favorite mediums of entertainment—film and literature. Now when I catch myself dismissing a movie because of a particular actor, I refer to my Will Ferrell experiment as a reminder that my original assumptions may not be correct. In fact, I have to tell myself this every time I see that Rene Zellwegger in a film. (She's sooooo annoying!) I haven't given up on her, but she has failed to win me over yet.
Consider you own film prejudices. Before watching Stranger Than Fiction, what did you expect from the film? What did you expect the experience of watching the film to be like? How well did you expect to enjoy the movie? Did your preconceived beliefs about the film change after watching it? Why or why not?
Like literature, music, or any art other form, some movies are created with the primary purpose of entertainment while others are meant to be more artistic and profound. But every film has the potential to be both entertaining and enlightening if we are willing to suspend our personal prejudices and approach it analytically. Some people believe that analysis voids our ability to enjoy a book, a song, or even a movie, but the opposite is actually true. Analysis deepens our appreciation and allows us to sharpen our judgments. With this understanding, contrast your personal opinion with your analysis of Stranger Than Fiction. In what ways is your personal opinion of the movie different from your professional opinion of it? In other words, how well did the film measure up to your individual standards vs. how well it stood up under artistic scrutiny?
