Juliet McDermott

When people ask me for a movie recommendation, you may be surprised to hear that my go-to recommendation is not necessarily “Breathless” or “Paths of Glory.” Instead, without fail, I find myself continuing to recommend  “Step Brothers.”

It was during the Covid-19 pandemic that I first discovered “Step Brothers” with my twin. Apropos to the time, my twin and I were in the midst of a rapid Will Ferrell obsession. Though my Friday nights were reserved for more serious film education with my dad, Thursday nights were special. With both parents gone from the house, my sister and I would cook up some grilled cheese, grab whatever Trader Joe’s snacks were on hand and indulge in peak cinema.

And by peak, I mean comedy movies from years gone by. From more known films such as “Anchorman” or “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” to truly off-the-rails ones such as “Blades of Glory” or “Holmes and Watson,” we watched many, many dumb, but what I consider to be at times quite hilarious, movies (though there is no denying that some are better than others).

Yet, I used to be ashamed of such viewings. With a pretty intense cinephile for a dad, I felt that my sister and I had to find a way to excuse our watching of what I then considered such low forms of art. Ready to throw my sister under the bus (as she always did to me), I would tell my dad that she had forced me to watch “Ted” or that I didn’t actually  find “The Other Guys” that funny (which, in this case, did happen to be a little true).

But as time has gone by, I’ve come to realize that my love of these movies does not devalue my love of what my dad would consider to be more traditionally artful films, such as “On the Waterfront” or “The Long Goodbye.” Instead, comedy films such as “Bridesmaids” or “The Hangover” are impossible to compare to Kazan’s masterpiece because they serve completely different purposes.

While there is an idea that art has to make a point or say something deep about the world or comment on the state of our existence, this utilitarian understanding is flawed and limiting. Instead, sometimes art—though I am hesitant to call films such as “Step Brothers” art despite how much I love it—exists just to provide pure amusement and joy. Both of these can exist at the same time, and both are necessary.

During difficult times, however, there is no denying that one of these types may seem more necessary than the other. For instance, it is no coincidence that my twin and I became so enamored with this type of movie during the pandemic. Hating online school, full of anxiety about the future and just so desperate to leave our house, these films provided much-needed comfort and joy during this time. For a few hours, they allowed us to escape the scary world that we currently inhabited and just laugh at something that is ultimately really dumb.

Perhaps that is why I am so quick to name “Step Brothers” to my friends when pressed for a recommendation for what to watch on a plane or what to watch that night. It’s because I recognize that sometimes we don’t need a movie that makes us ponder the current brutal reality of this world even more than we already do; We just need a movie about Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly acting like man-babies and attempting to bury each other alive.