Fall Movies that Inspire

I’m inspired by fall and I’m inspired by films - so I put together some inspiring fall films to share. Each of these works may not relate to fall in a direct way, but they’re certainly all connected to its spirit...they pull a sinew that feels autumnal to me.

Here are some picks that bring the exceptional to light, which all happen to be documentaries:

Rivers & Tides, filmed in 2001 by filmmaker Thomas Riedelsheimer, follows artist Andy Goldsworthy. The film is a spell-binding poem in the shape of a documentary, a quiet consideration of nature, art, and impermanence. The camera moves alongside Goldsworthy as he gently manipulates nature into temporary pieces of human art (though I suppose all human art is temporary). He organizes savage beauty into intentional beauty that lasts for months or days, or just moments, before the elements blow or wash it away, sucked back into nature’s order. On the film we watch pieces that took a whole day to complete swiftly melt or crumble away. Goldsworthy explains that the goal is not just to make a thing and watch it fall apart, but to come to an understanding with the materials with which he works, those materials being the earth itself in raw form. (The entirety of the film can be watched on YouTube.)

It brings to the surface: patience, surrender to lack of control, recognition of patterns in life and the natural world.

The 2024 documentary, Jim Henson Idea Man, is another film that struck the creative mine within. A fiercely driven and distinct artist, Henson moved from one creation to another with intense purpose, passion, and joy. He was seemingly aloof to the inspiring energy he created around him, totally committed to his craft. This film is autumnal because of its determination to move forward and create. Henson was driven to fulfill his purpose, no matter how commonplace or obscure, whether he felt understood or not.

It brings to the surface: raw originality, affirmation of uniqueness, the beauty of collaboration, motivation to create with exactly the tools with which you were born.

Our final doc on this short list (of mostly docs) is Grey Gardens, filmed in the fall of 1973 and released in 1975. It feels more deeply autumnal to me than just the season in which it was filmed. It illuminates truth and metamorphosis, and a kind of rot that comes with being human - or just being alive, even. It’s achingly captivating due to the singularly odd universe Big Edie & Little Edie created around themselves at Grey Gardens. When I think of this documentary, it brings to mind the famous quote by St. Augustine: “Men go forth to wonder at the heights of mountains, the extent of the oceans, and the courses of the stars, and omit to wonder at themselves.”

It brings to the surface: wonder at our species, delight in living, curiosity, the capacity for compassion and understanding across differences.

And here are some picks in honor of spooky season, which happen to both be children’s movies:

Speaking of Jim Henson, I recently unearthed The Labyrinth - a childhood favorite of mine (& many) - and watched it with my elementary-aged kids. It did not disappoint, though my kindergartener was a little disturbed at times. It’s visually stunning, silly, eerie, and so weird. Beside its appropriately spooky-ish content, this viewing was supplemented by my recent watching of Jim Henson Idea Man (as you know), in which it discusses how Henson thought of this film as one of the best ever, something he was deeply proud of - and when it wasn’t received well (at the time) he was equally deeply disappointed. That it wasn’t loved and understood the way he loved and understood it. But as those who knew him retold it, he mourned it honestly (more sensitive in this case than he’d ever been to outside commentary) and then moved on quickly to continue creating.

It brings to the surface: tenderness, silliness and absurdity, the power and seduction of illusion.

Coraline is one I tried to inappropriately push on my older son when he was too young. It’s a kids’ movie, I thought, and finally we can watch something together that we’ll both enjoy. I later met a producer who worked on the film and when I told her about my failed attempt as a new mom to watch it with my toddler, she informed me that the film’s age range is intended to start at “bold 8-year-olds.” Whoops. Noted. I do, though, love this beautifully animated film, and will enthusiastically encourage my children to watch it when they become at least “bold 8-year-olds.” It’s scary and sweet and weird and wildly creative, not to mention seasonally-appropriately change-driven. And it makes me feel like a kid.

It brings to the surface: curiosity, imagination exploration, openness to those around us.

It’s fun that particular movies are seasonal in our minds and those seasons don’t always match up with the seasons in the movies. It’s fascinating the way we find patterns in the things we take in, and the way these patterns can lead us to joys and curiosities and rabbit holes worth exploring. Art is all around us.

Photo by Noom Peerapong on Unsplash