Colorado: An undiscovered cinematic treasure waiting to be recognized
Times of discover News: I grew up in Colorado, where the Rocky Mountains meet the Great Plains. In my teens, incidental locations often included forested hills and rocky mountain creeks. My friends and I would joke, “There was a movie last night,” probably only half joking. There is something inherently cinematic about Colorado’s geography.
Colorado is a picturesque and rarefied place, changing rapidly between wind-whipped deserts and dense, high-altitude forests. When I returned to that environment I felt insignificant. You are trapped in a giant ship under the blue Colorado sky. You become transparent in the thin mountain air. It’s hard to live in Colorado without feeling a little cinematic and sentimental about your life. The land itself has a great movie feel to it.
This raises a serious question – where are the movies? You can’t openly name any relevant film set in Colorado. You would think there would be a mile-long list of cinematic love letters to the state. Colorado could potentially be a visual shorthand for the West, in the same way downtown Manhattan is for urban America — but it's not.
When I got home, I walked in the foothills and imagined Colorado in the movie — glaciers and rock dwellings, plains and ghost towns. It would look great. So why is Colorado still waiting for its defining cinematic moment? North Dakota has "Fargo," John Hughes films celebrate Chicago, and "Lady Bird" brought love to California's Central Valley. What keeps Colorado out of the movies? And what benefits might we reap from including the state in them?
My guess is that for Hollywood producers, Colorado isn't special enough to warrant a visit. If a script needs desert or mountains, it can be found in California. If they wanted something different, they drove across the state to Arizona or north to Vancouver. I imagine that when Angeleno filmmakers write Westerns they pick states at random. Sure, "Brokeback Mountain" takes place in Wyoming, but it could just as easily have been set in Colorado. There's no personal touch, no selfless approach. Most films set in the American West don't feel particularly connected to the geography they inhabit. You can tell there's no love between filmmaker and land. Of course, Colorado isn't in the movies.
Colombians don't make movies at the same rate as Californians or Chicagoans or New Yorkers. Most wealthy filmmakers see the western United States as "flying country" - an interchangeable blank canvas onto which style can be projected. Big cities and big money dictate what America looks like, turning the American West into a colorless, changing piece of land. This approach strips filmmakers of their creative individuality, leaving American film culture the poorer for it. It's up to our generation of filmmakers to keep it afloat.
The wonder I feel when I'm home is the love other people feel for Louisiana or Oklahoma. It's not special, it's just presented in a less cinematic way. We can gain so much more nuance and humanity by allowing filmmakers to celebrate our town. If you're a homegrown artist, and your home is somewhere unknown in the mainstream of film, you still deserve to have your story posted there.
If I ever got the chance to make a film it would be about Colorado. I would fight for specificity and nuance. I wanted the streets and hills of my hometown in the film - not Hollywood. It would definitely be an uphill battle, but it would definitely result in a richer story. My connection to Colorado led me to this crusade, but I know that everyone has their own unique entry point. No matter where you're from or how you make your art, make it for you. Do it for your town. Don't succumb to clichés or "relatability." We need more America on screen. We need you in America.
