COMFORT FILMS

Comfort films -- admit it, we all have them. Those movies you’ve seen so many times you can whisper the lines along with the actors, the images nearly as familiar as the faces of your friends.

They are powerful -- able to tear friendships apart, damage marriages with just the mention of a name. It’s like a relationship Rorschach: If “Deliverance” tops the hit list of your significant other and “The Devil Wears Prada” tops yours, well, just don’t book that couples cruise you were considering.

Comfort films rarely have a pedigree. But then cinematic greatness is not what you’re in search of. These are back-room movies, behind closed doors along with other necessary vices -- that box of Kraft mac and cheese, the pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey -- while the best movies of all time, those loved and judged for their soaring artistic, cinematic and intellectual feats, live in an entirely different space in your psyche.

But need a laugh right now? A cry? To escape? Or just to feel better? Comfort films are there to fit, and fill, whatever the emotional need of the moment, able to lift the shade on even the darkest of moods (or deepest of recessions). You don’t even have to consume the whole film to enjoy the benefits; they’re like munchable movie snacks for the mind, and catching a scene or two as you’re channel surfing can usually satisfy the cravings.

There are rules, of course, but not many. The films can be comedies or dramas, weepies or creepies, but they should forever go unpunished for any indiscretion, whether it’s cheesy dialogue, plots filled with potholes or actors who might drop this particular work of art off their resume if it weren’t for the ruthless memory of IMDB.

Comfort films are by their very nature personal choices; they’re memory movies, tied to a time in your life, or a place, or a person. But sharing them? Now that’s harder. There’s a trust factor involved: to own up to the films that live on your comfort list is to take a risk. You must trust that no matter how strange or embarrassing or trashy certain movies might be, your confessor will not judge, knowing there is a bit of history, a bit of you, really, attached to each and every one.

And so, without shame or apology and only a few regrets, here in alphabetical order are my top 10 all-time, but probably not forever, comfort films and a favorite scene bite (like sound bites, only sincere).

‘Best in Show’

Why? Because I can only put one Christopher Guest movie on my list.

Guest’s strange genius is so appealing that it just can’t coexist with worry. Maybe it’s his huge affection for even the most absurd of his characters that makes it difficult not to join the group hug. When “Best in Show” runs off-leash in this faux documentary on the insanity of a national dog show’s finals, problems fade.

Scene bite: Eugene Levy, as the bucktoothed, bespectacled and absolutely guileless Gerry Fleck -- with Catherine O’Hara as his wife, Cookie, a sentimental sexpot with an ex-lover around every corner -- explains their time on the dog show circuit with this, “I like to think Cookie and I work as a team. Although I do nothing.”

‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’

Why? Because it’s the perfect romantic comedy for my imperfect world.

According to anthropologists, most of the actresses who turn up in romantic comedies -- from Meg Ryan and Julia Roberts in earlier days to Kate Hudson and Drew Barrymore today -- really don’t have a hard time finding soul mates. They’re smart, beautiful and always well-dressed. And then there is Renee Zellweger as Bridget Jones, a plump, emotional mess of a girl with two dashing guys in pursuit. Bridget’s laundry list of flaws is all hung out to dry, which, of course, just makes her that much more relatable. In a sense, it is the ultimate comfort film because it’s best consumed with comfort food, since Bridget will be noshing right along with you.

Scene bite: Bridget is still reeling from being labeled a spinster by Colin Firth’s Mark Darcy, and it’s clear she’s seriously into her misery. There’s no dialogue in this scene, unless you count the voice mail telling Bridget “You have no messages.” We find her collapsed on the couch in red flannel PJs, a cigarette and wine glass in hand, a full ashtray and near-empty bottle within reach. Just when it seems she’s hit bottom, “All by Myself” comes on the radio, sending Zellweger into one of the funniest/saddest, most melodramatic lip sync-alongs ever.

‘Finding Nemo’

Why? Because silly with soul is always good.

Can anyone watch Marlin (Albert Brooks) -- single-dad clown fish in search of his only son, Nemo -- and not be moved? I know I can’t. The wonderfully conflicted and timid character hooks into your emotions from the first flip of his tale, er, tail. And there is Ellen DeGeneres’ dense and forgetful blue tang, Dory, to keep things light. Toss all that into an ocean of brilliant animation and I’m completely submerged in this wonderful water world.

Scene bite: In a nod to Hollywood’s rough seas, Marlin and Dory bump into some sharks intent on remaking their public image. An AA-styled confessional meeting inside a sunken sub ensues as the hammerhead and great white lament their struggles in turning away from their favorite blood sport. “Hi, my name is Bruce.” “Hi, Bruce.” “It’s been three weeks since my last fish.”

‘Galaxy Quest’

Why? Because I’ve seen far too many “Star Trek” reruns.

Sublime ridiculousness. There is such extraordinary attention to detail in this farce. Most appealing is its meta-examination of the delusional fanboy convention afterlife of a cult TV show that is very “Star Trekian” in design. To make matters worse, and they always do get worse, the cast finds itself transported into real alien territory. Exactly: The aliens are real, and, worse still, they’ve mistaken the show as reality.

Scene bite: Not long after meeting the aliens, Alan Rickman as a Spockian Dr. Lazarus, his voice dripping with condescension, asks the aliens, “Surely you people don’t believe in ‘Gilligan’s Island’?” “Ooooh, those poor people.” Then with an incredulous roll of his eyes and a toss of his head, Rickman makes it clear he’ll take care of any further sarcastic asides; the rest of us can just enjoy.

‘Mr. & Mrs. Smith’

Why? Because watching pretty cons wielding menacing guns is sweet distraction.

Yes, Brad and Angelina are there staring back at me every time I click on an Internet browser these days. But “Mr. & Mrs. Smith” takes me back to where it all began. It’s an old-fashioned Hollywood caper that goes down like a hot fudge sundae -- the writing is sharp, the production is slick, the chemistry is sizzling and, thanks to its speed, the flaws that do exist just zoom right by.

Scene bite: “You still alive, baby?” Angelina Jolie’s Mrs. Smith purrs, crouched as she is on the bullet-riddled stairs of her home, each hand gripping a machine gun, which turn out to be the perfect accessories for the backless black cocktail dress and stilettos as she takes in the news that her spouse is also an assassin and she’s his next target. Brad Pitt’s Mr. Smith feigns a moan in reply as he aims in her direction. Bang, bang. It’s to die for.

‘Running on Empty’

Why? Because it feeds that radical wannabe in me.

I’m the sort of person who won’t even cut in line when the plane is pulling out of the gate -- so the idea of protesting war by blowing up a napalm lab then going underground for decades feels completely foreign. But this Sidney Lumet film, starring Christine Lahti, Judd Hirsch and a young River Phoenix, always plays to the dropout dreamer in me on those days when escape of any sort from anything seems impossible. Besides, it’s got a great soundtrack.

Scene bite: The house, empty, with everything in it. The dog deserted in a parking lot. The price for a life on the run emerging from all that is left behind. And then, on a sidewalk of another new town, Hirsch’s character picks up the family’s new identity and learns this, “Listen, your mother. She died. Four weeks ago. Cancer . . . you were just too hot to contact . . . sorry.”

‘Steel Magnolias’

Why? Because sometimes nothing cures the blues like a good cry.

There is romance and charm and humor in the film, but it is Julia Roberts’ doomed Southern beauty, Shelby -- with her cheating husband and her failing health and the family that holds her tight despite everything -- that I come back for again and again.

Scene bite: Shelby has just delivered the news that she is expecting to Sally Field, who plays her fiercely protective mother. But in Shelby’s case, pregnancy is life-threatening, so where there should be joy, for her mother there is frustration and fear. Finally Shelby looks at her mother, tears welling, and says, “I would rather have three minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.” Grab the tissues here.

‘Tender Mercies’

Why? Because I cannot leave Texas behind.

Starring the always nuanced Robert Duvall as a broke and broken country singer and Tess Harper as the woman who saves him, the film is achingly true to its Texas roots, from the unforgiving plains to the solitary people who live there, and it is rich in both its simplicity and complexity. The perfect antidote when I’m feeling homesick for the place I grew up.

Scene bite: “Hey mister, were you really Mac Sledge?” a woman asks after spotting Duvall’s character on a dusty small-town street. With barely a glance in her direction, he breaks into a wry smile and settles the cowboy hat a little lower on his head, “Yes ma’am, I guess I was.”

‘To Kill a Mockingbird’

Why? Because it cancels any pity party I might be contemplating.

On those days when I pretend that things were so much easier when I was a kid, before the world started throwing responsibilities and problems my way, “To Kill a Mockingbird” comes to the rescue with Gregory Peck’s Atticus as the ultimate principled man, the empathetic single father and the calm center of any storm. It never fails to remind me in the most moving way that there is good and bad in all of us, and that whatever else life is, it isn’t fair.

Scene bite: It’s evening, and Scout has barely survived her first day of school. She has retreated to the front porch swing when Atticus sits down beside her, gathers her close and quietly dispels all of her fears. As the scene fades to black, we hear Scout, grown up now and remembering, “There just didn’t seem to be anyone or anything Atticus couldn’t explain.”

‘Young Frankenstein’

Why? Because this is the one horror film I can see without fear of nightmares, though Madeline Kahn’s electrified monster hair can conjure some pretty scary thoughts.

This affectionate horror film parody, which features Gene Wilder at his best as the young Dr. Frankenstein, is charged by a current of wackiness that is as electric as it is captivating. It’s classic Mel Brooks -- and, of course, Mel himself is a classic.

Scene bite: It’s hard to choose, but let’s go with the scene in which hunchback Igor hobbles down the stairs, then turns to Wilder’s character, hands over his short cane and utters the words that would launch a thousand clones, “Walk this way.” Or maybe Kahn’s artful dodger and her infamous train station goodbye: A kiss? “Not on the lips.” A touch? “The hair, the hair.” An embrace? “Taffeta, darling. Wrinkles.”

--

betsy.sharkey@latimes.com