You've just crossed over into my Comfort Zone 

Thursday, July 3rd.
The city streets are packed with people, probably due to some HotSale or Black Friday event. Even in the cold. Amid the chaos, there are those waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But I’m on alert. I know them. They’re the ones you least expect. I’ve been living in Buenos Aires for six months now, and like any highly observant person, I can read intentions. It’s a massive city. I only have to walk a few blocks to the greengrocer, but on that short trip, I encounter all sorts of characters. On my way back, I lock eyes with some of them. They see danger in me.

I enter the building, take the elevator, prepare myself a soup in my warm home, and hit play on The Batman on Max for the fourteenth time. I've entered my comfort zone. The character never existed inside me—only an extension of him, brought to life by a director’s vision.

This week, an unprecedented cold was forecasted in Argentina. I already know what movies I’ll watch, because I know how those movies make me feel. If I feel like experiencing warmth through an epic, I know The Lord of the Rings trilogy will have a reserved spot. There’s nothing better than feeling like I’m in Hobbiton, among its locals and their traditions, with Howard Shore’s soothing soundtrack in the background. Nothing better than watching Bilbo light a pipe surrounded by the warmth of his people on his 111th birthday. I can even hear in my head how Frodo’s uncle delights in revealing his age!

Wrapped in a blanket and sipping my nighttime coffee, I dive once more—who knows how many times now—into the adventure. Orcs, friendship, loyalty, arrows perfectly loosed by Legolas, the iconic “You shall not pass!” from Gandalf, Theoden crying “Death!” alongside twenty-five thousand souls in an epic final battle, and finally, the heartbreaking farewell of Frodo.

On the other hand, if I feel like unplugging my brain and heart while raindrops fall or lightning flashes in the background, I know I’ll watch The Day After Tomorrow. It’s not even up for debate with my partner. It’s a given. Who could’ve warned me that reliving some of the most ridiculous disaster movie sequences in recent memory would bring me comfort at age thirty-three? Knowing that the young protagonists will survive inside a New York Public Library while the world freezes outside is appealing every time I press play. And the most touching part: Dennis Quaid, playing Jake Gyllenhaal’s father, crosses the entire continent just to rescue his son from that very library—it gives me chills. There’s nothing like a happy ending.

I’ll probably add to that icy combo the over-the-top (but sometimes oddly realistic) scenes from Twister, and if I instantly switch to non-natural disaster films, I’d revisit once again (I’ve lost count) the 2008 version of The Day the Earth Stood Still. There’s nothing better than watching Keanu Reeves in “alien Neo” mode trying to save the planet, moved by Jennifer Connelly’s blue eyes and her love for her son—who, by the way, doesn’t love her that much. But who cares? I just want to see that indestructible destroyer dissolve into a cloud of insects disintegrating everything in sight.

If I wanted to counteract the parallel between the extreme cold I’m feeling now and humanity’s emotional coldness, I’d probably hit play on Mad Max: Fury Road, the hottest movie in history. I’d feel the madness, I’d love to go to Valhalla with Nicholas Hoult while spraying silver paint in my mouth, only to return and smash Immortan Joe’s face in. What a despicable being. I’d imagine that diabolical guitar riff as the end-of-the-world acrobats swing from side to side.

This is my comfort zone. One where I practice futurology, where I feel emotions before they arrive. With hundreds of viewing options and many ways to access them, I confront myself. I choose to rebel against my curiosity. Against my urge to explore beyond. Rod Serling invited me back in the ‘90s—long after the series originally aired—to explore a range of universes beyond human understanding. He pushed me to reinvent myself as a child.

And yet, every weekend, I begged my mom to play Forrest Gump, Jurassic Park, and The Lion King back to back on VHS. Over and over…and over again.

You’ve opened this door with the key of laziness. Beyond it lies another dimension: a dimension of scenes that make us cry again and again, a dimension of cheap spectacle, a dimension of stress relief. You’re entering a world of soul-soothing comfort and jump scares, of things and ideas you return to for the pleasure they bring you.

You’ve just crossed into... The Comfort Zone.

There are many more titles in my comfort zone, but revealing them all would be endless… I think.
What’s yours?

Published on JULY 5, 2025, 11:43 AM | UTC-GMT -3

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