I’m pretty sure I saw The Matrix in what might be its absolute perfect first-viewing environment: In the theater on its opening weekend, at age 15, with absolutely no idea of what I was about to see. (Admittedly, my mom was also there, which might count as a slight demerit. But since she was the sci-fi nerd who’d suggested we go see it, I can probably give her a pass.) The Wachowskis’ masterpiece has been diminished over the years by familiarity, over-analysis, and the outright theft of some of its best ideas, but sitting in the dark, taking in its mixture of Philosophy 101 weirdness, Hong Kong-lifted action choreography, and now-goofy trench-coated style, it did exactly what it was supposed to do to a teenage dork: It blew my fucking mind. It’s easy to forget, 20 years later, that “What is The Matrix?” was once a legitimate first-act twist, the moment when a dystopian hacker thriller becomes something far more sci-fi ambitious and strange. Knowing the answer to that central mystery (or even just being exposed to too many shots of the then-revolutionary action direction, which I’d somehow avoided in the run-up to the film’s release) would have robbed me of the all-important disorientation, fear, and wonder that made that first viewing such a world-shaking experience. [William Hughes]
