Every now and then, a movie comes along that feels timeless—one that captures the messy beauty of human connection. For me, the 1983 film The Big Chill did just that.
Its ensemble cast brought an undeniable authenticity to the screen, making the bonds between friends feel as lived-in as the faded photos they likely had tucked away.
I really didn’t have any complaints about this movie apart from the unresolved mystery around Meg Tilly’s character. her aloofness made for a layer of mystery that didn’t ultimately unfold, but the film still more than made up for it with its emotional depth.
so, of course, I had to compare this movie to the things I’m used to watching. the big chill has opened my eyes to how good an ensemble movie can be—and it also showed me how bad the ensemble movies are that I already know.
What resonated with me most was the way The Big Chill masterfully explored the themes of guilt, nostalgia, and the unfinished business of life, and how it did so with so many moving pieces.
The film served as a gentle reminder that, at heart, we’re all children navigating adult problems. Sometimes it takes a reunion with old friends to help us begin to untangle the complexities of our lives. These sentiments were woven into the story with an elegance that lingered long after the credits rolled.
The soundtrack, too, was an undeniable highlight. From the unbridled joy of the group dancing to The Temptations’ “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg” to the poignant full-circle moment with “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog,” the music didn’t just complement the story—it became part of its heartbeat. Few films integrate music so seamlessly into their narrative fabric, and this one did it with flair.
What truly set the film apart for me, however, was the precision of its writing. With just a few lines of dialogue or fleeting moments, it crafted characters who felt three-dimensional and fully realized. Add to that a level of comedic timing in both the writing and acting that was razor-sharp, and it’s no wonder this film left such an impression. It’s not just a benchmark for ensemble storytelling—it’s a masterclass.
As I reflected on the film, I couldn’t help but draw comparisons to ensemble stories that I already love—and some that I don’t. And as much as i hate to say it, Marvel’s Eternals came to mind.
Depth Over Distraction: The Big Chill vs. marvel’s Eternals
the reason I hate to say this is because I have friends like Ethan Simmie who love this movie and would die on the hill that it’s a quality piece of film. but since it’s all subjective anyway, I think he’ll understand.
One of the most remarkable feats of The Big Chill is how efficiently it establishes its characters’ emotional foundations. Within moments, we understand Nick’s bitterness, Sarah’s quiet yearning, and Michael’s restless ambition. A few lines of dialogue or a glance across a room is enough to reveal years of backstory.
Take, for example, the tension between Karen and Sam—years of unspoken feelings bubble to the surface in a single, tender conversation about their lives and marriages.
Contrast this with Eternals, which often overwhelms the viewer with exposition dumps rather than letting characters’ relationships emerge organically.
a big reason for this was because they needed to make room for the overarching story that changed both the scale and understanding of the universe marvel had been crafting for the last decade.
oh, and they also found a way to squeeze in a black knight introduction and a blade “cameo” (or “voice-eo,” since you didn’t actually see mahershala Ali at all).
not to mention the Harry styles cameo, which was inarguably the biggest headline this movie generated (partly because a writer for variety who shall remain nameless was given the privilege of attending the Eternals red carpet premier, and they spoiled the Harry styles post-credit cameo via Twitter before the event was even over).
Was this stuff at least exciting for marvel fans? Hardly. more like lost in the noise, and none of it has been mentioned since.
Basically, you’re supposed to feel millennia’s worth history between the characters, but since all the focus is on telling a new story instead of an old one (their history), the viewing experience is relegated to general familiarity and surface-level emotion.
Where The Big Chill builds depth with subtlety, Eternals scatters its focus, leaving its cast struggling to connect meaningfully with each other—or with the audience.
The Role of Humor in Ensemble Stories
Humor is another area where The Big Chill shines. Its comedic timing, both in the script and performances, is effortless.
Even in serious moments, the humor flows naturally, breaking tension without feeling forced.
“Are we the first ones up?”
One-liners and one-off scenarios fill this movie with situational humor that feels like a natural layer on top of the underlying grief around the story’s main plot. The humor isn’t just there to make the audience laugh; it’s a reflection of the characters’ shared history and a coping mechanism for their loss, making the jokes hit closer to home.
This approach stands in stark contrast to Eternals, which tries to inject humor through specific characters (mainly Kumail Nanjiani’s Kingo). While Kingo’s comedic moments bring levity, they often feel isolated, disconnected from the broader emotional beats of the story.
The humor in Eternals doesn’t emerge from the relationships between the characters or the situation at hand, but rather feels like a tonal detour, separate from the story’s weighty themes.
”maybe that’s why he killed himself.”
What makes The Big Chill’s humor so effective is its universality and timelessness. The jokes rely on the characters’ interactions and shared history rather than pop culture references or forced punchlines, allowing them to feel both authentic and relatable.
In contrast, Eternals often struggles to maintain this balance, as its humor feels more like an external addition rather than an integral part of the narrative’s rhythm. As a result, The Big Chill demonstrates how humor can coexist with emotional depth, while Eternals serves as a reminder that forced levity can sometimes detract from a story’s impact.
The Soundtrack as a Character
Finally, there’s the music. The Big Chill uses its soundtrack not just as background noise but as an extension of its characters’ lives.
The lighthearted group dance to The Temptations’ “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg” is an infectious moment of joy that reminds us of the power of nostalgia and shared history.
But The needle drops in the big chill—like the full-circle use of “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog”—aren’t just nostalgic; they’re narrative tools that underscore the group’s shared history.
Marvel is usually pretty good at this—The Avengers employs music effectively, with Alan Silvestri’s score becoming a rallying cry for unity while AC/DC chimes in at times to remind us of Tony Stark’s backstory. And other marvel franchises like guardians of the galaxy are known by many to have amazing music that contribute to the storytelling.
Contrastingly, Eternals lacks this kind of musical cohesion, leaving one of cinema’s most powerful storytelling tools underutilized in what was positioned as the next big Marvel event at the time.
While grand in ambition, Eternals lacked the narrative cohesion and depth that made The Big Chill so impactful. Watching this classic has only raised the bar for what I now expect from ensemble films—tight storytelling, meaningful character development, and a dash of humor that cuts through the heaviness.
I’m grateful because I can point to a movie like the big chill now when I say that movies like Eternals missed the mark on ensemble character building.
The Big Chill isn’t just a film; it’s a snapshot of human connection, brimming with humor, heart, and a touch of melancholy. It reminded me why we return to stories like these—to laugh, to cry, and, most importantly, to feel.
I don’t do any of those things when I watch eternals. except it makes me want to cry because I’ve watched eternals more than 5 times and I still don’t understand the villains or the significance of the story in general.
