What National Treasure Means To Me

Written in March 2023 for the Telluride Student Symposium Application

As I made my way through the job search process, I was asked a lot about why I decided to study geography. Or, more accurately, I was asked to explain what geography is. My standard answer is that geography is the study of people and place, and the relationships that exist between them. My internal answer is that geography encompasses almost anything, from the study of fast-food availability in Prague metro stations to the presence of affordable housing in semi-rural communities.

My favorite answer? Studying geography compels us to look behind the scenes, to become intimately aware that everything we see and experience has been constructed. That almost nothing happened by “accident.” It’s all storytelling. It’s no surprise, then, that film geography has its own special place in the field. The created worlds in movies are no less important to study than the world itself. All this buildup makes it seem a little funny that I started thinking about these created worlds when I first saw the film National Treasure.

I remember flipping on the television one day when I was eight years old or so, and my parents quickly rushed over once they realized that National Treasure was on. From then, I was hooked. I hadn’t experienced the full range of Nicolas Cage performances yet, so this was just like any other actor in any other movie for me. Except, it wasn’t like any other movie. Benjamin Gates used his knowledge of history, not of technology, to save the day. He didn’t look like your average James Bond, but that didn’t matter; he would still jump from an aircraft carrier or make a swift getaway from the National Archives.

My family was key in linking the film’s setting to real-world experiences. We rewatched the movie before heading to New York and then Philadelphia, and I remember walking in Washington D.C. and recognizing what the street outside the National Archives looked like, now with 100 percent less Nic Cage. We even took the National Treasure: Book of Secrets-themed tour of Mount Vernon and its secret tunnels. When my high school orchestra planned a trip to Philadelphia, I invited friends over to watch the movie. I experienced place through these movies, and I also learned how the real world and the film world could differ.

As I entered college, I continued to think about movies and place. I quickly discovered the study of geography and how I could find a way to incorporate my favorite genre, spy movies, into the mix. I switched from reporting about campus news to writing movie reviews and analysis. I joined my school’s Film Society and took media classes. I blasted Trevor Rabin’s score through my earbuds as I walked across campus. I proposed a thesis on the geopolitics of post-9/11 spy films, and it got accepted by the geography department.

I am so lucky to have found my own little niche in the academic and film world. I approach my studies from a place of appreciation of these films as cultural artifacts, products of their time that cannot be separated from historical context. But I also approach them with love. National Treasure is far from historically accurate, but it made me curious about history and led me to find my own contradictions.

My love of National Treasure is now a running joke among my friends and family. I admit I have watched the film in recent years and its blatant sexism doesn’t hold up. And yet, I still have the movie poster on my dorm room wall and I’m planning on watching the film with my friends on my 22^nd birthday later this month. I’m not embarrassed for liking National Treasure because it signifies more than just its contents. It’s a reminder that I took my childhood interests seriously and found what makes me happy. It shows that every work of art has value to someone. And, most importantly, it lets me know I’m doing right by my eight-year-old self, who fell so in love with how movies made her feel.