There are a select number of movies that we allow to seep into our bones, way down into our essence and, yes, into that patchwork of references we call a pop culture soul.

These movies are held in almost unhealthy regard, with a kind of devotion seldom seen this side of a Pepsi vs. Coke debate. Hushed tones. A gleam in the eyes. Silver screen magic throughout the ordinary day.

Many times, these aren’t the films that scholars cite as the most influential to the art. These speak to us, influencing our tastes and offering more insight than any trip to a fraudulent psychic. To make light of such sensitive feelings can lead to immediate expulsion from a circle of friends, horrible first impressions and the type of rage known only by strung-out kindergarten teachers. When it comes to favorite films, we tread lightly.

Marked film reviewer for six semesters now, this byline has been followed by words both stinging and adoring. For every “28 Days,” there’s an “Almost Famous” to make up for the lost time and even restore a little hope in humanity. Given the increasingly pretentious word usage throughout the years, maybe you’d guess the epitome of my film-going experience would somehow involve Charles Foster Kane, the French New Wave or decapitated horses.

You’d be wrong.

In 1985, at the ripe age of 5 years old, a comedic adventure arrived in theaters. With buzz emanating from a popular comedic stage show, Warner Bros. green-lighted the project that would change my life so completely that to this day I fear anyone named Marge.

I can’t remember the first time I saw “Pee Wee’s Big Adventure.” No, that would be too cinematic. But my VHS copy of the movie (still sitting on a shelf of mine to this day), has experienced more adoration than the neighborhood kid with all the best baseball cards. Two years ago, that run-down version was usurped by a DVD special edition, and the little boy’s eyes lit up anew.

Suddenly, the tale of a boy and his bike (but really, isn’t it about so much more?) glowed with the kind of colors and characters at home only in a child’s imagination. And for a period of time, as “Pee Wee’s Playhouse” dominated the children’s television landscape, such heartfelt sentiments were accepted with minor incident. Then 1991 had to happen …

Eleven-year-olds can’t understand all the details of Paul Reubens’s downfall, or at least they shouldn’t in a perfect world. My fanaticism for the feature film soon drew scoffs, snickers and jokes I didn’t understand. Once my voice started changing and my impression abilities waned, my rainbow-hued love became a guilty pleasure – and something never mentioned when telling my first Weekender Editor, “I want to review movies!”

The only thing guilty about “Pee Wee’s Big Adventure” is the lecherous Francis (Mark Holton). As a child, Pee Wee’s adventures through the country and the backlots of Hollywood offered escapist fun with almost as many quotable lines as “Caddyshack.” And as a more “cultured” viewer, director Tim Burton’s fantastic world and Reubens’ peculiar comedic timing age like fine … grape juice.

That truly original balance between fun and art hasn’t met its match because no one’s really ever tried. So as my favorite movie ages along with me, the constants remain at the core of this figurative aluminum foil ball – clowns still scare me, dancing the “Tequila” dance always garners a few laughs, motorcycles are dangerous and the best in us yearns for the innocence of a youthful bike ride.

“Pee Wee’s Big Adventure” isn’t the best movie ever created, but it’s my favorite. And if that means calling me names, I have but one response.

I know you are, but what am I?