I wish I had a more justifiable reason as to why I haven’t
faithfully and regularly updated this blog in close to 2 years. I wish I could
say it was because I’ve been heinously busy or preoccupied with more worthy endeavors;
unfortunately laziness, depression, and lack of motivation are the true
culprits. The last 2 years of my life couldn’t accurately be described as “peachy”,
to say the least. I relocated 2,000 miles away for a promising job, only to get
there and slowly discover that the job was trivial and frivolous. Upon successfully
finding a new job back in Rochester I eagerly moved home, only to find myself
unemployed again 3 months later. I then spent the last 4 months on a fruitless
employment search, leading to an increasing sense of hopelessness and a severe
decrease in self-esteem. I’ve also finely tuned my ability to translate wallowing
self-pity into the written word (that last part was the comic relief). Point
being, sitting down in front of a computer and cranking out a thoughtful and provocative
piece on the happenings of the cinematic community hasn’t been on the forefront
of my consciousness as of late.
But then this afternoon while mindlessly scrolling through
my Facebook newsfeed, I read about the
passing of iconic journalist and film critic Roger Ebert. It’s probably safe to say that Ebert was the most well-known movie critic of all time, and certainly one of the most recognizable names within the movie world, aside from the artists themselves. Roger Ebert was largely influential to me, a self-proclaimed movie enthusiast; I’ve read many of his books, kept regular tabs on his essays and reviews, and even took it upon myself to watch every movie on his list of the “100 Greatest Films” (Admittedly, I only made it about halfway through The Maltese Falcon). That all being said, I’ve always had great admiration for him as a writer and great respect for the contribution he made to the art form. What I didn’t realize until this afternoon, however, is how thoughtful of a person he was and how empathetic he always strived to be. Most know about his achievements in film criticism and journalism, but few (including myself until today) are aware that Roger was thoughtful and intensely human. After reading of his passing, I spent some time perusing various press releases and news coverage of his death. Most of them contained the same pedigree information; his achievements, his Pulitzer Prize, his long-time alcoholism, his fight with cancer, etc. I then came across the following quote from Roger in a Chicago Sun Times article on his death:
“Kindness covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if,
at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a
little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about
the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves
unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world.”
Rarely in my life have I ever been moved in such a way by
such a simple, accessible sentiment. Navigating through trials, tribulations, and
difficulty becomes all the more easy if we can simply remember to always strive
to make others happy, while also finding and doing what brings us the most joy.
Movies make me happy. I love getting lost in a good story, learning new things,
being transported to different places, and becoming different characters. I think I’ve forgotten that lately, and have
been robbing myself of so much potential happiness because of it. So from now
on, I am going to do my best to actively watch and critique movies new and old,
as well as write about them on this medium. Because doing that makes me happy.
Hopefully some part of it makes other people happy too. And after spending
close to 5 decades writing about the movies, I believe Roger would want us to
remember that simple message over everything else he gave us.
Rest in Peace Roger, and save me some Milk Duds.
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