The first time that I watched Orson Welles' critically-acclaimed masterpiece (it was nominated for 9 Oscars in 1941) -- well, I actually didn't watch it. My high school English teacher put it on the VCR, and I was so underwhelmed by the opening scenes that I spent the rest of the 2 hours doing whatever it is that teenagers do in class when they're bored. I was so dulled that I can't even recall what that was.
Recently Dena decided that she wanted to watch it, so we rented it from Blockbuster, where it sat on the stairs, inspiring us through its unopened case for a few days. Tonight while Dena was off to her church meetings I popped it in.
Is it the best movie of all time, as some suggest? Without doubt, it's the best 1941 movie I've ever seen. Being the philosophical guy that I am, it raised some questions. What can life be like if your only conviction, your only love, is yourself? What happens if you try to gain love without giving it?
The main message I took away is that it's easy to spend life longing for the past. Why not cherish what we have right now, starting at this very moment?
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