Audrey, you killed short form for me.

Roman Holiday didn’t kill my love for short form content.

Mainly because it never was love.

It was more of a voluntary sedation, let’s call it.

Downtime became dopamine-time, scrolling, chuckling, and viewing comments.

It’s like getting the climax of a film over and over again. But you never recall them, as they lack depth or any substance at all.

I’m not here to shit on short form content.

I’m just now aware that it was indeed a sedation, and that I never truly enjoyed it, thanks to the movie Roman Holiday.

You probably won’t watch it, mainly because you’ve never heard of it, it’s 70 years old, and it’s in black and white.

Released in 1953, starring Gregory Peck and introducing Audrey Hepburn, the film’s about a frustrated princess who escapes her palace and goes on an adventure with a journalist.

Gregory and Audrey are a fun watch

The film won three Oscars. If you’ve two hours to spare, consider it. Though, again, you probably won’t watch it.

Anyway, the movie draws out in a classic way: two strangers meet, share a bit of romance, and have a kiss or two. It builds and builds and builds, allowing the viewer to feel like they know where all this lovey-dovey behavior is heading.

All leading up to the climax of the film, the last ten minutes is what every viewer is waiting for. But the film does not end how you think; it does not end how you want. It brings the two main characters together again, most likely for the last time, among others, in front of whom they can't show their feelings for each other. So they stare at each other, sharing a secret, one only they know, and you, the viewer. Then they walk away from each other forever.

It’s because of this misdirection, catching me off guard, that I felt pause.

For what felt like yet another movie, this bittersweet, unexpected ending is, in my view, what made the film.

And after the credits roll, I close my laptop, lie there, then reach for my phone, ready to look at shorts, then think:

‘It’s not the same.’

I think it’s only when we’re hit with something that enriches the soul—striking a chord, leaving you with a mixture of emotions you don’t know what to do with—that we can break free from the clutches of the hollow and empty.

Art has a healing ability.

That’s what Roman Holiday was for me.

As for the meaningless

It scratches that itch in the brain, calming the nerves, yet never addressing the root problem, always leaving you hungry.

And so many eat and consume and eat and consume, only to never ever feel full.

Or so I think,

George