Really, I probably should have been writing about them all the more, to bring attention to the way the studios -- specifically the streamers -- were trying to take as much advantage of them as possible.
So why didn't I write more, really at all, about the writer's strike in 2023, even though it went on for months and forced a number of high profile releases forward to 2024?
One reason was surely that it would have required more research than I really wanted to do to make sure I got all my facts rights. Although I do consider myself reasonably well informed about what the stakes were -- in part due to hearing one of the writer's guild's chief negotiators, writer David Goodman, appear three times on one of my podcasts -- the minute details were not something I could have had at my command without looking them up.
Then I'd need a clear perspective other than "The writers are getting screwed!," which is a fairly boring and obvious thing to say.
And if I'd gone on and on about how I wouldn't be seeing the second Dune movie until 2024 due to the strike, it would have sounded like I was blaming the writers for holding the normal mechanics of Hollywood hostage. The point was to hold those mechanics hostage and to make it hurt for studios, which they eventually did. Besides, the year-end slate got plenty busy without the second Dune, and prevented Timothee Chalamet from duking it out with himself in Wonka.
The thing I find it a little more shocking not to have discussed this year, though, is the fact that I turned 50 in October.
Oh I made references to it in certain posts, like this one. But given the way I like to capitalize on almost any personal milestone out there -- a certain number of films watched, a certain number of reviews written, a certain number of posts on this blog -- you'd think turning the half century mark would have prompted me to create some sort of series on my blog, or to look back at the films of 1973. In fact, the only 1973 film I rewatched in 2023 was the one in the post mentioned above. I did see two new 1973 movies, Day for Night and Live and Let Die, but neither was watched specifically for the purpose of recognizing my birthday.
I don't think it was denial. Turning 50 did not make me feel any angst, or a sense that I was now on the back nine of my life. (Although obviously I've been on the back nine for a while, unless I plan to live past 100.) But neither did I necessarily want to celebrate it.
I remember at the actual time it occurred, thinking about how I should write something. But I don't usually write things on this blog because I should. I write them because I get an idea about something I want to say that I feel like I can't not write. Even things that are extremely trivial, I feel the need to share.
It helped that on my actual birthday I was in Sydney, having flown there the night before, so I didn't have any excess time to ponder the occasion. I do think it's funny that this was what I posted on my birthday, having already written it the day before. It just really has nothing to do with the actual thing that was happening in my life.
But the actual thing that did happen in Sydney made a great way to celebrate my birthday, even if it had nothing to do with movies.
For ages I had wanted to climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge, ever since I first came to Sydney in 2009 and learned that this was a thing. It's a three-hour trip and you are attached by cables to the bridge and it's stepping rather than climbing, with only one area where you have to go on ladders. Really, there is no danger. But it looks scary from the ground level, and a seeker of thrills like me was always into the idea.
My wife got a climb for me as a birthday present. She didn't join me -- she's afraid of heights -- but she sent me on my way with a big smile on my face.
As a funny coincidence, this year marked exactly 25 years since they started doing these climbs -- so, exactly half my life. But there was a measure of the entire length of my life that I got to share time with, by virtue of doing this climb.
At your peak parts of the climb, they take pictures of you in front of the Sydney Opera House down below. And the Sydney Opera House is exactly as old as I am.
We discovered this on a trip to Sydney back in 2021 to see Hamilton. We came across a plaque that said the iconic landmark had been dedicated by the queen on October 20, 1973, which is my birthday. Mind = blown.
So I actually got to spend my 50th with the opera house on its 50th, though we didn't get to see the big light show they put on that night because our dinner in a revolving restaurant took nearly three hours from start to finish. (Yes, my wife took really good care of me on my birthday.)
It was a special birthday I'll never forget, but no, it didn't have to do with the movies. Not everything does.
And that's a lesson I bring with me into 2024, as I finish the year having seen about 25 fewer new movies in 2023 than I did in 2022. Life isn't always about the next movie you need to see, even for a cinephile. As I head into my second half-century, that's a good thing to remember.
Happy New Year.
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