I love movies. Always have. The darkened theaters, the smell of the popcorn, the hush that descends as soon as the curtains open.
But even more, I’ve always loved the classics. Big, sweeping stories. Ben Hur. Spartacus. Movies that had intermissions they were so long. I have my mother to thank for curating this love with me. We would spend weekends watching black and white film noir and Technicolor extravaganzas. The first movie I knew by heart was Casablanca. It was also the first movie poster I was ever given, which became the start of a collection of well over a hundred.
Like many people in the world now with all this new time on my hands—exiled for the good of the realm, so to speak—I have time to revisit these amazing tales. Today, I find myself engrossed in a gem from my childhood. Lawrence of Arabia.
Peter O’Toole as a bright-eyed young man, acting in his first role.
The movie has everything. Beautiful cinematography, witty dialogue, and the scenery. But one of the images that strikes me is simple. Early on the in the film, after Lawrence has been given the orders to go to Arabia, we see a sunrise on the desert. Like I said, simple. However, there is something so powerful and so moving about seeing that bright orange sun crest of the top of the sand. The scene from start to finish is less than a minute. Yet, it sets that all important aspect of the film; the tone. This story is going to be vast, filled with trials to overcome, and you cannot help but become caught up in it.
“Great things come from small beginnings.” One of the opening lines spoken by Claude Rains.
As a storyteller, I hold onto those prophetic words. An idea, a concept. What can be smaller? I doesn’t even have form. It exists only in the mind. But feed it, water it, give it purpose, and it can grow into something spectacular. I have to believe in my stories, in my words, in my own ideas. I hope that they can bring delight, and hope, to those who read them. I pray that I do justice to the characters who have trusted me to tell the world about them.
To touch the lives of others is to do great things. And though my stories may never hit the big screen, I will continue to tell them to all who still believe in magic.