Given the news of the passing of legendary, curmudgeonly film critic Rex Reed on Tuesday morning, I recalled a letter I’d written to him over a decade ago when I was in my twenties and exploring my budding passion for classic movies. I found it in an old folder on my computer and it reminded me of a time where my younger, passionate self wanted to make a difference in the generational gap we were experiencing (and still are).
At the time, Reed was approaching eighty and seemed even more sour about his disdain for contemporary movies. What bothered me most was how he attacked young people for not caring about the past. I resented his sentiment and decided to write a letter arguing against his criticism.
My intention at the time was to publish it in a newspaper, but I never sent it to any editor as I was still insecure about my writing and hadn’t published anything yet. Reading it now after all of these years, it still resonates and I think it’s worth bringing up the conversation again now that Mr. Reed has left us.
The letter follows:
Dear Mr. Reed,
Whenever I read an article or watch a TV interview where you are interviewed, you bring up the same tired, cranky grievance that young people are unaware of and uninterested in classic films, and that my generation simply doesn’t care about Hollywood’s past. As a twentysomething and one of those millennials you loathe, I take umbrage with this unjustified notion.
This groaning complaint is becoming a regular recurrence from most older folks I encounter, who make it a habit of shaming the current generation for their lack of knowledge of old movies and its glittering stars, therefore exercising a larger theory that all young people are too dimwitted and self-consumed, lacking any respect for the artists who have come before them.
But I ask you this — how could a young person possibly understand the depth of Cary Grant’s charm, or Katherine Hepburn’s charisma, or Sidney Poitier’s strength, or Frank Sinatra’s voice, if someone a previous generation hasn’t properly explained to us their brilliance? Books, documentaries, and the internet can only go so far. Where are the encouragers?
As time passes and movie stars fade, they can’t possibly sit at the forefront of our media consumption. Therefore, exposure must be passed down like an heirloom. If films are vital to our culture, then they must be shared, not hoarded and locked away.
As a child, I was fortunate to have elders who cherished the tradition of cinema and shared their favorite films with me as though I was entering a rite of passage. As a result, I’ve turned that sacred bond into a lifelong passion. Whenever I attend a retrospective screening of a movie before my time, I make friends with the senior citizens sitting next to me in the theater. But there are also young people present too and they want to experience that magic you write so affectionately about in your writing.
Although I’m a traditionalist myself and prefer to see films in actual moviehouses, I’m also grateful to television and digital streaming services for offering vintage film titles in their libraries. In all candor, if it wasn’t for Ted Turner and his Turner Classic Movies, and Robert Osborne speaking to me through the screen, my life may have taken a different turn.
Okay, perhaps I’m in a minority group of young people interested in classic cinema. But consider this, Mr. Reed — you were a young person in the 1950s and ‘60s, and the majority of your generation was not interested in movies from the ’20s, ‘30s, and ‘40s. Their interest lay in the contemporary pop culture of their time, consisting largely of rock ‘n’ roll and beach movies starring Annette Fuicello and Frankie Avalon.
If it wasn’t for revival theaters, occasional black-and-white reruns on TV, and writers like yourself, how would young people have known about classic films otherwise? Did your friends know who Bette Davis was? Or Greer Garson? Or even Joseph Cotten? Were the older folks of your time disheartened by your generation’s lack of interest with their movies? It’s possible they were, but maybe you didn’t look back at your youth and take notice of the enormous gap that existed. Or maybe you too were also in a minority group of old movie lovers.
If you truly want young people to care about the legends of bygone eras then you must expose, not scorn. Otherwise, you are judging us with an unfair advantage. As time passes, it’s only natural that stars drift into obscurity. The names and faces that were once widely known and celebrated will shrink into a niche interest. However, as long as their art is exhibited in some type of arena, it will never disappear completely.
You must give my generation a chance to catch up. We are inundated with new media and technology to consume everyday, whether we like it or not, but that doesn’t mean we won’t eventually come to appreciate the past. We just need to be exposed. We need to connect with our recent history. Give us that chance.
Maybe we’ll bump into each other at a screening sometime and talk about the old days. But please, just don’t critique me.
Thank you for your time,
Raj Tawney
Raj Tawney writes about culture and identity from his multiracial perspective. He has contributed to The New York Times, Los Angeles Times, The Washington Post, and other publications around the country. He is the author of Colorful Palate: A Flavorful Journey Through a Mixed American Experience and All Mixed Up.
