They Might Be Giants

On a Sunday afternoon when I was 15 years old, I watched They Might Be Giants on KVOS. In this movie, a psychologist named Dr. Watson accompanies a retired judge acting as Sherlock Holmes on his hunt for Professor Moriarity:

"He's the greatest enemy man could have -- he's everywhere! Here, look: 'Girl scout killed crossing street', 'Grandmother raped and beaten', 'Orphanage in flames, 5 die', 'Excursion boat explodes'. Who -- who does these things? Who is responsible?"

On that day I decided it was my favourite movie.

Over four years later, I came upon a copy of They Might Be Giants. I was afraid to watch it again, scared that I might now find it unexceptional -- thereby invalidating the most passionate convictions I held not only about movies, but about everything that was important to me. I put off watching it for several weeks, never confident that I was in the right mood to see it again. When I did finally watch it, I enjoyed it even more than the first time -- in part because of all my doubts.