Oh, Lily had seen old black and white movies many times. Some she could almost quote lines, some she remembered just the story. But, as the new, flashier movies with flashier special effects came along, somehow the depth and the message of movies became less important. African Queen? Inherit the Wind? Twelve Angry Men (Henry Fonda)? The movies reflected the quality of the actors---the shrug of a shoulder, a raised eyebrow. The director and screen writers, camera men, and editors? Excellence came from excellence. Such meaning, such passion for life.
The channel-surfing spouse happened upon a black and white movie in the late hours of the night, and thought, Hey, I bet Lily would like this one... He recorded it.
The next night both leaned back in recliners and he pushed the record button.
For one hour both were mesmerized and awed by the story line, its truth, the acting, and the thought: This really happened!
One hour was all that could be absorbed. The next night, they watched only forty-five minutes, and engaged in discussion about what was said, who said it, the actors who gave such excellence.
The third night they actually wept at the conclusion. The finality and profound absoluteness was difficult to absorb. This movie had moved them to think, to ponder, and to probe the humanity that was given and taken away.
Judgement at Nuremburg
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