The Will Smith Incident

What are we to make of it?

(Welcome to another installment of Life Its Ownself. If you enjoy reading it, please let me know by hitting the Like button at the bottom, subscribing to this newsletter, and recommending it to others. Also, feel free to comment below.)

         I don’t go out to the movies very often. Like, annually. So when I see a movie, it’s usually on cable TV or one of the streaming services (Hulu, HBO MAX, etc.) to which I subscribe.

         One of the cues I look for in deciding whether to watch a movie is who the actors are. (I suspect most folks are like me in this regard.) For instance, I will watch almost any movie that has either Denzel Washington, Jason Bateman or Anne Hathaway in it. (I am waiting for them to team up in what is sure to be a blockbuster. Screenwriters, take your marks.) Conversely, I will not watch any movie that has Adam Sandler or Drew Barrymore in it. I could, if provided a steady stream of adult beverages, discourse about my admittedly idiosyncratic preferences and their rationale, but ultimately there isn’t any. I like watching some actors (e.g., Denzel) and not watching others (e.g., Drew).

         Of course (he said reasonably), the actors are not the only criteria I use to gauge my interest in a film. Anne Hathaway won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her turn in Les Miserables, but that does not increase the likelihood I will watch it. And I liked Punch-Drunk Love in spite of – come to think of it, because of – Adam Sandler’s lead performance in it.

         Anyway, until Sunday Will Smith was firmly entrenched in the list of names which, seen on the marquee, would typically be enough to get me to watch a movie. I think Hitch is a superbly charming rom com, all three Men in Blacks are seriously funny, and Independence Day is a good ol’ save-the-world action-adventure movie. There are many other movies in which he is the spark that makes them enjoyable.

         Last night, I was channel-surfing, as is my wont, trying to decide if I should watch TV for another hour or pick up the excellent Amor Towles novel I’m reading. And Enemy of the State, which I normally enjoy, was on. I turned off the TV and started reading.

         I offer no profound analysis of what happened Sunday night. (I didn’t even know about it until mid-day Monday, when I finally gave in to curiosity about all the Will Smith-Chris Rock-Academy Awards buzz in the digi-verse.) Here’s what we know: Will Smith struck someone – hard. It’s called “assault” in the penal code. We can argue about whether he was legitimately provoked, but it most certainly was not in self-defense. Those are the facts, such as they are.

         I’ve read the reasons and the rationalizations. I understand he’s apologized to Chris Rock and the universe, which is admirable. The event and its consequences will extend out into the future, and we’ll see where that goes. No one knows what effect, if any, this will have upon his impressive movie career.

         But for the moment, Will Smith is no longer on my “Must See” list. I am modest enough to think that will not put a big dent in his $350 million net worth. In the final analysis, though, Will Smith and all his fellow actors make their living because we see their name on a placard or a TV Guide and decide that’s how we’ll spend the next two hours of our lives.

         What do you think?