After the divisive ‘Star Wars’ sequels, a former Lucasfilm insider re-evaluates The Phantom Menace

Everyone’s life has a “Luke Skywalker moment” – when something completely unexpected happens that hurls you from the life you knew into one you didn’t think was possible, and you take your first step into a larger world. For me, it came in December 2002, when a friend told me about a job he had…

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ArrayPhoto credit: Array

Everyone’s life has a “Luke Skywalker moment” – when something completely unexpected happens that hurls you from the life you knew into one you didn’t think was possible, and you take your first step into a larger world.

For me, it came in December 2002, when a friend told me about a job he had been interviewing for, but which he decided he couldn’t take. He and his wife were moving back to their hometown, and he thought I would be perfect for the role. He submitted my resume; I got a call the next day, a week after that I was interviewing, and five days later I got an offer to join Lucasfilm Ltd., initially to manage international publicity and ultimately to work as director of entertainment publicity.


Star Wars had already been one of the defining moments of my childhood (including my own 10-minute-long, Super 8 “remake”), now it was going to change my adult life. For six years, I made my professional home at Lucasfilm, and had the enormously good fortune to spend time with George Lucas, who entertained questions from journalists, fans, researchers and employees with unmatched patience and genuine interest.

As we all worked on the production and release of what we assumed was the final Star Wars film – Episode III Revenge of the Sith – I listened to many discussions of the origins and ideas behind Star Wars. Eventually, I came to think of Star Wars movies less as entertainment and more as work, and I spent a not-insignificant amount of time defending the Star Wars prequels. On the day I left Lucasfilm, a TV producer I know joked, “Now you don’t have to keep insisting that those movies are good anymore.”

I never really had to insist on that, and always did believe it. But once I left Lucasfilm in 2009, I never watched any of the first six Star Wars films from start to finish. The stay-at-home world of coronavirus changed that, and I allowed myself to watch Star Wars: Episode I The Phantom Menace … and discovered that I appreciated it more than I ever thought possible.



When it was released in 1999, I saw The Phantom Menace a half-dozen times in theaters and was bemused by each screening. Since 1977, I had only occasionally wondered what the “war” in Star Wars was all about, and why an intergalactic civil war had raged. The Phantom Menace promised an explanation, and gave one – but it wasn’t at all what anyone expected: Princess Leia had stolen secret plans, Darth Vader had killed Obi-Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker had blown up the Death Star, Yoda had trained Luke, Han had been frozen in carbonite, all because trade routes were unfairly taxed?

That sense of disbelief was long-lasting, and by the time I started working at Lucasfilm four years after The Phantom Menace was released, it hadn’t abated. The questions of Episode I loomed over everything we did, and were still on my mind when I re-watched The Phantom Menace through different eyes.

It was impossible not to hear the mildly exasperated chuckle in George Lucas’s voice whenever he answered questions about what it all meant. He always maintained a patient insistence that it had not been a mistake to tell the world that the roots of Star Wars were indeed in political bureaucracy and microscopic organisms.

To watch Star Wars: Episode I The Phantom Menace again is to realize a truth: George Lucas was absolutely right to do it the way he did. When given complete artistic freedom (he was spending his own money, after all) to tell the Star Wars story he wanted to tell, he remained true to his extraordinary vision of a mythology rooted in the foibles and imperfections of our own world.



The Phantom Menace is a film stuffed – perhaps overstuffed – with ideas, so many that it is hard to keep up with them. Though it is far from a perfect film, with stilted dialogue and sometimes uncomfortable acting, it is never a dull or boring movie. And as arcane as “the taxation of trade routes to outlying star systems” may seem, so are the origins of all wars – even the unbelievable one we’re in now, which began not with a bat or pangolin, but with bureaucratic, political decisions that stretch back years.

Mundane actions have massive consequences, and The Phantom Menace still surprises by looking at some of those actions closely. Even the opening scene, with its discussion of blockades, negotiations, ambassadors and senators stands in opposition to the slam-bang openings of the first three Star Wars movies.

The first half of The Phantom Menace can seem drawn out and dry, yet Lucas’s script is doing much more than simply setting up the action that will lead to the discovery of Anakin Skywalker. It’s also establishing a complicated world view, one in which politics as a whole is not to be trusted, but is the only imperfect option for getting anything done. Sound familiar?

Bear in mind that within the first couple of minutes of the original Star Wars, we’ve already learned about a civil war, an Imperial senate, and, a bit later, an “Old Republic.” While he could have chosen a more action-oriented, mindless backstory, George Lucas uses The Phantom Menace to begin showing how that republic became an empire, how a politician became a tyrant, and how the senate allowed it all to happen.

In that regard, The Phantom Menace is a more consequential and intriguing film than any of the most recent sequels. It’s also pointedly, proudly a George Lucas film. Its sprawling story, which is always splitting its time between two or three different plot lines, bears much more resemblance to Lucas’s earliest features – THX-1138 and American Graffiti – than any of the Star Wars films Lucas didn’t direct. Watching The Phantom Menace, it’s easy to see Lucas’s love of the craft of moviemaking come to the fore.



The Phantom Menace is equally a rumination on the cultural significance of mythology – when Anakin Skywalker’s mother Shmi struggles to explain what she means about her son’s conception and birth the film is also observing how the mythology of cultures around the globe share the same underpinnings. If Star Wars: Episode IV A New Hope found inspiration in Joseph Campbell’s ideas of comparative mythology, The Phantom Menace is a master’s thesis in the teachings.

One of its most central ideas is one of the concepts most derided by fans: midichlorians. With the benefit of having heard George Lucas talk over and over about the concept of an underlying physical connection with the Force, I’ve come to think of midichlorians as the most intriguing aspect of the entire Star Wars saga. They are destiny made manifest, a bold attempt to explain why some people, given the same opportunities, passions and training, achieve more than others. They do not undermine the concept of the Force, but help explain why not everyone becomes a hero.



Thy also speak to a concept that George Lucas would bring up over and over: the ubiquity of myths. For some reason, people around the world, separated by time and distance, have developed similar myths. Their stories and their religions bear remarkable resemblance to each other. Could it be something within us that motivates these beliefs?

Ultimately, The Phantom Menace becomes a rousing action film, though never a straightforward one. To get us to its final 45 minutes, Lucas concocted a story filled with switches and reverses, betrayals and false allies. It all leads to a grand finale in which at least four different battles are happening simultaneously. Lucas’ skill as a filmmaker ensures we always know where we are throughout this massive conclusion, even if we aren’t entirely sure of the ever-changing identity of one core character.

Though its midichlorian-induced hangover effect put fans on the defensive for years, a rewatch of The Phantom Menace proves the furor over the film may have been overdone. The more you watch The Phantom Menace, and the more you look at how it’s put together, listen to its dialogue and even its music, the more you realize that it has a great deal to say – not just about Star Wars but about our endless need for stories that help us make sense of a non-sensical world.

John Singh is a writer and entertainment-industry veteran who began his career as a newspaper journalist and has also worked at Disney, Lucasfilm Ltd., DreamWorks Animation and on a variety of films and TV series.

  • NY superintendent flies to Guatemala to give diploma to graduate detained by ICE
    An airplane and a graduate. Photo credit: Canva
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    NY superintendent flies to Guatemala to give diploma to graduate detained by ICE

    The student, who self-deported, was supposed to graduate in May.

    Roosevelt Schools Superintendent Dr. Shawn Wightman set out on an unusual journey to give his student, Alvaro Castro Velasquez, the graduation he earned.

    The senior was looking forward to walking across the stage with his friends at Roosevelt High School this May. But just weeks before graduation, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) detained him during a random encounter. Soon after, ICE transferred Castro Velasquez to a facility in Texas. When school officials found out, it sparked a response that brought the immigration crackdown right to their doorstep.

    immigration, ICE, graduation, deported, NY Superintendent
    Students in their caps and gowns. Photo credit: Canva

    “He wasn’t a hardened criminal or anything like that. Didn’t have any type of record. That was the moment everybody realized that this is a real thing,” Wightman told ABC 7 New York.

    Wightman didn’t give up on the senior. The superintendent boarded a flight to Texas with his regalia and Castro Velasquez’s diploma in hand. It was then that he realized the task wouldn’t be so simple. He was denied a meeting with the student who had reportedly come to the United States alone when he was 16. The flight, paid for out of his own pocket, turned out to be an expensive dead end.

    immigration, ICE, graduation, deported, NY Superintendent
    A man on a plane. Photo credit: Canva

    “It’s very difficult as a superintendent, a father, to think about if something like that were to have happened to any of my kids,” Wightman told ABC 7 New York.

    But where a seed of determination is planted, setbacks can sometimes act as water, leading to a bloom. After Wightman’s unsuccessful attempt to deliver the teen his diploma, Castro Velasquez opted for self-deportation to Guatemala. Navigating the immigration system alone as a teen is likely overwhelming, which may have contributed to the senior’s decision to leave.

    Wightman, however, became more determined than ever to ensure the teen received the diploma he earned. The educator took two flights and drove five and a half hours through the foothills of Guatemala to reach his former student. The pair reunited after Wightman’s long journey to the Central American country.

    The unwavering superintendent didn’t just arrive with a diploma in hand. He brought his own graduation robe and hood, along with the student’s cap and gown. In doing so, Wightman brought the graduation ceremony to Castro Velasquez.

    immigration, ICE, graduation, deported, NY Superintendent
    An airplane. Photo credit: Canva

    “This is amazing for me. He helped me. And he supported me, for all this time,” Castro Velasquez told ABC 7 New York. “I’m not feeling I’m alone. I know I have him and my family.”

    The TV station shared the video on Instagram, and people can’t get over the lengths the superintendent went to to mark the special occasion for his student.

    One person said, “Thank you sir, for demonstrating humanity.”

    Another wrote, “On his own dime. He should sleep peacefully at night knowing he did something extraordinarily kind!!”

    Someone else shared, “My heart is so moved by the sheer humanity and compassion of this man. He is a true educator! I pray that this young man will be inspired to keep fighting for his dreams. I pray that he be protected so that one day he can pay it forward.”

    For those wondering why he went to such lengths at his own expense, Wightman’s answer is simple: “You don’t abandon people who you care about.”

  • Why those epic ’80s wooden playgrounds suddenly disappeared
    Phil Edwards explains the history of wooden playgrounds.Photo credit: @phildedwardsinc/Instagram (used with permission)
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    Why those epic ’80s wooden playgrounds suddenly disappeared

    Why did we trade those wooden beauties for brightly colored plastic?

    If you grew up in the ’80s or ’90s, you’re likely all too familiar with those all-wooden, castle-like playgrounds complete with drawbridges, child-sized tunnels, rope mazes, PVC pipe “walkie-talkies,” cool hideaway spaces, airport towers, and tire walls.

    They were the perfect place to let your imagination run wild, whether you pretended to be knights, wizards, Vikings, or simply played freeze tag without ever touching the ground.

    Nowadays, those castles are like a modern-day fairy tale: no longer made, rarely seen, and mostly remembered as relics of a bygone era. What happened?

    History of wooden playgrounds

    As a fun Instagram video by content creator Phil Edwards explains, part of what made wooden playgrounds special was that children had a major role in how they were created.

    According to Edwards, Robert “Bob” Leathers, founder of Leathers and Associates, and his partner, Tom Rockwell, consulted children during the design process. Those playgrounds were then built by volunteer community members, such as parents, in a matter of days.

    Personal memories

    Interestingly, quite a few viewers shared personal memories of helping design their wooden playgrounds as children.

    “My parents helped built the one for my elementary school…it was pure magic.”

    “I participated as a child, and I clearly remember standing up as a kindergartener and saying, what if a slide came out of a dragon’s mouth. Years later, playing in the Orange CT playground, I realized the slide came out of a dragon’s mouth, rendered in wood. I almost didn’t believe my earlier memory. Could that wild idea from the mouth of a kindergartner have become a major feature of an actual playground?? What an amazing program. ❤️”

    Castle Parks?
    by u/Comfortable_Weight82 in grandrapids

    “I remember being at planning meeting at the Waverly community house. I remember my dad building. I remember sanding wood. And I have so many memories of playing on this playground for hours a day while my mom taught dance…It was the greatest sense of community.”

    “​​Our very small southern NJ town had one of these – Pine Cone Zone. I still remember the planning team coming to our school. We all submitted our ideas and designs. They also had a naming contest. People could donate money and their names would be engraved on the fence posts. Still remember spending the day at the rec fields while our parents built it. Was such a big deal for our little community ❤️”

    Why they stopped making wooden playgrounds

    Unfortunately, a study in the early 2000s found that the type of wood used in these structures contained arsenic, and that children who played on them had significantly higher levels of the toxin on their skin. The findings raised concerns about the structures’ overall safety, and major playground manufacturers eventually stopped using this type of wood in favor of other materials.

    And while this didn’t seem to influence their decline, several folks recalled the wooden playgrounds as having merciless splinters.

    “The splinters were ruthless,” quipped one commenter. 

    Still, there weren’t any documented cases of “anything going wrong from these playgrounds,” Edwards noted. That’s why they weren’t forcibly torn down, and why you might still find some of the 1,600 that were built scattered across the country.

    While their reign has ended, wooden playgrounds leave behind a wonderful legacy. As Edwards put it, they were built “by parents who wanted to share their love with their children” and make something “amazing.” Imagine what could be possible if there were more opportunities for that kind of thing.

  • 101-year-old woman answers kids’ questions about the old days in this delightful clip
    An elderly woman walks on the beach. Another older woman holds a child.Photo credit: Canva

    In a compilation that has resurfaced and gone viral (yet again) on social media, a 101-year-old woman named Alice is seen meeting a gaggle of young children, all eager to see the world through the lens of her long life.

    The group is called HiHo Kids, and they’re part of an online content platform that features children learning and playing. Their Facebook page emphasizes the importance of embracing youth: “Every kid – including the one inside each of us – needs imagination and curiosity about the world. HiHo promotes empathy through play.”

    No question is too big, too silly, or too small for Alice. The young tikes are, as children tend to be, truly earnest, and Alice seems happy to share what her life has been like for more than a century. In a montage, various children sit across from her. One asks, “What are we here to talk about?” Alice answers with honesty and humor: “Well, I think it might be how old I am.”

    This is, of course, followed by the question, “How old are you?” Alice replies, “I’m in my 101st year.”

    After a brief discussion about where Alice grew up, a boy named Micah asks about life back in the old days. Alice answers, “We didn’t have radio. No television. We didn’t have telephones when I was a little girl. There were not any trucks. They had wagons, and horses pulled them.”

    What was the world like?

    One young girl asked whether the world was in such turmoil. “Back then, did you see any wars?” Alice maintained her honest approach. “I did, and I was in a war. I was in the Second World War. We worked on decoding and encoding machines. Very secret work. The officers had guns, and they said if you told any of the secrets, they would shoot you dead.”

    Micah looks a bit nervous, so Alice reassures him. “But nobody got shot.” He seems relieved. “Good,” he says, smiling and nodding.

    To lighten things up a bit, a young girl asks, “What did you do for fun?” Alice fondly recalls, “I had dolls and blocks. But I really liked ‘boys’ things.’ Marbles and tops. And I thought boys were much luckier than girls. We had to wear skirts and stockings, even in the coldest weather.”

    Clara questions this: “Girls couldn’t wear pants?” Alice affirms, “That’s right.” Clara concludes that it’s simply not fair.

    Favorite insect

    Though Alice is now retired, she lights up when talking about her past work as a biology professor. “If you look at my shirt, you’ll see some of the things I taught about.” She points to a few insect brooches on her pale blue button-down, including a spider. When asked about her favorite insect, Alice doesn’t hesitate: “Ants. I did research on ants.”

    Clara could talk about ants all day. She explains that although they’re tiny, they’re incredibly strong. “They can carry something big, like a banana. Even three of them can, even though they’re this tiny.” Alice is impressed by her knowledge. “You’re very good—and you’re only six years old!”

    Micah asks what Alice likes to do for fun. “Well, right now I’m watching the Olympics. I write books, and I do puzzles. I enjoy email. I write to a lot of my friends. I even play Scrabble. Also, I try to get exercise every day.”

    She tells the kids she’s grateful to still have a working mind and body. “Some old people aren’t very well anymore. Some of them can’t remember things. Some of them have to have somebody help them. But I can do everything myself.” Micah exclaims, “That’s good! That means you’re really old, but you’re really good at it.”

    The rest of the conversation is quite moving. Alice is asked what the hardest part of getting older is. “You miss people. And especially when you live over 100 years. Most of the people I ever knew, and in my family, are dead.”

    Not afraid of dying

    This leads to a beautiful question: “Are you afraid of dying?” Alice is most certainly not. “No, I’m not afraid of dying. I feel very healthy and happy. My doctor said, ‘Maybe you’ll just die in your sleep.’ So I’m not afraid, because I have a good life.”

    Finally, quite possibly the most important question of the session: “What is the secret to living a long life?” Alice answers, “Being happy, working hard, getting exercise, doing things for yourself, not expecting other people to do everything for you. Those things help you live a long time.”

    The comments under the Facebook reel, where this was also posted, are full of praise.

    One commenter wrote, “As a geriatric nurse, Alice’s brain is freaking amazing for 101. Shoot, it’s amazing for most of my 70-80 year olds. Amazing.”

    Another agreed with Alice’s life: “She was a freaking decoder! These kids don’t even know the titan they’re sitting across from them. This is so cool!”

    And of course, people loved Alice’s interactions with the sweet children. “You can tell she loves to teach,” a commenter wrote. “She’s absolutely magical with the children. What a gift to introduce these kids to Alice.”

  • Why didn’t people smile in old-timey photographs? Smiling meant something different back then.
    Photos of a man and woman from the 1800sPhoto credit: Public Domain

    If you’ve ever perused photographs from the 19th and early 20th century, you’ve likely noticed how serious everyone looked. If there’s a hint of a smile at all, it’s oh-so-slight. But more often than not, our ancestors looked like they were sitting for a sepia-toned mug shot or being held for ransom or something. Why didn’t people smile in photographs? Was life just so hard back then that nobody smiled? Were dour, sour expressions just the norm?

    Most often, people’s serious faces in old photographs are blamed on the long exposure time of early cameras, and that’s true. Taking a photo was not an instant event like it is now; people had to sit still for many minutes in the 1800s to have their photo taken.

    Ever try holding a smile for only one full minute? It’s surprisingly difficult and very quickly becomes unnatural. A smile is a quick reaction, not a constant state of expression. Even people we think of as “smiley” aren’t toting around full-toothed smiles for minutes on end. When you had to be still for several minutes to get your photo taken, there was just no way you were going to hold a smile for that long.

    But there are other reasons besides long exposure times that people didn’t smile in early photographs.

    mona lisa, leonardo da vinci, classic paintings, famous smiles, art
    Mona LisaPhoto credit: Public domain

    The non-smiling precedent had already been set by centuries of painted portraits

    The long exposure times for early photos may have contributed to serious facial expressions, but so did the painted portraits that came before them. Look at all of the portraits of famous people throughout history prior to cameras. Sitting to be painted took hours, so smiling was out of the question. Other than the smallest of lip curls like the Mona Lisa, people didn’t smile for painted portraits, so why would people suddenly think it normal to flash their pearly whites (which were not at all pearly white back then) for a photographed one? It simply wasn’t how it was done.

    A smirk? Sometimes. A full-on smile? Practically never.

    old photos, black and white photos, 1800s photos, no-smile photos, no smiles in photo
    Algerian immigrant to the United States. Photographed on Ellis Island. Photo credit: Augustus F. Sherman via William Williams/Wikimedia Commons

    Smiling usually indicated that you were a fool or a drunkard

    Our perceptions of smiling have changed dramatically since the 1800s. In explaining why smiling was considered taboo in portraits and early photos, art historian Nicholas Jeeves wrote in Public Domain Review:

    “Smiling also has a large number of discrete cultural and historical significances, few of them in line with our modern perceptions of it being a physical signal of warmth, enjoyment, or indeed of happiness. By the 17th century in Europe it was a well-established fact that the only people who smiled broadly, in life and in art, were the poor, the lewd, the drunk, the innocent, and the entertainment […] Showing the teeth was for the upper classes a more-or-less formal breach of etiquette.”

    drunks, classic painting, owls, malle babbe, paintings
    "Malle Babbe" by Frans HalsPhoto credit: Frans Hals via Public domain

    In other words, to the Western sensibility, smiling was seen as undignified. If a painter did put a smile on the subject of a portrait, it was a notable departure from the norm, a deliberate stylistic choice that conveyed something about the artist or the subject.

    Smiling simply didn’t work well in old portraits

    Even the artists who attempted it had less-than-ideal results. It turns out that smiling is such a lively, fleeting expression that the artistically static nature of painted portraits didn’t lend itself well to showcasing it. Paintings that did have subjects smiling made them look weird or disturbing or drunk. Simply put, painting a genuine, natural smile didn’t work well in portraits of old.

    As a result, the perception that smiling was an indication of lewdness or impropriety stuck for quite a while, even after Kodak created snapshot cameras that didn’t have the long exposure time problem. Even happy occasions had people nary a hint of joy in the photographs that documented them.

    Another reason why people didn’t smile in old photos is that dental hygiene wasn’t the same as it is today, and people may have been self-conscious about their teeth. “People had lousy teeth, if they had teeth at all, which militated against opening your mouth in social settings,” Angus Trumble, the director of the National Portrait Gallery in Canberra, Australia, and author of A Brief History of the Smile, said, according to Time.

    old photos, black and white photos, 1800s photos, no-smile photos, no smiles in photo
    Even wedding party photos didn’t appear to be joyful occasions. Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons

    Then along came movies, which may have changed the whole picture

    So how did we end up coming around to grinning ear to ear for photos? Interestingly enough, it may have been the advent of motion pictures that pushed us towards smiling being the norm.

    Photos could have captured people’s natural smiles earlier—we had the technology for taking instant photos—but culturally, smiling wasn’t widely favored for photos until the 1920s. One theory about that timing is that the explosion of movies enabled us to see emotions of all kinds playing out on screen, documenting the fleeting expressions that portraits had failed to capture. Culturally, it became normalized to capture, display and see all kinds of emotions on people’s faces. As we got more used to that, photo portraits began portraying people in a range of expression rather than trying to create a neutral image of a person’s face.

    Changing our own perceptions of old photo portraits to view them as neutral rather than grumpy or serious can help us remember that people back then were not a bunch of sourpusses, but people who experienced as wide a range of emotion as we do, including joy and mirth. Unfortunately, we just rarely get to see them in that state before the 1920s.

    This article originally appeared last year.

  • ‘You better than that’: Door camera shows woman stopping package thief with tough love
    A Black woman (left) and packages on a stoop (right).Photo credit: Canva
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    ‘You better than that’: Door camera shows woman stopping package thief with tough love

    She turned a tense moment into an unforgettable display of empathy.

    In a moment when most people might respond with anger and discipline, one Philadelphia woman chose instead to lead with compassion.

    On March 6, Bernadette Williams noticed a stranger across the street near a neighbor’s porch. As seen on Williams’ doorbell camera, a woman with a partial face covering appeared to reach for a delivered package. It was the kind of scene that immediately raises alarm, and Williams responded without hesitation.

    ‘What are you doing? Put that back! Put that back!’

    The woman quickly dropped the package. For a brief moment, the situation hung in the balance. It could have turned into a confrontation, a threat, or a call to the police. But then Williams made a choice that shifted the entire tone of the encounter.

    “I said, ‘She’s in trouble. How can I make a bad situation better?’ You have to be a part of the solution,” she later told WPVI

    Rather than continuing to call out the woman, Williams began speaking to her in a completely different way. As her voice softened, her message changed from warning to encouragement.

    “You better than that. Get some help. I love you. God loves you,” she told the woman.

    Then came the offer that has stayed with so many people who have heard the story. Reaching into her pocket, Williams told the stranger, “I’ll give you some money. Here’s $7, here’s $7.” It was all she had, and she gave it up willingly. 

    package thief, kindness, Philadelphia
    Close-up of hands offering money. Photo credit: Canva

    The exchange was brief, but its impact was clear

    As WPVI reported, the woman apologized and thanked her before leaving. Williams said she could see something had shifted in her expression.

    “Her eyes of ‘I’m sorry.’ That was in her heart, and that’s what I read. I hope that she will be fine, and I have faith that she will be fine.”

    For Williams, the decision was not about ignoring wrongdoing, but about recognizing what might be underneath it. Instead of seeing a thief, she saw someone who might be struggling.

    “She started realizing ‘I am somebody,’” Williams said. “She started realizing that ‘There is somebody out here that cares.’”

    package thief, kindness, Philadelphia
    A close-up of eyes. Photo credit: Canva

    That perspective comes from years of living in the same neighborhood and feeling connected to the people in it. Williams believes that communities are shaped by how people choose to respond to one another, especially in difficult moments.

    “We are a part of this community, and we can make our community better,” she told WPVI.

    The big takeaway

    There’s a common assumption that accountability must come with harshness. This story shows that it doesn’t always have to. The would-be thief is held accountable while maintaining everyone’s dignity, making a different choice in the future far more likely.

    While it’s impossible to know what happens next for the woman in the video, what remains is the example Williams set by actively choosing humanity when most would not.

  • Ethan Hawke beautifully explains why AI art can’t replace imperfect human creativity
    Ethan Hawke gets philosophical about art and creativity.Photo credit: Elena Ternovaja/Wikimedia Commons

    As AI plays an increasing role in our world, questions about its appropriate use abound. There’s no doubt that technology has the potential to improve our lives dramatically. But the way we choose to use it can also impact us in ways we may not fully appreciate.

    For instance, how might AI impact our relationship with human creativity? Ethan Hawke was asked about the idea that “AI is the future of art,” and how he would argue that human creativity matters. People are loving his thoughts.

    Ethan Hawke on AI art versus reality

    “Nature is reality,” he said. “And when you get away from reality, you get lost. Human creativity is nature manifest in us. It is happening in us.”

    Then he gave an example of why AI art will never be able to replicate a piece of art created by a human.

    “AI could make an amazing portrait of the Sundance Film Festival, and it’ll be incredible,” he said. “Or my 14-year-old could color her impression of it. And the thing about my 14-year-old’s is it’s not perfect. It’s hers. It’s unique to a moment in time and a place. And it’s inimitable because it’s coming from her, and she is beautiful. And it’s not the painting; it’s the energy behind the painting.”

    “What makes a poem great is not this collection of words,” he continued. “It’s the energy behind the poem. Dance can be…you see people who can barely dance, and you can cry at the joy happening with the music. Because they’re alive right now and they won’t be forever. And when we start making things being about perfection, you’re just belittling the experience of life. You’re just totally ceding your humanity.”

    Hawke concluded, “It makes me sad, but it also makes me excited, because I don’t want to do that. I’m not going to do that.”

    So many people resonated with his response in the comments:

    “This is so beautiful and so true ~ everything he says is so profound and I’m here for this thinking…. we’ve become a weird world of social media perfection.”

    “I love how he got 🥲 talking about the imperfections created by hand from his daughter. What a beautiful way of describing creativity.”

    “Can he just write a philosophy book already? We all know we’d read it.”

    @ethanhawke always saying what the world needs to hear. Thank you sir! Thank you for defending the magic of NATURE and defending the MAGIC of humanity. More of this ENERGY and CONSCIOUSNESS ❤️❤️❤️.”

    “This feels less like an anti-AI take and more like a pro-human one.”

    AI isn’t going anywhere, time to choose the role it plays in society

    That last comment hits the nail on the head. Whether you love it, hate it, or aren’t sure how to feel about it, AI is here. The conversations we have about it, and how we consciously choose to engage with it, matter. There’s a lot to consider on that front, ethically, educationally, environmentally, and more.

    But one thing those considerations are forcing us to do is to examine the value of human creativity. Not the dollar amounts we can assign to it, but the inherent value of the energy behind an artist’s unique expression. Generative AI will never be able to replace human creativity, no matter how “perfectly” it may replicate it. The real beauty of art is the singularity of the human spirit and the unique energy an artist brings to it.

    As Hawke said, we can choose not to cede our humanity in the age of AI—and we can be excited about that choice because the beauty of human creativity is absolutely worth celebrating.

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