I remember that late hour after midnight when I watched The Crow(1994) for the first time...
Everyone was fast asleep. At that time, we in the family weren't allowed to leave the television on late. Some days, I couldn't resist the urge to watch it. I'd turn on the TV, mute the volume so no one would hear, and remain in the darkness of the room, bathed only by the silent light of the screen.
I started looking for something suitable to watch, and by chance, I came across a channel broadcasting something I didn't understand at first. The scene was about T-Bird, who was about to find his grave in the sea. I was very surprised, and the scene of the fire exploding after Eric Draven's smile was enough to make me keep watching. It continued like this, and until the end, I couldn't understand it because of my young age; I was nine years old, and I wasn't used to seeing a dark thriller like that. And let's not forget that the TV was muted, which made the scenes I saw even darker, stranger, and more captivating at times. Years passed, and I came across the film again, and I was older enough to understand its story. The second time I watched it, it was like the first time because I had forgotten many of the details, except for the scene of T. Beard's death. But I haven't forgotten how it was the first time... Seeing a character with such a frightening appearance act romantically, wavering between emotions and intensity, is something I didn't fully grasp until I was sixteen.
The film truly captivated me, to the point that it influenced my own philosophy of life and death. It holds a special place in my heart, not because of its reputation, but because of the profound feeling it left in my soul, where doubts and anxieties crumble and disappear completely when the conversation turns to death, destiny, and poetry. Luckily, I didn't watch it because of its reputation; I stumbled upon it quite by chance, and then it reappeared before me as if it were an anonymous reminder that something awaited me. The second time was when I saw its poster online with the film's title underneath. I looked closely and thought, "I've seen it before, but I didn't understand it!" And now, how wonderful, its radiant clouds draw me in...
We still have the television on which the film was first shown to me, and we still use it despite its poor screen quality. And every day I look at that screen to thank it. I wrote many articles about the film and immersed myself in analyzing it and contemplating its beauty for years. I even went so far as to create a special page dedicated to it and to the life of the late artist, (Brandon Lee) -R.I.P - In recent years, I have truly been preoccupied with my personal life and have not been able to continue writing about it as I used to, but I still write and compose poetry, and within me, that same ray of light that shone from the film's clouds into my heart remains. I have deep gratitude for the lead actor, the director, and the writer, and I have a special gratitude for the poet Edgar Allan Poe, who was clearly influential in the birth of the legend of the raven. Legends die, but their memories and words live on within us.