Go see it and see for yourself why you shouldn't go see it.

Hear the paradoxical words of Samuel Goldwyn, titan of early Hollywood and master of the spoken riddle: “Go see it and see for yourself why you shouldn’t go see it.” At first, this appears but a jest, a tangled phrase meant to amuse. Yet beneath its surface lies a mirror of life itself: the truth that judgment is most powerful when born not of hearsay, nor rumor, nor command, but of one’s own direct encounter.

Goldwyn, known for his wit and his so-called “Goldwynisms,” often clothed wisdom in contradiction. Here, he challenges both the arrogance of presumption and the comfort of secondhand knowledge. To say “do not see” without having seen is to live in blindness; but to see and then discover its lack is to know by experience, and that knowledge is unshakable. Thus, his riddle reveals a deeper principle: that truth, even if unpleasant, must be touched with one’s own hands and tested with one’s own eyes.

The ancients also taught this. Consider the story of Diogenes the Cynic, who mocked the philosophers of Athens by acting out truths they only spoke of. When told that movement was an illusion, he simply rose and walked. Like Goldwyn’s saying, the lesson was clear: to know, you must engage with reality, even if reality proves foolish or disappointing. The philosopher’s argument could crumble in the face of a single act of walking, just as a film’s promise could vanish when one sat and saw it for oneself.

This truth has played out in history. Think of explorers who were warned that lands beyond the horizon were filled with monsters or endless seas. They could have stayed home, believing what others told them. But only by seeing with their own eyes did they discover the Americas, the passageways of oceans, the true shape of the earth. Had they waited for perfect reports, they would have known nothing. Sometimes, even failure or folly must be encountered to gain wisdom.

Goldwyn’s quote also carries humor, for he was a man of the theater and the film, who knew that sometimes a production was poor, yet still it had to be shown. By telling people to see what should not be seen, he cloaked embarrassment in laughter and drew attention where silence might have been more damning. It is a playful way of saying: “Judge for yourself, though I know the judgment will not be kind.” Such irony is not cowardice, but a sly acceptance of imperfection.

The lesson, O listener, is this: do not fear to encounter the flawed, the broken, or the disappointing. To avoid all error is to avoid all learning. Even when something fails, it teaches; even when a story falters, it shows you how stories should not be told. To see for yourself is to gather truth with your own hands, and no secondhand tale can match the certainty of lived experience.

Therefore, walk into the unknown with courage. Attend the play that others scorn, read the book said to be dull, try the path that others warn against. If it proves poor, you will have learned; if it proves better than expected, you will have discovered what others missed. In either case, the victory is yours, for you did not surrender your judgment to another.

So remember Samuel Goldwyn’s riddle: “Go see it and see for yourself why you shouldn’t go see it.” It is not only about film, but about life. Trust not merely the voices around you; let your eyes, your heart, your spirit be the final judge. For only then will your wisdom be rooted in truth, and not in the fragile shadows of rumor.