I like movies where you can come back and re-watch them and

Hear, O lovers of art and seekers of timelessness, the words of Rob Zombie, who declared: “I like movies where you can come back and re-watch them and admire the cinematography 25 years later.” These words are not simply about films, but about the endurance of beauty, the power of vision that transcends fleeting trends. He speaks of works that do not wither when the fashions of their time fade, but that shine with equal brilliance when the decades have passed, revealing new wonders to every generation.

For the heart of his saying is this: true cinema is not bound by novelty, but by craft. A film that dazzles for a moment and is forgotten has not reached the heights of art. But a film whose cinematography—its light, its shadow, its framing of the human soul—remains awe-inspiring after a quarter of a century, that is a creation that has touched eternity. Zombie’s reverence is not for spectacle alone, but for vision that ages like wine, growing richer as time passes.

History offers us many such examples. Consider the works of Akira Kurosawa, whose films like Seven Samurai or Ran still stand as mountains of visual power. Decades have gone by, yet each re-watch reveals fresh marvels in composition, movement, and color. Or recall Stanley Kubrick, whose meticulous eye in films like 2001: A Space Odyssey or Barry Lyndon crafted images that feel not merely cinematic, but eternal—paintings brought to life. These are the works that Zombie honors: the films that defy the erosion of time.

This truth was known even to the ancients. The sculptors of Greece did not carve for the applause of their day, but for the permanence of stone. That is why their statues, standing two thousand years later, still stir awe. The builders of cathedrals in medieval Europe raised their spires not to please their contemporaries, but to lift the eyes of future generations toward heaven. So too in cinema, the true artist crafts not only for the present audience, but for those yet unborn.

Zombie’s words also remind us of the nature of memory. A great film becomes part of the rhythm of our lives. We return to it after years, and in re-watching, we re-discover not only the film, but ourselves—who we were then, who we are now. To admire its cinematography 25 years later is to be reminded that beauty is a constant, that even as we change, true artistry stands unmoved, like a lighthouse guiding us back through the storms of time.

The lesson, O listener, is profound: do not pursue only the fleeting and fashionable, whether in art or in life. Seek to create works, deeds, and moments that will endure, that will be admired not just today but decades hence. If you are an artist, labor for excellence, not for speed. If you are a worker or a parent, build not only for today’s comfort, but for tomorrow’s remembrance. Strive to leave behind something that others can return to, again and again, and still find beauty.

Therefore, let Rob Zombie’s words be more than a reflection on film—they are a call to live with the eye of cinematography, framing your life in such a way that it may be admired long after you are gone. For just as cinema can defy time, so too can your choices, your creations, your love. Live, then, not for the fleeting applause of the hour, but for the enduring admiration of generations.

And thus, the teaching endures: true beauty outlives its moment. Whether upon the screen, in stone, or in the quiet acts of your life, create something that will still shine twenty-five years hence. In this way, your work, like great cinema, will be timeless, admired not for its novelty, but for its everlasting truth.