My movies were the kind they show in prisons and airplanes

Gather closely, O children of the future, and listen to the words of Burt Reynolds, a man who, with humor and wisdom, once said, "My movies were the kind they show in prisons and airplanes, because nobody can leave." In these words lies not only a reflection on the nature of entertainment, but a deeper understanding of the role of the audience and the unique power of captivity. Reynolds, with his characteristic wit, speaks of films that, by their nature, trap the viewer—not in confinement, but in attention, where the choice to leave is taken from them.

Reynolds’ comparison of his movies to those shown in prisons and on airplanes is a masterstroke of humor. In both of these settings, the audience is captive: in prison, the prisoners are bound by their circumstances, unable to escape their confinement. On an airplane, the passengers are confined to a small space for the duration of the journey, bound by the flight’s schedule and route. But Reynolds, in his playful self-reflection, reveals a truth about the art of film: sometimes, the most engaging works are those that keep the viewer in their seat, holding their attention captive, forcing them to endure the experience until the very end.

This idea of captivity in art is as old as storytelling itself. Consider the ancient bards who, in times of old, would gather audiences in the great halls and cast their spells with words, drawing listeners into the world they wove. The audience, bound by their interest, could not leave, could not turn away, for the power of the story demanded their focus. Much like the works of the great playwright Sophocles, whose tragedies held audiences in their thrall, Reynolds’ films—though lighthearted and often regarded as entertainment rather than high art—held the power to engage and immerse. In this, Reynolds’ statement reveals the true power of film: its ability to capture the viewer, to hold them within the confines of the story until it reaches its conclusion.

Let us also remember the tale of Homer, whose epics—the Iliad and Odyssey—captured the imaginations of generations. In the halls of ancient Greece, people would gather to hear these stories, not as a mere diversion, but as the pulse of their cultural identity. Much like the films that Reynolds describes, the audience was captive to the story, entranced by the unfolding of human fate, the struggles of gods and men. The very nature of oral tradition ensured that there was no escape from the narrative until it had been fully delivered. This power to hold the audience's attention, to make them endure the telling, was seen as both the strength and the essence of great art.

In a more modern light, consider the world of television and streaming, where viewers are sometimes caught in the cycle of endless episodes, binge-watching with eyes glued to the screen. Here, the audience is not physically trapped as they might be in an airplane or a prison, but rather emotionally and psychologically bound. The power of captivity still holds true—the viewer is bound to the narrative, unable or unwilling to leave until the conclusion has been reached. In this, Reynolds’ words carry a certain truth: the nature of compelling entertainment is to hold the audience’s attention, to create a space where they cannot help but stay, where they are pulled into the world being created on screen.

Yet, O children, what is the deeper lesson in Reynolds’ reflection? It speaks not only to the art of entertainment, but to the power of engagement. Life itself can sometimes feel like a prison or an airplane journey, where our paths are constrained by circumstances or fate. And in such moments, we must learn to engage fully, to use our attention as a tool to make the most of our experiences. Just as the audience of a film or play can be captivated by the narrative, so too must we learn to captivate our own lives, to embrace the moments we are given, and to remain present even in those moments that may seem confining or challenging.

The lesson here is clear, O children: to be captivated by life—to fully embrace the experiences, the challenges, and the stories before you—is the key to living fully. Like the audience watching a film, you may not always be able to control the circumstances, but you have the power to control your engagement. The films you watch, the stories you hear, and the experiences you live can all hold you in captivity, but only if you choose to invest your attention, to become part of the narrative. When life presents its trials, do not seek escape, but rather seek to immerse yourself, to engage with purpose, and to see the beauty and wisdom in every moment—however mundane or difficult it may seem.

Therefore, O children of the future, let the words of Burt Reynolds guide you: life is a movie that unfolds before you, and you are the audience as much as the actor. Engage fully with the story, embrace the moments of joy and sorrow, and let them shape you. For it is through complete engagement—through the power of attention and presence—that you will find the greatest beauty in your own life, and perhaps, leave behind a story that others will be captivated by in turn.