What bugs me is that movies don't reflect how interesting and

The words of Jill Clayburgh, “What bugs me is that movies don't reflect how interesting and vibrant women are. We don't treasure women as they get older,” carry the weight of lament and the fire of truth. They speak not only of art, but of a culture that turns its gaze away from the fullness of womanhood. In this cry lies an ancient injustice—the blindness of a society that celebrates youth but neglects wisdom, that exalts beauty but overlooks endurance, that reveres beginnings yet forgets the sacredness of continuance.

The origin of such thought can be traced to the very myths and stories humanity tells. From the tales of Helen of Troy, who is remembered for her youthful beauty, to the goddesses of Olympus, frozen in eternal youth, the world has long enshrined women in images of fleeting radiance. Yet seldom are the voices of older women lifted, though they carry the vibrant force of survival, of love tested by time, of truths carved into their souls by hardship and triumph alike. The art of storytelling, which should reveal the fullness of life, too often silences this richness.

Consider the story of Sophia Loren, who, even in her later years, carried herself with grace, wit, and irresistible energy. Yet, despite her enduring brilliance, the roles offered her grew fewer, as though the world wished to forget the glow of age in favor of the sparkle of youth. Her struggle mirrored that of countless others—actresses, writers, mothers, teachers—whose value to the world only deepens with the years, yet whose contributions are too often cast aside in favor of fresher faces.

Clayburgh’s words are not simply complaint; they are a call to reverence. To treasure women as they get older is to honor the reservoirs of wisdom they carry, the vibrant spirit that does not fade but evolves. For in every line etched upon the face, in every gray hair, in every story told and every silence held, there lies a testimony of endurance and grace. To overlook this is to rob society of its own heritage, to sever ourselves from the strength of those who have walked before us.

The movies, as a mirror of culture, must rise to this challenge. Let them no longer show women merely as fleeting blossoms, but as mighty oaks that weather storms, shelter generations, and stand strong across the decades. Let them reveal the richness of womanhood not as something that expires, but as something that deepens, matures, and grows more luminous with time.

Thus, future generations must remember: to treasure women is to treasure life itself. For the vibrant women who age before us are not fading—they are ripening, becoming the keepers of memory and the guardians of wisdom. To honor them is not only just, it is the very path to understanding the fullness of what it means to be human.