When the news began breaking that Sony was being threatened by North Korean hackers over its Seth-Rogen-and-James-Franco-starring, North-Korean-leader-assassinating comedy The Interview, I had one thought: “This is James Franco’s best performance art piece yet.”
And then the seemingly unthinkable happened: Sony actually pulled the film from theaters. To a movie studio, that’s a full-on financial surrender. The impact was immediate, and widely reported on. Sony would lose tens of millions. Filmgoers would miss a highly anticipated comedy with two huge stars. And the U.S. was suddenly finding itself “negotiating with terrorists” in arguably the weirdest way in its history.
But beyond these first-blush costs, The Interview cancellation has deeper, more alarming consequences for all of us. That’s because it exacerbates several negative trends. First and foremost, it erodes confidence in one of the last remaining, truly public spaces. Movie theaters are one of the few remaining places strangers from every social stratum gather to laugh, cry, and pay $18 for a box of Jujubes. Scaring people away from theaters only furthers our already increasing tendency to stay at home and get our entertainment there. Going to the movies, their artistic merits aside, act as a psychological balm for our real-world fears of terrorism and international calamity. Whether it’s Liam Neeson having yet something else taken from him, or the latest tights-clad superhero facing a global menace, at movies we can dream of “our side” winning alongside the members of our “team.” With a big source of that solace rattled, will we start channeling those anxieties elsewhere? The makers of Xanax certainly hope so.
From a creative standpoint, the hackers’ blow does no favors for the already-uphill battle for originality in Hollywood. Full disclosure: I haven’t seen The Interview (and not just due to my undying adoration of our Dear Leader Kim if he’s reading this), but I do know the screenwriter, and his work is brilliant and original. So here’s yet another shame: The North Korean gambit will rattle an already highly risk-averse Hollywood into steering even further into its formula of familiarity: remakes, reboots, and franchises. Although maybe this problem could contain its own solution: Six years from now, maybe Sony will be ready to make a remake of The Interview?
[quote position="full" is_quote="true"]A week ago, our culture was consumed with gossip about misbehaving Sony executives sending petty emails to one another. Today, we’re all thinking about other countries and a globe filled with conflicts in need of solving.[/quote]
If a big-budget movie disappears and nobody sees it, can it still have a Hollywood ending? Not likely, but perhaps there are a few positive things that could emerge from the brouhaha—that is, if we are prepared to take advantage.
For one thing, The Interview backlash illustrates the real world impact of pop culture more than any film since 1997’s Wag the Dog. A week ago, our culture was consumed with gossip about misbehaving Sony executives sending petty emails to one another. Today, we’re all thinking about other countries and a globe filled with conflicts in need of solving.
And across social media, I have seen countless critics, celebrities, and spambots on Twitter unanimously assailing Sony’s cancellation and leaping to the filmmakers’ defense. Even the snarkiest of hipsters who wouldn’t be caught dead in a theater for a major studio release are feeling the sting of free expression curtailed and are speaking up about it. That kind of outrage can be inspiring to both artists and the public and I look forward to what kind of ballsy art emerges from it. Or at the very least, a rash of indie projects about short, fat, giant-ladies-sunglass-wearing dictators. And who knows—maybe in one of these he really will be played by James Franco?
Grieving couple comforting each other
This response to someone grieving a friend might be the best internet comment ever
When someone is hit with the sudden loss of a friend or loved one, words rarely feel like enough. Yet, more than a decade ago, a wise Redditor named GSnow shared thoughts so profound they still bring comfort to grieving hearts today.
Originally posted around 2011, the now-famous reply was rediscovered when Upvoted, an official Reddit publication, featured it again to remind everyone of its enduring truth. It began as a simple plea for help: “My friend just died. I don't know what to do.”
What followed was a piece of writing that many consider one of the internet’s best comments of all time. It remains shared across social media, grief forums, and personal messages to this day because its honesty and metaphor speak to the raw reality of loss and the slow, irregular path toward healing.
Below is GSnow’s full reply, unchanged, in all its gentle, wave-crashing beauty:
Why this advice still matters
Mental health professionals and grief counselors often describe bereavement in stages or phases, but GSnow’s “wave theory” gives an image more relatable for many. Rather than a linear process, grief surges and retreats—sometimes triggered by a song, a place, or a simple morning cup of coffee.
In recent years, this metaphor has found renewed relevance. Communities on Reddit, TikTok, and grief support groups frequently reshare it to help explain the unpredictable nature of mourning.
Many readers say this analogy helps them feel less alone, giving them permission to ride each wave of grief rather than fight it.
Finding comfort in shared wisdom
Since this comment first surfaced, countless people have posted their own stories underneath it, thanking GSnow and passing the words to others facing fresh heartbreak. It’s proof that sometimes, the internet can feel like a global support group—strangers linked by shared loss and hope.
For those searching for more support today, organizations like The Dougy Center, GriefShare, and local bereavement groups offer compassionate resources. If you or someone you know is struggling with intense grief, please reach out to mental health professionals who can help navigate these deep waters.
When grief comes crashing like the ocean, remember these words—and hang on. There is life between the waves.
This article originally appeared four years ago.