Abby Keith is a writer and actor from Franklin, TN. She graduated from The University of Tennessee, Knoxville in December 2016 with a BA in Cinema Studies and a minor in Journalism and Electronic Media. She was the first student in the Cinema Studies program to graduate from the Chancellor's Honors Program. In addition to writing about film on this blog, she also writes screenplays and acts. Abby has worked as a film counselor for Tennessee Governor's School for the Arts and a production assistant on projects such as Home and Family, Smoky Mountains Rise: A Benefit for the My People Fund, and the feature film Cecil. In addition, she completed her Disney College Program in May 2017, an experience that was truly magical. She currently resides in Seattle, WA, where she works as a barista to pay for her starving artist lifestyle.
Believe me when I say that it pained me to type out the title to this post. Cameron Crowe is one of my very favorite filmmakers. To me, a guy who can write teenagers who are real people, really capture the full spectrum of human emotion, and incorporate a great soundtrack into his work is a real genius. Though it initially made me feel warm, fuzzy, and hopeful, a recent late night viewing of 2005's Elizabethtown ended up making me a little nervous. I realized that Crowe was just like everybody else. Now, this probably doesn't make sense to those of you who admire his work. As a writer and filmmaker, Crowe definitely has a unique voice and vision that helps his work connect with all kinds of audiences. That's precisely the problem. Last week I wrote a post about how movies are only a reflection of life and not actually true to life itself. In the post, I mentioned that filmmakers are just one person with one perspective, and that is absolutely true of Crowe. In Crow