TCM marks 15 years

I fell in love with TCM one late night after getting home from another long shift at work. They were showing classic black and white monster movies that evening, but their clever programmers had slipped in a treat at 1:30 in the morning, or just as I was flopping on to my couch and flipping past the channel. They seemed to know that I'd had another lousy night, so they gifted me with "Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein."

Now, I'd never seen that movie before; sure, I knew of it, and had always secretly wanted to see it, but never got up the ambition to seek it out on my own. And then, just when I least expected it, the good folks at TCM parked it in front of my nose.

And I loved every second of it -- yeah, it's hilarious, but it also manages to have some terrific scares in it. The title doesn't mention that you get Dracula (played with the kind of evil menace that only Bela Lugosi could infuse into the part) and the Wolfman (Lon Chaney reprising his signature role) along with the Frankenstein monster, and that all those elements are woven into a swift and sure screenplay. The movie looked great, sounded great, and best of all, made me feel great.

That's what TCM brings to bear as a channel -- the ability to make you feel great, whether it's introducing you to a work of cinema you've never seen before, or one you've seen a thousand times. It reminds you that beyond the clutter and noise of modern TV, there is a respite, and it's right on the dial. TCM brings into your home so many wonderful films, so many extraordinary stories, so much life and joy and hope. In a televised world where vacuousness and ugliness and inhumanity seem to reign, TCM is an all-day, everyday beacon of light.

And that, friends, is truly indispensable.