You are strange for not loving the film. It is generally loved so, yeah, not loving it makes you strange.
There’s nothing wrong with that. Some folks don’t love chocolate. Or puppies. Or sunsets. Or whatever seems to be loved by most folks.
I’ll cheat the question a bit.
I’d like all critics to have standards and to hew to them. I don’t mind if each critic operates by different standards, so long as all critics can articulate their standards and are consistent in their application.
Most movie critics, for example, are offering their reactions to movies. They may review a movie. But nearly all of them are utterly inconsistent (hypocritical?) in their work. They explain their bad review of a film because of X and then praise another film despite it being just as much X as the film they loathed. If they address this conflict at all, it is with a great deal of handwavium - “This film makes it work.”
If critics had standards, it would be possible to really compare the things they critique. Without those standards, each thing gets its own bespoke write up. Very entertaining, but useless when we want to know which is better or worse.
I shouldn’t have to. Any God worthy of the title would provide clear and irrefutable proof of its own existence.
Overwork and the pursuit of wealth is detrimental to you and your relationships. Earning enough for a simple life and then stopping allows time to be a decent human.
I walk an average of three hours a day. My young adult children ask me to go with them to the movies. My wife works enough and no more. We split the chores and have few resentments. The crows along the river swoop down when I pass by. I stop and feed them peanuts.
I learned this by becoming aware of just how little it served me and my family to really put in the hours and take every opportunity that came my way.
No.
I think that people are attracted to the idea of a soul because they would like to think that there is something unchanging about them. A desire for constancy in an inconstant world.
What I have experienced is wild changes in my own behavior, thoughts, desires, fears, drives, and whatever-might-have-you. Certainly, I am not the same person I was when I was an infant or when I was a child or when I was a young man or - I suppose in a more subtle way - I will be after I finish posting this and get some lunch.
I argue with myself. Blame myself. Bargain with myself. Pump myself up. All as though there are different selves within me at all times. By this I conclude that I don’t really have a self, but more of a collection of personalities, characteristics, and traits that are more or less dominant at any given moment. I am large, I contain (thank you Walt) multitudes.
I am comfortable with my inconstancy and inconsistencies. Generally at peace about having selves rather than a self.
I see no evidence of a soul. And I haven’t the need for one that would drive me to delude myself into thinking I have one nonetheless.
I’ve been reading it. The folks here are most definitely in the minority.
And that’s fine. I don’t know why it would bother anybody.