Ask Pappy #5: Some things ain’t meant to be perfect, kid.

Reader Letter:

A friend told me I’m too critical — of movies, people, everything. They’re probably right. I can’t seem to just enjoy things without picking them apart. How do you turn that part of your brain off and just let stuff be what it is? — Alyssa K.

Ah, a fellow nitpicker. Welcome to the booth, kid — you’re in good company.

Now, don’t get me wrong. There’s a fine line between having good taste and being impossible to please, and I’ve tripped over it more times than I can count. I once spent twenty minutes explaining to a poor usher why the theater’s dimmer switch was “ruining the mise-en-scène.” The kid thought I was ordering off-menu.

Truth is, the more you love movies — or people — the easier it is to find the flaws. You notice the shaky edits, the lines that don’t land, the moments that could’ve been better. It’s not malice; it’s passion misfiring. You care so much about what something could be that you forget to enjoy what is.

And if I’m being honest, nitpicking can feel powerful. Like you’re the only one awake in a room full of dreamers. But all that sharp seeing can wear you down. Constantly hunting imperfections turns your heart into an unpaid film critic — and trust me, those don’t get invited to many parties.

What cured me, or at least dulled my sharper edges, was learning the art of letting things be enough.Not perfect, not profound — just enough. Sometimes a movie’s job isn’t to change your life, it’s to make you laugh after a long day. Sometimes a person’s job isn’t to amaze you, it’s to sit beside you and share their popcorn.

Start noticing what works instead of what doesn’t. Compliment a clunky film for its one honest line. Appreciate a friend’s bad joke for the thought behind it. Give things — and people — permission to be rough drafts. Because here’s the funny part: perfection is boring. The cracks are where the light — and the laughter — get in.

Stay kind, stay curious, and don’t spill the butter on your way out.— Pappy Hull, The Popcorn Philosopher