Is there a film that includes all of your favorite people? Is there a plot or script that you find intriguing and compelling? How about a soundtrack that has all the best hits? Is there some dialogue-drenched foray that draws you back repeatedly? Hollywood brings us escape, empathy, envy, and more. Nonetheless, it tends to be stylized, predictable, and even cliché.
I write today about a movie that does not compel me for any of those reasons. Without a doubt, this film features some good sound clips—Major Tom (David Bowie, Trident Records, 1969) makes an appearance in a karaoke scene but is not even credited on the soundtrack. In truth, the Major Tom clip is a short and yet compelling element, in an odd manner.
The celebrities are frankly blasé in this film. There is no star-draw from my perspective. The writing (dialogue) is not itself persistently compelling, though one line at the end is memorable (below). To make matters worse, this film is a remake of a 1947 Danny Kaye classic movie. That gentleman was quite a movie star.
It is not per se an "ensemble cast" movie, yet somehow it is an ensemble movie. That is, without a real standout (star, song, directing, repartee), it works. I struggle to put my finger on why. The film is 2013's The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, and it is built around the demise of Life Magazine in 2000.
The plot is simple. An American icon has reached the end of its days, after 64 colorful years. A magnificent and compelling window on the world, a portal through which generations viewed what they would never see in person, was closing. The "progress" of the internet and digital photography had drug a photographic historical icon to the mat. The movie is about change, technology, people, and more.
Ben Stiller delivers a credible portrayal of the daydreaming Walter, pursuing a missing photograph and a larger-than-life photographer (Sean Penn) around the world. Neither performance is Academy Award material, but in the context, they are compelling; the movie is compelling. Well, to me.
Adam Scott is the villain, as much as the internet itself is. He delivers a character just supercilious enough to be believable. He represents the new world, the next generation, a "Transition leader," charged with winding down a legendary print magazine dependent on negatives, paper, and postal delivery. His team is there to replace that time-honored, treasured legacy with a better, newer, digital substitute. The tension between history and the new is itself compelling.
Perhaps the film's draw is the photography. In the context of a dying photography magazine, there is irony even there. The cinematography has been described as "unique" and "expansive." There have been compliments regarding the lighting, composition, and scene selection. Some describe angles, and others credit visual effects.
I know nothing of such things, but the scenery is compelling. The scenes in Iceland, though intended to portray a variety of other locales such as Greenland and the Himalayas, are most worthy of a look. Unlike so many films, the scenery has a leading role and is colorful, compelling, and memorable. The use of different angles and perspectives highlights the daydreaming. The broad message, perhaps, is that there is merit in periodically pausing to view the world around us. Or, perhaps it is that there is so much worth seeing.
The theme is about change. An era is ending. That is reinforced with scenes, including one portraying the line to turn in employment credentials in exchange for a severance package. There is the destruction of Life's physical premises and the loading of trucks. An elevator scene between Mr. Mitty and his one subordinate reinforces the fragility and limited temporality of work relationships. The final scene at the iconic sidewalk newsstand is a barn burner of irony.
Following my recent foray to the annual Workers' Compensation Institute, I found room to reflect on the conference through the lens provided by a happenstance review of Mitty. I have witnessed a great deal at the WCI over the decades, since my first trip in 1992. That would seem like 34 iterations, but I skipped one a few years back.
I fear that I, too, am watching the decline of a medium, similar to Life Magazine. Too many are glued to the new and shiny, the virtual, and the remote; as we adapt to that recent play-pretty, AI threatens further change as the next. The "here and now" crowd who likes to gather in person and who find it compelling is aging; we all are aging.
We are all pressured with pure production, metrics, and efficiency. Nonetheless, we are drawn to interact. And the next generation seems less compelled to handshakes and conversation, gravitating instead to text and IM, isolation, and virtual relationships.
I fear we are watching the demise of something noble, powerful, and important. A post-conference poll brought this to light, and I am grateful to WorkersCompensation.com for posting it on LinkedIn. The question was simple: "What did you find most useful" at WCI 2025?
I was disappointed in the 0% for information (only two of us voted). I am disappointed that only two of us voted. And, while there is much to celebrate in leadership and its development, I suggested an "other" instead. My vote is for "the community, interaction, and engagement." At the heart of it all, what matters is simply each other. If you don't buy that, you have missed the boat in my book.
We, workers' compensation, are an ensemble. We may lack the blockbuster writing, directing, and big-name star power. We may not have the soundtrack, the cinematography, or the best CGI. And yet, we are an ensemble. The community in Florida workers' compensation is collectively nothing less than astounding, compelling, and sustaining. But only in collaboration—only as an ensemble—only in community.
As I look back over my years and the much deeper academic dives I have taken into our workers' compensation history, I am convinced that community is the persistent critical element. There is a collegiality, commonality, and commitment in this community that bridges differences, unites spirits, and builds. That building is critical and calls us to pass this all on to the next generation.
Regardless of their affinity for the remote, the virtual, and the electronic, we must strive tirelessly to draw the next generation into the here, the now, and the interpersonal. That is our strength, the lifeblood of Florida workers' compensation, and our opportunities to attend, to interact, and to engage are priceless.
As Walter Mitty encourages at the end of the film, "Put that on a plaque and hang it at your next job." It is worthy of our attention and recollection. It is worthy of our intense focus.
