It’s never easy saying goodbye, in fact it is the one thing I hate about life more than anything else. Goodbyes suck, especially when you have to say goodbye to great people. When someone is suddenly, unexpectedly removed from the world without a goodbye – that hurts more.
My friend, Henry, or as you all knew him, the H-Man, is gone. He won’t be there to retort with you on anymore films, he won’t be there to laugh at your terrible jokes and keep that permanent grin on your face that made you feel like you had a friend until the end. He can’t speak anymore; he’s been forever silenced.
In 2009, I had this idea to bring my friend from college on board to help write movie reviews on this site I was taking over from a friend. When I started out, I was pretty rough with my writing, but not Henry. He loved films, and he could get right down to the heart of why a film was either wonderful or just complete crap. He pulled few punches, but he never made any enemies. That’s because he always had respect from the industry. Sadly, not as many people would see his excellent reviews as Roger Ebert, and he’d probably give me crap for saying this, but he was just as efficient and colorful a writer as the old master.
Henry was literally a God-send to bind together all the molecules of iRATEfilms and later FilmGrouch. He was a superb writer, he could put you in the seat next to him and manage to bring out the emotion of each film. I challenged him a few times and deliberately sent him to screenings that were outside his comfort zone. And the hell if he didn’t just soar. I sent him to dopey chick flicks and sports movies, and even sappy teen romcoms, but he brought a professional attitude and aplomb to each piece. He was a cinephile; the genre didn’t matter. And he could usually find a worthy bright spark in even the shittiest of films. When he truly despised a film, that’s when his wonderful sense of humor was on full display . . . as he would gleefully shred to pieces the wrongfully acclaimed films he detested.
I have never said this publicly, but Henry was my best writer. And that definitely includes me, he kept me wanting to be a better writer, because his stuff was so engaging. Once I finally got him to join Twitter, the guy surpassed the FilmGrouch account with over 1,000 more followers than we’d gotten in about half the time! Again, he excelled there too, because he was a genuine guy.
Once I launched my own site, I decided I would make Henry my editor. He had free reign to post whatever he wanted on the site. I was proud of his work, and more than a few times he pulled my ass out of the fire. One time I had an online screener I kept dragging my feet on watching and I got called out about it at my real job. I was being asked to post the review, but I hadn’t watched the film, and now I was at my 9-to-5 and screwed. Henry stepped up and not only watched the film that day, he had the review within an hour after seeing it. And, the review didn’t look phoned in by any stretch of the imagination. He was just that solid.
He would often post reviews unsolicited and on his own dime. I would offer to compensate him for those tickets that he had to watch the movies out of his own pocket, but he’d have none of it.
I was struggling as I thought about this eulogy to define Henry. He had this persona of an “internet troll” – but the reality is he was more like a brownie, a mythical creature who seeks out a deserving person to serve. In this way, he was FilmGrouch’s brownie. He kept the watch over the site whenever I would start to let other things take priority, he’d pop out some reviews to keep our readers happy and never made me feel like he was covering my six. He was incredibly humble.
That is how I will always remember him, a stalwart guardian of the homestead that was the bedrock of FilmGrouch. He’s impossible to replace, but I also know that somehow (as corny and cliched as this might sound) he will always be there, watching what we do and minding the shop for eternity. Also, I can actually hear him grumbling, “Wonderful, Rick, you called me a brownie . . . a fucking BROWNIE?” But, H-Man was the internet brownie that you might never have known was full of empathy and impish cynicism.
The more I think about it, the more I know this brownie comparison fits. When I was in Norway, I liked to believe that one lived in my basement, and it might sound weird to you all, but when I met Henry in college, that was the way I felt, like this was a guy that would have my back forever. Henry was the embodiment of that warm fuzzy feeling I would get, knowing that someone was there to look out for the homestead.
I just found this out, but apparently because brownies are nocturnal, legend has it that when a rooster crows it isn’t to wake up the workers, it’s to let the brownies know it’s time to retire.
My friend, it’s time to retire. But, I know you will always be there in my heart and in the hearth of flawed men who will always wonder if they were worthy of your generosity.
Rest easy, Henry.
