You never even begin to imagine that you’ll ever have to write an obituary for someone like Robert McCurdy. He’s not the type of person you hope to eulogize; he was the kind of guy you hoped would one day eulogize you. Most of you have probably never heard of him. In truth, when those of us in the Austin Film Critic Association received the e-mail announcing his death, most of us weren’t quite sure who it was either. You see, we didn’t know a Robert McCurdy. We knew Bobby. And Bobby wasn’t the sort of person you expected to receive this sort of e-mail about.
A few years ago when Bobby was still in college at the University of Texas, he and his best friend Cole Dabney got it in their heads to become film critics. They started a website, got on all the requisite lists and soon realized that it took a lot more to establish a readership than simply existing – you needed to also be recognized. At their young age, they figured the only way to get fast recognition was to join a film critic association, and since Austin didn’t have one, they decided to start one. The two set out to get all of the town’s prominent critics onto the list, with most of us accepting the invitation thinking nothing would ever actually come of it. As it turns out, we had all underestimated the determination and tenacity of these two young men. What began as the whim of a pair of college kids is now an association 20 members strong boasting writers from not only AICN (Myself, Quint and Harry are all proud members) but Spill.com, Cinematical, Hollywood.com, Film School Rejects, Gordon and the Whale, Austin News 8 and every major print outlet in the city. We are now one of the earliest voting bodies in the industry.
So it came as a great surprise to us all last year when Bobby told us all that he was leaving town to join the armed forces. He’d been waiting for a spot to open up because he had long dreamed of being a pilot. He left town last year and gained his commission as an officer in the United States Navy, where he proudly served until the time of his death; the events surrounding it are still being investigated, but I’m told they were not military related. He had just spent the weekend helping Cole compile the AFCA ballot – still involved despite having left.
Bobby was a movie fan, one of us through and through. My fondest memory of him comes from May of 2008 when he and Cole showed up to the IRON MAN screening, each wearing the powder blue Mondo Tees limited edition t-shirt commemorating the big Alamo event from the night before. Each was so excited to see the film again that they wore the shirt in honor of the big day, not thinking that their partner in crime would be doing exactly the same. When I walked past them I casually remarked “Isn’t it cute when couples dress alike?” A good half of the AFCA, all sitting within earshot, laughed out loud and the joke stuck. We hazed the living hell out of those two for a year straight. Bobby always met the joke with a huge grin, taking the hazing like a man and even throwing out the occasional joke of his own, playing along. It was through their hard work on the AFCA and their good humor through all the ribbing that these two young men earned a place in the community alongside the other critics, some of whom were twice their age.
I’m not certain how others in the community felt, but I can honestly say I was proud to see Bobby go off to fulfill dream as a military pilot. Having been raised by a career Air Force NCO, I knew exactly what he was giving up and getting himself into. And I admired him for it. It takes a certain type of person to mount up for the challenge he had ahead of him, and I was very much looking forward to seeing the man he was going to become. The last time I saw him I shook his hand and told him “You can be my wingman anytime.” He smiled and with a firm grip said “Bullshit, you can be MINE.”
He was 23 years old.
We here at AICN extend our sincerest heartfelt sympathies to the McCurdy family.
