Thursday, May 19, 2011

Let's do the Time Warp again


Tomorrow isn't so much the first day of the rest of my life as much as it is the last day of the first of my life. Baccalaureate, honors convocation and graduation are all commendable formalities, but Friday, May 19 is when it really ends. By "it", I mean the way of life I've been accustomed to ever since my mom overstuffed my Rocky and Bullwinkle lunchbox and trotted me off to first grade eleven years ago. The lock-step routine of up-and-at-'em, the twenty-second shower, the ritualistic tightening of the tie and lacing of the ever-so-comfortable private school shoes, the careful calculation of just how much daydreaming one can do and still net a ninety average, the naps, the whispers, the shouts, the sobs, the laughs, the notes, the votes, and of course the 525,600 formals, dances, and formal dances---all this is over for good. Knowledge is still out there, but now we won't just swallow what we're fed, we'll have to search for the fruit of enlightenment ourselves. And by "have to" I mean "get to", as I consider this intellectual independence a privilege. But before I wax poetically and weep prolifically, let's get down to brass tacks;
In kindergarten, I made a time capsule and buried it in our backyard. Filled with youthful naivete and WonderBalls (remember those?!), I swore to my mother I'd A) unearth the original capsule twelve years from now and B) make another one when I graduated high school. I won't be honoring the first part of my agreement for fear that I might dig up A) An anthill, B) My dead hermit crab (yes, you read that right) or C) Arnold Schwarzenegger's career (too soon?). But I will make a second one, albeit free of dirt and grime and inevitable physical decay--call it a cyber-time-capsule. I could write a book about the people that helped get me through secondary school---or a blog, and indeed I will honor them in writing towards the end of the summer. But, seeing as I have devoted so much of my life to consuming and critiquing art (which I believe to be of almost sacred importance), I thought I'd look at things from a pop culture perspective first. Here's what's goin' in the time capsule--

A Knight's Tale Soundtrack-My first review consisted of two sentences, composed on a '98 Dell in my grandma's den while everyone else was hunting Easter eggs; "Great soundtrack of rock chestnuts, and it suits the movie nicely. But on some songs ("Taking Care of Business"), the guitars and words are very loud and the length is not necessary." A theatre kid from the first.

"Hamster Dance"-I refused to see the humour in this song; it was my favorite, and when my parents talked over it, I was NOT pleased.

"Falcon Finito" from the Stuart Little 2 Soundtrack-For God knows how many years, I wanted to be a film composer. This track was the theme for James Woods's villainous talking bird, and, looking back on some of the pieces of"film music" I recorded (aka hummed into a recorder), little bits of this motif pop up in almost every one.

Space Cowboys-My first PG-13. My mom was delighted to explain to me what this "S-H-I-T" word that kept coming out of Clint Eastwood's mouth meant.

The Phantom Menace-Call it a cinematic false dawn. Was amazed by the Naboo pilot fighters. Dragged my parents to it four times. Saw it a fifth time, along with Tarzan, at a Hyatt resort, sitting next to a fellow toddler who I'm fairly certain was my first crush.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon-The real dawn. If you read my blog, you know it all started here.

"Double Trouble", Prisoner of Azkaban Soundtrack-My first Itunes purchase. "Son of A Preacher Man" by Dusty Springfield was my first non-soundtrack purchase. "Sitting, Waiting, Wishing" by Jack Johnson was my first Ipod download. I love all three songs to this day.

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy-Incidentally, my first viewing of all three films proved memorable. My mom and dad previewed Fellowship to make sure it was appropriate for an 8-year-old, and they came home for dinner forever changed. My mom was speechless. My dad's conversation cup runneth over-it remains his favorite film. The Uruk-Hai in The Two Towers scared me speechless, until my parents point out that their teeth looked "like bad doggie-breath teeth". Now, I am the only person who laughs when they appear on screen. As for Return of the King, it represents the first tears I shed in a theatre. I was embarrassed--until I returned to school, and everyone else admitted they had cried, too. This trilogy was a journey, one we took regardless of our demographic or generation---whether we grew up with it or grew old with it, it remains an imperfect but staggeringly emotional and often brilliant cultural phenomenon the likes of which we won't see again for decades.

Ray!-My favorite film in my early middle school days. I was just getting into acting at the time, so I think the sheer number of great performances is what sold me. I dressed up as Ray Charles for a school party once. Looking back, I realize that A) No one knew who the hell I was and B) The only way that would work is if I partook in a little blackface, something I only do in private and on weekends.

The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy-In 6th grade, my Ebert and Roeper obsession collided with a friend's cat fixation, and we made a trilogy of half-hour movie review "programs" called Two Paws Up. Replace thumbs with little kitty paws and you get the idea. This was the first movie we reviewed, and we both hated it. I came up with my first diss, that most powerful weapon in the arsenal of the pissed-off critic: "I didn't have a watch, so I checked my arm. After all, there was more going on on the surface of my skin that the surface of the screen." It remains to this day one of my favorite one-liners. Putting these shows together taught me alot about criticism---the most important lesson being that, if you over-praise or over-damn everything, you lose the respect of your audience. I also have too many great behind-the-scenes memories to list--setting off car alarms, sending a volleyball off a rooftop and across the street, dressing as Willy Wonka and doing perhaps the strangest dance I have done in the history of strange dances I have done etc, etc. I hope to reunite with my dear friend Alex, and our show, someday soon.

"Girl, You Have No Faith in Medicine", The White Stripes-My indie friend liked this. Girls liked my indie friend. I tried to like it. I wound up liking it, and loving Jack and Meg. They remain one of the few modern bands this jazz standard addict truly loves.

Annie Hall-Woody Allen stared at the camera, spoke those first lines, and there was no turning back. I've seen half his films. One, Hannah and Her Sisters, is damn near close to my all time favorite. By the time I head for college in the fall, I hope to have seen all of them.

The Giver, Lois Lowry-My mom read Harry Potter to me, but this was the first novel I really read by myself--or should I say demolished by myself. I finished it in three days. It wasn't a fluke either--I'd read it again in a heartbeat. Issuing fiction this complex and ideologically robust to our kids is the only way to keep great literature alive!

The Phantom Menace-Call it a cinematic false dawn. Was amazed by the Naboo pilot fighters. Dragged my parents to it four times. Saw it a fifth time, along with Tarzan, at a Hyatt resort, sitting next to a fellow toddler who I'm fairly certain was my first crush.

"Not While I'm Around", Sweeney Todd-The first song I sang alone on a stage. Listening to the recording, I marvel at how much I've grown. It's not just the old voice-thin and nasally and unable to sustain a phrase. It's the show-offyness, the need to belt every other note, that I cringe at. Thank god Barbra, Sarah Vaughan, Dinah Washington, and, most recently, Adele, came along to teach me a thing or two about phrasing. I've sung this song on 4 different occasions over 5 years, which makes each performance an interesting benchmark of my vocal progress. I'll sing it again soon, if you get my drift.

"A Piece of Sky", Yentl-Here it is, kids. This splits it in half. Old Testament/New Testament. Pre-Babs/Post-Babs. As soon as that final note sounded, clear as a bell and as deeply felt as anything ever sung, I knew I had found my lifelong inspiration.

"Out There", The Hunchback of Notre Dame-This one's not so much an incitement to storytelling as a memo to myself. I'd like to remember this song.

"I'm Not Calling You A Liar", Florence + The Machine-With its refrain of "I love you so much, I'm gonna let you kill me", this song was always on if I wanted to stew in my adolescent angst. Through two breakups and three crushes, it was a constant-I'm sure it still will be.

"Show People", Curtains-I select this to represent every song ever sung in a BL Blackfriars production. Take one look at the lyrics and you'll know why, if you don't already.

Song of Solomon, Toni Morrison-So what if you all hate it more than I hate the Tea Party? The fact is, the effort it took to put together the scrambled pieces of this book taught me to read critically, Morrison's striking poetry-prose hybrid made a lasting imprint on my brain, and the theme of sifting through the past in order to determine one's future is one that moves me deeply, because it's at the heart of art itself.

When Bad Things Happen to Good People, Harold Kushner-I'll be frank. It made me believe in God.

"Hand in My Pocket"/"Totally Fucked"/"Girl"/"Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me"-Friendship songs. You know who you are.

"Rolling in the Deep", Adele-Yeah, yeah, here it is. My favorite song, probably. Certainly my favorite song of the last 20 years. I've danced to it in dressing rooms, sung to it in my car, drooled over its sheer brilliance with like-minded friends. We all have that song that comes to define the four years of triumph and terror known as high school; this is mine.

Touch of Evil will always be the last film I reviewed in high school.

"Someone Like You" by Adele and "Emily" by Barbra Streisand will always be the last songs I listened to as an everyday high-schooler.

and, finally,

"My Shining Hour", Barbra Streisand-Confession: I have listened to this song before every "last" this year--last rehearsal,last performance, last choir concert, even last retreat. Performed as the closing number during her 2006 tour, this song was culled from a hard-to-find Astaire gem, The Sky's the Limit. The melody always moved me to tears, but this year, the words really kicked in. The chorus is some kind of lyrical miracle; part lament, part celebration, part ode, part benediction, and all sheer beauty. And with that chorus, I close this post, cement my undying love for all those that have changed my life and made me a happier, more confident person this past 18 years, and write my final blog of my secondary school career;

This will be my shining hour
Calm and happy and bright
In my dreams your face will flower
Through the darkness of the night

Like the lights of home before me
Or an angel watching o'er me
This will be my shining hour
Till I’m with you again.


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