With my little girl, 2005.
When I was a kid we absolutely lived to go to movies. I was a little kid in the fifties and lots of the movies were westerns, WW II stories, and detective stories with a smattering of silly comedies and romantic comedies thrown in. Occasionally we'd see an real epic such a The Ten Commandments, Ben-Hur, or Spartacus. In the Sixties there were still great films of epic proportions and powerful sweep such as Lawrence of Arabia, starring Peter O'Toole as the title character, Colonel T.E. Lawrence of the British Army who led a coalition of Arabs in defeating the Turks during World War One.
One thing many of these films had in common was great music. If a film had really great music, that clinched it. I would think about the film for days and live in an emotional dream world of the movie behind which real life was nothing but a sort of uninteresting backdrop. Even as I moved into my teens and started using the money I earned myself at the minimum wage of $1 per hour, movie tickets and record albums were always my chief purchases. .22 shells were about 50 cents per box or 1 cent apiece, so a dollar's worth of ammunition could be made to last me a while.
I bought the sound track albums of many great movies, including Dr. Zhivago, My Fair Lady, and Grand Prix. I would play them over and over, studying the liner notes so closely that someone might have thought I was about to be tested on the information contained on the back of the album. I remember being inordinately proud of my own recording of Ravel's Bolero, because it employed real black powder cannon and an extra snare drum on stereo left and stereo right, just for that martial sound which I've always held that the piece warrants.
I got to drive for Bro. David Wilkins of my ward on a couple of his business trips this past week. On Tuesday, he took me to see the powerful kidnapping story, Taken. Liam Neeson is his usual perfect character. The action is a bit grisly at times, but it suits the story exactly. Heidi had told me how much she liked it. I liked it, too. But it made me start missing and worrying about Autumn even more than usual. Daddies worry about their little girls and I've been worried about mine since she left home after high school. She's 31 now and married to a pretty capable young man, but I know she goes through dangerous areas all the time, so I reserve the right to worry about her safety and well-being. If you want to know the dark thought of dads as they worry about their little girls, go see Taken.
Wednesday night, still in Casper, we saw Knowing. The plot is bigger than the previews would let on, the stakes much, much higher. Some of the opening scenes take place in 1959 when I was in the Secnd Grade. It all seemed right and familiar. At the climactic conclusion, the viewer is left with an odd mixture of hope and horror, all of it set off beautifully by Beethoven's Seventh Symphony, Second Movement. I've always thought of it as one of those pieces of music which should be tested to see whether it really could wring tears from a stone, sort of like Barber's Adagio for Strings and others of that ilk. It had no trouble wringing them from me as a coronal mass ejection turns the first few planets in the solar system to quietly floating embers. Nicolas Cage mourns more for separation from a son than I thought it possible for an actor do.
Two little children appear to run into a Garden of Eden and towards something that reminded both Dave and me of The Tree of Life. More tears ensued.
I hope everybody will see these films, although those prone to nightmares might want to reconsider. Both films feature scenes which could bother those who are sensitive to such things. But I've got to say, I'll be getting the sound track just for the gorgeous rendition of the Beethoven.
Our first family portrait. Kind of silly, but we were doing the best we could. It was the bicentennial year, 1976, and a flag so decorated is behind us. No one need fear that Joseph is stoned. It's actually just extreme youth that makes him look that way. :)
