The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I was resistant to go see The Perks of Being a Wallflower because I had heard that this was a “teen” movie that was closer to John Hughes’s films than, say, a movie tht would have starred Freddie Prinze, Jr.  And, because of that analogy, I was afraid that Perks would not live up to my expectations of what is a John Hughes movie.  The best teen—with a capital T—movie is Sixteen Candles because the characters are so uncomfortable and shallow—yet, sensitive—that I not only believe they are real, but I relate to them.  Flawed.  Sensitive.  Whole, even when broken.  

So, what was I afraid of with this comparison?  I thought that the grittiness of high school would be stripped away.  I thought that Perks would glorify being an outsider too much.  It’s interesting to be different, but it’s still really, really hard.  

I’ll take myself as an example for a reference.  Was it interesting that I wore long skirts with clunky boots, could sing (and did!) the entire soundtrack to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, and had a fat friend that a cheerleader would not talk to if her life depended on it?  Yes, I guess, but it’s not so easy to be a teenager and have interest in activities or music that is unique to every other teenager in your school.  And, it is also a lie that an “outsider” finds a clique of friends that completely understands him or her and also loves Donny Osmond.  So, I was afraid that in Perks, the misfit protagonist would somehow be embraced by friends and all would be right with his world.  As an outsider myself, I did not want that type of story to be told.  Moreover, I did not want people to think that is what a John Hughes movie is.  Yes, mostly in his movies, girl gets boy, but there are nuances in the plots that feel real. So, I always forgive myself for rooting for the ending kiss because even if in real life, a first date with your crush rarely happens at all—let alone a kiss—is nice to see that it could happen.  

Perks has the same kind of Hughes-ian quality.  No one is perfect in the movie, but it is fair to say that everyone is perfectly flawed.  There is a bit of Getting The Girl in the movie, but it feels earned and nothing is sealed with a kiss.  The actions all have consequences, and none of the characters are immune to them.  

Perks is a story about Charlie just as he begins his freshman year of high school.  He’s lonely.  He meets some friends that seem to like him for who he is.  The good part is that he never seems to be not lonely.  The friends do not fix his life; they do change it, though.  The only problem I had was with a right turn the movie takes about 15 minutes from the end.  I did not read the book, so I do not know if this ending comes out of the clear blue sky as it did in the movie.  I don’t want to give anything away, but I will say that the story felt better to me when Charlie was sad and depressed just because he was—and not due to some outside reason that blindsided me and attempted to tie up the ends of the story that did not need to be tied at all.  Not everything looks better wrapped in a bow. 

Searching for Sugar Man

Think of your favorite band or singer when you were 15.  Think of how you would play a certain track in your bedroom, lying on the floor.  When you're a teenager, life seems big because your life is the universe--at that time in your life, you were the sun. And the moon.  And the earth.  And the sky.  All in one. 

Now, let's just assume you grew up as you aged.  Imagine that your idol--your beautiful musician that rocked your world and enhanced it as a teenager--has stepped back into your life.  When you were younger, you only knew what you needed to know about this musician.  The importance you gave him made him important.  That was your value system.  It worked while you were a teenager.  But, now, you are grown, and your idol is back.  But, this time, you get to learn the truth--the truth about him (instead of your angst-ridden teenage soul's imagining of the musician).

Searching for Sugar Man is a documentary about a Detroit musician named Rodriguez.  In the 1970s, for millions of South Africans during Apartheid, Rodriguez served as their collective teenage idol.  The movie goes on a sort of journey, from millions of fans adoring Rodriguez at a time when they needed a voice for the Anti-Apartheid Movement, to confronting the singer (or, the singer's story) on his own terms.  The fans whom Rodriguez inspired are ready to understand Rodriguez not only as a voice of a movement, but as his own person. 

Rodriguez did lend himself to this movement.  However, that inspiration turned out to be a by-product of the inner workings of a humble poet.  If there were ever an argument to encourage art and humanities as catalysts for changing a society or for comforting the human spirit, the story of Rodriguez would be one.  The poet/artist/musician breathes and writes and plays and sings all while the world gets the benefit of that human's vibrations. 

Attention must be paid

Just listen to this. Please. Listen to all of it. On repeat like I do. Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch Tiny Desk Concert

It's not an image but it's definitely moving me. I "discovered" Gillian Welch in 2007 or 2008. I remember buying a used copy of "Revival" and walking around campus, amazed at the beauty and simplicity of the arrangements. Rawlings has always played second fiddle to Welch. His guitar. Her voice. Nothing was better to me. But this -- an inversion. Welch as backup and Rawlings' voice front and center. He said it himself -- Welch's voice is big, pure and takes up a lot of space. The arrangements can be skeletal. But his voice is smaller, no less beautiful, but definitely needs the help of fuller accompaniment. This concert is perfection. Their harmonies are breaking my heart.

I have long periods of time when I'm not listening to their music but I always go back. And when I'm back I think: why did I ever leave?? Their melodies are haunting, not infectious. Their lyrics are restrained, not over-determined. They are musicians, trained at Berklee, perfected on the road. They sing about orchards, farms, sadness, love. Their are moments in my life, perfectly etched in my memory, that have Gillian Welch singing in the background. And now they are both here in the foreground; I couldn't be happier.

Melancholia

Melancholia is getting all kinds of accolades and being heralded as the best film of 2011. This makes me feel justified for liking this movie. It also makes me feel like a pretentious art follower for finding self-justification of my own likes from the opinions of others. In any case, I urge you to trust the trusted movie critics and go ahead and see this movie.

I don't know if it's classified as the plot or the theme, but the magnet or pull of the movie is that a planet is headed toward earth. Our lives are in jeopardy because slowly but surely, the planet will barrel into the side of the earth, causing a destruction the dinosaurs would have envied. So, that is what will happen, but that is not what is happening in the movie. Or in life. We are all headed for destruction, one way or another. However, if we focus on the demise, life becomes not worth living. Or, for some unlikely optimists, the inevitable destruction seems to make life sweeter and worth living.

Much like The Tree of Life juxtaposes mundane life moments with catastrophic events (such as the Big Bang), Melancholia puts a festive new beginning, a wedding, against the backdrop of the impending end of the world. The movie splits itself into two parts--the wedding weekend reception and the aftermath. I knew that the planet was gaining speed on the earth's destruction, but while the reception was happening, I was involved in that production. I guess that's what makes Melancholia such a brave film for me. I got the message--loud and clear--that the celebration of a new beginning and even the emotional effects of life count for something even when we know they will not last.

And what a wedding reception it was! Kirsten Dunst (Justine) is the bride. She looked ethereal, as a newlywed is supposed to look. And, we learn that the earth's imminent demise is mirrored by Justine's crippling depression. She treads through the charade of the reception--her own celebration--much like a soldier hoofing through mud fields. I've been to a few weddings in my day, and one of the most disappointing aspects of them is that the festivities seem to be rushed in order to hurry to transform the reception hall into a club with disc jockeys spinning the top 40 hits from the radio. Bridal party enters: check! Toasts completed: check! Cake cut: check! First dance: check! Then, the dance floor turns into a discotheque and the ambiance is lost. I forget that it's a wedding at all. In this movie, the reception is drawn out and savored. It lasts for hours, well into the night, when more champagne expectantly flows and more food is offered to the guests. Toasts come in stages and dancing fits into the creases for the festivities. It was beautifully lit. And, more beautiful, still, was how Justine attempted to fit into this mold of bride and woman and normal. It's not always easy to do that.

The reception trudges on and then we are introduced to the more immediate realizations regarding the end of the world. You can hide in a corner and shield yourself from the destruction or you can witness the death. The end of the world sure emits pretty fireworks. You would be a fool to shut your eyes.