What?
What is he…
What is he doing?
Wait, what is he doing with that boy?
Is that boy in trouble?
What is he going to do to the boy?
No, don’t hurt him!
Is he going to hurt him?
Wait, is he…
Is he, ok…
Is he an ok man?
Why is that boy outside by himself anyway!
He could get hurt!
He can barely see with all that fog.
Don’t hurt that boy.
What is that boy doing anyway?!
Why is he outside?
Why is he alone?
This is me at eight years old falling in love with my first movie – true story.
Sitting on the lowest floor of our split-level home in Oregon that was built into the earth where the view from the windows met the ground outside. An unlit wood stove in the corner, afternoon light filling the room, a twin bed tucked up against the other wall, I am sitting as close and as far away from the television as possible. A butt lift, and a stretch away.
There was no remote control, I was the remote control. There wasn’t cable television. There were three, sometimes four channels, and depending on the time of the day it was possible to get one or two more channels. So, I sat so that my greatest effort amounted to me lifting my bum, stretching out my arm to change channels when bored. And, that was a great effort.
Black and white, David Lean’s Great Expectations had transfixed me. I don’t think I started breathing again until Pip went home to eat with his family as Mrs. Joe starts bleating on and on, I nearly raised my bum to change the channel.
I am glad I did not lift my bum, for if I had I would have missed meeting Miss Havisham. Wow! I couldn’t believe my eyes. At eight years old to see a person portrayed with such grotesque interest. Miss Havisham is disgusting, cruel, and mean, however to look at her you know there must be more to the story. For who would spend their entire life mourning in their wedding dress for the happiness and happy ending that never arrived or happened. Setting their anger on its heel with such salivating, sharp, jaw snapping anger that the audience cannot help but feel pity, compassion, and revulsion at the same time.
I disagree greatly with Charles Dickens’ ending to Great Expectations, however much I enjoy Dickens. He has such a way with characters. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve read Great Expectations. It wasn’t until high school that I got to read Dickens’ Great Expectations. There is not another writer like Charles Dickens who can capture the human spirit, condition, and struggle to hold onto our own humanity despite ourselves, in spite of our own self, or because of our self.
As the story of my life goes – film first with reading to follow. But, that was it. I was hooked, I became a cinephile in that moment when the boy on the screen pulled me in, worrying for him, caring about his safety, wanting to reach across the screen and join him.
It never left me over the years, I thought I was going to attend film school. I had done my research on schools, Florida State University was my first choice, I thought it was the most logical choice since I lived in Florida. And, from what I understood about the program I thought it would give me a good foundation for film making even if the school was not able to keep up with the ever-changing world of film making.
My other choice which was a complete fantasy because I couldn’t afford a state university let alone a school abroad, but I wanted to go to Bath, England and attend their film school. I believed it would offer me a different academic film experience that I would not receive stateside.
I also auditioned for Southern Methodist University trying to get into a school that would or could offer me more than what I already knew or expected. For I already had the basic information and knowledge of acting, writing, storytelling, and film making, I just did not have the practical experience which is what I was after – the experience of it.
Also, I have said this before, I wanted to go to film school to learn about writing, directing, and producing to make films, so I could give myself a job. Because director’s look over me and did not hire me. I mean look at me. So, if I didn’t belong in front of the camera, then at least I could work behind the camera where no one could see me.
Like most things in this life, my ideas, my thoughts, my plans are too grand and big for this world – for the world I live in.
That boy in the movie, I was so worried for that boy in the movie, I had to watch the rest to make sure he was going to be ok.
So, I did.
WE - DO NOT AGREE! 