Unexpected Symphony

I saw Mr. Holland's Opus when it first came out and, frankly, didn't think too much of it. For one thing, while Richard Dreyfuss is a terrific actor, he's not much of a conductor. It reminded me of Elaine's dance on Seinfeld. I kept thinking, "couldn't they cast someone who looked like a real band director?"

The problem's much more noticeable when it comes to casting actors as athletes. Did any of us really see John Goodman as Babe Ruth, or just as the right-handed Cheers guy playing the left-handed Babe Ruth? Maybe that's why Kevin Costner makes so many sports movies. He, at least, is an athlete. (Too bad he can't act!)

I know my bias is showing, but it seems like finding an actor with musical skills should have been a piece of cake.

The other thing that bothered me about Mr. Holland's Opus was its overdrawn sentimentality. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out where the movie was heading. Bottom line is, though everyone else raved about it, I didn't like the movie that much.

Until now. I was cycling the other day when the closing scenes of the movie flashed through my mind. I'm sure I'm getting it wrong, but as I recall, Dreyfuss' character is cleaning out his desk. He's spent (wasted?) a lifetime as a small time band director at a nondescript high school. He had dreams of writing a great American symphony but the demands of making a living short circuited his plans. He's not famous. He never published. He just taught high school, a temporary job which grew into a lifelong vocation. And now the budget bureaucrats have eliminated his position. Now an old man, he ambles beside his wife one last time out of the school.

Hearing commotion in the auditorium, he opens the door to discover that the entire student body has gathered to pay their respects to the beloved band teacher. On the stage is a former student, now state governor. Behind her are former students, now adults, from all walks of life, seated in sections with instruments. She says, "Mr. Holland, I know you are very disappointed that you were not able to publish your symphony. Instead you spent a lifetime teaching us. But never forget this: We are your symphony, your magnus opus." She calls him to the stage and he directs the symphony which he has been crafting at home all these years.

Yes, it drips with syrup. And he directs it poorly.

But it wasn't the poor directing which captured my mind while pedalling. (I usually count my cadence: 90 per minute is ideal.) No. I was reflecting on my life, it's changes, it's challenges, it's dreams, its ups and downs. (74 75 76.) Frankly, I'm in a lot of transition right now: dreams which seem like nightmares, questions without easy answers, challenges which are rather overwhelming (kind of like that hill on Stagecoach Pass). Will I ever get that symphony written?

Or maybe the symphony I'm writing is different than I'd imagined. Maybe, like Dreyfuss, I'm influencing people in far deeper ways than I realize.

I don't know about that. The movie isn't over yet. But I do know this: I could kind of go for that syruppy Hollywood ending. Even if it's poorly conducted.

Update

Just time for a quick note: We've recently moved and have temporarily lost internet access and, more importantly, the ability to read/send emails. So if you've tried to contact me, please be patient. I'm not ignoring you, really! It's just that your email is lost in cyberspace. Hopefully I'll be up and running soon. Just wanted you to know.

Oh, and, while I'm thinking of it I realize I've been a delinquent blogger. I was hoping I'd get lots of queries as to how some of you can't live without my posts but, alas....

Here's a few blogs in my "Draft" pile, just to tickle your fancy:

-- DaVinci 'Ode
-- Cycling Spirituality
-- Easter at Narnia

Don't you hate blogs that begin with these words? "I'm sorry I haven't blogged for a while?" Me too.