This past weekend we watched "Boyhood."
At 2.5 hours in length, chances were pretty good that I wouldn't sit all the way through it. I rarely sit through a film that long.
Much to husband's dismay and the cat's delight, I sat still and watched the movie in its entirety plus the 20 minute extra feature on the making of it.
There were many things I liked about the film.
I liked that the transitions from one stage of boyhood to another were so seamless that I had to zone in on the boy's haircut to understand that a transition had taken place.
I like that the film showed the physical transition of the adults, which were in some ways as astounding as the boy's. I appreciated that the film also showed how adults, depending on their personalities, can change/mature over time (the dad) or stay perpetually stuck in dysfunctional choices (the mom).
Of course, I loved the music. The Black Keys and Flaming Lips in one movie=my kind of awesome.
After it was over I felt a sadness that lingered into the following morning.
It wasn't a sadness like what I get after watching "On The Beach" or "Melancholia," which is sadness and irrational fear bound into a tight bundle. It was a sadness for something that I know without a doubt is coming---my children growing up. But as with all things parenthood-related, that sadness is interlaced with joy at knowing that my children are supposed to grow up and create their own lives beyond me.
"Boyhood" reminded me that maybe I should stop worrying about making every moment count with my children. Every moment doesn't count.
"Boyhood" reminded me that 98% of life is the in-between stages, not the milestones. Not the big deal events, but the little forgettable moments. The things that we don't remember anyway.
We are left with a feeling, a sense of who we are, where we're from, why we matter. The nuts and bolts of that feeling, that sense, are long gone by the time we start to really try to get a handle on ourselves and where we are in the world.
I liked that the film gave me a ray of hope that my two boys, who talk about their penises all day long and really get way too much enjoyment from "Uncle Grandpa," may turn into pretty cool dudes when they mature.
I liked the movie's reminder that as a parent, you do the best you can with what you have, and the kids will probably turn out ok.
At 2.5 hours in length, chances were pretty good that I wouldn't sit all the way through it. I rarely sit through a film that long.
Much to husband's dismay and the cat's delight, I sat still and watched the movie in its entirety plus the 20 minute extra feature on the making of it.
There were many things I liked about the film.
I liked that the transitions from one stage of boyhood to another were so seamless that I had to zone in on the boy's haircut to understand that a transition had taken place.
I like that the film showed the physical transition of the adults, which were in some ways as astounding as the boy's. I appreciated that the film also showed how adults, depending on their personalities, can change/mature over time (the dad) or stay perpetually stuck in dysfunctional choices (the mom).
Of course, I loved the music. The Black Keys and Flaming Lips in one movie=my kind of awesome.
After it was over I felt a sadness that lingered into the following morning.
It wasn't a sadness like what I get after watching "On The Beach" or "Melancholia," which is sadness and irrational fear bound into a tight bundle. It was a sadness for something that I know without a doubt is coming---my children growing up. But as with all things parenthood-related, that sadness is interlaced with joy at knowing that my children are supposed to grow up and create their own lives beyond me.
"Boyhood" reminded me that maybe I should stop worrying about making every moment count with my children. Every moment doesn't count.
"Boyhood" reminded me that 98% of life is the in-between stages, not the milestones. Not the big deal events, but the little forgettable moments. The things that we don't remember anyway.
We are left with a feeling, a sense of who we are, where we're from, why we matter. The nuts and bolts of that feeling, that sense, are long gone by the time we start to really try to get a handle on ourselves and where we are in the world.
I liked that the film gave me a ray of hope that my two boys, who talk about their penises all day long and really get way too much enjoyment from "Uncle Grandpa," may turn into pretty cool dudes when they mature.
I liked the movie's reminder that as a parent, you do the best you can with what you have, and the kids will probably turn out ok.
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