A movie that changed my life

Art does more than enter­tain. At its best, it ele­vates. And so, I ask, what is the most impact­ful movie that you ever saw…the one that changed your way of think­ing, your per­cep­tion of the world and your role in it. Sev­er­al come to mind for me (2001: A Space Odyssey, Ben Hur, King of Hearts), but there is one win­ner: The Grad­u­ate.

The Grad­u­ate was released Decem­ber 21, 1967, Christ­mas break of my fresh­man year of col­lege. Ben­jamin Brad­dock has just fin­ished col­lege and has come home to fig­ure out what to do with his life. He is a lost soul and becomes even more lost as the sum­mer wears on. Then he falls in love with Elaine.

Log­i­cal­ly, much of the film’s impact on me had to do with the fact that I was equal­ly lost, and, like Ben, I knew it. My stan­dard answer when asked about pick­ing a major: “I’m going to be a busi­ness major so I can drink mar­ti­nis at lunch.” I might have meant it. I love the scene in the movie where an old­er busi­ness­man takes Ben aside at his grad­u­a­tion par­ty because he has one word of advice for him: “Plas­tics.” It dawned on me how emp­ty a life spent seek­ing mate­r­i­al gain would be. I believe The Grad­u­ate was instru­men­tal in turn­ing me from the direc­tion I was headed.

I want to rave about the movie a lit­tle bit. The inter­play between Ben and Mrs. Robin­son as they pro­ceed into and out of an affair is won­der­ful­ly writ­ten and act­ed. The cin­e­matog­ra­phy is incred­i­ble: shots of Ben in his scu­ba gear at the bot­tom of the pool—or of Mrs. Robin­son when Elaine finds out the truth—haunting images that stay with me. The edit­ing made me notice edit­ing for the first time: jump cuts of Ben get­ting onto a pool raft to him get­ting on Mrs. Robin­son or his slow motion sprint to the chapel. And, of course, the sound­track: such a per­fect fit! Simon and Gar­funkel must have lived in Mike Nichols’ (the direc­tor) back pocket.

The end­ing of the film taught me a greater les­son than turn­ing from mate­ri­al­is­tic val­ues. The first time I saw it I thought it was the most joy­ous movie ever: they escape from the rag­ing horde, get on a bus, and live hap­pi­ly ever after. The sec­ond time, I watched more closely—they get on the bus, look back at the chapel, look at the peo­ple on the bus star­ing at them, laugh, look at each oth­er, and look away. And in comes the famil­iar refrain: “Hel­lo dark­ness, my old friend

I start­ed col­lege in 1967 and grad­u­at­ed in 1981, and I spent many of those years believ­ing that if I just found the right woman, all the pieces of my life would fit togeth­er. It was a con­stant search and dis­card, or be dis­card­ed. I’ve been mar­ried to a won­der­ful woman for 42 years, but I have no illu­sions that find­ing “the one” has been the key to peace and con­tent­ment. Yet, I think we are encour­aged (main­ly by Hol­ly­wood) to believe that. Ben tried to tell me at the beginning—I’ve always been a slow learner.

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