Lauren Bursting through the Shadows

From age 13 to 17, I was a church musician and I often miss it. It's not every adult choir director who would let a teenager play in his band, but Bro. Harold Hudson was more than a man. He was a second father to me. As the percussionist and backup drummer for his New Covenant Choir, I got to see many parts of the country, made life-long friends, and learned skills that I sadly don't get to use much anymore.

Harold Hudson, center, with the New Covenant Choir (c. early 1990s).

Last week, I was part of a worship service honoring Harold. Seeing him this time was different. Harold is now in the depths of Alzheimer's disease and I can't be entirely certain he knew what the evening was or who it was for, but I hope the music he helped create reached whatever part of him is still with us.

The experience of walking into a church where I, for all intents and purposes, grew up was like going into a time warp. Not much had changed about the building, but we were all older and many of us have gone on different religious paths. Still, we all came back to honor Bro. Harold. He meant so much to us.

Bro. Harold and his wife Sandy today.

It hasn't been that long since we had a choir reunion. The last time, maybe seven or eight years ago, Harold was in fine fettle and still leading his choir. That night will always be burned in my memory because one of my better poems emerged from the experience.

That night, I encountered a young lady who I knew from way back when and found myself enamored with her compassion, beauty, and joy. Like always, I avoided any attempts at getting to know her more now that we were adults and I left, beating myself up for at least not asking for her phone number.

That night, the poem "Lauren Bursting through the Shadows" poured out of me. It captured all the emtoions of that evening, I think, rather well-- the people I once knew, the nostalgia of which my generation is rather fond, and Lauren's radiance amongst the ghostly figures surrounding us.

It wasn't long after I wrote the poem that Lauren died tragically in a car accident. When preparing the publication of Eons and Other Love Poems, the poem most certainly had a place in the pages, with an official dedication to her. Although billed as a collection of love poems, they were mostly ones of unrequited love and failings. But, amongst those more despairing pieces, "Shadows" was a respite, though reading the original version now, it had smatterings of the self-loathing I was going through at the time and I've included some updates below to reflect more hope, less worry.

When published, I was able to bring copies of the book to her grieving mother and I spent an afternoon with her, remembering Lauren and holding each other. I read her the poem aloud and we both cried.

At last weekend's reunion, her mother was there and she reiterated how much that afternoon (and the book) meant to her. She also told me she had prayed over the book many times for me, hoping I would come out of the depression I was still in the midst of the afternoon I brought her her copies. I reprint it here as a testimony to Lauren though I must admit the poem is also about the faces of many who, when grown, show maturity, grace, and forgiveness in this world sorely lacking all three elements.

Lauren Bursting through the Shadows

I

Swimming through a sea

of ghosts, even the pats

and squelches of old fingers

from ladies in finery seem

heavy, cementing the past.

I have not seen these people

in ages. Their faces to me are

shadows of what they were.

Even though they’re still alive,

they’re not as alive as they were

fourteen years ago, back when

all our dreams were still possible

and hadn’t died the death of

degrees and offices and aching

joints and ruptured muscles.

I wish I had a little left of that

confident little bastard I used

to be in me. If I did, I might

still see the world as a place

I might conquer instead of inhabit.

It was that confident young man

they knew. They don’t know they're

hugging a shell, someone emptier

than Christ’s tomb—someone for whom

the romance of it all has died a little.

Old faces, grey and aloof, pass on

and, in the dim light of the church,

a figure appears that I know and

do not know. Like some others, I never

noticed her when she was a child,

But as a woman—

II

She glistens from the corners of her

face, ranking with beige beauties

I knew and know. Her eyes are more

alive now than they ever seemed.

This woman speaks to me.

We hug and I say the only words

I can muster. “You look beautiful,”

which was, and is, the truth. I assume

she has not heard me for she mutters

“You too”—a nicety, perhaps a slip.

Then, the stumble of the questions

we all ask—the who (are we now?)

the what (are we doing?) the why

(has it been so long?) and finally

where (the hell are you now?)

I have not thought seriously of

anyone—mostly out of pity,

and somewhat out of sadness.

I choke. And when I have to

answer I’m now two hours away,

My eyes turn three shades of

“Jesus, I wish I weren’t; wouldn’t it

be nice to be near you and your

daughter and know you and wonder

if we could be happy?”

But, then, I think—how silly. What a

notion—not just finding someone

(how daft would that be?) but some-

one who sparkles at the corners of

her eyes and mouth and sees I'm human.

The moments after one breaks off

a conversation always require a

certain amount of resettling—you have

to get your bearings back. But, mine

weren’t coming back to me.

I walked out of the church dazzled and

certain that if I did not live so far away

from her, I might run in front of her car

as she pulled out of the parking lot and begged

her to stop everything to come with me.

Finishing this poem, I wonder how much

of this romantic piffle will be understood,

assured that people will assume I can’t

be serious in my sincerity. But, they do not

know the hours I spent reading Byron.

They don’t know that I once believed

in the things that seem infantile to those

who grow up and grow jaded. Maybe

that confident little bastard isn’t so far

away. Maybe I can conjure him.

Maybe he can take the two hours’

distance and eradicate all the cities and

towns between Lauren and I so we can

be right next door and wave to each other

from a city street and start fresh.

Maybe she’ll read this poem and balk.

Maybe I’ll be embarrassed in the morning.

But, maybe, I awakened a sleeping

child in me who can still work magic and

pull brilliant color from the shadows

and bring light back to the dark places.

Lauren Smith-Klingler (1986-2016)

A Quick Trek through Harry Potter

As we have a few more days of watching spooky movies, I thought it appropriate to publish here some more alternative Halloween film fare. A version of this article originally appeared on my first blog and was published in the book Everyone Else is Wrong (And You Know It).

J. K. Rowling’s book series may or may not have sparked an interest in reading throughout the world, but it certainly gave us a myth for our time and the resulting film series made more than seven billion dollars. The films (more so than the books) have caused controversy among fans and film people because whether they held to the books too closely (the first two) or had to muck about (Half-Blood Prince and others), it was damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Still, it was worth it. This quick trek goes through each film briskly with my thoughts.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (2001)

He would grow into the wand.

Stupidly re-titled the Sorcerer’s Stone in the U. S. and some other English-speaking countries, the first film, directed by Chris Columbus and scripted by Steve Kloves, is better than you remember it—perhaps not the “classic” Ebert called it, but what other film could’ve been made from the first book? First books in series this long are introductions. The fact that the plot is secondary (and perhaps too convoluted for a secondary plot) is not the point. The film set about on quite a journey assembling some of the finest acting talent in the United Kingdom and finding at least two future stars in Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (2002)

The future wife. Not my pick.

Okay, Chris Columbus was quite a tepid choice to begin with. The director of Home Alone and Mrs. Doubtfire doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the minds of film people. Nonetheless, we can at least call Chamber of Secrets Columbus’ best film. Chamber was the first of the films I saw in the theaters and the one that made me fall in love with the world of Harry Potter. I grant you, this is probably the longest children’s movie of all time, but it’s also packed with lots to think about (and talk about), including as good a metaphor for racism as I’ve ever seen in the dichotomy of the mud-blood and pure-blood witches/wizards.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)

My pick.

The moment Radcliffe said the words, “I will be” in answer to Lucis Malfoy’s quip at the end of Chamber of Secrets, Radcliffe became an actor. And, at the moment Alfonso Cuarón was made director of the third installment, Harry Potter was helmed by a true film master. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is a great film, the first in the series to stand on its own. Unfortunately, Richard Harris passed away before being able to continue to play Dumbledore, but from the very first moment he appears onscreen, Michael Gambon is truly magical in the part. This is the first of the films to show us things in the magic world without over-explaining them, so by its very nature, the story is shown, not told—this is what really makes it distinct from the first two—and it has a time travel tale that actually works to boot. The only drawback is that the moment the Hogwarts students start wearing jeans and contemporary clothing, the films become dated. The costumes in the first two were at least preserving an eternality.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005)

Twitch angst.

The peak of the series’ power lies in the fourth installment—an emotional coaster from the hormonal imbalances of Ron and Hermione to the death of Cedric Diggery. This film is my personal favorite, though I still think the third is stronger overall. The first of the films to be helmed by a British director—Mike Newell (an odd choice for an action film, but inspired)—Goblet of Fire just about has it all, including a most ambitious design in the Quidditch World Cup arena and a painful middle section, where you ride along the fourteen year-old romantic roller coaster. The third film is pure action from start to finish and that’s why I admire it. But, this is the last film of the series to take its time developing character, telling one Hell of a story (the tournament), and showing us a fully developed world with a unifying theme of internationalism (and therefore humanity). The later films almost buckle under the pressure of all they have to convey in one sitting. Goblet is the last of the films adapted from a single tome that can afford to take the time to fill our imaginations with wonder.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (2007)

The best moment of the whole series.

The fifth film is a kind of demarcation. The rest of the films would be directed by David Yates and the stories will have less and less of the smiley-wileys. This is the only film not scripted by Steve Kloves; instead, Michael Goldenberg does a fair job though it’s a shame that the films’ lack that symmetry in addition to two Dumbledores. Order of the Phoenix is overshadowed by bureaucracy as shown through the scenes of the Ministry of Magic and Dolores Umbridge. In fact, I would venture to say Umbridge is a perfect representation of the kind of bureaucratic evil exhibtited by public school administrators. Imelda Staunton’s performance is a highlight as is the storytelling device of the newspaper zooms which tidy up a lot of the exposition. Less emotionally powerful than the last film, I still remember breaking into tears when Harry Potter exorcises Voldemort saying, “I feel sorry for you.” The film does have its drawbacks—particularly those in the art department. First of all, you can’t just let Helena Bonham Carter on the set wearing the clothes she always wears (just a joke), but more seriously, why does the centaur in the first film and Dobby in the second film both look better than Grawp, who looks like Alfred E. Neuman? Ah, well.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2009)

They gave the boy something to act.

Every great fantasy epic has one movie that is pure transition. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers is a great example. It does not stand on its own. This is an important cog in the machine, but it is not satisfying in a sitting. Half-Blood Prince is the only film in the series for which I wrote a full-length review. I wrote, “[u]ltimately what one has to say about Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is it the only film in the series which I have no desire to go back to the theater and watch one or two more times.” Upon re-watching it, I can’t exactly disagree with my 2009 self. The last half hour is excruciating—you feel terror at Dumbledore’s passing and confusion in Snape’s revelation and the utter chaos brought upon the school by the Death Eaters. I now see the last two scenes (the lit tribute to Dumbledore and the epilogue) as a balm to the audience, although at the time I thought, “That’s the last line? You’ve got to be kidding!” The one qualm I have with my review is that I now feel Order of the Phoenix is a stronger film than I did then. This one is “complete transition.” Of the films, this is the weak link. But, it had to be, didn’t it?

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (2010-2011)

Showdown.

I do not like the trend of making one book into two movies. If Harry Potter were not already a world-wide sensation, this strategy would have been deadly—to the box office, to the criticism, everything. Word to OCD fans: very long books in the hands of capable film people can usually translate well into one movie. One could look at the last two films as distinct but I’m going to look at them as one because if it were, even with the combined length, it would be splendid. If I reviewed the first on its own terms, no matter how much liked it, it’s only a prelude, an overture, a prologue to the real thing. The last two films belong to Ralph Fiennes, who I think may have been born to play Lord Voldemort. Of course, we all knew he was good at playing bad guys. Before he oversaw the Holocaust in the magical world, he was directing it in Nazi-occupied Poland. He permeates the last two movies with enough menace to focus you on exactly what you need to know, making The Deathly Hollows such a more clear-minded experience than the two films that preceded it. But, even though his character brings about much death, the feeling you have as you leave the world of Harry Potter, teary-eyed and smiling uncontrollably, is a feeling of (dare I say it?) life affirmation. One wants to live like the boy who lived—with bravery, courage, and determination to live one’s life with purpose and an open heart.

Pretty good for what started out as a kids’ book, huh?

Alternative Halloween Film Fare

As Halloween is just around the corner, you might be scouring the streaming services for your favorite scary movies, so, I thought it appropriate to share this piece. A version of this article originally appeared on my first blog and was published in the book Everyone Else is Wrong (And You Know It).

I remember my brother and father watching A Nightmare on Elm Street in the den when I was a child (remember dens?). I caught one glimpse of Freddy Krueger on the TV screen and I was terrified all throughout my childhood-- so much so that horror movies were a no-go for me until college, when I would occasionally get hoodwinked into watching one. But, even at that point, I had not yet realized American horror movies are not really all that scary and most walk a fine line between frightening and hilarious.

Last year, I watched all the Krueger movies with the exception of Freddy vs. Jason and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed them and I laughed a lot. The feeling that horror was truly horrific was gone completely and replaced with a mild affection for a genre that may not aim high, but that's part of the fun.

Yet, even though I have come to appreciate some horror movies-- especially the Evil Dead series-- the genre remains low on my list of priorities in life and, to this day, I would much rather watch a psychological thriller than a horror flick, so I wrote this piece for those of us who like a little creepiness as it gets colder, but still like to sleep undisturbed. Hope you enjoy!

P. S.-- If I had written this today, I would've most certainly wanted to add Tucker and Dale vs. Evil to this list. That's a very funny movie and, if you like more bloodshed than I've recommended below, it's the one I would most urge you to see.

*****

Let’s face it: horror movies mostly suck. Even the "good" ones don’t scare you. Take The Shining—one of the most unintentionally hilarious movies ever. Nearly three hours with Scatman Crothers plodding up a mountain and Jack Nicholson making the transition from crazy to crazy? Oh, yes, there are fewer good horror movies than teen comedies or Hallmark movies.

The only films I can really remember scaring me are Japanese: Ringu, Jisatsu Sākuru (Suicide Club), and other psychological thrillers (as distinct from horror per se). So, what are we left with outside of "true" horror movies? We’re left with comedies with supernatural themes and certain gothika that are pleasant entertainment, if not always artistically nourishing.

This is a list of my Halloween movies. Technically, it's a list of guilty pleasures because I'm not fond of the form, but I don't feel guilty about any of these. These are spooky, unsettling, but not upsetting. A wuss' list, if you will. Enjoy!

American Gothic (1995-1996)

The fine actor who became the go-to funny man.

Okay, this is a television series, but it’s a fun piece of work. Most of my generation knew Gary Cole first from this, and not from Office Space, The Brady Bunch Movie, or Talladega Nights: The Legend of Ricky Bobby. The definition of the Southern Gothic genre, created by former teen heartthrob Shaun Cassidy, American Gothic is a chilling television show from a time highly influenced by the phenomenon of Twin Peaks. It lasted one season, but in this age where nearly everything ends up on DVD or streaming, it has survived. Features an engaging early performance by Lucas Black (Sling Blade).

Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971)

Treguna Mekoides Tracorum Satis Dee.

Adapted from two children’s novels by Mary Norton, this Disney flick was the third in a loose trilogy of live-action musicals from Disney (the other two being Mary Poppins and the underrated The Happiest Millionaire, which suffered from having no kids in the cast). Bedknobs and Broomsticks features a delightful, hummable score by the Sherman brothers and a classic performance from the late Angela Lansbury. A nice witch’s brew.

Beetlejuice (1988)

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice...Wait...

Beetlejuice is one of the movies you love as a kid but, when you revisit it as an adult, it makes no sense. None of the supernatural world it inhabits has any logic whatsoever, but it sure is fun for three reasons: Michael Keaton’s performance, the terrific score by Danny Elfman, and the production design by Bo Welch. Not a moment is uninteresting to look at and the Harry Belafonte songs are a wacky but wonderful touch.

Frailty (2001)

Paxton, the director. And a damn good one.

The only real horror film on this list, Frailty is criminally overlooked. A perfect Southern Gothic spook-fest directed by and starring the late Bill Paxton, this movie belongs in any film lover's queue. The perfect mixture of religious anxiety and family madness and a cast of offbeat Texans (including a young Matthew McConaughey) make this a future treasure of the genre.

Ghostbusters (1984)/Ghostbusters II (1989)

The Scourge of Carpathia.

This franchise would be totally forgotten if not for the unique comic performance of Bill Murray. Fun, odd, and surprisingly beefy comedy are sprinkled through both Occult-themed films. I’m tired of the short shrift given to the second one. I’m sorry, but you can’t give the first one a free pass in the logic category and confine the second one to nonsense. It's a sequel that repeats itself. What's unusual about that? Both movies make no sense and both are fun as Hell. The remake (not funny because it's not funny, nothing to do with a female cast) and reboot can go to Hell.

Jennifer’s Body (2009)

The perfect horror character: a high school cheerleader.

Marketed as a horror film, most people failed to see this was a quirky comedy-in-disguise. Written by a screenwriter we don't hear from enough, it’s a perfect vehicle for Megan Fox and with a believable performance by Amanda Seyfried at its core.

Macbeth (The Tragedy of Macbeth, 1971)

Out, damn spot!

Most versions of this play (recorded on stage or otherwise) are fine, but Roman Polanski’s version is the one people will remember as definitive. Made not long after the murder of Sharon Tate, it gives insight into the controversial filmmaker's state of mind when he was still at the peak of his powers. Some may find his inclusion here difficult to reconcile with his infamous crime, but it is hard to argue with the quality of the work here-- it is as naturalistic as Shakespeare has ever been rendered on screen.

Misery (1990)

Hobbling Time?

A film based on a Stephen King novel and actually scary? This one and no other.

Sleepy Hollow (1999)

Sound Stage Perfection.

Tim Burton gets a free pass from me on everything he made up until this movie. Sleepy Hollow is a beautifully designed and well-acted movie and the only version of Washington Irving’s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow worth watching, even though it changes virtually the entire story (perhaps for the better).

The Wicker Man (1973)

The Christian Copper and the Pagan.

Robin Hardy’s cult classic will at the very least surprise you (if it’s not already ruined for you by countless spoilers online). The 2006 Neil LaBute remake can be fun, too (and might be another comedy-in-disguise), but should only be watched after you experience the original.