Here’s to You, Mrs. Robinson
“Harold and Maude” is my favorite film, and Maude my personal hero. But I’d bet a hundred bucks her favorite film is “The Graduate.”
There’s a delicious irony in imagining the free-spirited Maude relishing the tale of Benjamin Braddock’s suburban ennui.
Yet, “The Graduate” speaks to that same restless spirit, that yearning to break free from societal expectations that Maude embodies so wonderfully.
Mike Nichols’ 1967 masterpiece captures the zeitgeist of its era with a precision that still resonates today. Dustin Hoffman’s portrayal of Benjamin, adrift in a sea of affluence and hollow ambition, is a study in understated rebellion.
His fumbling romance with Mrs. Robinson, brought to life by the magnificent Anne Bancroft, crackles with tension and forbidden allure.
The film’s visual language is a feast for the eyes. Nichols and cinematographer Robert Surtees paint a picture of sun-drenched California malaise, punctuated by moments of absurdist comedy. Remember Benjamin in his scuba gear, sinking to the bottom of the pool, a perfect metaphor for his suffocating existence?
But it’s in the film’s final act that “The Graduate” truly soars. The mad dash to stop Elaine’s wedding, set to the iconic strains of Simon & Garfunkel, is cinema at its most exhilarating.
And that final shot – Benjamin and Elaine on the bus, their expressions slowly morphing from elation to uncertainty – it’s a moment of pure cinematic perfection.
“The Graduate” doesn’t just capture a moment in time; it speaks to the eternal struggle of youth against the machinery of adulthood. It’s a film that dares to ask, “What next?” without pretending to have all the answers.
In its ambiguity and artistry, it’s a film that I can imagine Maude sneaking into the cinema to watch over and over again, fist pumping at Benjamin’s rebellion.
And who knows? She might even have liberated a poster or two on her way out, just for the thrill of it.
Essence
Essence
What are you — above all else?
Perhaps a name, etched in time
Syllables that define your essence
Or merely a label, assigned by chance?
A job, perhaps — your daily pursuit
Shaping metal, healing wounds, or crafting words
But does your work define you
Or simply sustain your journey?
A passion — a fire that burns within
For art, for justice, for discovery
The driving force that wakes you
When the world is still asleep
You are all of these, of course, yet none alone
A wholecloth of roles and dreams
Each thread essential, yet incomplete
In the grand design of being
First and foremost, you are human, and here
Complex, contradictory, ever-changing
A blend of the mundane and the extraordinary
Forever becoming, forever ufinished