I-wish-I-could-say-that-I-haven’t-posted-in-over-three-months-because-I-was-too-busy-living-a-wild-and-glamourous-lifestyle-but-the-reality-of-the-situation-is-that-I-was-too-scared-to-write-a-movie-post-WOW-IT-FEELS-GOOD-TO-GET-THAT-OFF-MY-CHEST.
Gimme a sec. I gotta catch my breath.
It
is true. Every time I sat down to grease up this blog’s wheels and
finally get her rolling, I ended up asking myself, “What business do I
have writing about movies?” I am not a Film student. I am not involved
in any type of film production. I don’t even know the official name of
that black-and-white-clapping thing they shove in front of the camera
before each take.
(Note: I just Googled. It is often called a Clapperboard.)
As
these months went by, however, I began to realize that I was going
about this all wrong. I shouldn’t be kicking myself because I don’t yet
know the all cinematic lingo that will allow me to discuss inherent
themes and shot composition. I should be writing these posts to organize
the jumble of thoughts I have about films I watch, to learn as I go,
and to share and gush about said films with anyone who’d be interested.
To quote Mean Girls’ Kevin Gnapoor, “Cady Katie, this is your night. Don’t let the haters stop you from doin’ your thang.”
So let’s buck up and get going. First stop on this cinematic gravy train:
The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
★★★★
The
cast was perfect. The whole lot of ‘em. I’ve never wanted to be friends
with a group of fictional characters so badly, and it was due to their
believability. It was my first time seeing Ezra Miller, and I’m hooked.
The kid’s got stage presence.
He played his high-school-senior character, Patrick, with enough
authenticity to get me wondering why I never saw him in the halls of my
own high school. I know people like Patrick and his friends existed,
because I heard their jokes and saw their clothes on the friends my
older sister brought home when she was in high school and I was just a
scared, awkward middle-schooler hiding in my room.
That’s one of the bigger messages I took away from the film. There are so many different kinds of people in one high school. Each with their own favorite teachers, reading assignments, iTunes libraries, and scars--both emotional and physical. Why shouldn’t we
try our best to get to know them all? I hope current high schoolers who
saw this movie are moved to widen their social circles, even if by just
the slightest amount, because that is one of my bigger post-high school
regrets. I wish I came out of my room when my sister’s friends were
over. I wish, on the first day of the semester, I sat by the odd (but
really who am I to judge) kid in class instead of that one girl I knew from the previous year's math class. I wish I had a teacher like Mr.
Anderson (Paul Rudd) that told me to participate.
Charlie, the scared and socially awkward protagonist, took that plunge
when he approached Patrick at a football game on a Friday night, and his
story began.
He
also met Emma Watson’s character, Sam, that night, who was played with
equal amounts of wonderful. Any worries of Emma Watson getting
pigeonholed into being known as Hermione Granger for the rest of her
life are gone, baby. She wasn’t Emma Watson on screen. She was affable,
emotional, strong-minded Sam, with an awesome hairstyle to boot. She
cried, I cried. She made jokes, I laughed like I was a part of them. I
love you, Emma Watson.
And Logan Lerman. Loooooogan Lerman. You delicate, baby deer. I questioned your portrayal of Charlie the first time I saw the movie. “Who
the heck wouldn’t want to be friends with him!? He’s built like a model
and has the face of a small woodland creature!” I asked as I shook my
fists at the sky. The second, third, and (oh
God) fourth time seeing the movie helped to ultimately change my
opinion, though. His awkward half-grins and social gaffes became
endearing and relatable. Little things like his posture, walk, and
slight hint of a Pittsburgh accent made him seem real. Maybe even more
believable than Charlie’s character in Stephen Chbosky’s book. Good
work, Logan. Good work, director Stephen Chbosky. Good work, casting directors Venus Kanani and Mary Vernieu. I love you guys, too.
When
I read Stephen Chbosky’s book in middle school, I never actually
decided whether I loved it or not. Maybe it was because some of
Charlie’s thoughts hit close to home and left my sense of individuality
feeling a little violated. Maybe it was because I was too
young to understand the emotional, uphill slalom course that is high
school. Maybe I was just too busy catching up on The Clique series to
take the time to fully process my own feelings. Probs that last
possibility, if we’re being completely honest.
I
know how I feel about the story now, though. And it can only be
described as that glowy vibration you get in your stomach when the
waiter brings out your food at a restaurant, except it lasts for the
entirety of the movie and then some. Or maybe I could just say it makes me feel infinite. One of my favorite quotes from the book was when Charlie
wrote:
“I’m
not exactly sure why, but I always thought it would be fun to have
“glory days.” Then, I would have stories to tell my children and golf
buddies. I guess I could tell people about Punk Rocky and walking home
from school and things like that. Maybe these are my glory days, and I’m
not even realizing it because they don’t involve a ball.”
The quote hasn’t left the back of my mind since I first saw Perks. My first thought, as I watched Charlie and his friends experience high
school through school dances, house parties, drug experimentation and
first kisses, was, “Why didn’t I have those experiences? I must have done high school wrong.”
I later realized, though, as I drove home from the AMC Waterfront
Theater, through the Fort Pitt Tunnels with my best friend, that we all
have different glory days and moments of infinity. No matter who we were in high
school, we had those moments where it felt like our throats would burst
due to laughing and our stomachs would burst due to the bubbling,
boiling-over love for our friends that filled it. And for the joyful
reminder this movie gave me, I’m grateful.
