Sunday, April 24, 2005
See You in My Dreams
Funny how sometimes seemingly simple entertainment leaves little gifts to be discovered afterward. I rarely watch television, but an exhausting beach romp and late dinner yesterday left me too tired to read. By chance there was a fascinating dramatic true tale on about a network of Chileans who documented the Pinochet regime atrocities by working with sympathetic church, media and military figures, so I sat intrigued by the every day choices they made that led to their deaths and exiles and triumphs.
Of Love and Shadows, based on an Isabel Allende novel, is so believable in part because no one is more than human but matter-of-factly products of their time and place, as absurd and terrifying as it was. Class, history, and fears of all brought out some surprising acts of conscience.
So as I was about to hit the sack, a special two-hour documentary of the Concert for George came on, and I simply could not tear myself away before the rolling of the final credits to the heartwarming tune of I'll See You in my Dreams, sung by George Harrison's childhood friend Joe Brown. If you haven't seen the DVD, I recommend it, even if you weren't as big a fan of The Beatles as I was. The 2002 tribute to George Harrison by his friends assembled in the Royal Albert Hall in London was a musical delight, it's true, but the sentiments it evoked went far beyond my nostalgia for an era of innocence and joy.
Near the end of Love and Shadows, the Spanish exile father of two of the Chilean heroes about to flee Chile to Spain warns them to guard themselves from the trap of nostalgia expatriates often fall into.Watching the Concert for George and the expressions of love by his family and friends from the world of music, I was struck by the need to keep our emotion and reason in balance, even if that means occasionally succumbing to feelings of nostalgia for a time when a group of four young Brits spread cheer and goodwill and hopeful rhythm around the globe.
Of Love and Shadows, based on an Isabel Allende novel, is so believable in part because no one is more than human but matter-of-factly products of their time and place, as absurd and terrifying as it was. Class, history, and fears of all brought out some surprising acts of conscience.
So as I was about to hit the sack, a special two-hour documentary of the Concert for George came on, and I simply could not tear myself away before the rolling of the final credits to the heartwarming tune of I'll See You in my Dreams, sung by George Harrison's childhood friend Joe Brown. If you haven't seen the DVD, I recommend it, even if you weren't as big a fan of The Beatles as I was. The 2002 tribute to George Harrison by his friends assembled in the Royal Albert Hall in London was a musical delight, it's true, but the sentiments it evoked went far beyond my nostalgia for an era of innocence and joy.
Near the end of Love and Shadows, the Spanish exile father of two of the Chilean heroes about to flee Chile to Spain warns them to guard themselves from the trap of nostalgia expatriates often fall into.Watching the Concert for George and the expressions of love by his family and friends from the world of music, I was struck by the need to keep our emotion and reason in balance, even if that means occasionally succumbing to feelings of nostalgia for a time when a group of four young Brits spread cheer and goodwill and hopeful rhythm around the globe.
