A friend asked for movie recommendations while she’s
recovering from foot surgery, and I once again recommended my favorite movie in
recent times, “Sing Street,” which I’d just been thinking about earlier in the
day.
It’s a movie that often crosses my mind and it’s
particularly relevant to Young Adult writing. My last book (querying now), and my
current work-in-progress are both YA, and the movie “Sing Street” gloriously
captures the reason I love Young Adult stories, even as an adult.
The story itself isn’t that complicated. It’s about a boy
who starts a rock band to impress a girl he likes. But his life is complicated.
Parents, and school and circumstances are all getting in the way of his dreams.
The story is told from such a realistic point of view, that upon watching for a
second time, I was struck by how accurately the first viewing of the movie
had portrayed teen experience, pushing even me, as an adult viewer, back into the
point-of-view of teenager.
There are a number of moments in the movie when things seem
particularly tense. When it seems like something dark and dreadful is being foreshadowed.
Not every one of this moments materializes into the worst-case-scenario you
might expect, but those moments of not knowing, along with Conner, perfectly
capture that teenage feeling, of life hitting you full-force, and never knowing
if this disaster is going to be one that blows over by Monday, or if it’s the
pivotal moment that’s going to shape your future forever.
And teenage-hood is packed
with those pivotal moments, each one—from what sport you play, to your grades
to your friends to your free time—each one of them chipping away at the myriad futures
that have been previously open and available to you ever since you were old
enough to answer the question “what do you want to be when you grow up.”
Despite promises of “it gets better,” vying with “these are the best years of
your life,” the truth is these years are full of irrevocable decisions.
I’ll
never get to go back and practice piano three hours a day instead of two, and
maybe get that 1st prize scholarship and summer piano camp, instead
of an honorable mention and dinner with parents who say, “musician isn’t a job.”
Does it matter that “musican” may have been my escape and not my dream? All
that matters is that, at some point in those years, the possibilities narrowed.
Teens see this shrinking of the world that’s theirs for the
taking. The talk of “you can be whatever you put your mind to,” tells them with
certainty, that they are responsible
for limiting their own possibilities, by how
they choose to use their minds. It’s terrifying, and worse, outside of
their own minds, are the obstacles out of their control—parents, money,
teachers, friends, and abilities, who act in ways that further limit them.
Sing Street does a beautiful job of immersing the viewer
into pushing up against those obstacles without knowing if you’ll push through.
Without knowing if the path you put your mind to is even the right one, and
without knowing if you’ll look back on it all someday and laugh.
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