Pm a Student and a Plasma Donor
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the Seahawk | OP/ED | February 3, 2005
Sorry, Mom: I'm just not cool
Andrew Bader
Editor-In-Chief
That’s it. I’m through being cool.
If you know me, this may cause a few
snickers. 1 never have been (and never would
be) the coolest kid in school, no matter what
my mother may think. What can I say? Ham-
merjax isn’t quite my thing.
As a film major, my classes are two sides
of the same coin - film study classes and film
production classes. The study classes are per
fect for the rising ^ ^
film scholar or critic:
intelligent discourse
about significant au
teurs in the French
New Wave or the use
of deep focus in Citi
zen Kane. The Film
Studies department
has been blessed with
a handful of gifted professors - Dr Berliner
and Dr. Palmer to name but two.
On the other hand, we have our produc
tion classes, crafted for the asipiring film
maker They focus on the art and mechanics
of making a film: Glenn Pack teaches how to
thread and operate 16mm camera; Rich Leder
explains the subtleties of screenplay struc
ture; Peter Jurasik passes along his intimate
knowledge of the space in front of the lens.
These professors aren’t “Dr Pack” or “Profes
sor Leder.” It’s just Peter (or “Mr Jurasik,” if
you’re feeling formal).
Don’t get me wrong: our study professors
have my utmost respect. But there’s just some
thing exhilarating about the point where you
say, “That's it! I’m through studying this - I
have to do it.”
Given the slightest provoca
tion, Rich Leder Is standing
on a desk, yelling a students'
dialogue back to them, act
ing like an enraged lover or a
petulant child
Note that 1 said “exhilarating” and not
“cool.” Being cool is, at its heart, being
detached. It’s being able to sit back and
ironically comment on anybody with the
intestinal fortitude to whole-heartedly love
something.
In our screenwriting class. Rich Leder
bellows at the top of his lungs, “I am on fire
as a person!” Given the slightest provoca
tion, he’s standing on a desk, yelling a stu
dents’ dialogue back to them, acting like an
enraged lover or a petulant child (whatever
the scene calls for).
95
Walking past
the room, it would
be so easy to snick
er about the short
guy hollering on
the desk. But it’s
from that very fire
that I realized just
how much I love
film in every aspect - from the passion that
goes into it to the beauty that comes out.
And it’s hard work. I don’t pretend it’s
not. But it’s worth doing, because I was
lucky enough to stumble into doing some
thing 1 love. If you came to UNCW to study
for any other reason - your parents made
you, or you thought you could make money
- you have my pity. You’ve got a long, soul-
sapping road ahead of you.
So you can keep your keg parties. Keep
your spaghetti strap tanks or your trucker
hats. Keep complaining about class on Sun
day night, detached and hung over and en
tirely too cool.
If you need me, I’ll be standing on top of
my desk, yelling dialogue at the top of my
lungs.
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