The plan made perfect sense to you, didn’t it? But believe me, in years to come you will look back and cringe. In fact, you’re cringing already, aren’t you? The plan was to somehow get to the Esquire Theater in downtown Milwaukee, pass yourselves off as adults, and watch The Graduate, the movie absolutely everyone was talking about. You already knew that the movie featured the music of Simon and Garfunkel, but the real draw—come on, admit it—was the skin. That’s right, the word on the street was that there would be nudity, and by 1968 that was a topic that could easily dominate your every waking moment. So you got together with your brother, Michael, and your mutual friend Tom E. and worked it all out. You’d tell your parents that you were going to see some benign trash like The Odd Couple, or maybe even that you were going to the museum. Then you’d scrub-up, shine your shoes, douse yourselves in aftershave, try to conceal your zits with Clearasil, and even put on ties and sport coats.

The planning was crucial, you believed, because The Graduate was advertised as: “For mature audiences only,” and that usually meant 18 or older. Of the three you were the closest, but your 18^th birthday was still nearly a year away. During the long bus ride downtown you fretted that you’d be asked to provide some identification and concocted stories to explain away the lack thereof.

The bus took forever and you arrived a good 20 minutes after the movie began, but it really didn’t matter. You figured you’d just catch up by staying for the next showing and besides; it wasn’t like you cared about the story. Still, you first had to get in, and the absence of a line at the ticket booth was troubling. There was no way the three of you could blend-in; your immaturity would stick out like a sore thumb. But, as it turned out, the only pieces of identification required were the green ones that bore pictures of presidents. And you were in!

The Esquire is neither huge nor ornate like so many of the other movie palaces downtown, but for the moment it was your favorite of all. It took a while to locate three adjoining seats in the darkness, but the theater was not filled. The movie had been running since last December, and while it was still making money, the rush had slowed a bit. You took your seats just as Dustin Hoffman (as Benjamin Braddock) was walking slowly down a darkened hallway in the Taft Hotel.

Roughly an hour and a half later The Graduate ended, the closing credits began to roll, and you were a changed man. You had been going to the movies all your life, and always loved the ritual. But this was something else entirely. Yes, there was a little skin. And the music of Simon and Garfunkel was wonderful as always. But what you saw last night was more than merely a movie. What you saw last night…for the first time in your life, was film…as Art.

Visually, you had simply never seen anything like it. When you stayed for the next showing it wasn’t simply to catch-up on what you missed; it was to fully absorb the impact of that epiphany. You noticed that the beginning of the film looked different than the ending. You sensed immediately that the filmmakers were drawing a distinction between the cold, artificial—plastic—world of the older generation, and the warmer, more hopeful world Ben found himself in after he fell in love with Elaine. You noticed the use of zoom and telephoto lenses, shifting focus, unusual framing and unique editing. For the first time in your life you paid attention to the credits so that you could learn more about the people behind the cameras. You learned that the cinematographer was Robert Surtees, and the director was Mike Nichols, and you vowed you’d never miss another film either of the two had worked on. Years later you will learn that Nichols, was borrowing techniques pioneered in France by filmmakers of the so-called New Wave. But that will never detract from the experience of seeing The Graduate for the very first time.

And, of course, you also connected with the story and its themes. You feel much of the same alienation expressed by Benjamin, and share many of the same concerns about your future. And you fell deeply in love, didn’t you? Not so much with the character of Elaine—as played by the luminous Katharine Ross—as with the idea of romantic love itself. But I’m afraid this may only reveal that you weren’t quite mature enough to see The Graduate after all. Yes, Ben was on cloud nine after he fell in love, but he mistakenly thought he could possess Elaine much like his parents’ generation thought they could possess their…well…their possessions. Ben—like you kiddo—had only fallen in love with an idea. Elaine, for all her beauty and vulnerability was almost beside the point.

The Cinema will be one of the true loves of your life, and you’ll always be able to trace that love back to last night when you first saw The Graduate. But be careful when it comes to romantic love, okay? And allow yourself time to grow up gracefully. Maturity means more than a clear complexion, a smooth shave and a sport coat. And love means more than wishful thinking. I know most of this is going right over your head at the moment. And if you could actually hear me through the fog of all these years, you probably wouldn’t listen anyway. But someday you’ll understand exactly what I was trying to tell you. You’ll learn it the hard way.

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