Last Friday, I watched a wonderful movie called "The Music Never Stopped." It was based on a true story about a
relationship between a father and a son, and how they reconciled and found each
other again through the memory of music. However, this was not an ordinary
story.
It was the late 1960s during the Vietnam War.
The son, Gabriel, left his home after a bitter quarrel with his father.
He remained estranged for the next twenty years. When he was finally
brought back to his parents, he was suffering from a benign brain tumor and
severe amnesia. After the tumor was removed, the part of the brain that
controlled memory formation was permanently damaged. Gabriel was unable to form
or retain any new memories.
Through the help of a dedicated music
therapist, the parents learn that their son only comes back to life while his
favorite music is being played on the record player. Gabriel's time had stopped
pretty much at the end of the 60s, the turbulent time when he and many other
youth found solace from listening to politically-keen experimental rock groups.
He adored the Grateful Dead in particular.
Gabriel's father, Henry, whose taste was molded
by the music of his own generation, decides to go beyond his own natural
inclination in order to reconnect with his son. Henry listens his son's
favorite music, learns the lyrics, spends time with his son, and asks him why
he loves the music of the 60s so much. Through the process, he learns that it was
he who had driven his own son away from home.
How Henry faces his own demons to have his son
back was deeply moving. And how painful it was to witness the hopelessness of
this sensitive young man, Gabriel, staring at the hospital wall, his physical
body present, but not his mind. He has no access to his dreams and even forgets
the tender kiss with a beautiful girl whom he met every day at the hospital
cafeteria. But the music becomes the only possibility for him to find
connection with the present world.
I will not spoil the ending, so readers must
watch the movie themselves. But this movie was a great reminder of how
important and powerful the memory of music could be. I often feel sad that I
will never share the same memory with most of my American friends since I grew
up in a different country. One thing I can do, though, is to create new
memories with people through music.
Just like Henry did for his son (and for
himself), we should use music as a tool to heal, not to destroy; to unite, not
to separate. Before Gabriel left home, the negative dynamic between him and his
father was intensified by the different opinions about music. Twenty years
later, Henry transformed himself and used music to regain his son.
We have choices. We can use music to transcend
our differences. Or we can use it to deepen our hatred. Which would you rather
choose?
The Music Never Stopped (2011)
Based on Oliver Sack's essay, "The LastHippie"
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