A lot has happened in the five days since I last wrote. I still can’t get over the death of Anne Bancroft, who played Mrs Robinson in The Graduate.
It’s one of the most unforgettable films for someone of my generation. How can anyone forget the soundtrack with all those Simon and Garfunkel classics — The Sounds of Silence, Scarborough Fair Canticle, and of course, Mrs Robinson. I saw the film and immediately Dustin Hoffman became my hero. He was like no other actor at the time. He played the anti-hero college graduate Benjamin to perfection.
But the most memorable scene for me, now that I look back, was not between him and the nominal heroine, Katherine Ross, but his bedroom scene with Bancroft, who played Ross’ mother. In the scene, Bancroft starts talking about art, having been an art major in college. But Hoffman starts laughing. Even though they are having an affair, to the young man, she is still a middle-aged housewife. He finds her talk about art funny. It’s insensitive, cruel, and, as one grows older, haunting.
A fortysomething reminiscing about his dreams and aspirations can seem funny to a teenager or a twentysomething as if they alone have the right to dream and strive. They are right, of course; the future belongs to them.
But we had our glory days too. I will watch The Graduate any day over any of the Star Wars movies. Spoken like an old man, but I remember seeing the first two Star Wars movies when they were first released, and even then I didn’t think much of them. Not after Blow-Up and Easy Rider and MASH and Woodstock and, yes, The Graduate. Those were my kind of movies. Here’s to you, Mrs Robinson: we love you still, as you know.
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