Fifteen years ago, the very first Toy Story film came out. I was ten years old, and I remember going to the theater to see it. I remember being amazed at how real everything looked, and loving the story. I thought Woody was the best toy ever, and Rex was one cool dude. I remember getting toys from Burger King, of all places, and playing with them a lot. (They were hand-puppets. Possibly the coolest kid’s meal toys that ever existed.)

In 1999, I was 14. Toy Story 2 came out and my mom again took us to see it. I remember being amazed that not only was it good (and sequels had a bad reputation by that time), but it was just as good if not better than the original! How could they manage such a feat? And then they released it with bloopers a couple of weeks later, and back to the theater I went, for the sole purpose of seeing it with the blooper reel at the end. It probably didn’t hurt that I loved the movie.

For the last eleven years, I’ve been enjoying both Toy Story and Toy Story 2, thinking that was all there was to the franchise, and thinking that was just fine. I was okay with Andy staying a kid in my imagination. And then I heard that there was going to be Toy Story 3. I was immediately skeptical. I mean, Pixar managed to capture lightning in a bottle twice with the Toy Story, erm, story. Could they really expect to do it a third time? Some of my fears were put to rest when we accidentally got to be part of a Q&A with Lee Unkrich, the director of Toy Story 3, at a screening of The Pixar Story at the Cleveland International Film Festival in March, 2008. He was so excited about Toy Story 3, about 3D, about all the things that both Disney and Pixar would be doing in the future, that it was impossible to decry the company as an imminent failure and the movie as dreck. (Not that I would ever, ever say such a thing! Perish the thought! Ahem.)

Since I now follow Lee Unkrich on Twitter, it was only natural to get excited as I heard him enthusing about the various stages of production over the last year or so. He posted countdowns, letting us know that Toy Story 3 was only months away, and then weeks, then days from release. How could I not get excited? Excitement, however, only leads to more worry, as it can often lead to the horrible feeling of anticipointment. (See: Ponyo.) I knew that we would have to see the movie on opening day, though. I couldn’t risk having the movie spoiled for me, and I definitely wanted to enjoy this movie without any expectations as to what the plot had in store (other than as seen in the trailer, of course).

On release day, we showed up at Crocker Park for our 9PM showing maybe a little early. We’re talking two hours early. Whoops. Radio Disney had a booth set up outside the theater where they were giving away prizes and encouraging all the kids to come and dance. I’m sure it was a major boon for the theaters those kids were in that they’d been dancing in the hot sun for a while and were likely to be slightly more subdued by the time they got in to the movie. Or maybe it just riled them up even more. Who knows? We hung out in the Borders next door for a while, and then about an hour ahead, walked over to the movie theater. We got a drink, and sat for a few, expecting to be let in probably forty to forty-five minutes early. We tried to go in, and the boy said that it would be about twenty minutes before he could let us in. Oh! Eventually a line formed for the Toy Story 3 showing in 3D, theater 6. We got let in at around 8:45, and some people ran to the theater as if all the seats would run out before they got there. We got seats in the back and settled in for the start of the movie.

First, I’d like to commend those who worked on the short. I loved it. Day & Night was charming and interesting, and while it’s obvious that it was Pixars traditional computer animation, it also had a feeling of some of the drawn cartoons that I watched as a kid. The combination was really neat. I loved the use of sound effects, too – it was clever and well-done.

We saw Toy Story 3 both in 2D and 3D. We saw the 3D first, so that factors more into my thoughts about the film at the moment. The opening Pixar logo in 3D was really fun. It had such depth, and the way that it was rendered wasn’t gimmicky at all. Really – one of the things that stood out to me was the opening logo. Weird? Maybe. But it was cool! Then, after waiting for three years (since hearing of the film at The Pixar Story), it was finally time to see Toy Story 3.

The movie starts with an action-adventure feeling, featuring all of Andy’s toys. It’s difficult to know why this is going on at first, but it was exciting to watch the toys in action sequences more fitting for the kinds of characters that they are. Wild west, anyone? We find out later that it’s Andy’s imagination as he’s playing with his toys, and then he gets interrupted by mom with her video camera. It’s a sweet opening sequence, reminding us of the Andy that the toys (and we, by proxy) loved in Toy Story and Toy Story 2. Then we come to real time. Andy is grown up. He has graduated from high school and is off to college in a matter of days. The toys make a last-ditch effort to draw his attention to the toy box in which they have languished for years, waiting for him to realize how important they are to him. And it doesn’t work.

Andy’s mom shows up and gives him an ultimatum: he needs to sort through his stuff before he leaves to college. College, attic and trash are the categories he has to choose from, and with a heavy sigh, he decides to make some hard decisions about his toys. They’re going into the attic, with the exception of Woody, who’s going to college with him. But then – disaster strikes! Of course it does, it’s a movie! Andy is silly enough to put the toys into a trash bag to put them into the attic, but he is distracted by Molly, who is taking a box of her own old toys downstairs to be donated to Sunnyside daycare. He helps her take the box downstairs and leaves his bag on the floor, right under the stairs to the attic. Mom finds them and assumes the bag is trash. Because … it’s a trash bag. And it’s on the floor. What else is she going to assume?

The toys are being thrown out! They start freaking out! They manage to use Rex’s tail and escape from the trash bag, just in time not to be picked up by the garbage man (cameo: Sid Phillips! I love how self-referential Pixar films are). They do their usual “hide under something and run” trick to get into the garage, where they get into Andy’s mom’s car and deposit themselves into the donation box. Woody tries to talk them out of it, assuring them that they were meant for the attic, not the dump, but nobody believes him (as usual!), and they all end up en route to Sunnyside.

Now we have the plot and the conflict, and I’ll leave you at that. I don’t want to summarize the whole movie because it feels much more clinical than actually watching it. No amount of summary could do justice to this movie.

Toy Story 3 is really a celebration of everything that Pixar is capable of, and of how far it has come in the fifteen years that they’ve been producing feature films. It’s amazing to me to watch and see that the screws on Buzz look so real that they could have been film instead of animation. The attention to detail is, as always, incredible. It’s a beautiful movie as far as the rendering is concerned. But the beauty doesn’t end there – it also has a beautiful story. Andy grows up and goes to college, but the toys are given new hope for the future; hope that they’ll be played with and enjoyed for years to come by a kid just as wonderful as Andy himself. (I know, I spoiled that bit. I gave a warning waaaaaay up at the top that I would!) It was so sweet to watch her, and also to think about the precious toys that I have had packed away since I grew too old to play with them and also too old to have them on display. (It’s maybe weird for a married alm0st-twenty-five-year-old to have her stuffed animals out for viewing.) I pulled Holly bear out of her box when I got home after seeing the movie on Friday night. I slept with her for the first time since probably high school, maybe longer. She smells the same as I remember – like whatever fabric softener my mom used to use when she’d wash the bear for the umpteenth time. I thought about Andy giving up his toys, and it made me emotional all over again. Could I do that with Holly? Not a chance.

Two days later, I can’t even adequately describe how the movie made me feel. I laughed, I cried (3D glasses are good for hiding the tears, but they do nothing for muffling the sniffles that accompany), I got nervous and excited. It was 103 minutes of movie bliss. We saw the movie again yesterday with Johnathan’s mom, and I’m going to suggest we go to see it at the drive-in next weekend (we did the same with both Wall-E and Up), so that we can talk during the film and nobody will get mad at us for it.

My favorite moment while watching the movie for the first time came not from the movie itself, but from the two or three year old girl who was sitting next to us. She really didn’t have a whisper voice, or even an inside voice, which was pretty annoying most of the time. She redeemed herself only by saying possibly the most funny thing I’ve ever heard a child say at just the right moment. In reference to a scene with Mr. Potato Head: “He looks more like Mr. PoTaco head!” I had to stifle my giggles because the moment onscreen was definitely not as funny as what I had heard. Yes, little girl, he did look like Mr. PoTaco head!

I loved Toy Story 3. So much. There’s really nothing else I can say in praise of this wonderful movie. Can you believe that Pixar has done it eleven times now? Eleven successes! Way to go, Pixar!

I can’t say that I haven’t missed it since then. I have missed it terribly. It made it hurt a bit and helped me to miss it even more when I realized how present it had been during my formitive years, and how much of my identity was tied up in it.

I can’t say that I’ve ever been a particularly talented musician. I could hold my own in band on the flute, and by merit of a small section could also keep up when I played the oboe. Choir was my joy, though. I started that in high school because I needed an extra elective, not expecting that I would fall in love the way that I did. Dr. Dwight Uphaus was the teacher there at the time, and he was so goofy that he kept me entertained, so earnest that he kept me interested and so encouraging that he kept me involved. I went to solo contest that year as the only freshman who was in the competition itself – I was getting a real score. If I remember right, I got a II+, which wasn’t too shabby for a frosh who had never sung for a competition before. I remember being terrified. My throat dried up and I sang the entire song feeling like my mouth was stuffed with cotton. Somehow, though, “Christopher Robin Is Saying His Prayers” came off and I was charming enough that the judge gave me more than a nod and a smile afterward. She talked to me and gave me some pointers about what I could do better.

I remember moments like that, moments of triumph even as I feel like I’m on the verge of failure, and I feel a little wistful. It’s been three years since I felt the challenge of learning a new piece, of pushing my voice to what I think is its limit and then going just that little bit further and finding emotion where I thought none existed. It’s been three years since I felt the thrill of a tight harmony. I’ve missed it these three years, but one thing or another kept me from actually going back to it. First I was breaking up with a boyfriend, then I was moving, then I was settling in, then I was finding a new teacher, then I was struggling with mild depression, then I was starting a new job. After that… well, what has my excuse been this last year? I don’t have one now. I don’t think I ever really had one. I have a keyboard and a stack of music books at home. Why did’t I teach myself something?

I took steps recently to acquire a music teacher to get myself back to lessons. My voice is so out of shape now that I think I would only damage it if I tried to work myself the way that I’m used to doing. I found the Cleveland Institute of Music online and found that they had a “continuing education” section. Tuition seems reasonable (an 18-week session averages to about $25 per week, which seems good to me since it is a school, not a freelancing teacher). The summer session is shorter at only six weeks, which means it should run much shorter. I filled out an application form on the site and received an email back last week from the department chair clarifying some things and making preliminary plans for me to start up with lessons in the summer session, which starts on June 8.

It’s been three years since I got sick and had to leave the Portland Symphonic Choir, and three years since I stopped taking lessons.  I’m glad to be getting back to music, even if it’s something so simple as starting to take voice lessons again. It feels like I’m getting some of myself back.

The first film we saw was on day 2 of the festival: La Belle Personne. As a starting film, we found it was a let-down. The characters were on the whole uninteresting and undeveloped, and there was a lack of emotion that seemed to ruin many of the potentially poignant moments in the film. We left the film feeling decidedly disappointed.

We started out fairly early the next morning to get to the first film of our second day, Welcome to Farewell-Gutmann.  I really enjoyed this one. It was kind of intense in spots, but it had some good laughs and an intriguing plot. The characters were well-established without excess information being shoved in our faces, and the plot propelled itself without needing to be forced. After the movie was over, we had planned to take a block off for lunch, not thinking about the fact that we would be able to eat fairly quickly. We then had three hours to kill. (I think I nearly killed my phone by using it for normal internet browsing during that downtime.)

After that, we lined up for Children of Invention. The film was so charming. I really became emotionally involved in the life of each of the family members, even while the mother was struggling with her own “addiction” to get rich quick/pyramid schemes. The children were so adorable and winning.

After the film was over, we turned around and got in line for the next one, which was Night and Day. The line for this one wasn’t long at all, as compared to the line for Children of Invention. We got fairly good seats – actually in the middle section, too! (We tended to stay to the right side of the house and sit all the way against the wall; more guaranteed seats that way, and that way nobody had to climb over us if they wanted seats farther in.) I have to say, this is one of the longest movies I’ve seen without much plot to show for it. The main character started out interesting, but as the movie progressed, I was unimpressed with his demeanor. The surrounding characters were mostly flat. The story moved too slowly to hold much attention, and while there were some amusing moments, the movie just felt bland. The inclusion of a random dream sequence that accomplished nothing did little to improve my opinion of the film. This one was our second disappointment.

Fresh off of one of the longer movies that we saw at the festival, we turned around and got straight back in line again to see Tokyo!. It was… strange. Bizarre. I will say that it was the perfect midnight movie. I didn’t dislike it, but I don’t think I would have liked it at all had I seen it the next day at the 2PM showing instead of at midnight after having seen three other movies, slight lack of sleep, hopped up on caffeine and jittery. I’m honestly still on the fence about this one. I can’t decide whether I liked or disliked it. I think it was just middling for me, and it was certainly weird.

Some poor planning on my part meant that after getting out of the movie the previous evening at about 2AM, we had to get back downtown to see Cherry Blossoms at 11:20AM the next morning. Whoops. Thankfully, the movie was good and successfully captured my attention. This was the runaway hit of the festival; people couldn’t stop talking about it to the point that there was another showing added on top of the two that had already gone, and all three sold out two theaters. I thought the movie was good. It may have even qualified for very good. (I believe Johnathan thought it was excellent.) It was poignant, emotionally charged and interesting. The landscapes were well-captured and the characters sufficiently established in their lives so that the audience became invested in their lives.

Once again, we scheduled downtime for ourselves that we didn’t actually need, so again, I found myself playing on my phone and draining the battery for several hours. (Needless to say – we learned our lesson. Don’t skip movie blocks if you can help it! Or else, bring a book.) Our next film was Eldorado. I will be the first to admit that I really didn’t understand what the plot was meant to be. The movie seemed to go on in its fun and games vein without really establishing anything by way of plot, and then suddenly it was over. There were some entertaining moments, but that’s about all that could be said of this one. It was just not great.

Thankfully, we had another one that we were pretty certain would be good following right after so there wasn’t really much time to dwell on the disappointment. Prom Night in Mississippi was next on our itinerary, which we were both pretty excited to see. It was a documentary about a town which, until 2008, had always held segregated proms. I liked seeing the various students express their sentiments about how the felt regarding the separated proms and how they felt about the possibility of finally having an integrated one. I really enjoyed the story and the way it was shared. It was a little slow in spots, but I really enjoyed it otherwise.

Monday, it was back to work (with my groggy, sleep-deprived self!) and looking forward to seeing Crude after work. I thought that one was good, but not great. It was slightly preachy, which I thought was probably natural given the subject matter (the damage that Big Name Oil Companies have caused in South America by unethical and reckless drilling habits). It was good, but I couldn’t go so far to say it was great.

Tuesday night, we saw Forgotten Transports: To Estonia, which was a documentary about a group of women who had gone from camp to camp together during the Holocaust. I enjoyed it because instead of focusing on the travesty and making a point of giving out the numbers to further illustrate the tragedy, this focused on the relationships between the women. There was laughter, and they shared some happy memories in addition to the sad ones. It was a more emotional story in that it more humanized both those who had been in the camps and the Nazi soldiers who were purpetrating the crimes against them in the camps. I was really glad that we saw this one.

I had Wednesday off, and since Johnathan has an earlier work schedule, we were able to see three movies on Wednesday instead of the one that we were seeing during the rest of the work week. The first one we saw was Correction. We got settled into our seats easily because the line wasn’t long for this one. An older couple sat down in front of us, which isn’t an issue ordinarily – seats are for sitting. The problem was with the woman’s perfume. (Or maybe her hairspray – it was hard to tell; it was overwhelming.) I tried to tough it out, but any time I’d move or readjust, her perfume would come at me again and I’d have a wave of nausea. Coming off of food poisoning, that feeling is twice as bad as it’s ever been, so I definitely didn’t want to cope with that for the whole film. We moved down a few rows, behind a single movie-goer which seemed promising. He wasn’t emitting the foul perfume. Much to my dismay, his female counterpart, who joined him just moments before the lights went down for the movie to begin, was wearing the very same perfume as the lady two rows back. Needless to say, I was not impressed. I was also unimpressed with the audible talking and the singing that went on at one point. The movie itself was nothing worth talking about. It could have used some dialog to maybe establish a semblance of plot, and perhaps a steadicam so that the audience wasn’t prone to motion sickness. It was bar none the worst movie that we saw at the festival. I think it’s the only one that I gave a rating of “poor.”

After Correction, we saw Dunya & Desie, which I thought was really great. The characters were endearing, and their journey had a purpose. The turn of events was interesting and there were enough comical moments to keep the mood of the film light. Johnathan classified it as a “chick flick,” and I suppose he could be right. It was definitely focused on relationships and the journey of said relationships rather than anything… I dunno, exploding. I thought it was poignant and emotionally interesting.

Straight after this was over, it was back in line for yet another film: An Alternative to Slitting Your Wrist, which I was pretty excited to see. It was filmed by a guy who grew up in Cleveland, and it was just an interesting premise. He had ended up in the hospital after a breakdown, and while he was there, he wrote a list of 52 things he would do in the next year instead of committing suicide. The documentary was basically an account of what that year of things. It was very emotional, but also amusing as he showed clips of some of the sillier things on his list (squirrel fishing, for instance). There was a Q&A with him afterward and I was really glad that we had both seen the movie and gotten to see the documentary. I’m thinking we might have to buy it on DVD; I think it’d be worth having around.

The next day it was back to work, then yet another trip downtown immediately afterward for a movie. Parking was absolutely horrible that day, and people were being crazy in the garage, so after work, I was grumpy enough that the parking situation made it worse. No matter – we got in line for Between the Folds with plenty of time to spare and headed in. Our seats were about midway down, as we liked them, and the theater filled up completely.  Preceeding the movie was a short film called Sing Opera! which was very cute. We should have realized at this point that we had inconsiderate neighbors, because they kept talking during the short. I thought that it was maybe because the short film wasn’t what they were there to see (despite it being advertised in the program guide with Between the Folds). I was getting increasingly annoyed as the movie began because the woman began saying “Oooh!” and “Ahh!” at every interesting piece of origami that was shown on the screen. They were all neat and intricate, but I didn’t think it merited the volume that she was using. She and her husband continued to talk throughout the film, discussing the different techniques, the different pieces and making comments to each other about it. Johnathan shushed them twice. Someone from across the aisle shushed them. Someone from behind us shushed them. Nothing kept them from talking – it didn’t even slow them down. I was livid. If that wasn’t bad enough, there was someone in the front row who kept having strange sneezes about every two minutes or so, which just added to my anger at the situation. I couldn’t even now tell you how the film was. Much of my time was spent trying not to lean over and hit the man or his wife for their inconsideration to those around them. This was the by far the worst audience experience that we had throughout the festival.  I left in a rotten mood and if I’d had the guts to do it, I would have asked the couple next to us to give us $20 to pay for the movie that the had just ruined entirely for us. Unfortunately, I wasn’t brave enough to confront them about it.

The next day, I worked again, and I was hopeful that perhaps we would be seeing a better movie with a better audience. First off, though, we were heading down for a “Tweetup” at Houlihan’s at Tower City. We had been planning it since about day two of the festival, and we’d had a total of seven people from Twitter RSVP for it, including us. One of the people who was planning it with us got sick, so he couldn’t make it, and we assumed his female counterpart wouldn’t make it since he wasn’t going to. One of the people who had RSVPed was working at the festival and I’m pretty sure he just got tied up and couldn’t make it up there. The other two who were supposed to come? We have no idea. Johnathan and I were there, and there was one other lady from Twitter who did make it, so the three of us sat and ate dinner, then we headed down to see our next film.

Alexander the Last had looked interesting in the guide and I was hopeful. The audience for the film, we discovered, was a younger crowd. I was a bit worried to see that, but figured that wouldn’t hopefully affect our audience experience. I was also maybe over-sensitive to the noise that they were making in the queue because I had developed a headache over the course of the day and by that point, my head was throbbing. I took something for it, and by the time the movie started, it subsided, so I’m confident that my feelings about the movie weren’t influenced by that. I guess it goes without saying that I didn’t really enjoy it. Actually, the guy at the end of our row summed it up perfectly after the film: “I don’t get it.” I felt like there was little by way of plot, and if I hadn’t read the summary in the guide, I probably wouldn’t have had any clue what the point was supposed to be. What’s even stranger to me is that others seem to have absolutely loved this film, so I’m wondering if maybe I missed some incredibly important moment that made the whole thing make sense. The chemistry that was supposed to be there was one-sided, and I found it difficult to care much about the characters because they weren’t very well established. It was disappointing because this was one of the ones I was looking most forward to.

The next day, I worked from 8:45 to 1:45, then came home, only to head right back out. We went to Red Robin for lunch and had the worst experience that I’ve ever had there. We were taken to a table that didn’t look like it had been wiped down yet. The manager was a bit surprised at that and quickly got someone over to sweep the floor, though nobody came by to wipe down the still-sticky table. Strike one. Our waitress showed up just seconds after we arrived at the table and started basically demanding our drink order before we’d even had a chance to sit down at the table. I said I didn’t know what I wanted and she just stood there expectantly, forcing me to make a quick decision about what I wanted to drink. Strike two, and we hadn’t even sat down yet. Strikes three through whatever happened when we had to deal with a smug waitress who did very little by way of service. She took our order but asking questions made her surly toward us, which was unpleasant. We had no silverware, no napkins, had to ask for refills. I was totally disgusted with the whole experience. If we hadn’t been in a hurry, we’d have stopped to tell the manager how the experience went.

Our first film on the second Saturday was White on Rice, which was a late addition for us. The theater filled up quite a bit, so I was hopeful that it would be a good one. The film itself was quite entertaining. I thought it would be uncomfortably awkward, but the main character was endearing enough that it took the edge off of it some. It had a lot of funny spots, and I liked the way that it ended. It was one of those endings that isn’t quite clean, but in a way that is still satisfying. The only aggravating thing about the movie was the people behind us. The girl behind us had no concept of what it was to be quiet in a movie theater, and her laugh was loud and shrill – and she laughed often, sometimes in places that weren’t actually that funny to the rest of the audience. Her friend next to her was what we called a leaky tire. He put his finger on one side of his now then slowly and loudly breathed out through the other nostril. It was quite loud and we weren’t sure what he was trying to accomplish by doing that. They also talked a bit during the movie, but it only took turning around once or twice for them to get the hint about that. Thankfully they weren’t near as bad as the sneezer and the talkers during Between the Folds.

Next up was  Shall We Kiss?. After a little something to eat, we headed to the queue for that film and got into line. We were there quite early, but that worked out well. We got in line behind someone who was really nice. She and her boyfriend were seeing 39 films this year, and we’d seen many of the same films and also quite a few different, so we had a lot to talk about. It was great finding someone willing to chat in the line. It made the time before the film pass so much faster. Next thing we knew, it was time to go in. If the audience for this one was bad, we didn’t notice. The film was engaging and well-paced. I never felt like things were moving too slowly, though it wasn’t moving quickly. This one ranked up among my favorites in the festival. It was very good.

After that, it was time to get back into line again for Sparrow. I wasn’t as taken with this one. It was okay. Not great, but not bad. The pacing was off, and there were things that went unsaid that I think needed to be established to actually fuel interest in the characters. It felt like it was trying to be a Chinese Ocean’s 11, and it failed at that.

It was sad to go home that night, knowing that there was only one day of the festival left. We still had two movies left to see, though. Lemon Tree, which we decided to get on stand by since we weren’t able to get tickets earlier in the week, was the first one. We arrived at Tower City early, thinking we’d be able to avoid the crowds at the parking garage for the Cavs game, knowing there was one that day. What we didn’t realize was that it was actually a midday game so we’d arrived after the garage was filled. It took us a little while, but we did eventually find a spot to park and headed inside. We got down to the cinema and Johnathan asked where we should line up for Lemon Tree stand by. They told us that they thought there were still tickets being sold. … Oh. Apparently more tickets had been released, but the film had still been listed as stand by on the website, as well as still being shown on stand by in The Daily. We bought our tickets then found ourselves with an hour and a half to kill before we needed to actually get into line. I settled in to read my book, and Johnathan wandered around taking pictures. About forty-five minutes before the movie was set to start, we got into line. The theater filled up quite a bit, but I think everyone who was on stand by got into it. This one was excellent. It was emotional and I liked that it gave a more personal look into the conflict in the area. The characters were rich, and even without fully understanding the culture of the area, I felt like I understood what was going on and the motivations behind the reactions of the various characters. This one was up among my favorites for the festival, too.

After Lemon Tree, we did our last turn around and got in line for The Brothers Bloom. I had heard good things about it. The theater was completely filled (as, I think, was the second theater that this film was showing in). I was not disappointed. The pacing was good, the characters were interesting and the plot never got too heavy on us without something to break it up. I know I’ve said this before, but this is among my favorites of the films during the festival. It was really very good.

Afterward was the closing night reception. Everyone who was in a film during that final block was invited to attend, and we figured we would go. They were serving champagne and coffee as well as cookies and brownies. I snagged a brownie and Johnathan got a couple of cookies and we staked out space toward the front to watch the ceremony. They announced the winners for the various categories (we’d only seen one of them – the one that won the audience choice award: Cherry Blossoms), as well as the final attendance numbers. From the first Friday of the festival on through the last day, every single day exceeded previous attendance records. The overall attendance for the festival exceeded last year’s by 27%, coming to almost 66,500 people. It was amazing to have been a part of all of that record breaking, as well as to have helped out with the challenge match which also far exceeded the goal. They hit $52,000 which was almost $20k more than the goal of $33,000. The ceremony was emotional because of how emotional the CIFF staffers were and also because it was really punctuating that it was over for this year.

I can’t accurately put into words how amazing this festival was. Thanks to the involvement of the marketing director on Twitter and the other people at the festival (for the most part) being so wonderful and friendly, I really felt like a part of a community. I actually felt like I was a part of Cleveland, and that’s a new feeling for me – I’ve been here a year and a half now and never felt like I was a part of Cleveland. I’ve felt like a transplanted Portlander. I’m still a Portlander at my core, but now at least part of me is invested in what goes on here, which means I’m not just coasting through my time here.

We’re already looking forward to the 34th Annual Cleveland International Film Festival. We’ve decided that we’re going to take the week off and also become passholders so that we can just walk into films without having to worry about work or schedule obsessively. We won’t have to wait inline as much and we’ll have the advantage of the Hospitality Headquarters where we can get a snack if we need to. This was such a great experience; I can’t wait until next year so that we can do it again – plus some.

It was the start of a fandom for me that I thought would last forever. My mom was a fan of George Michael and Billy Joel even still. She had liked them for upwards of twenty years at that point, and I thought that would be me. My mom became a fan of Josh Groban as well and we anxiously awaited the release of his next album, Closer, which we ordered so that it would arrive on release day. We joined his fan club and were lucky enough to receive a signed calendar (one of only 250!) for being quick to register for it. We got excellent seats for the third concert in his very first tour and loved every second of it. I remembered being enraptured for two hours while his lovely voice floated through the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall in Portland, that January in 2004. It was heaven, to be honest, at that point.

Then things started going downhill. It is inevitable on the internet that when there is a large group of people, even if they are united by a similar interest, there will be conflict. My mom and I became the brunt of some of this conflict for daring to have a separate website for planning get-togethers for the Portland-area fans. How dare we subvert all that the fanclub and official sites are for! We were supposed to dig through hundreds (sometimes thousands) of threads to find the one that we had started for the purpose of our planning rather than having an easy place to locate the ones we wanted. That was where it started to go downhill when it came to participating with other fans.

My own enjoyment of Josh Groban’s music started to fail around the time that he came to Portland again. Instead of performing in a beatuiful, semi-intimate concert hall, he was in an amphitheater. It was large and noisy, which was uncomfortable to start with. Then it was compounded for me when he began singing. The lovely, beautiful tones that I’d fallen in love with were replaced by a strained, sick sounding voice which was coming straight through his slightly-stuffed nose. It wasn’t an enjoyable aural experience for me, and as subsequent albums came out, particularly the live ones, I found that it simply didn’t get any better. Josh Groban’s lovely technique and sound are gone. I couldn’t say why, but it makes me incredibly sad to behold.

I haven’t pursued any of his newer music. After hearing some of the music on his followup to Closer in 2006 (called Awake), I was unimpressed. It sounded like the same thing that he had done on his first album, but with less quality and soul involved. Having recently picked up Pandora’s radio for enjoyment, I decided to put him on my list of preferred artists, just to see if perhaps hearing the newer music would renew an interest in his singing once again. Sadly, I’ve found that isn’t the case. His voice sounds worse, and his technique is flawed at best. I don’t profess to be the be-all-end-all of classical singing, but as far as I am concerned, if one is going to sing classical (or even classical sounding) music, one should at least attempt to employ a technique that sounds vaguely like the real thing.

What was once beautiful to me is now forced and dishonest. Josh Groban continues to be a cash cow for David Foster, racking up money for charity after charity from “Grobanites” who are willing to go deep into debt to follow him around the country and see him as closely as possible. For me, I think this fandom is officially dead, without any hope of renewal, and it’s time to say farewell to something that I once enjoyed so intensely. It’s sad to see a fandom officially die, but it seems like it’s just that time.

Goodbye, fandom. It was nice while it lasted.

It’s so sad to watch old movies like Singin’ in the Rain and think about the actors and actresses who were in them.

Gene Kelly was in so many good movies (and not-so-good movies) and has an undenyable talent as well as a great deal of charm. He died in 1996 from complications from two strokes. He was 84.

Donald O’Connor was also a fixture of the 40′s and 50′s musicals. He died in 2003 from heart failure at the age of 78.

Jean Hagen, who is most well-known for playing Lina Lamont in Singin’ in the Rain, died in 1977 from throat cancer. She was 54.

Millard Mitchell, who played R.F. Simpson, died in 1953 from lung cancer. He was 50 years old.

Douglas Fowley, who played the over-exuberant director in the movie, died in 1998 at the age of 87.

Cyd Charisse, whose legs are not only gorgeous but iconic, died on June 17 at the age of 81 from complications from a heart attack.

From this one movie, four of the actors playing main (and memorable) roles have since died. It feels like we’re losing legends of the screen, and our only way to keep remembering them is to keep watching the movies and seeing the interviews that they gave.

I, for one, was sad to find out that Cyd Charisse died this year, but was even more sad when I decided to investigate the health and well-being of her former co-stars for the first time. The only two who remain alive and well whose credits are significant are Debbie Reynolds and Rita Moreno (who played Zelda Zanders). It was a sad thing to realize that most of the cast of one of my favorite movies have died. I know this is the way that life goes, but it’s still a hard realization.

I guess all there is left to be said is: May they all rest in peace.