Seymour: An Introduction (Film Review)

A few years ago, actor Ethan Hawke attended a dinner party with friends and was introduced to virtuoso pianist and composer Seymour Bernstein. They had a wonderful evening with conversation about stage fright, career success vs. success in life as a whole, developing and sharing your creative gifts, hard work and craft. Hawke was so intrigued with the 88 year-old Goldstein that he made him the subject of his first documentary film. I'm glad he did, because the sensitively constructed portrait and interviews with Bernstein and his current and former piano students of different ages has many valuable life lessons in it that don't require any knowledge of music.

Seymour: An Introduction (2014) is out in limited release in theatres now. It debuted at the Telluride Film Festival last summer and won an award at the Toronto International Film Festival. It's noteworthy that Seymour is a classical pianist who toured internationally as a younger man, and then abandoned his rising career at age 50 to retreat to a quieter life where he teaches piano from his one-room apartment in New York city.

In the film, we can see the mentoring relationship that Seymour develops with his students and former students, as well as with Hawke. Bernstein has wisdom, and he has his own ideas about creative gifts and talent.

Bernstein says in the film that he believes music is an important part of becoming a complete person. He suggests having children take piano lessons and having them practice while you supervise. Practicing a musical instrument is a great metaphor for others things in life which necessitate our continued effort, patience and tenacity. One of Bernstein's former students who is now a professional concert pianist himself laughs about how often people will comment after his concerts that they wish they could just sit down and play the beautiful classical pieces that he does. He reminds them that every song takes uncountable hours of practice. The craft is part of the art of music. It takes focus and discipline, which builds character.

Bernstein and Hawke engage in an interesting dialogue about professional success. Both agree that you don't always earn money for the things you most need to create, but you need to create them anyway. Hawke shares about making far more money on big films he doesn't care as much for, while some of his smaller projects (like this documentary film) mean much more. They both reflect on how the ego can get in the way of great art, music, film or theatre.

I especially liked the part of the film where Bernstein shares how he deals with questions about why he chose to stop performing publically after age 50. He says he feels he had done it, and proved he could do it. Since then, for the last 38 years, "he pours all of that out" in what he gives to his students.

In music, like in life, Bernstein says, we need harmony, conflict, and resolution.

Great music, like great art of all kinds, evokes deeply felt emotion that touches us at a very deep level. This thought resonated with me, as I reflected on hospice work with terminally ill patients years ago, and a gifted music therapist who could draw out emotion and responsiveness with her
harpsichord at the bedside. Music can transport us to another place, time or emotional state.

Hawke had confided in Bernstein about the stage fright he had developed in his 40's, and Bernstein reassures him that is normal in good performances. He had experienced it, too. Bernstein quips that maybe a few more (overly-confident artists) should feel some trepidation as well.

Seymour: An Introduction is a charming little independent film you will enjoy. It's chock full of his sage advice and reflections about living with passion and speaking honestly from your heart rather than saying what others expect. It is refreshing to have films that question what creative success really is and challenge the popular notion of easy success without sustained work at your craft. (Think The Voice or American Idol) Seymour has a lot to say about not only music, but about living life your own way. Now that's a life well lived.

Growing From Mistakes

I love that saying about how it's good to learn from the mistakes of others, because I will never live long enough to make them all myself. It's so true!

Mistakes are okay. When I stop to think about it, I have learned a great deal from the mistakes I've made. Here are a few important things I've learned along the way so far:

• Don't get married too young. Really being independent first is a good idea.
• Find work that makes your heart sing, because money alone is not enough.
• Stand up for yourself. You need to be your own best advocate, always.
• You can't expect anybody to make you happy. You can, however, make yourself happy, and share it with someone else.
• Everybody needs their own stress management plan.
• Couples need date nights and sacred time together.
• You are stronger than you think you are.
• You can't possibly please everybody.
• Friends are incredibly important.
• It's better to not use credit cards. Live within, or under, your income.
• Ask for what you really want from other people. It greatly improves your chances of getting it.
• Time is often more important than money.
• You have to take on some things that scare you in order to grow.

Have any of your mistakes taught you a valuable lesson that you carry with you? I bet you can think of a few things.

We need to be able, ideally, to acknowledge our mistakes, both to ourselves, and to anyone else who affected by them. One of my favorite children's books is "Nobody's Perfect, Not Even My Mother." In truth, nobody is perfect, and it makes us more approachable and real to those we are closest to when we can own our mistakes and not blame others. You can even own your own special contribution to a bad situation that involves others. It means you are a good role model for your children about humility, integrity, and taking responsibility.

As parents, we also need to teach our children that mistakes are something we grow from. We do this by staying calm, not freaking out or overreacting, and involving the child in helping to repair the damage or deal with the natural consequences of a bad choice. For example, this is why I don't want parents of teens to protect their children from detentions at school for tardies or dress code violations, or prevent them from getting dropped from a team for attitude. Better that high school students learn now, and not wait to learn these lessons until later.

The reason I want parents to remain calm is that it throws the whole life lesson thing off if you are screaming and red-faced. They just think you are nutty, and the lesson is lost. We can't wrap our children in bubble wrap. They get stronger from accepting consequences, whether good or bad.

I recently found a interesting book compiled by actor/producer Charles Grodin, called "If I Only Knew Then...." (Springboard Press, 2007). In it, Grodin, as well as other writers, producers, actors, and newsmakers each write a few pages about something they learned from a mistake. I found it heartwarming to read each of them opening up and being honest about something essential they had learned through a mistake.

One of my favorite stories in Grodin's book was Lily Tomlin's. Lily shared about regretting not canceling a show at Kennedy Center to attend the Oscars and do a spoof where she was invited to appear on stage in Cher's noteworthy bare-midriff and feather headdress outfit the year after Cher wore it. She feels like she missed a peak moment of irony and fun out of obligation to not reschedule the other show. Lily wishes she had followed her heart and been a part of Oscar history. Her take-away lesson was to "take your one wild and precious life, and fly." Now that's a great life lesson.

Maybe mistakes are really okay, and a part of the plan for our individual development. Getting the lesson out of it is the key part, so we don't need to learn the lesson over and over. Mistakes are what we grow on.