Dear Harry,
I was twenty-one years old when my best friend introduced me to you and your companions. In other words, I was way too old to be getting involved with a boy wizard, yet she and I both indulged in your story. At first, I thought it was the silliest damn thing my friend had ever suggested, and we were both silly enough as it was. How in the hell did she expect me to pick up a series of books that my pre-teen cousin deemed quality reading material? Magic and wizards? Was this a joke? Nevertheless, worried that I may destroy some bond of nerdy sisterhood, I gave into her demands.
Okay, so it was a mild suggestion. Some say I’m dramatic. Those people also say I’m obsessive. I prefer “passionate,” and it didn’t take long for me to pour that passion into reveling in your world. I was immersed and finally capable of appreciating what everyone was raving about nonstop.
Reading about your adventures was exhilarating. My heart raced, I was nervous, my stomach was in knots. You know how it is…when you’re falling in love. It wasn’t necessarily a romantic love, though you did occupy quite a bit of my free time. Between speculating as to what would happen in the next book to fawning over the spot-on casting for each movie, you became “my everything” in a way. I felt at home with familiar characters and enraged when their well-being was threatened. I cheered when there were triumphs and cried over deaths as if I’d lost members of my own family. And I think it’s safe to say that I latched onto a pop culture trend because there was depth and weight to it. Behind the lighthearted, kiddie facade of spells and wands and a school of adorable British children learning to be witches and wizards, there was heart and there were brains. You weren’t just another pretty face. I think anyone who has ever been crippled by the death of a loved one can relate to the tale of “The Boy Who Lived.” I know for a fact that great personal loss was what led me to you. It’s the crux of your entire story and the reason you came to be. It is also, unfortunately, a topic with which I was a bit too familiar to be so young at the time. And, as it is an unfortunate part of life, knowledge of and familiarity with those particular feelings only grow stronger. It is an event that we all will, undoubtedly, experience again and again, and it is dealt with so beautifully on page after page, in scene after scene of the Harry Potter series. How could I not be mystified?
But this is about those movies. Yes, there were movies- Sorcerer’s Stone and Chamber of Secrets. Not to discredit Chris Columbus for his tireless efforts. He built the legs on which this franchise now stands, and there is no denying how brilliant he was at visualizing and depicting the Potterverse. It wasn’t until Azkaban, however, that we were able to use to word “film” to refer to these on-screen representations. That was when I began anticipating the film releases as much as the book publishing dates. Another way to relish the journey! Soon the pictures in my head became synonymous with the cast Chris Columbus had assembled. I should send personal thank you letters to each crew and cast member for handling that precious material so delicately and loving it as much as any rabid fan. I should send fruit baskets (or some shit) to the force that is Maggie Smith, the incomparable Alan Rickman, the lovable Michael Gambon and the late (and perfect) Richard Harris, each and every actor with red hair in the series (dyed or natural), the charming cast of characters who portray Harry’s classmates, and even those fortunate enough to land roles as some of the most hated villains in the series. They are immensely talented, and it’s sickening in the best way. Thank you, Emma Watson, for being intelligent and likable. Thank you, Rupert Grint for just about everything you do. And thank you, Daniel Radcliffe, for becoming a surprisingly talented actor, a seemingly well-rounded human being, and adorably short-an unlikely hero. I’ll bet it was strange having the world watch you grow up, but you all did so with unbelievable grace. And, it’s odd, I feel proud of you in some strange way, as if you’re my younger siblings and I’ve watched you make your way in the world. I have no room or time to mention everyone and they won’t read this anyway, but please know how much I appreciate Gary Oldman and just about anyone else who appeared only a handful of times in the series.
Like any good love story I was reluctant to begin and now, here we are. Over the course of this wild and crazy decade, we’ve built a strong foundation. Seven books spawning ten years of movie making history and it all comes to a close this summer. The phenomenon has been nothing short of fascinating to watch. Those of us who “have stuck with Harry until the very end” will have seen all there is to see. Personally, I know that all good things must end eventually, but I am sad to let you go. I have so many memories tied to you; I’ve bonded with numerous people just by talking about you. You are, without question, one of the quickest and most absolute ways into my heart. All a person has to do is mention your name (with affection), and I’ll cling to them. Potter fandom is its own permanent stick charm, the secret to many friendships. Some have loved you longer, but I am more than willing to share. I may be putting you to rest, old friend, but I will not say goodbye. Farewells are a messy business. And besides, “the ones that love us, never really leave us.” It’s cheesy as hell, but the sentiment here is pretty legitimate. Damn, I hate to see you go.
Sincerely,
A loyal fan and friend
P.S. Read any good books lately? Seriously, I need to occupy the rest of my days…
No comments:
Post a Comment