Well…yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything on this here site.
If you want to call my lack of film reviews lazy, go right ahead. I might even agree with you to a certain extent. Folks, in my humble opinion, 2011 hasn’t been that great of a year thus far in the land of moviemaking. I certainly have seen my share of great ones at this point – Rango, Source Code and Super 8 immediately spring to mind, but I haven’t felt compelled to write about them for the simple reason that I don’t think I could have said anything new about them that hadn’t already been mentioned by someone more important (and likely professional) than myself.
I’ve said before that I would, at times, drift off and discuss things other than film. This is going to be one of those occasions. It’s going to get personal, and perhaps some of you are uncomfortable with that. If so, fuck off. The rest of you are cool.
I didn’t grow up the most sociable kid. This is apparent in many ways – I am at my most comfortable expressing myself in written words, and the only time I am at complete ease communicating in public is on stage with a microphone where I can spew hatred, observation and sarcasm that miraculously has made people laugh. That’s NOT normal. It is a byproduct of a lot of things, not the least of which is my lack of a giant social circle as a child.
This isn’t a sudden cry for sympathy, it’s just a retelling of the past. I had a fantastic childhood, thanks to the fact that I have an imagination. Reading, to me, still beats out any other form of media as entertainment…the mental energy you exude when following a story in your head is its own reward. I played outdoors enough (this is back when kids were allowed more than five feet away from home and didn’t need a goddamn cell phone) but my biggest hobby was always escaping into other worlds, because, let’s face it…this one is pretty uneventful.
Just below reading, there is a form of narrative that has existed for some time that maintains a special place in my heart and is responsible for more memories growing up than anything I ever did in school.
I’m sure a lot of you have at least played one or two video games before – you had a Nintendo as a kid, or you knew somebody who got a Sega Genesis before anybody else did. You dabbled every now and then, but eventually found other hobbies. I never did “grow out” of what I’m sure many people older than me deemed a “phase,” and it was an understandable mentality at the time. With the exception of visually recognizable mascots like Mario and Sonic the Hedgehog, video game consoles were usually talked about by non-players with a smirk and condescension. This was before Call of Duty and its budget that exceeds a lot of major Hollywood film productions.
I was a part of that small group, and I didn’t give a shit that I was mostly an outcast because of it. As time went by, the hobby only grew for me as the technology increased. I never once cared what the number one video was on MTV or if I had the newest Jordan shoes. I was too busy enjoying my time in worlds that left me spellbound, knowing that I was experiencing something only I and perhaps my stepbrother, who shared this hobby, could discuss.
Far and away, the series that took me on a mental roller-coaster ride time and again was and still is Final Fantasy. The series was originally a last-ditch effort by a then-small company by the name of Squaresoft, hence the title of the first game in the series. Since its debut on the original Nintendo Entertainment System in 1987, the series has grown into an instantly-recognizable franchise for anyone who ever held a controller in their hands. It has spawned sequels, sidestories, remakes, animated films, and concerts.
The concerts are the main reason I’m writing this piece.
What does a song mean to us? The typical reaction would be to get transported back to when and where we were when we first heard a particular piece of music. This can work both to your advantage and also bring back something painful. In the context of a film, a well-placed song or movement of a score can increase the emotional impact of a scene to where it becomes synonymous with things like dialogue, characters and setting. I’ve already spoken at length about Ennio Morricone and what his music has brought to dozens of movies, not the least of which are his collaborations with Sergio Leone. Film buffs will also go right to Jerry Goldsmith, John Williams and Angelo Badalamenti.
Nobuo Uematsu put together the “score” for the original Final Fantasy, and while that term may have been stretched in the days of the 8-bit cartridge systems, it didn’t stop him from creating melodies that became the cornerstone of a series. It could be argued (with plenty of evidence) that the music of FF is as recognizable as the games themselves.
Why am I being so dramatic about music from a game? Let me explain something to non-game players.
As time went on and technology gave way to bigger and better things, gamers weren’t just looking at blocks of color and hearing sound effects arranged into what was deemed music. We had characters with real names, real background stories who had an entire experience waiting to be discovered. The games in this series weren’t just half-hour time killers; if you intended to discover everything, a true Final Fantasy narrative could take you weeks. WEEKS.
In that span of time, you are getting to know characters and living through their triumphs and tragedies. When a prominent female heroine is brutally killed by the antagonist, you feel the loss yourself. When your party discovers an entire continent on this faraway planet, you can’t wait to dig in and see what lies in wait. When your main heroes save the world, you put the controller down and patted yourself on the back. Job well done.
For every triumph and defeat, every laugh and heartbreak, Uematsu found the music to fit. This isn’t just “game” music he was creating; you can pick out compositions that would fall into swing, gospel, jazz, heavy metal, pop, chamber…the music so incredible that for the first time, I felt like I wanted to hear it outside of the game.
In Japan, soundtracks to video games could be found on shelves of record stores right in with everything else. Not so much in America. In 1997, I had to call a local used music shop and see if, by some chance, they could import it. As luck would have it, they already had a copy of the original 4-disc soundtrack to Final Fantasy VII, the first in the series to come to the original Playstation and break just about every sales and critic’s record that existed for the series at the time. I played the SHIT out of this album, and it is easily the most beaten-up jewel case that I somehow still own.
More about Japan: Uematsu’s music is so amazing that the original compositions just aren’t enough. Many tracks from the whole series have been released on arranged albums over the years, and in some cases, I’ve become more familiar with these versions than the originals. It’s a testament to Uematsu’s musical genius that so much of his music can make a seamless transition from digital programming to a real orchestra.
By the time Final Fantasy X was released on Sony’s Playstation 2, I’m almost positive my collection of FF music outnumbered everything else. Besides, it was 2001 and I hadn’t yet discovered older music. There wasn’t exactly anything great lighting up the radio, and I didn’t care. Between the originals, the orchestrations, the arrangements and the b-sides, I had at least 50 discs worth of music. And that’s just from FF alone.
Then, on February 20, 2002, something incredible took place, and dreams came true across the world.
I had visions of a live orchestra performing this music, but I never once thought it could actually happen. Were there enough people like me out there who had such a devotion to Uematsu’s work that you could fill up a symphony hall? In Japan, this was a resounding yes. The Tokyo Philharmonic performed a 17-song set list over the course of two hours, and an album of the performance was released a few months later. I was stoked, but disappointed at the same time. There was no way in hell this could ever happen in America.
There are times when I truly enjoy being proven wrong.
On May 11, 2004, for one night only, the Los Angeles Philharmonic performed the music of the series at a show known as Dear Friends, a reference to a track from the fifth game in the series. Any doubt I had about the shared passion for this music was crushed; tickets for this show sold out in three days. After this, the one night was expanded into a full concert tour across the United States. I was shocked that this was really happening, and hoped that eventually they would come to a stop somewhere around this area. Seven years later, I got my wish.
Since 2007, the music has been on a world tour with Distant Worlds: Music from Final Fantasy. A little less than two weeks ago, they made their way to the Meyerhoff Symphony Hall in Baltimore. I REFUSED to miss this performance, and I immediately planned a day trip to Baltimore with the one friend I know who wanted to see this as much as I did.
The doors to the hall opened at 6:30, one hour prior to scheduled start time. I had been walking around the hot Inner Harbor in dress shoes and a suit all day in preparation for this concert and my feet were fucking killing me. One second inside the hall and I felt at home. A mix of casually-dressed, formally-dressed and costumed people (a selection of characters from across the entire series) filled the lobby.
We found our seats at about 7:10 and began the most agonizing wait of the day. Each member of the orchestra slowly made their way in and sat down, some quietly rehearsing their parts as showtime approached. 7:25. 7:27. Christ, why are clocks such assholes?
At 7:39, Arnie Roth, conductor for the tour since Dear Friends expanded, came out to the stage and the loudest ovation that a conductor in the Meyerhoff will ever hear. He thanked us for making the tour into the success that is has become (they’re planning at least another three years’ worth of shows already) and then introduced…Nobuo Uematsu.
I’ve been to standup comedy shows, pro wrestling at Madison Square Garden, Penn State football games…and I can tell you straight up, I have never heard such a thunderous round of applause for someone in my life. You could feel how appreciative everyone in this hall was that Uematsu was here himself, how thankful everyone was for the creation of this music that people had come together to see and how excited everyone was for the set list to come.
Once everyone finally calmed down, Arnie Roth began the tuning, and the show started with the track known as “The Prelude,” a recurring theme throughout the entire series that typically plays at the beginning or end of the game. If there is one track that identifies a game as Final Fantasy, it’s this one. When the chorus joined in, I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house at that point, myself included.
For the next two and a half hours, everyone sat spellbound. We were treated to a journey that encapsulated what so many of us had experienced for decades. Emotions. Memories. Moments in our lives, brought to life right before us. I’ve never experienced anything like this in my life. Three soloists from Baltimore performed the live opera piece for “Maria and Draco,” an arrangement from the sixth game in the series. At the end of this 12 minute piece, nobody sat down while applauding. I’m surprised they weren’t showered with flowers.
Intermission followed, and the journey continued. At the “end” of the show, as the credits rolled on the projection screen in the background and the “last” song finished, another rousing ovation from the crowd. It was then that Uematsu himself got up form his seat, said something to Arnie Roth, and joined the chorus. The encore for the night was set, and we were treated to “One-Winged Angel,” a theme of the final boss from the seventh game in the series.
When the song finished, the audience would not let Roth or Uematsu leave. I am not exaggerating when I tell you the standing ovation lasted for ten minutes before Roth finally had to motion to the rest of the orchestra to get up from their chairs and leave, but could you blame them for wanting that moment to last forever?
This is the longest entry I’ve written at this point, and I could go on forever about what this night meant to me. The bottom line: I’m glad I was an awkward kid, and I’m glad I discovered this world of fans like myself. The efforts of Uematsu and Roth to bring this to as many people as possible are miraculous, and I imagine that on this night, the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra and Handel Choir felt like absolute fucking rock stars. They deserved it.
