The event was the return of Monsters of Grace to Royce Hall at UCLA on March 30, 1999. I had seen Version 1.0 the year before, at which point only some of the animated pieces has been completed, and was quite impressed. I was curious what the "upgrade" to Version 4.0 had to offer.
Last year I was in the exact center of the room and I was concerned that being so close to the front this time would minimize or nullify the 3D effect, but I was pleasantly proven wrong.
The only mishap involved the gentleman sitting next to me. Scene 4 depicts a hand being sliced by a scalpel. It bothered me a little the first time, but I was prepared for it this time. During this scene, the gentleman next to me took out his program and started fanning himself. OK, he's uncomfortable. The scene will end in a few minutes and he'll be as good as new.
Well, it didn't work out that way. He ended up fanning himself off and on throughout the rest of the performance. If there had been an intermission, I would have said something to him about it, but no such opportunity existed. It affected my enjoyment in the moment, but the fact is that I'm still hearing the music in my head several days later, much like last time, so I can't say I got nothing out of the experience.
After the performance, there was a reception. I tend to do better in more casual and less crowded environments, but I wanted to meet Philip Glass. I had been listening to his music for, what, 15 years? It meant a lot to me. It affected me. I had no doubt that it would continue to do so into the future. My goal was simple: say "Thank you." Saying "Hello" and/or "My name is Roger" was secondary; nice if I could do it, but not strictly necessary. What could go wrong?
I hadn't realized that there would be an award given to him this evening. Shortly before the ceremony began, I saw him standing in front of the miniature stage they had set up. I tried to get closer but then it was time for the ceremony to begin. Strike One.
After the award ceremony, some pictures were taken and people started to approach him. It appeared to me that the first bunch of people were friends and acquaintances. Eventually, as people got their "Hi"s and hugs in, the crowd dissipated. Now's my chance.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, appears the guy who had been fanning himself throughout two thirds of the performance asking for an autograph! Autograph? Is that the sort of activity that goes on at these things? I wasn't the only one confused by this; others turned to one another with looks of astonishment. Of course, an autograph frenzy quickly ensued. People popped out of the woodwork with programs, postcards, books, CDs and even the 3D glasses. Strike Two.
Eventually, that crowd died down. The woman in front of me was more demonstrative than others had been, so she got his attention. She also had only a thing or two to say to PG. Once she was done, I started to extend my hand. I think I'm going to have to say "Hello" first. And before I knew it, a woman came by -- I suspect a manager or coordinator of some sort -- and asked him "Are you ready?" PG said "I'm ready" and he was gone. Strike Three -- you're out!
"Hel--. Oh."
On the way home, I reflected on many things. Some of them include:
Did I have a good time? You bet I did. Great music, great visuals, great food and a near-Glass experience. It was wonderful. Just the same, though, if you happen to be Philip Glass: Thank you!