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Remembering All The Boys Essay

Essay about Movie: Remember the Titans

652 Words3 Pages

The movie Remember the Titans takes place in Virginia. The year was when there were no racial mixings in the schools. The movie starts practically the day that the announcement of desegregation was going to come into action.
     The movie is in a small Virginia town where they say that football is as big as life. The high school team is known for being great and when they here that blacks are entering their school now they are furious. The school comes in and fires the old head coach and replaces him with a black, Coach Boon. At first all of the white players try to boycott the new coach and football program but the old coach, Coach Yoast decides to stay and run the defensive line and not abandon his old boys.…show more content…

Even though they were very much adjusted to one another and got along so well when they got back home, nothing had changed. When they saw white teammates talking to black teammates everyone starred and no one understood. Coach Boon was not surprised to see how people were acting but he was shocked to find out that when the school gave him the head-coaching job it was because they had to and if he lost a game then he was fired. The people who hired him said that they didn’t even think that he would have made it out of camp.
     The football teams love lived on and they stuck together for their first win. As a victory the quarterback who everyone called Sunshine tried to take a few black teammates to dinner. The owner refused service and that was the beginning of them falling apart all over again. The team calls their own meeting trying to get back together, although they are undefeated they weren’t playing well and they knew that wouldn’t work for long. On a major game referees were bribed to call penalties against the Titans, but Coach Yoast knew what they were doing and said he would go to the papers. Turns out they were trying to get Coach Yoast back at the head job and forget about Boon. After a major victory the team captain is involved in a major car wreck and was paralyzed from the waist down. Even though they lost a lot they went on and won the state title. The movie ends

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(Or: There Are No Small Theaters/Theatres, Only Little Theaters/Theatres)

This is a difficult world no? Everyone just wants a piece of you, a piece of the action. There you are, throwing yourself out there to all those people, your public, and you never really know what any of it all means do you? I mean, does anyone really?

From the time I was a small boy, I knew I wanted to join the world of theatrics! I was a bit of a light bulb hound and boy oh boy, did I know where to find the light bulbs! If I wasn’t in one dramatic scrape, I was in another. Ha! Need I say more?

Like so many before me, I found myself knocking at the New York Theater/Theatre Doorstep. Knock Knock. Is Art home?

Nothing worth doing is easy. I found that out the hard way when I started asking: How do I get involved with this New York Theater/Theatre Thing? First I checked with all my new friends from Scene Study but no one seemed to know anything about the Real Capital A—Audience! That’s when I moved on to the true professionals—you know—the people who come out the backstage door night after night, grease paint on their faces and sweaty with the sheer love of it all. I said: "Let me at it! I want a piece of that pie please!"

The people I started to meet in the Theater/Theatre have become just like the people in my family. We all have such a good time together. We go out at night and drink and drink and laugh and laugh and laugh. One night, one girl laughed so hard she fell back in her chair and cracked her head on the floor! She forgot her name for the rest of the night and some of the people we were with had to take her to the Emergency Room in a cab.

But before any of that happened, I sat down in a fever and started to write my first play. I locked myself up in my one-room studio and let it all come piling out—everything I saw around me, everyone wrong with the world. I called my play: TOUGH SLIDE ON A MOONBEAM. After three days (and ten cups of coffee), I punched those fateful words on my computer keys: THE END.

I just took that computer disk out of the slot, popped it in my pocket and walked around—walked and walked and walked all night long. I walked from Battery Park up to Harlem and then back down across the Brooklyn Bridge. I walked until I saw the sunrise and then I walked some more. When I got home the next morning, I sent out thirty copies of TOUGH SLIDE ON A MOONBEAM and I set out to find a troupe of players.

Art is, indeed, home.

MOONBEAM went into rehearsal almost immediately with a famous older actress. She was quite a character and that was good because in my play, MOONBEAM, she portrayed a character [Note: In plays, characters in the story, or "plot," are referred to as "roles."] She was fantastic in that role. We went out every night during the run of MOONBEAM and we toasted to each other over and over again. It seemed like champagne just poured down from the sky and the famous older actress liked to stand on a chair above me and pour it down my throat. Like I said, these people had become my family. I no longer knew any life but the life of the theater/theatre.

But then, all of that was a long time ago now wasn’t it? I’ll just lose my head going off like this. When all the glory has passed and there is only the golden dust of a MOONBEAM, that’s the moment you know that the best memories are those in the past. (Not including those yet to come!)


MARTIN ROTH: In May 2017 I cultivated a piece of land in Midtown Manhattan nurtured by tweets

by Jonathan Goodman

JUL-AUG 2017 | ArtSeen

Martin Roth, an artist who has often worked with nature—in 2009 one of his projects, I lived with sheep in Europe, consisted of living with a herd of sheep in Europe—excels at combining the outside world with sophisticated insights into politics and its relations with art and life. At his midtown exhibition at the Austrian Cultural Forum, In May 2017 I cultivated a piece of land in Midtown Manhattan nurtured by tweets, the pungent scent of more than two hundred lavender plants leads the viewer down two flights of stairs, into the basement of the Forum’s building on East 52nd Street near Fifth Avenue.

The World Without People Who Ruin It and Make It Ugly

by Patricio Pron, translated from the Spanish by Kathleen Heil

JUNE 2017 | Fiction

A woman of about forty-two or forty-three often goes for walks in the Schillerwiese, a vast park in a German city. She always takes a small digital camera and spends her time there photographing little girls when they urinate behind trees.

"Are You Here for the Performance Piece?"

by Jen George

FEB 2018 | Dance

“Are you here for the performance piece?” asks the gentleman at the door as he politely ushers me into an unassuming foyer in Brooklyn, under the Williamsburg Bridge. I am at one of the numerous venues hosting American Realness 2018, the dance and performance festival founded by Thomas Benjamin Snapp Pryor, and presented by Gibney Dance with Abrons Art Center.

Art and China after 1989: Theater of the World

by Banyi Huang

NOV 2017 | ArtSeen

Looping endlessly on twelve television monitors, close-up shots of hands frenetically scratch different parts of the body. Zhang Peili’s iconic piece, Uncertain PleasureII (1996), ironically anticipates today’s highly mediated experience of viewing, as well as the challenges of giving a coherent framework to the chaotic history of contemporary Chinese art.

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