The Secret Song Revealed

Yesterday was my seventh viewing of The Secret Song, the film made about my last year at my school. In each of the previous six viewings, I discovered something new. It's a testimony to the artistry of the filmmakers and ordinary things portrayed that take on a glimmer of the extraordinary that the film has so many layers. Like playing a Bach fugue countless times, there is always something else waiting to be revealed. It really is a film that needs to be seen at least three times for its true meaning to be understood. 

 

Of course, like all art, it’s “true meeting” is viewer specific and not a one-size-fits-all Aesop’s Moral. Through what is portrayed and how it’s portrayed, the images and sounds and story speak for themselves. That said and done, there are certainly many takeaways, conscious or sub-conscious, that I hope might strike the viewers. 

 

Some might think it’s a film about me and they should leave with feelings about who I am and what I’ve done. In my younger days, let’s face it, I would have been pleased to hear people come up to me afterwards and said, “Wow! You’re awesome! You’re amazing! You are so talented! You’re a rock star!” I would have been quite happy with some flirtatious come-thither glances and certainly with offers to be my agent or publicist or invitations to be interviewed at Fresh Air. But truthfully, such comments now would disappoint me. (Though those flirtatious glances, so long gone in my life, would be at least a little bit welcome! As would a Fresh Air interview!)

 

With a little reflection, it’s clear that the film is as much about my relationship with my two colleagues James and Sofia and a celebration of their own particular genius that they offer to kids. Or one might telescope out further to the school culture that allowed such things to flourish, making them possible in all sorts of ways beyond any normal job definition. It could also be seen as a testament to progressive education, to Orff Schulwerk, to San Francisco. And in the second half of the film, it becomes about that pandemic we all shared and the grief, challenges, small pleasures and resilience it called forth in us all. The more you reflect, the wider the view gets.

 

But in the seventh viewing, a new and truer vision emerged. Shown at an actual still-running movie theater on a big screen with popcorn, open to a varied public from SF School present and past students and parents to fellow Orff teachers to neighborhood folks, friends, family and a public just curious about seeing a film in this particular film festival, the stage was set for an experience far beyond simple streaming it while sitting alone at home. There was a palpable buzz in the theater before it started, a hushed silence when it began, the predictable moments of laughter and quiet reflection and joy and sorrow while it was running and then a thunderous applause with whoops and shouts at the end lasting a couple of minutes. 

 

“What was that about?” I thought. And that’s when the next  layer revealed itself, the true lyrics and tune of the Secret Song we all carry. What really struck me last night was a shift from the "film about me" or "me, James and Sofia" to a film about everyone who loves music, loves kids, loves education, loves community and just generally loves to have fun! I felt in that prolonged applause as sense of shared community cheering for the things we all mutually care about.  The film is a reminder of just how needed these things are, shown time and time again in the smiles, laughter, serious efforts, small (and big) triumphs of kids given the invitation and tools to express themselves by caring adults and the beautiful, relaxed, trusting atmosphere between the student and the teacher.

 

So let me repeat: This is not a film about me, nor about James, Sofia and I, nor about Orff Schulwerk, nor about music teachers. It’s a film about us—all of us, young or old, teacher, student or other profession, American or Brazilian or Icelandic or Korean. The whole carnaval of human possibility gathered in a couple of acres on Gaven Street, but singing out and holding hands with everyone and everywhere.

 

There’s a hope that this might show on PBS and at first glance, how to convince them knowing so few would choose to see a film about music teachers? But if we open our eyes to the idea that this film offers exactly what we all need— love, life and laughter, hope in a time of despair, purpose in the face of meaningless distractions, adults who have never stopped playing like kids and kids ripening into a genuine adult promise— well, that’s a Secret Song worth making public, worth singing, worth playing and dancing to. It lies within us all, only waiting to be revealed.

 

PS There are three more days left to see it streamed through the SF Doc Film Festival. 

Spread the glad tidings!

https://sfdocfest2023.eventive.org/schedule/6427399e371abf0095a7bea1

PSS It also made it into the SF Chronicle newspaper, with my name in the caption as Doug Goodwin!