"Yes," I told the room full of middle school students.
"Ah, man."
"Give it a chance," I said.
Then I reminded them that Anne was a real girl. I reminded them that she was about their age when she went into hiding. That she experienced all the emotions and changes they are experiencing now. She just experienced them while in hiding.
And so this room full of 11- and 12-year-olds, brought up in a culture of entertainment that aim for the least common denominator, movies that tend more to special effects rather than human connections, humor that goes for the cheap, course joke rather than utilizing wit, these kids who rolled their eyes at the thought of watching something in black and white, began The Diary of Anne Frank.
First they began to giggle as Anne decided around the room. They giggled at her argument with Peter. Then as the story becomes more and more intense, the atmosphere in the room changed. I listened to them gasp as the thief broke into the factory. I felt their tension as the bombs went off. And tomorrow we should get to the end. I anticipate tears.
Please never underestimate my students. Too often modern authors and movie-makers do. Not always, but often. Throw some money at a screen. Write a book with some ridiculous love-triangle. Market it to 13-year-olds. Make some money. These kids are still learning about their world. Its joys and sadnesses and beauties and atrocities are still new to them. There are no cliches in their world yet. It's all still new. Don't take advantage of that to create cheap entertainment.
I remember listening to Emma Thompson talk about writing Nanny McPhee. She said that despite the special effects that the story necessitated, it was important to her that the story was based on people talking to each other. That people interacting is what makes something interesting.
Perhaps I should have assured my students before the movie started, "Don't worry. It's in black and white, but you'll find it interesting. People talk to each other."
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