All That Is New Is, By That Fact, Automatically Traditional

An avid francophile, my dad used to try and imbue my life with French culture when I wasn't paying attention. Not long after my last brother moved out of the house, leaving me the only sibling out of the six of us living with my parents, my dad brought home the movie Bande A Part. I'm sure I was wearing some ridiculous outfit in an attempt to be outsider-y cool- stripey tights and one of my brothers' outgrown boy scout shirts or something of that ilk. My dad looked me up and down, handed me the video and said, "If you want to learn a little what cool's all about, check this out." I fell in love with the movie and watched the dance scene obsessively, trying to figure out how a cast of characters so naive could pull off such savior-faire sans souci.

I don't know how I forgot about the film, but earlier this week, my reverse arts patron, an odd, trollish little man who guides my musical and cinematic cultivation insisted my life wasn't complete without having seen a movie called A Band of Outsiders. As soon as the first credit flashed across the screen, it was like seeing an old friend after many years.

My story ends here like a dime novel. Without further ado, for your viewing pleasure, I present the heppest scene in cinema, La Danse Madison: