Hello, all--

     Most of you don't know me, but I've been lurking around the TLK
community for a while now (the one time I did delurk before this was
something I'd just as soon forget--I was the one who posted that idiotic
"Good Times" virus message.)  I think it's time I introduce myself to
everyone with a personal what-TLK-did-for-me essay.  I don't know if
everyone'll like it, but I think I can promise that it's at least a little
different.

     My thanks to Jason Ahrens, Larry Deck, Ken Leung and especially Jason
Knight for taking the time to look over the essay and comment on its several
drafts during the two months it took to write it.

     Well, without further ado, here it is.  Read and enjoy--I hope!

                                                  --Matt Stoughton
                                             mls2b@uva.pcmail.virginia.edu

                    The Lion King:  A Personal Story

                          by:  Matt Stoughton

       It was early summer, 1994, between my third and fourth years of
college.  Things had not been going well for me, a 21-year old computer
science major and a Navy ROTC midshipman at the University of Virginia.  My
GPA had fallen below a 2.8 for the fourth straight semester.  A month
earlier, I had flunked an aviation physiology exam, meaning that my long-time
dream of flying fighters for the U.S. Navy after I graduated was all but lost
to me.  I had no summer job, because I was supposed to be at sea on a
midshipman cruise for the entire month of July--and then was told in mid-June
that my cruise time had been bumped to August, meaning I would be stuck at
home without steady work for an additional month.  It also meant I would end
up missing out on my family's vacation, which had been so carefully scheduled
around the time I was supposed to have been gone.

       Needless to say, I was not a happy person.  I had very few friends to
talk to, let alone a girlfriend I could visit; little to do except beg
yardwork off my neighbors and--when I had a car, at least--hang out by myself
at malls and bookstores...and movie theaters.

       And so, on Friday, the 24th of June, I wandered into a local cinema
with the intention of seeing what was said to be Disney's "latest and
greatest" animated feature, The Lion King.  After how good the last two
Disney animated films had been, I figured it was probably worth a look. 
Besides, it was said to be different, somehow--darker and more adult.  With
that in my skeptical mind, I bought a seven-dollar ticket, entered the packed
theater and sat down.  All right, I said to the screen as the lights dimmed. 
Dazzle me.

       Some eighty-eight minutes later (plus fifteen more for previews) I
exited the theater...slightly confused, but otherwise unmoved.  The movie had
some humorous moments, I decided, and I had heard at least a scattering of
applause from fellow moviegoers at the end, but it didn't seem to have made
much of an impact on me; I wasn't even sure I liked it as much as I had
Beauty and the Beast or Aladdin.  Oh, well, I thought.  It was kind of
entertaining, and it served as an evening's distraction, anyway.  Now back to
reality.  And yet...as I walked out toward the parking lot on that warm
summer night, I couldn't shake the odd feeling that I had somehow missed
something, that there was something more to it I just hadn't caught.  The
more I thought about it, the more I realized I was going to have to return
and watch it again, if only to prove to myself that there was nothing to it
beyond what I had first seen.

       Five weeks later--a week and a half before I would have to leave on
cruise--I returned to see it again.  Surprisingly, the theater was just as
packed as it had been the first time.  So maybe other people were having the
same problem, I half-joked to myself...yeah, right.  Sure, Matt.  You and the
rest of the kiddies.  You're 21 now, don't you think it's high time you
outgrew this sort of thing?  Come to think of it, though, there are a fairly
high number of adults here without kids, just watching it for themselves, it
looks like.  I wonder?  On that thought, I settled in my seat, put my popcorn
in my lap, and waited out the requisite fifteen minutes of previews. 
Finally, the Disney logo appeared.  Well, at least I can start eating my
popcorn now, I thought (I never like starting on it until the main feature
begins.)  Let's see how this goes....

       A red sun was depicted rising over a savanna, and simultaneously a
rhythmic African chant began.  Several beautifully animated panoramas
followed, depicting various animals from cranes to a cheetah and a herd of
antelope.  Then the lyrics began....

>From the day we arrive on the planet
And blinking step into the sun
There is more to see than can ever be seen
More to do than can ever be done...

        Something inside me seemed to take notice at the words. 
Unconsciously, I sat up a little straighter in my seat.  

There's far too much to take in here
More to find than can ever be found
But the sun rolling high through a sapphire sky
Keeps great and small on the endless round...

       A chill, a shiver went through me.  It wasn't just due to the beauty
of the song or the scenery--I was reacting to it on much deeper level than
that.  But why?   How?  Just watch and listen, something seemed to be telling
me.  This is meant for you....

It's the Circle of Life and it moves us all
Through despair and hope
Through faith and love
Until we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the Circle, the Circle of Life.

       The song came to an end.  But not before it started something that
would change my life....

       From that point on, I was held transfixed by the story that unfolded;
as if I was not just watching it, but truly seeing it for the first time.  I
stayed rooted in my seat all the way through the closing credits, immobile
except for reflexively eating my popcorn, long enough to hear and greatly
enjoy Elton John's performance of Can You Feel the Love Tonight, which I
didn't stick around for the first time.  But what had happened between then
and now?  How could I not have liked any of this?  The animation was
spectacular, the music outstanding, the songs ranged from at least
serviceable to superb, and the story was one of the most uplifting I had ever
known.  Perhaps before I just wasn't ready, just not in the right state of
mind to take it all in.  Or maybe it was just too much for me to absorb in
only one sitting.  But whatever the reason, I wasn't about to dwell on it. 
As I walked out of the theater that night, I felt too good to care.

       I would go to see The Lion King twice more that summer, after I
returned from cruise a month later (a story for another time, if
anyone cares to hear).  It again felt uplifting just to watch it, though not
quite as strong as before.  Even so, I thought with a sense of wonder, how
often has it happened that I have actually enjoyed something better the
second or third time around?   I even decided I would watch it yet again, a
couple days later.

       But after that--the fourth time--as the songs and scenes I had loved
so much slowly faded from immediate memory, the inspiration and energy they
gave me did, too.  Their absence left me feeling empty, frequently depressed.
 Now back at school, I wanted desperately to recapture the feeling, the
magic, but I found I could not--the movie had been pulled from the theaters
by this time, so there was little I could do except try to rummage
inconspicuously through the children's section at a local bookstore and hope
nobody noticed.  My depression deepened.  I did buy The Lion King soundtrack,
but found I was afraid to listen to it.  What if I did and the inspiration
was gone?  What if I didn't hear in it what I once had?  If it didn't work
the magic on me that it had before, I felt I would have nothing left to
believe in.

       Unable or unwilling to face that possibility, I attempted to distance
myself from the movie, emotionally.  The Lion King was only a children's
movie, I kept telling myself; that as an adult I shouldn't be so deeply
affected by it, especially given the near-certainty (in my own mind) that no
one else could possibly relate to what I was going through.  The only result
was to depress me even more, for even though I believed what I was saying, it
didn't change the fact that the movie had--and was--affecting me very deeply.
 With that, I realized that I couldn't avoid the issue through denial--that
despite my fear, I would have to try watching the movie again.

       As The Lion King was to be reissued to the theaters around late
November, I would get the chance to do so when I went home for winter break. 
I promised myself I would go immediately after I got home following final
exams...and day after day for a month, I kept finding--or outright
inventing--reasons not to.  

       Finally, on the last weekend before I would have to return to school
for the spring semester, I got up the nerve to go back and see it.  By then,
it was only in the second-run theaters, and the picture and sound quality
showed it.  That was bad enough, but even worse was the fact that I found
myself looking for those and other flaws; any reason at all that I could use
to convince myself that the movie just wasn't worth it.  The more I thought
about that, the more ridiculous it seemed:  I go back to see The Lion King,
hoping it could work the magic on me it once did, yet at the same time part
of me tries just as hard to prevent that from happening?  Why?  What am I so
afraid of?  I had no answer to that yet, but I did remember that seeing The
Lion King a second time made all the difference before.  Maybe it would
again?  So two nights later, I returned to watch it for the sixth time...and
it worked--sort of.  I did feel some of that magic, but only as a
fast-fading, distant echo of what it once was.  And worst of all, having seen
the movie twice in succession that quickly, the songs got so firmly ingrained
in my memory they kept running through my head over and over until I was
thoroughly sick of them.  That wasn't what I wanted at all....

       Then what did I want?  What was it in The Lion King that had so deeply
affected me and why couldn't I feel it anymore?  I knew I was afraid of
something...but what?  For my own sake, I had to start finding the answers
before it tore me apart completely.  But what was I supposed to do?  Say to
people "Listen, I found The Lion King a very uplifting experience, but now I
can't feel it anymore, can you help me?"  In the months before I discovered
the TLK community on the internet, I couldn't imagine anyone else
understanding, taking me for real--at least, not without thinking there was
something seriously wrong with my head.  To be sure, I had questions about
that myself.  I was obsessing.  The Lion King was never far from my thoughts,
and it was difficult to concentrate on much else.  My grades were starting to
fall even farther, and--not that I was an outgoing person to begin with--I
was becoming more and more withdrawn from those around me.  

       By this time it was mid-February,  meaning that the University of
Virginia Cinematheque would be showing The Lion King that weekend.  I forced
myself to go and watch it, although--and I mean this literally--I was so
afraid that I had this urge to flee the theater before the movie started.  I
did manage to stay put and make myself watch, but found myself paying less
attention to the movie itself and more to the reactions of the rest of the
audience, which was almost entirely composed of fellow students--people my
own age.  If they liked The Lion King, then perhaps I would feel a little bit
better about my own feelings toward it....

       Well, if the amount of hooting done during the course of the movie was
any indication, The Lion King was greatly enjoyed by all.  The reaction of my
classmates greatly heartened me, not only during the movie, but after--I
don't think I've ever seen, before or since, people coming out of a movie
actually singing the theme song!  I only wished I was one of them.  Once
again, I could watch it, hear it, but subconsciously, I just would not let
myself truly see it, listen to it.  But at least now after the seventh time I
had watched it, I started to hope that, just maybe, there was nothing wrong
with me for having loved--and wanting to love--The Lion King.

       That was something of a turning point.  Even though I still wasn't
quite convinced there was nothing wrong with loving it and had by no means
resolved my feelings, at least now I would be more willing to address them
instead of trying to ignore or otherwise suppress them.  I began to search
for reviews and any other written materials about The Lion King, although I
wasn't altogether sure what I was looking for or what I would find out.  I
also began looking for chances to ask around, especially after the spring
semester was over, while I was working as a lifeguard at a condominium pool
during the summer.  Polling my adult patrons about their opinions on the
movie whenever the opportunity arose, I found that there were very few who
hadn't seen it.  Most liked it, I was happy to know.  Many even said they
loved it, that they could watch it again and again.  There were a few who did
not.  Of those, most were parents, sick of having to sit through it with
their kids night after night.  There were also a few teenagers I spoke to who
didn't enjoy it for no other reason than that they worried about what it
might do to their image, if they were seen liking "a kid's movie," as they
referred to it, among other, less favorable terms.  As I reflect on that now,
it makes me glad I am long out of high school and into college, where it's
far more acceptable to express oneself.  I certainly wouldn't display a TLK
poster or keep a stuffed Nala doll in my high school locker, but I have no
problem doing so in my dorm room for everyone to see (I get some funny looks
sometimes, but most of the opinions I hear are complimentary.)  

       That was another key to my puzzle:  Being able to express myself and
my feelings allowed me to dig a little deeper.  Finally, at the beginning of
the last school year I discovered this thing called the Internet, which would
give me access to more TLK material than I knew what to do with--reviews,
pictures, pages, fan fiction.  It would happen several months later, after
sifting through dozens of Web sites that I would stumble across Jason Ahrens'
TLK page and "My Story" essay.  When I would finally discover the existence
of the TLK community and that I was not at all alone in my feelings for the
"greatest movie ever made." (Thanks, Jason.) 
 
        By that time I had at last satisfied myself that The Lion King was
generally loved by moviegoers, while garnering only mixed-to-good reviews
from the self-proclaimed critics.  At times, it was accused by a few of them
of being too politically correct, while others called it racist for reasons
that remain unclear to me.  I also heard someone say it was sexist (because
the lionesses didn't make good role models for young girls, or so I was
told), and I've read about parents who are now boycotting the movie because
they said Disney was slipping subliminal sexual messages into it and other
Disney animation, aimed directly at their children (get a life, people.) 
Though I do not care to address these opinions here, I will say this:  To
those who cannot see past their own pet peeves, who cast everything in terms
of their own particular prejudices, I pity you.  If you judge things so
superficially, you will never be able to see what lies within them--or
yourself.
        
     One negative opinion I do want to discuss was how there were
some--mostly parents--who complained that the movie was too dark, too intense
and who didn't want their children exposed to the more adult elements.... 
Right.  They don't want to have to answer some uncomfortable questions from
their kids; they'd rather have them grow up exposed to things that won't
disturb them.  Well, they can rest easy on that score--most of the shows,
video games and music they will watch, play, and listen to as they grow up
will have few such undesirable effects.  After all, if such things both
wantonly glorify violence and attach little value to life, then kids will
quickly learn not to be upset by them.

       Not long ago in a humanities class I was taking here at UVA, a
discussion began on just that topic--how desensitized society has become to
violence and how this has been reflected in popular culture, including
movies.  About how little meaning death--and by extension, life--is shown as
having anymore.  Addressing the entire class, I asked a very simple question:

       Which affected everyone more?  Any or all of the fifty-plus deaths
depicted in Oliver Stone's Natural Born Killers, also released in the summer
of 1994...

       ...or the death of Simba's father in The Lion King?  Although I got
funny looks from a few people, those who had seen both movies did not
hesitate in their reply.  Mufasa's death scene could have had no greater
impact on audiences, not even if they showed blood or a broken neck.

       With that came another important realization--even revelation.  The
Lion King was not simply a "kid's movie."  I even read one review that
referred to The Lion King as the only truly adult movie of the summer,
because it was the only one that dealt with subjects such as death and
growing up in a mature way.  Yet to simply cast the movie in terms of that
one scene does not do it justice, for The Lion King is not about death, it's
about life.  About the trials--and yes, the circle--of life.  About lessons
learned.  About love and loss.  About consequence and consummation.   About
redemption and renewal.

       It's funny...it had taken me that long to finally convince myself that
all this was true; that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me for having
the feelings for the movie I had.  All that just to get to the point where I
could see The Lion King without worrying that I was either crazy or otherwise
abnormal.  I got the videotape as a Christmas present, and for the first time
in well over a year, I actually found myself looking forward to watching it. 
So, on a weekend in mid-January, several days following the "Blizzard of
'96,"  I put on the tape, dragged my parents in to watch with me (including
my very reluctant mother, who seems to have something against animation in
general--she wouldn't even let me watch cartoons for years), fast-forwarded
through the previews (does anybody sense this is a pet peeve of mine?) and
settled down onto the couch with a package of microwave popcorn.  And on
this, the eighth time I watched, I finally started to understand what the
movie had done to me and why.

       As Circle of Life began, I thought back to the second time I watched,
to when all this started for me some sixteen months earlier.   As I listened,
I began to realize what happened on that summer night.  It's not easy for me
to explain what I felt then--to say that I found The Lion King emotionally
uplifting would be true, yet an understatement.  In some ways, the experience
felt outright spiritual--that not only Circle of Life, but the entire movie
was speaking directly to me.  To understand, it has to be realized that at
that point in my life I had little in the way of motivation or direction; I
lacked purpose and watched helplessly as circumstances seemed to conspire
against me, sending the problems of my personal and academic life spiraling
out of control.  Then, to be told--first by Circle of Life, then by the
entire movie--in a way that I could neither ignore or deny that this wasn't
the case, that life wasn't passing me by, that there was yet a place, a
purpose out there for me, waiting to be discovered...

       Then, it honestly felt like The Lion King had been done entirely for
my benefit.  And now, I wondered?  What does it do for me now?

       I watch as Simba is presented, taking in the beauty of the scenery and
the song.

It's the Circle of Life and it moves us all
Through despair and hope
Through faith and love
Until we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the Circle, the Circle of Life.

       I watch as Simba plays and explores, seeing in him the kid I never
really was; having the fun that in many ways I never learned how to have.  I
watch as he and Nala "ditch the dodo," wrestle with each other and end up in
an elephant graveyard menaced by hyenas.  Saved by Mufasa, Simba learns the
first of many lessons the movie teaches--the difference between being brave
and being foolish.  And I know exactly which category I fit into....

       I watch tearfully as Scar sets a trap, kills Mufasa and tells Simba he
is responsible and to flee.  

       I watch as Simba grows to adulthood far from home, never quite able to
escape his grief or shame despite the "Hakuna Matata"--no worries--philosophy
preached by Timon and Pumbaa.  Then, whether by accident or by fate--like me
deciding on a whim to watch the movie on that day long ago--he encounters
Nala.  They play like cubs--until they go tumbling head over each other's
heels down a hill, landing in a heap on a grassy field, when their play takes
a decidedly more adult turn.  I watch as Nala startles--perhaps even
scares--Simba with a passionate kiss.  I watch as Nala lays lazily back in
the grass, green eyes entreating as realization dawns on Simba's face.  And I
wonder if that can ever happen to me.  I've been so afraid of
relationships--fear of being hurt, again--that I have trouble even having
friends, let alone girlfriends.

       I watch as a brooding, confused Simba who could all too easily be me
try to rationalize his fear of returning home, but hearing only the hollow
ring of his own excuses.  Then Rafiki appears.

You don't even know who you are.
     
       No, I think sadly, I really don't.  Simba's words echo my own
thoughts:  

I thought I knew once.  Now I'm not so sure...

       Once, when I was a fierce loner and thought I didn't need anyone or
anything to make my way through life.  Once, before I realized I was lonely
and unfulfilled and began to wonder why.  Mufasa's spirit appears to provide
Simba the counsel he--and I--so desperately need to heed.

Look inside yourself, Simba.

       Slowly, painfully, I've come to understand that what was--and still
is--happening was that in The Lion King I see a reflection of myself, of who
I wish to be.  It forces me to take a deep look at myself, at the person I
actually am.  For so long, I couldn't face that--face myself--and
subconsciously tried to shut out the movie so I wouldn't have to.  What I was
afraid of wasn't the movie at all--it was myself.

You are more than what you have become...

       I know.  And that's what hurts most of all--knowing that I'm not
living up to either my potential or my promises to myself.   I can be far
more than the withdrawn, unmotivated person I am.

You must take your place in the Circle of Life...

       This, to me, is The Lion King's greatest legacy.  I now believe that
we all have a place and purpose, out there waiting to be discovered, if only
we have the courage to face our fears...and ourselves.

Remember who you are...

       Rafiki returns, noting that...
     
The past can hurt.

       I understand now that broken hearts and shattered dreams are
important--even vital--parts of growing up.  But you can't let them--for fear
of being hurt--keep you from reaching out.

You can either run from [your past] or learn from it....

       I also realize that it's not so much what happens to you that's
important, it's how you deal with it.  You can ignore it, hide from it, use
it as an excuse...or, as Rafiki says, learn from it and go on, becoming a
better person for it.

       Simba returns, taking his place as ruler of the Pride Lands, having
confronted--then conquered--both Scar and his own fears.

It is time...

       Long past time.  I reflect again on what The Lion King has done to me
over the past two years.  For all the depression, anger, anguish, and low
grades having watched it caused me at times, it was worth it.  It helped show
me myself; gave me insight I wouldn't otherwise have had.  I may still not
know quite who I am or what I want to be, but at least now, I know what's
been holding me back and best of all, now I have something to live up to, for
The Lion King is indeed not just a movie, it's a way of life.  I'm not there
yet, but at least I now know what I have to do.  Any movie that can do that
for not only me, but for many others as well, then truly, it can only be "the
greatest movie ever made."

       As I finish this essay, to my immediate left is a poster of Simba and
Nala entitled "Waterfall Romance," which I have had for the last two years. 
Further to my right, on a shelf beside my dorm window, sits Nala, overlooking
at my desk.  They are there as reminders:  to make sure I...

...Remember.