A Return to Self

Ludwig Van Beethoven was probably not much fun to be around. He was cantankerous and abusive, obsessive and possessive, but what would this world (at least mine, for that is all I can speak of) be without his music. For me, there would be a gaping hole, one that I would be aware of, without quite knowing what it was that was missing, but would feel it all the same.

Gary Oldman’s articulation of the troubled Maestro is nothing short of inspired in my eyes. Like Antony Quinn’s Zorba, I have a hard time imagining anyone else playing the role of Beethoven after watching this film several times over the years. For me, he nails it.

Beethoven lost the support and belief of nearly everyone in his life. Falling from quite great heights, he was pissing himself drunk in the gutter after the gargantuan successes of his earlier works. The Ninth Symphony was doomed for failure. A silly, simple little tune from a dawdling has-been drunk. The world was sure to get the last laugh on this belligerent fool. He did not play by the rules, and therefore he should pay.

However, that was not to be. Beethoven had one last work in him that he had to set free, it was a return to the Self. And, when an Artist returns to the Source, to the Self, the waves of indifference and mockery are of paltry effect. To conquer the inner turmoil and demons that one has can provide strength that leaves others wondering, “what happened?”

Beethoven was just such an example, and I am grateful that I can come back to my apartment and listen to the works of a true genius, one who beat the odds and who came back from the veritable grave, beyond expectation, and beyond the droning criticism of those who lack the ability to acknowledge, let alone accept, that down is not necessarily out.