I have two young children, and I love music. Right now, my kids are really too young to love music with me, though I can sometimes get my two year old to dance with me. I often wonder if I’ll be able to impart my love of music to my kids, and if they will love the songs that I love. My wife is pretty indifferent (outside of a few groups she connected to in college) to music, so it’s not a sure bet. What if they don’t love music with me? Or worse, what if they love music that I hate, or love music that I hate because I hate it? These may seem like silly questions to you, but they occupy an inordinate amount of my brain space.
This may be why I connected to deeply with “The Music Never Stopped,” a film that’s gotten tepid reviews from most movie critics. But I wonder if those critics are looking at the movie through the wrong lens. They see another film about a creative and unorthodox therapist getting through to an otherwise unreachable, unhelpable patient, much like “The King’s Speech.” And while that may be the form of “The Music Never Stopped,” there something quite different at its heart. This is a movie about finding an uncommon and mysterious grace in a tragic and terrible situation. This is Flannery O’Connor’s kind of grace, and that’s part of why this is the kind of movie I love. My daughter’s name is Flannery, after all.