The summer of 1999 was winding to an end, and I was nearing my 8th birthday. Anticipation whetted my nerves, I could almost taste the number itself, encroaching on me at an excruciatingly slow pace. I wanted what every seven year old boy wanted: to turn a year older.
The other thing I remember wanting the most, nearly as badly, and all the more urgently, was to see The Matrix. As I ran and swung and jumped and played outside, enjoying the cooling weather and long nights, I can remember hearing music playing from one of the second story windows on the back of my parent's house. My older sister, then freshly turned sixteen, had purchased the soundtrack to The Matrix and frequently played it on her stereo with the window open, and the sounds drifted down toward me in my youthful exercise. Sounds of Rob Zombie, Deftones, Prodigy, Marilyn Manson and Rammstein filled my ears, foreign invaders that I did not yet recognize or know well enough (let alone foresee that they would later be artists I listened to regularly and enjoyed) but titillated me and aroused the senses. This music was hard and heavy and somehow intrinsically for adults. It felt forbidden, so it was naturally attractive.
The Matrix was my introduction into a world of hard rock, hormones, confusion and excitement that would later define my teenage years. As the soundtrack pumped in my head at all hours (inevitably keeping me awake at night, sometimes tapping my foot under the sheets), I began to feel curious about this music and where it came from. I asked my sister one day "What is this?"
"Music from The Matrix," she replied.
"What is The Matrix?"
"An awesome movie that you're too young to watch," was her response.
This infuriated me. I was determined to see this movie. I began seeing trailers for the film on television (as it was just now coming out on home video) and I had no idea what they represented. I could not tease out the meaning of this film, what it was about, or what happened in it. All I knew was I had to see it. There were guns, action, loud music, and kung fu. It was like a wet dream. And indeed I did dream about it. I distinctly remember having at least one nocturnal excursion into this world that I had made up in my head, where action replaced the boredom and tediousness of daily life, and heroes were worshiped. I dreamed of watching this movie and loving it unconditionally. It began to feel like a close friend that I sorely missed.
One weekend my grandmother brought me to her house for a visit, and in the course of my usual merriment in her basement of toys, television, and computer games, she proposed we hit up the local video store and watch a movie. My heart skipped a beat. Now was my chance! I could finally see The Matrix. We browsed the aisles of the store, as she picked up movies at random, but I paid no mind to her suggestions. I was on a mission, a warpath. I wanted one thing and one thing only. Finally I found it. The cover itself screamed cool. All cool blue and grey-toned color scheme, badass dude with sunglasses in the middle gripping an assault rifle, the title all jagged in digital-techno lettering that seemed to sum up my fascination with computers and hacking as America transitioned into a new age, just as I too was being immersed in this world of technology. The Matrix appealed to me in every conceivable way; it seemed to arouse all five senses, stimulated me almost spiritually or sexually.
I showed it to my grandmother, who summarily dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "No way, Kevin. Too violent," she said.
I was crushed. Infuriated. Moved near to tears. As I was ushered toward the front door, mediocre movies in hand, I took one last glance behind me and longed for what was rapidly moving out of my grasp. It seemed like I would never get to watch this film. Adulthood could not come fast enough. Then I'd be able to watch whatever I wanted, when I wanted!
*
I did finally see The Matrix, although it was nearly another month. My sister picked it up for me in secret, I watched it huddled close to the television in my living room, eyes glued to the screen. I could not comprehend what I was seeing, watching it for the first time. I had little to no idea what was going on, what the plot was trying to communicate, and absolutely no clue what the themes of the movie represented or what it was trying to say. All I knew was it had action.
And oh boy, was the action glorious.
I loved it, lapped it up, couldn't get enough of it. I was a fuckin' action junkie, hooked from that point on. I re-enacted scenes in my bedroom, jumping around and diving onto my bed, arms outstretched, miming shooting pistols in slow motion.
More than halfway through the film, what I remember most clearly was seeing the scene in the elevator lobby where Neo and Trinity take down a group of armored guards and rip the place apart, before ascending higher into the building and detonating a bomb on the floors below. This was the moment I fell in love with cinema, head over heels fucking enamored with movies and what they could do, what they could stimulate inside me. Levels of excitement and pleasure previously unknown and normally reserved for the most carnal acts washed over me as I devoured that scene over and over, the climax coming when Neo dodges the bullets the agent fires at him in slow motion, arms outstretched, grimace on his face. I wanted so desperately to be this guy, to do the things he could. I wanted to escape the confines of my reality and live out my most wild fantasies. The Matrix opened all these doors and more within my mind, my imagination running amok.
I still know every frame, every beat, every bullet, every nuance of that scene by heart. The rest of the film from that point onward only sustained my orgasm every time I watched it. It was like being transported into a world of bliss that I could not have even imagined yet in my short life.
I cannot count how many times I've seen The Matrix since then. It instantly became and still remains to this day my favorite film of all time. As I grew into an adult, my taste expanded, my interests changed, I became more acquainted with the world and slowly but surely transitioned into and through puberty, and as I type this I am now twenty-one years of age, a man by any definition, but my love for The Matrix has not changed. I celebrate the entire trilogy, and can recall when I saved up enough money to buy all the films on blu-ray. I've seen every second of bonus material on those discs, they are stored in the special vault in my heart reserved just for The Matrix. Watching the film now is more like a ritual, but I do not feel as though I am going through the paces. It is like visiting an old friend, catching up, reminiscing on the good old days, kicking back a few beers. It can transport me from any state of mind back to childhood, innocence, ignorance, and bliss captured magnificently in my memory. It is a classic. It will not age, just as the boy playing outside on the swings, listening to heavy music, seeing above the neighbor's fence and beyond as he careens out, will never age, bound to that brief spot in time for eternity.
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