Happy 40th, Close Encounters, and thank you

Close Encounters of the Third Kind is my favorite movie of all-time.

That's not a distinction I make lightly. I love all kinds of films -- Oscar winners and independent movies that don't get nominations, big-budget movies and those made on a shoestring budget, black and white or color. I have a laundry list of favorite actors and directors and make it a point to see all their films. But this one ... this is the one that has always stayed closest to my heart.

I don't remember the first time I saw it, I just recall repeated viewings on HBO and ABC. I've seen it in theaters a couple times over the past year and then again in otherwise complete darkness in front of Devils Tower a couple months ago. And even though I can recite all the lines with it, I never fail to be amazed and knocked out by it.

Like Francois Truffaut's Claude Lacombe asks in the movie, "Why?" Well, as a 10-year-old, it was bright and flashy and had a beautiful message. There is other life in the universe, and although the visitors might be a little frightening when they appear, ultimately they come in peace. They even communicate with us through music.

Some 40 years later, debates continue to rage on about Richard Dreyfuss' Roy Neary leaving his family behind to go on his ultimate adventure. How could he do it? Why would he do it? Even director Steven Spielberg has admitted the movie doesn't hold true to the person he became in the ensuing years. But even though he wrote it and helmed it, this is not Steven's story. It's Roy's. Ultimately, Spielberg is just servicing the tale of the character he created.

It says a lot about the time period Neary existed in. Families were starting to fall apart, children were confused by that. They didn't understand why one day everything could look so great and Dad could be the center of the universe, and the next day, all that could change. It happened to me and my family a few years later. It was happening to many others in that era.

Roy Neary is going on a journey. It's one that almost nobody around him understands. He meets Melinda Dillon's Jillian Guiler, she's on her own odyssey. Her son, Barry (Cary Guffey) forges a connection with these creatures. To him, they're playful and exciting. To her, they're something to be feared. But once they "borrow" her son, Jillian's as determined as Roy to buck the system to get to the place where she thinks she can find answers.

Dreyfuss, Dillon and Truffaut are supported by an array of supporting characters and they may not have garnered as much screen time but they're so essential to the film. Bob Balaban as cartographer-turned-interpreter Laughlin can be considered the audience's view. Arriving in the wind-swept desert and seeing the results of an encounter in the opening minutes, Laughlin is wide-eyed and a bit befuddled. He's been at conferences, but he didn't really comprehend the magnitude until he saw Flight 19 planes in perfect condition in the middle of the desert.

Lance Henriksen says almost nothing in the film, but as Robert, the bodyguard for Truffaut, I find myself seeking him out in the frame. When a cavalcade of UFOs of all shapes and sizes descend upon Devils Tower and the mothership later rises into view, I always think on his behalf, "How the hell am I supposed to protect him from this?"

There aren't any typical bad guys in the film, aside from perhaps the Army (led by Warren Kemmerlings' Major Walsh) trying to keep people from seeing what's going on at Devils Tower. OK, they're baddies, they gassed poor Larry, a bunch of birds and some farm animals. But they're only going to sleep for a few hours and wake up with a helluva headache.

You also can't hold anything against Teri Garr's Ronnie Neary. The protypical '70s housewife doesn't understand what's going on with her spouse. She's just trying to protect her children when her husband loses his job and obsesses about lights in the night skies.

Even though I've seen this film in the triple digits. I still discover new things about it all the time. Just recently, I noticed that possibly the oldest character in the film -- the Spanish-speaking sun-burned onlooker in the desert -- and one of the youngest, Barry, describe the mothership the same way: "The sun came out tonight," the elder says in halting Spanish. "Mom, look, the sun's here," Barry echoes when the aliens pick him up for a sleepover.

But the biggest eye-opener for me came on our own recent foray to Devils Tower. Mark and I set out to recreate as many shots as we could. What we found out is that director of photography Vilmos Zsigmond's work was even more impressive than we originally thought. Just the one shot of Roy driving a rental car in Moorcroft, Wyoming, proved to be a tricky matchup. No wonder he won the Oscar for cinematography. Every shot is so precise and distinctive, nothing is thrown away.

One of the surprises on location was that Roy and Jillian's first sight of the Tower is not as far away as it appears to be in the movie. Actually, the hill they climb up is just right around the corner. And not too far away from that, a couple of other scenes from the film were shot. That makes a lot of sense, since at "magic hour" every night during filming, the cast and crew stopped what they were doing so they could get scenes filmed at the monument.

And 40 years later, you know what else is amazing? How the groundbreaking, painstaking practical effects of UFOs whizzing by hold up better than anything on a big-budget, green-screen film. It doesn't look fake or false at all. So many people to commend on this front -- Douglas Trumbull advancing the industry with motion control photography, mothership designer Ralph McQuarrie, effects wizard Roy Arbogast, editor Michael Kahn (on his first Speilberg project) and all their teams.

Don't want to forget production designer Joe Alves, who found Devils Tower (with Jaws co-writer/actor Carl Gottlieb's assistance) and the other locations as well as building the box canyon on the largest set anyone had ever seen at this point in motion picture industry. Credit Alves for the gorgeous brightly colored board visualizing the sounds shared between the humans and the aliens. But, of course, save some accolades for the legendary John Williams. Not only for the five-tone greeting that we know so well, but also for the score that heightens the action and consequences for over two hours.

Most of all, to Steven Spielberg. He might not have made the same film today, but he made it the way it needed to be told at the time. It's Roy's story, and in some way, it's also my own. Not one of building Devils Tower in my living room and boarding a spaceship, not one of meeting aliens, but just taking a journey that has woven its way through the fabric of my life. One I'm immensely grateful for and still get so much joy out of encountering time and time again.

No need to cry on the horsey

Going to pop-culture conventions with my Sestra is a blast. We get to speak with people whose work has really touched us. The risk you run, though, is that over the course of just a minute or two, impressions can be irrevocably changed ... and sometimes not for the better.

Celebs at these functions usually fit into three categories -- ones who really get it, they might have been/still are fan girls and boys themselves. They make you feel like you're the only person they will meet that day. Then there are the ones who are very cordial -- as actors there's probably a reason they succeeded on that career path, right? And then there are those apparently there to rack up some fast cash. They couldn't care less and make you feel that way as well.

With that in mind, we headed to Spooky Empire in Orlando. The big draw for me was Richard Dreyfuss. I love compiling lists -- and Dreyfuss starred in my first three favorite movies -- Jaws, Close Encounters of the Third Kind and The Goodbye Girl. That made me a major fan, I've seen those movies in the triple-digits apiece and the bulk of his work since -- much of it in actual theaters upon release.

But Richard wasn't scheduled to be there until the second day, and we had some great familiar faces to meet the first night. Starting with Daphne Zuniga. We've seen her so many things in movies and on TV over the years with The Sure Thing and Spaceballs at the top of the heap.

Put her in the top celeb category, she was so engaging and attentive. Sestra showed her a Spaceballs magazine she hadn't seen before, and I explained to her that as a journalism major in college, an article on The Sure Thing was one of the first things I had published in the school paper. I tried to induce her to tell me the juicier details of The Sure Thing shoot. But after hypothesizing that I was still in journalism and might reveal tales not for publication, that fell by the wayside.

Daphne did say that the movie was cast perfectly, when she was 19 and co-star John Cusack was 16, and that they both were those characters. "I was like, come on, kid," she said about him joking around on the set. Zuniga remembered director Rob Reiner compelling them to enjoy the experience, because they had no idea how the finished product would fare in the marketplace. "And to this day, after 30 years, I still love it," she added. We do too.

She also talked about being pulled into a fun Twitter exchange with Mark Hamill and William Shatner, who have engaged in a light-hearted social media battle of Star Wars vs. Star Trek. "What would Princess Vespa say?" Bill tweeted at her. Daphne's perfect response? "She'd say whatever Mel Brooks told her to say."

We also spent time with two-fifths of The Breakfast Club. I praised Molly Ringwald for her excellent piece in The New Yorker in the wake of the Harvey Weinstein accusations and said I was really looking forward to the movie's upcoming Criterion Collection release on Jan. 2. Molly said she was too, adding that I should look into Criteron's streaming service, which enables viewers to see all the incredible extras on Criterion releases.

Sestra brought an excellent press booklet for The Breakfast Club she picked up in London to be autographed and Ringwald was so intrigued by it that she painstakingly took pictures of each page of her bio. Anthony Michael Hall -- who introduced himself to us as Michael -- wasn't quite as interested in his, but he was very polite and sweet.

The next day I dressed up as UFO-burned Jillian Guiler from Close Encounters of the Third Kind -- I think I might have been more recognizable if a buddy from the CE3K group who has a Roy Neary flight suit was able to make the event -- and prepared to meet Dreyfuss. I had a spiel prepared for weeks, about how "the fish movie and the alien movie and the Oscar movie made him one of my favorite actors for life." And then that bit about seeing all his movies, many of them in the theaters. It's easy to forget your lines when you get in front of the person, though.

Thanks to Sis, we had the fast pass, which put us behind the VIPs but ahead of general admission fans. That made it roughly a 90-minute wait -- he left for about 20 minutes for a pro photo op -- but I got a little jump-start when Richard animatedly waved at me while heading out for the shoot. I must have exclaimed, "He waved at me!" 10 times.

Usually I'm a quivering mess when it comes to meeting someone who looms so large, but I was able to keep calm enough to take pictures for Sestra, who creatively wished him a happy birthday with a special meme. I got my spiel out largely as practiced for a couple weeks before the event. But I wasn't prepped for his jovial response. Without missing a beat, he said, "You have impeccable taste."

Then I asked Dreyfuss if he knew who I was dressed up as. "I know who I think you are," Richard said. "Who am I?" I responded. "I'd be arrested if I told you what I was thinking," he continued. That might have had something to do with the cleavage and the luscious blonde locks. No wonder I got the animated wave! He penned that sentiment on the Jaws lobby card I brought for him to sign -- I'm pretty sure not many people can say they have something like that in their collection.

When I got to the Close Encounters lobby card, I said it was my favorite film of all and congratulated him on the 40th anniversary. "This is the one I expect to outlive me," Dreyfuss said. With all the films he has to choose from, I was taken aback and sincerely touched by that. We have a whole group of people on Facebook who will eagerly back me up on that sentiment.

I told him Mark and I had just gotten back from Devils Tower, where we spent some time recreating scenes shot by Oscar-winning director of photography Vilmos Zsigmond. Richard said Vilmos was very, very special and had enjoyed his visit to Steven Spielberg so much on the set of Jaws that he stayed in Martha's Vineyard (as his summer home) for the rest of his life. Dreyfuss also let me on a little secret, he had gotten to spend time with another CE3K alumnus earlier in the day -- Cary Guffey who played Barry Guiler in the film at the tender age of 4.

And then on to the third lobby card for The Goodbye Girl, the movie for which Richard won the Academy Award as Best Actor. I told him about how special it was since I watched it many, many times with my mom. "There's something about this one, I've never had more fun," he said. "I've had a lot of fun filming different movies for different reasons, but not like this one. I don't know why..." That was left hanging in the air, so that anyone with half a brain -- like me at that moment -- would know he meant the Oscar, the first one given to a male lead in a comedy. "You sure love a love story," I said off the cuff, echoing Elliot Garfield's sentiment at the end of the film. I wound up having five minutes in his company, a pretty solid amount of time for a man with a healthy line of eager fans.

It was a lot of fun posing for some pictures at the table and then again at the end of the day. Now I was back to my normal hair color (sorta), had washed off my sunburn and donned a Moon Over Parador shirt -- another of my favorite Dreyfuss movies. When it was my turn to take the posed picture by "Jaws," I told him my name again and he said, "I remember." See, he's a really good actor, because I ate that one up, even though I looked entirely different at this point.

Richard rested his head against me and then pulled away, and I immediately said, "No, no, come back!" So he obliged and leaned on me again as the photographer took the shot. But sensing he wasn't looking into the camera -- which proved to be true -- Dreyfuss asked her to take another picture. I got both of them for the price of one.

I added another signature to my ongoing X-Files project at Spooky Empire too. Stan Shaw -- who outside of his guest appearance in the Season 9 episode "Audrey Pauley" I probably know best from Fried Green Tomatoes -- didn't have a picture in The Complete X-Files book, but I wanted to talk with him about the late, great director Kim Manners and one of my favorite shows of the final season of the original run.

In "Audrey Pauley," Shaw's character, Stephen Murdoch, gets trapped with Monica Reyes (Annabeth Gish) while hanging on between life and death at a hospital. Stan recalled getting a call about the role from Manners, whom he knew from around town. The next day he was on set. "Kim's great," Shaw said. "The scene when I was in (Monica's) arms and disappeared, they had three people pulling me out of the frame as the camera moved around. It was magic."

So now I'll spare as much time for the guest who belongs in that lowest category as he did for me. It may be standard policy for celebs to do a table combo price, but not so John Cusack. It was full price for a photo and full price for a signature. This was after his sister, Joan, bowed out the day before the con opened, squashing our sibling pro photo op.

Anyhow, since I had Zuniga sign my Sure Thing DVD cover, I felt compelled to complete the set with John. It was super quick and he wrote right over Nicollette Sheridan. Sestra wasn't allowed to take a picture of me getting the autograph. "Oh yeah, Daphne's here too," Cusack said to me from underneath his ballcap. That would be the signature next to yours, John, I thought. And that was about it. But if my opinion was irrevocably altered, I didn't even notice. I was somewhere up about as high as the CE3K spaceship climbs after picking up Dreyfuss at Devils Tower.

The Jedi strikes back

It was a veritable Star Wars Celebration for us at New York Comic Con this year.

We briefly met the Jedi, experienced Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens with a whole different mindset as a full orchestra fleshed out John Williams' scores and enjoyed Mark Hamill's self-deprecating one-man show. Too bad we missed out on The X-Files panel Sunday, but that really wouldn't have fit into the structure of said Celebration anyway. (And anyway the Con-goers who got in didn't see a preview of the first ep of the season like we did a couple years ago.)

But back to the first day of the con. Getting off the train at Penn Station, we quickly spotted signs of NYCC in full swing, with all makes and models of princesses and superheroes making their way over to the Javitz Center. As we neared the venue, the cosplay increased in direct proportion with the decreased open-mouthed head-shrugging New Yorkers.

For that opening day, Sestra and I donned our latest custom-made obscure outfits -- Team Slesar and Team Matheson shirts (with respective hashtags of #Hitchcock and #Zone). No one asked us about them, although one guy did want to take a picture with each of us. That was bizarre, but you come to embrace bizarre at conventions.

This year, Sis and I tried to win special lotteries from exclusive panels to cast signings for the various shows. Sis was lucky enough to snare inclusion to the Supermansion session, which featured an All-Star cast topped by Bryan Cranston and Seth Green. My lone victory was the chance to go to the Lego store and purchase a Star Wars Con exclusive. But I wasn't willing to give up on the exclusive Lore signing. The Amazon series hadn't gone live yet, but with the pedigree of Gale Anne Hurd producing a show based on Aaron Mahnke's famed podcast and Robert Patrick starring in one of the episodes, I really wanted to be there.

I renewed ties with my Krycek buddy, Kelli, from DragonCon, and we resolved to get into that signing come hell or high water. It helped a bit that the program was misleading, insinuating that we could get into the signing if we made our way to the book seller's booth. We did that and were promptly told to go back to the line. They wouldn't let us in, stating that we could try four free hotspots around the Javitz Center that might have tickets to the event as prizes. We tried all four and didn't win a thing, so back down to the line we went. At some point, they could tell we were really interested in the series -- plus the line wasn't all that long -- so we were queued up with the lucky ticket holders.

It wasn't until about a half-hour later that we realized Patrick wasn't going to be there after all. This proved to be a recurring event for the exclusive NYCC events. (At Supermansion, OK, we weren't too surprised that Cranston wasn't in attendance. But Green -- who was at the con for the weekend -- probably should have been there for Sestra's exclusive signing and wasn't.) Don't register mine as a complaint, though, because it was cool to meet Mahnke and Hurd and tell them and the assembled cast how much I was looking forward to seeing the new show.

Sestra and I spent the bulk of the first day in the vendor room, picking up an array of free, albeit heavy, books -- among other collectibles -- that we wound up toting more than 25 blocks to Lincoln Center to watch the New York Philharmonic brilliantly perform John Williams' iconic score for Return of the Jedi as the movie played behind them. That first show we had amazing seats in the first box, stage right. It gave us such an unusual perspective of the orchestra -- we could even tell which musicians watched the movie and which just sat in their seats to play again. It was a truly unique and dazzling way to watch a film. Plus -- as two of the first 500 attendees -- we both got light sabers as well!

On Friday, we awaited one of the crown jewels of the weekend -- our photo op with Mark Hamill. We knew the drill -- you wait and wait and then get shuffled in for 10 seconds with the man. But it was kind of a delightful 10 seconds. He was doing an array of poses -- Sis was particularly glad we didn't get his trademark point in our sweet shot. Then he shook both our hands and told us to "Have a fun day!" It's gonna be hard to top that part of it, Jedi.

One of the non-Star Wars-related things I wanted to do was meet Nolan North. He was the only non-General Hospital character on the GH spinoff Port Charles who I liked. Since then, he's made quite the career for himself -- largely in voice work in animation and movies (Guardians of the Galaxy, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and so much more), but also in Pretty Little Liars and the hilarious Con Man.

When I got to the front of his line, I told him I was a fan from his very first iMDB acting credit -- at present, he has 362 to his name. Looking at it now, I see the video game Interstate '82 before Port Charles, maybe that's why he seemed a little surprised. He told me his son wasn't even born when he was on the soap, and they recently watched clips from the show on YouTube, howling about the frosted tips of Chris' hair. "I look soooo young," Nolan said. "You still look soooo young," I responded. Not surprisingly, he appreciated that.

I mentioned that I had yet to see the two seasons of Con Man -- the crowd-funded show that sort of sends up the very event that we were meeting at -- spearheaded by Alan Tudyk and Nathan Fillion, which led to a discussion on how the streaming landscape has changed in the past couple years. And then we both waxed poetic on Fillion -- one of his favorite people in the world -- before I departed.

Sestra pre-purchased a book to get the opportunity to meet cult favorite Bruce Campbell. Perhaps "meet" is too strong a word, basically books were being shoveled to him and he signed them and moved on before the fans got much of a chance to get a word in edgewise. I didn't have my X-Files yearbook with me, but since he had guested on the show, I wanted his autograph for that ongoing project. Den of Geek's Con magazine had a preview of The X-Files' 11th season on the cover, and although he wasn't in the article, we decided to have him sign that for me. As Sis recalled it, he looked at it strangely (perhaps bizarre since the official list of what he would sign included marriage licenses), then said, "Oh, I did an episode of X-Files."

We went back to Lincoln Center for the New York Philharmonic's take on The Force Awakens. This time I spent more time watching the movie than the orchestra, probably a byproduct of the fact we were now sitting in the back of the venue and the fact that I don't know that film quite as well as Jedi. It wasn't any less appealing and I probably gained more appreciation for Episode 7 than I previously had. And we added two more light sabers to the tally. I did note that Mark Hamill's screen time was very close to the amount of time he spent with us in the photo op. As Sestra later quipped, he actually said more to us than he did in the film.

Before our con weekend capped with "Hamillstein," Mark's one-man show at the Hammerstein Ballroom, I was looking forward to the panel for Sarah Shahi's new program, Reverie. We got to see the first episode and it seemed to have an intriguing premise -- her character, Mara Kint, is sent to retrieve people who prefer living in an advanced virtual reality program to the real world. Not sure how they're going to be able to sustain that for a season or beyond, but I'm definitely willing to give that one a chance.

It was interesting when Shahi talked about people getting disconnected during the Q&A -- which also featured co-stars Dennis Haysbert, Sendhil Ramamurthy, Kathryn Morris and Jessica Lu."We need to look up from our phones," she said. "Technology is isolating by design." I looked around the room and just about everyone was looking down at their phones, taking pictures and posting on social media. Use it and enjoy it, but don't let it run your life, Sarah said in essence. But her message wasn't really hitting home at that moment.

The cast exited as I was waiting to meet up with Sestra and they went over to take some pictures in front of a huge banner for the show. I wound up riding a neighboring escalator up and down about six times so I could get the perfect picture of them posed in front of it.

Apparently we weren't the only ones unsure of what Mark Hamill's one-man show would be for our grand finale. After making a hilarious entrance that mirrored the scene at the end of The Force Awakens, he tossed off the hood of his robe and cackled. And then proceeded us to just tell us stories about his career for the next couple hours.

Now one might suppose that attendees wanted to hear just about the Star Wars saga, but I'm here to tell you the response to mention of his work as The Joker and The Trickster garnered just as much applause from the assembled crowd. Although his show wasn't part of the Comic Con experience, most of the attendees did come from that direction.

The Star Wars stories were pretty legendary, though. Like how he thought at the outset of casting that he was supposed to the annoying sidekick to Han Solo. But nothing topped his heartfelt tribute to friend and co-star Carrie Fisher, who he loved like a sister -- although she could also irritate him in the way only a sister could as well. "She made everything more fun for me," Mark said. "She was all about having the most fun she could have all the time." A final very special salute was in order and we all joined in.

It was the perfect way to cap off our mini-Star Wars Celebration.

At the end of the Rainbow

We started the season with an Eric Clapton concert, so it's fitting to close one that really gave me the blues with another even better one. And then to cap off the weekend, we had another ticket for the once- in-a-lifetime experience of Pete Townshend at Lincoln Center with Quadrophenia.

In April, E.C. was illin', on Sept. 8, he was chillin'. There was no reason to cry. We haven't seen Eric this loose and happy in quite a while, and it really showed in his performance. Well all right, he delivered kind of a modern-day greatest hits collection, but it sounded great all the same.

Let me offer a few disparaging words about the setlist before I get back to the effusiveness. When you have all of Madison Square Garden on our collective feet, you probably shouldn't start off with songs designed to have us sit back down. The setlist generator was clearly broken. "Someone's Knockin'" into "Key to the Highway" into the now tried-and-true "Hoochie Coochie Man" is kind of a backless start.



Eric came out from behind the sun with "I Shot the Sheriff," and correct me if I'm wrong, but save a little forgivable flub -- flub, what flub? I don't remember any flub, the solos on that were the best they've been in a while. They do tend to cause flashbacks to the phenomenal shows of the early '90s and just how searing those solos could get, but Clapton's lone No. 1 song -- to date -- shows the resilience and relevance of Bob Marley's tune and the journeyman's way of delivering it.

The biggest surprise of the evening was the crowd's reaction to "Lay Down Sally." Mark was chuckling all the way through over how the audience went bonkers for that song. I reckon it's because three greatest hits compilations have been released in recent years and a sizable amount of the crowd must know the tracks from those releases. Either that or they watch a lot of VH-1.



But there was more evidence for the former supposition, as he rolled out other assorted love songs, the acoustic "Layla" -- now I understand why there wasn't a backup guitarist in the lineup -- "Tears in Heaven" and "Wonderful Tonight."

If there was one disappointment, it might be the overlooking of Don Williams, who passed earlier in the day, and someone very influential in Eric's late '70s run. With the ever-youthful Chris Stainton on keyboards still, couldn't we have gotten at least a dash of "Tulsa Time"? Then again, all the people who didn't get the "No Snow, No Show" reference on Mark's T-shirt probably wouldn't have understood that ditty without an explanation from Clapton.



I learned via Facebook that "White Room" returned to the setlist, and that was really the cream of the show for me. But once again, Eric got everyone on their feet, only to have us return to our chairs for "Wonderful Tonight." I don't know about the rest of the fogies, but I came to rock out.

We got the chance to do so on "Cocaine" -- I still haven't gotten over everyone not knowing from Nathan East's gorgeous bass line intro that the song's coming, only reacting when the drums kick in -- and then Clapton got back into Disraeli gear for "Sunshine of Your Love." It looked like Nathan enjoyed himself twice as much during the Cream numbers.

The capper brought openers Jimmie Vaughan and Gary Clark Jr. back on stage for a rousing "Before You Accuse Me,"  with Eric playing the Epiphone that Clark reportedly gave to him. And it was then one is reminded of Slowhand's staying power, because the opening acts kept it in the pocket in their respective solos while Eric showed there's just no one like him and there never will be. He's back home on the stage.



Vaughan and Clark Jr. set the scene so well, too bad most of the assembled couldn't have cared less -- well at least until Gary coerced them to look up from the cell phones and pay attention.  Jimmie wringed every last drop out of his vocals. He was a little fixated on what we'll call the flamenco-style arpeggio, but he sounded so much like his late brother, Stevie Ray, vocally on this night. "Texas Flood," with resonance to Hurricanes Harvey and Irma, was the understandable -- and rightful -- highlight.

Clark Jr. continues to prove he's just one of the best around. I proclaimed him "awwwwwe-some" after "When My Train Pulls In" and then he stepped to the microphone and said "This is kind of awesome." Then there's "Our Love," a song that sounds so gorgeously like a Prince song -- and bathed in purple light -- that I thought it was a cover. And then one to make sure the crowd was engaged, the Beatles cover "Come Together."

Now while we sort of knew what to expect from a Clapton show, that's how unaware we were of what Quadrophenia ultimately was going to be like. It's a totally different vibe to go to Lincoln Center, past the magnificent fountain outside and the incredible chandeliers inside, and experience a rock opera in a literal sense.

What we couldn't have possibly expected was Alfie Boe, the English tenor sliding seemingly effortlessly into the demanding role the world associates with Who frontman Roger Daltrey. He was not only pitch-perfect on the vocal gymnastics, but also tremendous and charismatic in his interactions on stage with Pete Townshend and Billy Idol, who popped on and off the stage as called for by their respective contributions.

Now Townshend has always shown something of a flair for the dramatic, so watching him take the stage for songs like "The Dirty Jobs" and "The Real Me" didn't seem that much of a stretch. And as Mark said, there's a pre-existing motif in Quadrophenia that just fit perfectly into the program they delivered before the packed and enthusiastic house at Lincoln Center.

Boe just killed it every possible way, particularly when signature song, "Love Reigns O'er Me," recurred throughout the program. We just felt it in every atom of our bodies, head to toe. Even writing the words down now months later, I can recollect the vibrance and resonance of his delivery.

So we got to experience two incredible legends -- and two of our absolute favorites -- in one remarkable weekend. Now more than ever, we seem to be treasuring our inspirations whenever we can see them, not knowing whether another such opportunity will come around again. With these two shows, it wasn't just about the occasion to do so, but to relish the likes of Clapton and Townshend enjoying what they can do and delivering on such a level that their respective shows provided a glowing example of who and what they still can be as performers and creative forces.