Róisín Ingle . . . on letting go

“On my first visit to the cinema as a child to see Grease I remember not wanting to go home and wishing I could move in to Screen 1 at the Savoy – the seats seemed comfier than my bed – and just watch the movie on a loop forever. I was eight.”  )

“On my first visit to the cinema as a child to see Grease I remember not wanting to go home and wishing I could move in to Screen 1 at the Savoy – the seats seemed comfier than my bed – and just watch the movie on a loop forever. I was eight.” )

Sat, Mar 8, 2014, 01:00

By the time you read this I estimate (with my magic calculator) I will have listened to Let It Go from Frozen seven million and eight times. The animated Disney tale of two sisters Elsa and Anna, one with awesome powers to freeze stuff, has been the soundtrack of our lives since late last year when we took the children on their debut visit to the cinema. They haven’t been back to the cinema since but the song has stayed with us and quite possibly it will never leave.

On my first visit to the cinema as a child to see Grease I remember not wanting to go home and wishing I could move in to Screen 1 at the Savoy – the seats seemed comfier than my bed – and just watch the movie on a loop forever. I was eight.

My daughters were five on this first cinema visit to see Frozen . I think maybe they were too young or their beds are too comfortable but they didn’t take to the cinema experience. They weren’t fans of the lighting – too dark – or the fact that there were other people there – too noisy – or the size of the room – too big – but from the second Let It Go started, something stirred in them. When the first tinkly piano notes played they stopped complaining about the chairs – too squeaky – and were singing along “let it go, let it goooo!” with the first chorus before it had even finished. And after we left, half way through the movie, they were still singing it, this song they’d heard only once. They haven’t stopped since.

I don’t mind. I come home from work and instead of normal conversation about how many nits are in their hair or their newfound love of playing something they insist on calling “THE GAA!” they sing Let It Go . There is a protocol. If one of them starts the song they get to finish it with no interruptions. If you interrupt, they go back to the beginning so we’ve learnt to let them at it. Also, while they sing you have to pretend that the whole house is turning into an intricate ice palace because of their powers. There were actual hailstones the other day while one of them sang and I pity the fool who would have tried to persuade her that she wasn’t responsible for the ice balls falling from the sky.

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