Awadagin Pratt, one of my favorite pianists, taught a master class at the Cleveland Institute of Music. He had a difficult time with the first student, trying to explain carefully that she needed to play with significantly more depth and emotion. The other two students sounded pretty good playing Brahms (two Op. 10 Ballades) and Busoni's transcription of the Bach Chaconne, after which Awadagin helped them sound even better. Most of the audience had dissipated by the end, which puzzled me: attending the master class was free, the teacher was very good, the music was lovely, and the students' playing improved with time. Apparently this was not a sweet enough deal for some folks. Well, I got a big kick out of it!

Vic drove Coach (Gabe), Hot Dog (Roth), Hank, and me to BS&G for dinner. I once again topped $4,000 and made class A in Crazy Taxi (ranked 22 overall). Then we went to the Macedonia Cinemark to see The Hurricane. The overarching standard story elements beg comparison to October Sky. The latter manages to distance itself sufficiently from its plot's ineluctable platitudes, rendering the story more akin to a self-aware parable than to a self-indulgent retelling of an overwrought tale. Where October Sky treads lightly, The Hurricane digs in its heels, holds its ground, and strikes repeated blows to the viewer's head. There is a remarkable absence of subtlety. The viewer watches the Canadians move proximate to Rubin Carter's prison and lawyers, in order to help fight the fight, only to then hear them explicitly defend their motive and dedication in another scene with “We moved here”. And so forth. Their actions obviate the need for explanation, yet it is explanation we are served. Surely it is possible to allow the development of the plot to speak for itself? The redundancy adds up to unnecessary length — unnecessary, because the length does not serve the movie's purpose, whatever it may be. The theme is unclear: Justice? The human spirit? Or is it just a documentary? All told, I was not impressed with the film.