On Parkinson’s and Movies
It took me a while to realize that one of my greatest interests in science was rooted in a major passion for movies that I developed during Christmas 1985. Right before that holiday, I watched ‘Back to the Future’ for the first time. The movie immediately became my favorite because it resonated with me on multiple levels: adventure, action, love for family, and the profound concept that children can sometimes help their parents. On top of all that, there were guitars and music.
There were three scenes involving guitars, all of them crucial elements of the storytelling.
The opening scene, with the mini guitar and the massive amp, reflects a dream that all young guitarists have at some point in life: to move air—and not just air—with your music.
Then, there was the school audition scene—a major fiasco that all musicians, whether professional or amateur, are familiar with.
The third scene was a moment of redemption, and arguably the most important of the movie. After ensuring his parents’ first kiss, Marty is asked to play ‘something that really cooks.’ He launches into ‘Johnny B. Goode’ by Chuck Berry.
We all know how the scene develops: Marty loses himself in the music, moving from 1955 rock-and-roll into a frantic medley of future styles: Pete Townshend’s windmill, Angus Young’s floor-kicking, and Eddie Van Halen’s finger-tapping.
As an 8 year-old boy, I was so impressed by the energy and the power of my new idol who commanded that Gibson with such incredible motor precision and agility.
There is a profound paradox in seeing my childhood hero become the global face of a condition that robs a person of that very movement. Michael J. Fox transformed his diagnosis into a global scientific mission, and in a way, I subconsciously followed that same trail.
The Gibson ES-335—though the one in the movie was actually an ES-345—has been a lifelong dream for me. For years, it was something I could only experience in films and fantasies. Then, five years ago, I felt I was finally musically ready to take the plunge. I bought it.
After a couple of years, I met with representatives from the Michael J. Fox Foundation, and the loop was finally closed.
Every time I pick up this guitar, the timeline of my life snaps into focus: it’s the bridge between the boy dreaming in 1985 and the doctor and investor searching for a cure today. It represents the heroes who taught me to look toward a future where—through vision, science, and the right song—we finally find the rhythm to heal what was once thought broken.
