"Do you want to hear my theory?"
"Of course."
"You and I have a special talent, and I saw it immediately."
"Tell me."
"We're the substitute people."
"Substitute people?"
"I've been a substitute person my whole life. I'm not an Ellen; I never wanted to be an Ellen. And I'm not a Cindy either, although Chucks loves me."
"I'm sure they do."
"I like being alone too much. I mean, I'm with a guy who's married to his academic career; I rarely see him. And I'm the substitute person there. I like it that way. It's a lot less pressure."

I don't know when Cameron Crowe came up with this dialog, between Claire (it's her theory) and Drew, but for me, I became The Substitute Boy in 1996. Or, rather, that's when I realized my status and nature as The Substitute Boy. I have always been one of Claire's substitute people; I've been substituting my entire life. (And there's the flip side of her theory, the part not explicated in Crowe's dialog: Substitute People not only sub for others, they substitute into their life false things, things and people and circumstances that are not real. They substitute bad stuff for their own lives.)

So clearly, a major motion picture representing the philosophy of this website is the obvious and natural choice for Official Movie of TSB. But there is more to it than that, including an understandable and unshakeable love for Kirstin Dunst, but that's true of most human beings.

The plot device of the movie is the unexpected death, by heart attack, of Drew's father, necessitating a trip across country for the memorial service and to return the remains home to Oregon. My mom died unexpectedly last year, also in the South, in Florida, and I flew from Oregon for her memorial. Fortunately, I did not have the other obligations; I just went and said goodbye. But like Drew, the going was healing. Being with my family, my brother and sister and the family I have, tenuously, through my mom's husband, was a very good thing. Hearing the remembrances of her friends, and sharing my own, helps me to deal with the distance between us that can never be changed. Like Drew and his father, the end came before we could do something "someday."

I have no connection to Kentucky, where the Elizabethtown of the title is located, but he did drive through Arkansas, where my father's mother came from. And I do love a good road trip, but I get as many as Drew does.

And I know the miracle of love that comes out of nowhere. Love always comes out of nowhere, because we live our lives either desperate for someone to love us or resigned to the fact that we will not find that person. Even those who are out, busy and screwing and seemingly on top of it all, they are in that same boat: Madly active either from hope or hopelessness. When we get lucky, when we collide into someone who recognizes in us what we see in them, then that's the big miracle. I just hope that the next it happens for me, I get the happy-ever-after ending and not the boy-loses-girl one I've endured so far.

As a movie, there's a lot about "Elizabethtown" I would fix, but as a substitute person, I embrace all that falls short. Having watched it twice in a row, I think that many of the flaws are not failings but the essence of what it means to be one of the substitute people. Subfolk just never get it right; it's not in our nature. The harder we try, the more of a mess we create. Claire speaks of her Ben, but we never see him; when Drew asks if he even exists, we nod knowlingly, as her refusal to answer the question makes us wonder just how much she is substituting beyond what she admits. "No pressure" in being alone, but what is there? Time to make maps and cd's — for someone else. Until you stop substituting drawings and recordings and photos and install yourself as the real thing. Until you stop taking the pictures and listening to the cd's and let the real enter, invade, create pressure. Love you.

So on behalf of the entire staff and community here at The Substitute Boy, we congratulate Cameron Crowe, Orlando Bloom and Kirstin Dunst on bringing to the screen the heart and soul of substitutism. In bestowing the title of "Official Movie of TSB" we acknowledge what should be most obvious: No movie can take the place of what hurts, what heals, and who loves. If any movie could, this might. But there is no substitute for the real thing. None.