On May 23rd, 2009, I graduated from Pacific University with a major in Bioinformatics. I’ve got a framed bit of paper on my wall to prove it. My GPA wasn’t the best, but I found my academic passions there and I learned a lot about them. I made my mark on campus with various jobs and friendships. I earned several great accomplishments of which I will always be very proud.

I thought I was in for a bright future, as did all of my friends, teachers, advisers and family. Then the banking crisis of 2008 took its toll.

For a year and a half now, I’ve been struggling to find my way. Filling out job applications that no one reads, sending resumes that go nowhere, reading one rejection form e-mail after another and sitting down for interviews with people who won’t e-mail back despite all promises to the contrary. It’s so very easy to take this personally, though I know there’s nothing personal about it. So many of my friends and family members — all brilliant young minds and hard workers — are just as incapable of finding a worthy occupation. I am of a displaced generation, freshly coming into adulthood with nothing but a void to greet us.

It is some relief, however, to know that this isn’t necessarily new.

The Graduate, released way back in 1967, tells the story of a fresh college alumnus named Benjamin Braddock. Though we learn that he won some scholastic award and racked up an impressive list of athletic accomplishments, we never learn what his major was. It doesn’t matter. In fact, absolutely none of that matters — he’s in the “real world” now. Whether Ben likes it or not, his graduation has thrust him into the world of grown-ups, which college did absolutely nothing to prepare him for.

From the movie’s very outset, when Ben first graduated, the only thing he wanted was a future. He wanted to know where to go and what to do next. None of his parents nor his parents’ friends show any interest or ability in helping him with this. One gentleman offers him a single useless (albeit prophetic) word about the future, but that’s it. Everyone else is living vicariously through him while speaking to him in a strange and empty pseudo-talk that he doesn’t really know how to interpret. They’re talking without speaking and hearing without listening. Playing a game with unwritten and nonsensical rules.

No one is guiltier of this than Mrs. Robinson.

From her very first appearance onscreen, Mrs. Robinson submerges our protagonist way over his head with the doublespeak, manipulations and implications that Ben has proven he can’t handle. Later on, she goes so far as to block Ben’s wooing of her daughter for no better reason than because Elaine is better and stronger than Mrs. Robinson ever was. Mrs. Robinson clearly has a lot of regrets about her past, all of which she’s trying to forget by using Ben to make her feel young again. And when that illusion falls apart, she resorts to the meanest possible lies and tricks to ensure that neither Ben nor Elaine will ever be happy. Sure, she’s a tragic character, but that doesn’t make Mrs. Robinson any less of a bitch.

Thirdly, we have Elaine. In this entire movie, she’s the only one that Ben can comfortably talk with. In fact, given the implications made about Ben’s love life, she’s probably the only girl that he’s felt comfortable talking with for quite some time. However, there is a dividing line: She’s still in college. She’s in the same quasi-adult stage that Ben is, but it takes her a while to realize that because she’s younger and still living in that collegiate bubble.

Together, Elaine and her mother represent Ben’s trial by fire. He never really gets a chance to pursue a job or graduate school, just one of these two women and all that they represent. With Mrs. Robinson, Ben gets a chance at growing acclimated to the lies and duplicities of what she and her peers call life, with all of the iron expectations that come with it. But in the end, he rejects that in favor of Elaine, a woman every bit as open, honest and uncertain as he is.

The Ben/Elaine arc ultimately represents two things at once. First, she’s young, her mother is old and there’s a long stretch of the movie in which they both want nothing to do with him. To me, this is symbolic of the fact that Ben himself is neither young nor old. He’s caught in the middle and trying to figure out what to make of that. Secondly, Ben sees in Elaine the one thing that he’s been so anxiously waiting for: Something attainable to work toward. She may be a signpost pointing to a new direction or she may be only a mirage to that effect, but she’s the first sign of a bright future that Ben’s had since graduation and he’ll keep chasing that sign until the bitter end.

So how does it end? Well, through Mr. Robinson, we see exactly what his wife’s mendacities have wrought. He’s deeply unhappy and in the middle of divorce, his wife is even more spiteful than ever and they’re both determined on some level to see that their daughter ends up as miserable as they are. However, Elaine chooses independence with Ben. The last shot shows their uncertainty at what’s ahead, but at least they now have someone to support and love them. It may not be much and it may not last forever, but it’s a start and it’s more than they originally had.

On a technical level, the film is amazing. Sometimes, the visuals are very intimate in how they show exactly what’s going on in our characters’ heads. This is especially apparent during the opening party and the scuba scene, but there are also a few scenes that keep the characters’ faces in darkness or shadow, reflecting their unsure feelings at the moment. The sound design also plays a part in this, particularly in the aforementioned scuba scene and also at the climactic wedding. Other times, the camera is very much an external party, staying on the streets as Ben approaches Mrs. Robinson’s house and giving him a moment of privacy with Elaine at the drive-in.

The music from Simon and Garfunkel is extraordinary, though I felt it could have been better-utilized. “The Sound of Silence,” for example, was used in no less than three scenes. There was also a long stretch of the movie that played “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme,” interrupted occasionally by brief exchanges of dialogue or moments of total silence. It’s a beautiful song, to be sure, but quite repetitive and I found its stop-start usage a bit unsettling. Oh, and “Mrs. Robinson” was played a grand total of once — twice if you count the scene in which Ben is inexplicably whistling the song.

The actors all turn in masterful performances, anchored around our lead trio. The young Dustin Hoffman does discomfort and determination equally well and his sincere charm keeps the character likable even as he’s pretty much stalking Elaine. Anne Bancroft’s performance is nothing short of legendary, playing Mrs. Robinson with dull loathing concealed by sex appeal. She effortlessly plays a woman pushing sixty, yet Bancroft herself was only in her late thirties at the time of filming. Finally, I find it completely impossible to not fall in love with Katharine Ross in this role. She’s beautiful, she’s shy, she so perfectly nails the character’s thinly-contained uncertainty and she does strained patience exceptionally well.

But the real star of this movie is Buck Henry. So much of Ben’s characterization depends on his inability to communicate with those around him, and Henry’s screenwriting finesse is really what makes this work. He can do comedic banter like nobody else and those same chops go toward brilliantly written exchanges between someone who knows all the rules but won’t tell and a guy who’s trying to understand but simply can’t. The end result is funny and sympathetic in just the right amounts. It’s absolutely incredible.

The Graduate came to me at precisely the right time in my life and I’m very thankful for it. If you are now or have ever been a college student, I urge you to watch this movie. I sincerely hope it touches you the way it did me.