I had a roommate who occasionally substituted in elementary classrooms. One of his greatest pastimes was showing me pictures of his class and pointing out the future CEO, the future valedictorians, and, of course, the future pimps and hoes. They were all there- everyone we loved and dreaded- only mini-sized.

Does predetermination play a larger role in our lives than we dare admit? Is it fair to delude ourselves, and subsequent generations, with the ideal that “anyone can become president?” (Being a Korean adoptee, I was pissed when I finally found the fine print in fourth grade that excluded non-native citizens from that running. Pissed.)

“Give me a child until he is seven, and I will give you the man.” This is the premise for the 7 Up documentary series. The British network Grenada Television brought together 14 children with backgrounds ranging from private school prodigies to orphaned charity cases, all age seven, with the intention of checking back in seven-year increments. Originally, the filmmakers hoped to envision England in the year 2000. However, with the latest installment, 49 Up set for release October of this year, the project itself has developed its own life and its end seems just as unpredictable as any one of the participants’.

Beginning in 1964, all of the children are seven, but “when I grow up” ideations seem more a question of “when” than “if.” Charles, Andrew and John attend exclusive private schools and seem fairly certain of what lay ahead in the next ten to 15 years. Expensive pre-preparatory school (elementary) is just the start of a path that leads to more expensive schools and eventually arrives at Cambridge or Oxford. On the other hand is Paul who lives in a church run home for boys and attends public school but hasn’t yet learned the meaning of “university.”

The children are interviewed on a variety of topics including social interaction, class, the opposite sex, etc. When asked her ideas on “colored people,” Suzie, a girl who’s trust fund could feed a small country indefinitely, said, “No I don’t know anyone who’s colored… and I don’t care to know anyone who’s colored, thank you very much!” After watching that segment, I no longer feel guilty when calling certain children assholes (quietly, in my head.) Let’s call a spade a spade.

I wish I watched this documentary series with my old roommate so we could place bets on our favorite kid. Speculating which one of a class is the future Heidi Fleiss is fun, but waiting three days for the next Netflix to arrive rather than 20 years for them to grow up is better.

Author’s note: This is the first of seven installments that coincide with each episode of The Up Series to be concluded with the release of 49 Up in theatres October 13, 2006.

I used to love watching VH1’s Behind the Music. The marathon that ran one weekend my sophomore year stands outs as one of the brighter moments of high school. From REM to Hootie and his Blowfish, it was always compelling. Make no mistake, there was a formula- young hopefuls dreaming of stardom are given their break. The floodgates of fame break open and life’s a party, but there are allusions to sinister things to come. Then came the big (lip syncing, drug addiction, sex tape, or in the case of Poison, diabetes) tragedy/scandal. In said band’s darkest hour, a beacon of light shone through, in the form of a near death experience, Betty Ford or nameless model with an over-zealous “stand by your man” complex. I never lost faith that groups like Hootie and the Blowfish would overcome and release a new album, coincidentally as VH1 was premiering their episode.

And then I lost faith. After a couple years of this formulaic story telling with only names and dates changing, I became disenchanted. Honestly, is Jessica Simpson’s greatest hardship having a DD chest as a pop Christian artist?

Years later, documentaries filled the void left by Behind the Music. It’s true, fact is stranger than fiction. I was taken into a woman’s custom-built, multi-room tree house. I watched a WASP pick up a machine gun and join revolutionaries. I witnessed a modern day witch-hunt.

Recently, two documentaries arrived in my mailbox the same day. Paris is Burning, followed by Rize. I had heard much about both, but without being mentioned together. I first watched Paris is Burning. Set in 1980s New York City, Paris is Burning follows members of the lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, transgender, and queer scene into their gatherings known as balls where society’s castaways seek fame among their peers if nowhere else. The poorest become the most glamorous. The outcasts become the most accepted. The nameless become legendary. At these balls, a mixture of dance and presentation known as voguing began to emerge. People form “houses,” smaller groups within the larger LGBTQ community. In these houses, those dealing with coming out, or establishing gender identity could find role models to light the way where Mom and Dad’s traditional “birds and bees” monologue shed little light.

The next day I watched Rize, unsure whether to expect greatness from a video music director, or to give him the benefit of the doubt. (It turned out the be the latter.) I’m not sure if it was David La Chapelle’s glossiness, or just watching this movie in a particularly cynical mood, but I began to feel I’d seen it all before. However unintentional, Rize seemed to me a bigger budget Paris Is Burning. Replace 1988 with 2004. Move from New York to Los Angeles. Houses become clown groups. Call voguing, krumping. The LGBTQ community is changed to marginalized inner city youth. It seemed the same story with different names and dates.

I carried this reaction with me for a while. At the same time, I couldn’t shake feeling that the stories in Rize needed to be told. Here were two films devoid of sensationalism and acted more as a guide to an unaware general public. Neither was able to rely on being a spectacle. Whereas, watching Guerrilla: The Taking of Patty Hearst is about Patty Hearst, not me. However, in the case Paris Is Burning and Rize, or even my beloved Behind the Music to a point, beyond hype lay the human experience.

Am I better person for knowing about krumping? No. Still, be it krumping or voguing, or Hootie trying to go hip-hop, it’s important to see reflected in others our own hopes and strife. Paris Is Burning and Rize successfully do what great films strive to do- bridge the gap between the subject and the viewer by reminding us that, “We are gathered here today to get through this thing called life.”