Now and then, writing is as easy as watching the golden eagles sail over the hayfield. Lately, four of them have stopped by for a visit and they are incredible guests. Tip to tip, their wing span must be five feet and the shadows they cast on the ground make me feel like I've stepped into a scene from Jurassic Park with the pterodactyls in flight. Then there are times when writing is simply hard work. Today's post is one of those; I've been struggling with it for nearly three days.
It all started Sunday evening when I watched the 2008 Will Smith film Seven Pounds on DVD. I like Will Smith a great deal and particularly enjoyed his portrayal of the off-beat super hero Hancock. He is incredible in Seven Pounds but I can't talk about his role without referring to an earlier one that featured the late Bobby Darin. Darin was a popular singer in the 1960s and the subject of the 2004 Kevin Spacey biopic, Beyond the Sea.
Darin co-stars in the 1963 film, Captain Newman, MD with Gregory Peck, a story about an army psychiatrist in the closing days of World War II. Darin's character was a gunner on a B-17 shot down over Europe and he is dominated by a tremendous sense of guilt for having abandoned his best friend to die in the crash. In truth, there was nothing he could have done -- the plane exploded soon after impact, but instead of turning back at his friend's cry for help, he ran for his life.
At one point in their psychotherapy, Newman (Peck) suggests his guilt demands penance and perhaps cutting off a foot or hand would be sufficient. "That's crazy, Doc," says Darin, "You're nuts! That won't bring Big Jim back."
"Neither will all the things you're doing to torture yourself," replies Newman.
Perhaps it's because Darin had someone who was willing to face the pain with him, but he found a way to see it for what it was. In Seven Pounds, Will Smith's character never takes the time to look. A tragic accident, the result of a moment his eyes left the road to focus on his cell phone, claimed the life of his wife and seven others. Throughout the remainder of the film, Smith searches for individuals whom he deems worthy of life and systematically, he gives one his home and to the rest, a portion of his lung, a kidney, part of his liver, and following his suicide, his corneas and heart. Quite literally, Smith tries to pay off his guilt piece by piece.
The filmmakers describe the movie as a redemption story and I suspect Smith's character was intended to appear incredibly generous. But this isn't redemption: it's punishment and Smith's character acts as judge, jury, and executioner.
What concerns me about this film is the way it romanticizes suicide, and maybe in Hollywood, suicide is romantic. Maybe in that place where reality is replaced by fantasy, things don't hurt that badly. But in the real world, suicide is far from romantic. I've had to make the phone call and inform someone their son-daughter-wife-husband has killed themselves. All the king's horses and all the king's men are never quite able to put Humpty Dumpty together again, just so. Suicide leaves scars and those who are left behind have to live with them.
If there is anything redemptive about Seven Pounds it's this: when someone has experienced a loss, when they appear sad and irritable all at once, and begin giving treasures away, don't hesitate to be nosy. Don't hesitate to call for help, especially if they tell you everything's fine and you aren't convinced. They may become angry and accuse you of "meddling," and you may not think they'll get over it, but at least they'll be alive and the potential for reconcilliation will be there. Yes, Smith's character made a contribution to the lives of persons in the film, but we'll never know how many more he could have helped had he lived.
No comments:
Post a Comment