The Fundamental Crisis (Existential Violence, part two)

Philosophers have been debating the meaning of life for... well, for longer than there have been philosophers. It was probably this question, in fact, that birthed philosophy. What is existence and what does it mean? What does it mean that "I am"? All of which led to existentialism, which is not exactly related to the existential crisis.

And none of which is related in any way to any time a high school student says, "It's, like, so existential, dude."

While existentialism may have to do with existence and what it is; the existential crisis has to do, specifically, with the meaning of that existence. "Does my life have meaning?" or some variation of that question. Maybe a better way of putting it is, "What's the point of all of this?" Honestly, it's not a bad question to ask, though it may be the cause of so many mid-life adults suddenly finding themselves expounding on the virtues of their childhood religion; here in the USA, that would be "christianity." They can't find any internal meaning to their lives, so they are left with having to rely on an external meaning, false though it may be (it is). For most people, a belief in something false is better than no belief at all (as expressed in the horrible move The Life of Pi).

But, if it's a good question to ask, what, then, is the problem?

And there are sooo many problems...
but I'll just mention two:
1. The inherent violence involved in the internal conflict.
2. The tendency of those who have "achieved meaning" to try to force that on everyone else.
oh, and maybe
3. The attempt to find an answer to something that is essentially unanswerable. Because, face it, this is not a math problem or, if it is, it's the kind where each individual is his/her own variable arriving at a different solution when you plug the person into the equation.

While not every midlife crisis expresses itself in the way the one I spoke about in part one of this series did, it is certainly a good example of the cliche mid-life crisis. Something only becomes a cliche by being, essentially, common. So common in fact that when my dad had his own mid-life crisis which just so happened to correspond with the need for a new car for my family, my mom said, "He better not get a red one." He did, of course, get a red one. Not a sports car, mind you, because we couldn't afford anything like that, but the sportiest red thing we could afford. A Hyundai. heh

Going out and buying a red Hyundai may not sound "violent," but at the time, Hyundai was a very new car company so, actually, this was risky behavior. It was as risky as my dad could afford to be and, probably, more money than my parents could easily afford since it was a brand new car and not used. It was the same behavior as the guy in the last post, just on a much lower level.

The need to prove or derive that one's life has or has had meaning must be maddening. Maddening to the point of insanity. Not actual clinical insanity (though maybe it should be?), but enough to make people do things they previously would never have considered. And you can't talk to these people about their behavior because it's all unreasoned behavior. You can't talk reason to people acting on their emotions or on their instincts.

It's difficult, here, to not get bogged down in all the minutia involved in all of this, but this is only a blog post, not one of the myriad of books that have been published dealing with this issue. Anyway...

In the end, it all comes down to two ways of approaching the issue of the meaning of the individual life, which can be expressed in the wording of the question the individual asks:
1. What's the point of all of this, my life? Look at all the things I've missed out on because I was working/having a family/being responsible (or whatever it was you were doing rather than the things you think you really wanted to do).
2. What's the point of all of this, my life? Will anyone remember me after I'm dead and gone? What difference have I made?

I think, right now, in the US, we're caught up in the conflict between these two questions. On a national level. It's the existential crisis of the American soul:

"Hey, look at all of this stuff I've missed out on because we (the USA) have been so busy being the responsible one and taking care of other countries and other people! It's my turn! I want mine! Fuck everyone else and let them burn! Let the whole world burn for all I care, because it's my turn and I want what's rightfully mine!"

"Hey, I want history to look back and see that this was the point where the US became a real force for good in the world, became a country that tackled climate change and poverty and health care. Became a country that put people's needs ahead of corporate profit. It's time to make a difference in the world!"

It's irreconcilable. Unfortunately. Because you can't reason with the people who suddenly find themselves in a position where they need to "feel" alive. You can't explain to them that if they continue to do dangerous stunts on dirt bikes or cliff diving or whatever that, at best, they're going to get seriously injured and, at worst, they're going to get themselves and, possibly, others killed. They... don't... care.

Which is the current problem:
Republicans don't care.
I don't just mean Republican politicians; I mean Republicans.
Because if Republicans cared about, say, the rights of women to not be unwillingly groped, they wouldn't vote for many, many of the Republicans in office, including the one in the highest office (#fakepresident) who bragged about it.
Because if Republicans cared about, say, children being taken from their parents and put in dog cages, they would speak out against it and force their representatives to do the same.
Because if Republicans cared about, say, preserving the environment for future generations, they would stand up against the fossil fuel industry.
Because if Republicans cared about children being murdered in their schools, they would demand stricter gun controls and give up on that whole prying their guns from their cold, dead hands.

So, in essence, we have an unresolvable conflict of interest. Or, at least, one that I can't see a resolution for. What I know, all I know, is that enough is enough.
But more on that next time...

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Gravity: a Metaphor

The first thing to say about Gravity is that it's a beautiful movie.

It's beautiful in the same way that Life of Pi is, just spectacular to look at. What's even more impressive about that is that it's nearly all digital. It's pretty amazing. In fact, the movie, much in the way of the Star Wars prequels, was delayed due to waiting for the technology to get to a place where the environment could be made to look realistic. Well, I've never been to space, but it looked amazing. I'm not actually sure it's Oscar material, but I won't be surprised if it gets a nomination for best visual effects.

The next thing that has to be said is Sandra Bullock was amazing. Even more so when you consider that she's the only character through much of the movie. The only other thing like this that I've really seen was the under-appreciated Moon with Sam Rockwell (seriously, you should see this movie). Most of acting is, in a sense, reacting, the interplay of characters (and actors) with each other. It's much more difficult when it's just... you. Nothing and no one to play off of. The dependency on monologues in Hamlet is one of the reasons it has long been considered to be the measure of success for actors. If you can pull off Hamlet (the character) believably, you can pretty much do anything. I think Bullock could pull off Hamlet. She carried the movie as if it was weightless. And, if it doesn't get nominated for anything else, Bullock certainly deserves a best actress nomination for this.

However, I do have to say how very disappointed I am with Cuaron that Bullock was, basically, a default choice, because they couldn't get anyone else to take the park. The anyone elses, other than Angelina Jolie, all being "young, hot" actresses that, well, can't much act. Most of them. Basically, they wanted a pretty face for the role (a role which would require the actor to carry the movie), not someone who has proven she can do the job. That is... just disappointing. But I digress...

The only negative I've seen about the movie has to do with Clooney and how Kowalski is such a flat character. As such, Clooney didn't do much acting. And that's true. Clooney was pretty affect-less, but I think that was intentional. He's not a real character; he's a representation of the person Dr. Stone sees him as. He's the strong leader that takes charge and isn't flustered by anything; at least, that's what he is to her, so that's, also, how we see him. So, yeah, the part didn't require much of Clooney, but I think it was perfect for the movie. He's so flat that we don't get attached to him, and that's required, because we, as the audience, are supposed to be focused completely on Dr. Stone.

Here there be dragons... um, I mean spoilers... Here there be spoilers. You have been warned!

As great as the movie is on the surface (and it is great just taken as what it is, a disaster movie in space), I think it's its deeper, metaphorical meaning that gives the movie greatness. After the disaster occurs, Kowalski needs to get Stone talking so as to distract her and calm her down, so he started asking her questions about home. We find out that, really, Stone has been leaving in space for a long time, since the death of her daughter through an unfortunate playground accident. The woman has no life. She goes to work, presumably doing something that relates to saving the lives of kids who have had similar accidents, although we never find that out, and, then, drives. Just drives. In silence. She has put herself as close as she can into a vacuum. Into a suicide-less death.

The death of Kowalski puts the loss of her daughter into perspective. Stone is trying desperately to hold onto him, but he can see that her persistence is going to kill them both, so he entreats her to let go, just let go. And it's here that we can see the flatness of Kowalski best. He's stoically heroic. There is no clinging to life on his part, just pragmatism. "You have to let me go or we'll both die." He is the sacrificing hero as seen through her eyes. "You have to let go."

Of course, this has a deeper meaning that applies more to the fact that she is still clinging to her daughter than it does to him.

After that, she enters the space station and strips out of her space suit, and there is a lingering image of her curled, fetus-like, in front of a round window looking out at space. It is the exact image of the womb and of her entering into a state of rebirth.

But it's not really that easy, because birth, as easy as it seems (to us in the USA, anyway) in this 21st century world, is not easy. And she almost gives up a little while later but has a lack-of-oxygen induced hallucination of Kowalski telling her that she has to make a decision: She has to decide to live. If she's not going to decide to live, she needs to quit living the lifeless life she's living and just get it over with. She switches the oxygen back on and chooses to live. Finally, she lets go of her daughter and says goodbye.

The final scene of her crashing down and escaping the capsule as it floods and sinks, the scene of her climbing out of the water is the very metaphor of birth. She stands there on shaky legs (after being in a zero G environment) like a newborn colt and faces a new day. A day with the hope of life, not one that clings to death.

Believing the Lie

Today, we're going with a themed approach. First up is the new short story by Rusty

I got a first look at this one as I did the editing on it. However, that doesn't stop me from being able to give an objective review (no matter what Amazon thinks).

What I can say for sure is that it's definitely worth a read, and you can get it here. (Check out that awesome editorial credit!) I mean, for $0.99, it's more than worth it.

"Going Home" is a solid story about a man who has chosen a lie over the truth. When you get to the end, you can begin to understand why. To me, it's interesting because of those times when people willfully choose to believe lies rather than face the truth, something that is much more common than we like to believe. It's not long. It's not that deep, but it does reveal that those depths exist. It raises a lot of questions, not the least of which is "wait! what happens next?" Carl is good at stories that leave you wanting to know more, and this one is no exception.

Next up is Life of Pi, which I finally got around to watching. I was less than impressed.

Sure, it was full of great visuals. Amazing visuals, even, but those don't make the story. [It's the same reason I could never follow a crappy story in a comic book just because it had good art (Spawn).] The story in Pi was very much lacking. The only reason it gets such a "wow, that was so deep" response is that it's one of those stories (the movie for sure and probably the book (though I haven't read the book)) that people can't figure out. Rather than say "I don't understand," they instead say, "that's so deep." Especially the critics, who can never just admit that something doesn't make any sense. Vague symbolism is always a sure way to baffle the critics into saying something is great. [One of my college professors was the same way. The sure way to getting an "A" from him on a paper was to write something beyond his understanding or deliberately vague enough that it seemed beyond his understanding. Rather than say "I don't know what you're saying here" or "This doesn't make any sense," he'd just put an "A" on it.]

However, the biggest problem with that aspect of the movie is that there is a message in there, revealed twice during the movie but obfuscated rather than just stated plainly: believing a lie is better than believing nothing. Or, as it's put forth at the end, "It's better to believe a beautiful lie rather than an ugly truth." That's a sorry message to be delivering and one I just can't get behind. No matter how pretty the package it's wrapped in, and Pi is a pretty package with beautiful bows and ribbons. It's not enough to disguise the ugly truth of the movie, though. Well, maybe, actually, it is. For most people.

The other big issue I have with the movie is that I hate (I mean I absolutely can not stand) getting to the end of a story just to find out that it didn't happen. [I mentioned this same thing in my review of Looper.] Don't waste my time with a story about a story that didn't happen. Don't have it turn out to be a dream. Don't have it turn out to be a time loop that gets closed off so that none of it happened. Don't have it turn out to be a hallucination to cover up something that the character can't handle. You've wasted my time at that point.

And, in Life of Pi, it reduces the only interesting part of the movie to the 30-40 minutes that happen before the storm. Then it's over. And that was hardly a story and one in which nothing really happened other than that someone survived a horrible stranding at sea.

And, sure, you can get all wrapped up in discussions about whether the tiger was God or what the heck was that island supposed to be, anyway, or whether he just made up the story he told the insurance people about the cook just so that they would have something they could grasp, but none of it matters. It doesn't matter because of the statement, "Which is the better story, and wouldn't you rather believe that thing than believe the truth?"

So, yeah, sure, Pi was pretty. It deserved the awards it got for those aspects of the movie, but it certainly wasn't a "best directed" movie. It was a hardly directed movie. I'm glad I watched it; I even kind of wish I'd seen it on the big screen just for some of the scenes on the ocean; but I don't think it was a great movie. It might look all deep when looking down on it, but, if you put your feet in, you'll find it's just a wading pool.