Category: movies (Page 1 of 2)

People Are More Important Than Things (but things still have deep meaning)

Re-watching Pixar’s Up (first time watching it with my kids).

I was struck by the moment towards the end of the movie when Carl has to throw everything out of his house so it will be light enough to lift off the ground. The things of his life — all the things that represent the life he lived with Ellie — are not bad, but in order to help Russell and Kevin and Dug, Carl must let go of these possessions. The people in his life are more important than the things.

The movie honors the things of Carl’s life. They aren’t meaningless. The “Adventure Book” is a beautiful object that communicates Ellie’s deep love for Carl. The objects in the house hold memories, and those memories are good.

But the people (and animals) in the here-and-now are still more important than any object, no matter the memories it may evoke. The greatest testament to Ellie’s life isn’t the house or the objects within it, but Carl’s rediscover of the ability to love and care for others.

I really liked how the movie honored the objects (and the house) that helped Carl remember his wife, while at the same time showing how those objects cannot be made more important than the flesh-and-blood relationships in our lives. The image of Carl tied to his house, trying to carry it like Atlas trying to hold up the Earth, is the key metaphor for this idea. We root for him to get the house to the Falls, but at the same time, we can see what a burden carrying that house has become. When he frees himself from that heavy weight, he is finally able to live life to the fullest again, to love someone again.

As I try to tidy my own house, I sometimes have a hard time knowing what to keep and what to give away. I’m not particularly sentimental, but when it comes to my kids’ artwork or books of any sort or certain toys and stuffed animals, I have a hard time letting go. It’s not the stuff, it’s the fact that these things mean so much to my children, and because I love my children, I want to honor their love for these things. I keep the things because I love the people.

Knowing when and how to let go of stuff is tricky. I’m not good at it, frankly. I sometimes wish I had a big life-altering event that would force my hand, like Carl’s adventures with Russell. But we don’t always get to pick our adventures, and not every adventure ends happily.

Instead, I’ll have to find a way to honor the stuff in my life while also focusing on what really matters: the people I love.

Swamps of Sadness

My husband and I were discussing which movies to watch with our kids for our family movie nights, and I thought it was time to show them some of the old fantasy movies from the 1970s and 80s like Rankin and Bass’s The Hobbit and Jim Henson’s Labyrinth.

We both mentioned The Neverending Story, but then we thought, “Uh oh. Artax.”

Both of us had the same experience as probably every other kid who watched that movie, and that’s the experience of intense grief after watching Atreyu and Artax try to get through the Swamps of Sadness.

Our daughter is tenderhearted and loves animals deeply, and we both know that if we showed her The Neverending Story, she would be absolutely wrecked by the Artax scene.

So what do we do? We both love the movie; it was formative for us. And we were both devastated by the Artax scene as kids. I mean, that scene still gets me. Just thinking about it earlier made me tear up.

Do we pass on showing her the movie? Or do we tell her that even though there’s a really sad part, the rest of the movie is amazing?

In some ways, I want to shield her from that kind grief. I don’t want my daughter to cry.

But then I think of my own experience as a kid watching this movie, and how the intense sadness I felt at Artax’s death was somehow important to my development as a person. It showed me that death happens even when we don’t want it to. Even when it’s someone we love. Going through the process of weeping over Artax’s death, and watching Atreyu continue his quest despite the loss of his friend, was a kind of growing-up moment for me. The story revealed an important truth. Wouldn’t it be wrong to shield my daughter from that truth simply because I don’t want her to cry?

Of course, we could always wait a year or two before showing The Neverending Story, but I don’t think a year or two will matter. I still cry when I watch that scene. It will be sad at any age.

Should we avoid stories that make us so sad? Should we keep those kinds of stories at bay because they cut too deeply?

I don’t really know the answer. I know that I often cry when watching movies or listening to certain songs, and that I feel intense emotions when experiencing stories in all their various forms. This is the catharsis the Greeks believed was so important. We need to let out our emotions, even the really big and troubling ones. I wouldn’t want to stop watching movies just because they might make me cry. In a weird way, I like that experience.

But I know not everybody does. I know from my teaching experience that many students really didn’t like to read a sad book or watch a sad movie. They were uncomfortable feeling those feelings. For them, the crying and sadness didn’t lead to catharsis, or if it did, it was an unsatisfying catharsis, a stunted one.

Maybe their negative reactions were due to never having watched movies like The Neverending Story as kids. Maybe their discomfort with sadness was because they didn’t experience it in the stories they read and watched in childhood. Because they never had to process something as traumatic as Artax’s death when they were little, they couldn’t find value or meaning in some of the sad books that were part of the curriculum in high school. Maybe for them, stories needed not just a happy ending, but a kind of pervasive always-happiness that never allowed for anything too bad to happen. There might be danger and peril, but nothing would ever go too far.

Or maybe their discomfort with sad movies was because their lives were already too difficult and traumatic, and there truly was no value in living through someone’s fictional trauma. Maybe they needed those always-happy stories because they needed a total escape from whatever bleakness was in their lives already.

I honestly don’t know why some of these students rejected the sad books for their sadness, but I don’t think their rejection of them was illegitimate. I just know that for me, these sad stories made me feel less alone. Sometimes the danger and peril went “too far,” and the characters had to suffer, but that suffering connected me to them in ways that went very deep.

Artax’s death is a “too far” moment: a horrible, shocking event that has no last-minute save. When he dies, he dies. And Atreyu must mourn.

But his death isn’t the end. The quest must continue, or else the entire universe gets destroyed by the Nothing. That was a powerful moment for me, watching Artax die and seeing that Atreyu couldn’t change or fix it. And that he still needed to keep going even after his friend’s death.

Maybe if we talk about it as a family and help our daughter both prepare for the scene and also process it afterward, maybe then we can watch The Neverending Story. One of the joys of being a parent is sharing my favorite stories with my kids. We’ve listened to some of the Little House on the Prairie and Chronicles of Narnia books on audio, we’ve read all the Frog and Toads, we’ve watched all the original Muppet movies, and we’ve spent many a Saturday morning watching Pee Wee’s Playhouse.

Now, perhaps, it’s time to ride on the back of a luck dragon and watch The Neverending Story. And we can all cry together.

Input Update 5/8/2021

Reading: The Right to Useful Unemployment by Ivan Illich

Listening to: Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto #1

Watching: The Last Blockbuster

 

I have thoughts about nostalgia, video rental stores, Blockbuster Video, the documentary referenced above, etc. that I might riff on in another blog post. Overall, the best parts of the documentary were in watching Sandi the Blockbuster store manager do her thing, and seeing how a humanely-run and community-oriented business can be such an important part of people’s lives (the humanely-run and community-oriented business in question is specifically the franchised Blockbuster in Bend, Oregon, not Blockbuster stores in general).

As far as the Illich book, I don’t know what to think. I was very excited to read it, and it’s the first of his books I’ve tried, but I’m worried that I’m not intellectually up to the task (i.e.: I’m not a good enough reader/not smart enough).

I feel like maybe I’m not getting the nuances of Illich’s points. Based on my reading so far (about 2/3s through), his ideas would fit right in with today’s Covid anti-vaxxers and denialists. And yet, thinkers I admire like Sam Rocha and L.M. Sacasas are Illich guys (as is Mr. Idler Tom Hodgkinson) so I’m not sure if I’m just reading Illich wrong, misunderstanding him, or being too quick to lump him in with the “Free Michigan” people who stormed my state’s capital last spring. Or maybe my reading of the book is right, and Illich would be very much against the vaccine and masks and everything related to slowing the spread of Covid, things I consider to be necessary for the common good and do out of concern for my fellow humans. David Cayley’s piece on Illich and Covid seems to indicate that I am reading him right, which is kinda… bleh.

I was very excited to dive into Illich’s writings because I’ve become more and more disillusioned with our current meritocracy, with our hyper-Capitalist society, and with the ways in which we devalue work that doesn’t contribute to the GDP. But in reading this book and seeing Illich argue against things like gynecology and giving birth in a hospital just seems insane to me. I and/or my daughter probably wouldn’t be alive today without modern obstetrics. His weird swipe against breast self-exams and mastectomies was jarring too. Like, why are you against women getting treatment for breast cancer, Illich?

Anyway, maybe I’m not following his argument or I’m missing some important details. I’m planning to give Tools for Conviviality a try next.

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