A Prescription for Inscription

For the third year in a row, Drew and I spent the last two Saturdays in the dark. We saw all eight best picture nominees, four on each Saturday. We had not seen any  of the eight previously and knew very little about most of the films; our ignorance (an unexpected virtue?)only added to our anticipation and enjoyment.

The line-up for our viewing pleasure was as follows:

Saturday February 14th: Grand Budapest Hotel, Whiplash, Birdman:Or the Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance, Selma

Saturday February 21st: Boyhood, The Theory of Everything, Imitation Game, American Sniper.

To rank them based on preference of what I deemed most deserving of recognition has been difficult past my top three.

Drew is more decisive and lists his ranking as follows:

1. Boyhood
2. Grand Budapest
3. Birdman
4. Whiplash
5. American Sniper
6. Selma
7. Imitation Game
8. Theory of Everything.

For me, the top three are without question: Birdman, Boyhood, Grand Budapest.

From there, I’m a rank schizophrenic. What is for sure, is that Selma sits at the bottom.  Let me explain.

What struck me most, drawing me in and sticking with me, was the power of the questions posed and the internal struggles that cost me emotion and attention in watching and musing over these films. Complicated explorations into themes of self-worth, personal ambition at steep costs, the value of each other’s differences, the endurance and allowances of true love, and what really matters in a whole-life pursuit, wove throughout the dialogue, conversations and characterizations on screen.

Simply because Selma raised no major questions, do I place it in last place. There is no question that justice should be pursued on behalf of the marginalized and oppressed. The story telling of an unbelievably hard fought victory was poignant, the acting superb, and the song, Glory, indeed the best of the year.

I was moved emotionally and educated historically, but didn’t leave questioning anything: equal rights for all should be bestowed without a need for multiple political processes and a violent suffering on behalf of the oppressed people. The struggle is still all too common.

I think I mostly settle on my ranking as:

1. Birdman
2. Boyhood
3. Budapest
4. Sniper
5. Imitation Game
6. Theory of Everything
7. Whiplash
8. Selma.

I’ve done my rank based on complication and completeness, the questions it raises and answers presented in ways I wouldn’t always answer myself, shown in a sensationally, movie kind of way.

I was deeply drawn into each story and appreciate the Academy’s recommendations as they led me into worlds and questions I would not have found on my own. This year’s line up was a rich buffet of excellence and depth. Watching the Oscars on Sunday, was a great night cap to weekends of being worlds away.

The characters in each of the films invited me into worlds very different than any I’ve lived myself, or relate to normally. Hosting me in their experience were a(n):

• Musician
• Actor
• Single mom
• Soldier
• Concierge
• Genius
• Homosexual mathematician
• African American Civil rights leader

As a white, suburban mom with mediocre intelligence, no acting abilities, zero musical talent, a loving husband, and a job in ministry instead of hospitality or the military, I was humbled to watch and enter into the experiences of others as their actors brought them so powerfully to light. Watching the movies was fun yes, a day away indeed, but the ranking comes not necessarily because I enjoyed the movies, but because I was affected by them in the moment, and the head spaces afterwards.

I like Birdman best of all because of the struggle it exposes around wanting to do something meaningful and be someone who matters. The questions of past regrets, broken family and reconciliation, escaping fame for admiration and love, and the ultimate battle: ourselves with our ego run from minute one, to the very end.

In his mind and on his back, the Birdman super hero speaks to Riggan, the 60 year old aspiring stage actor, saying,  “Don’t you get it? You spent your life building a bank account and a reputation… and you blew ’em both. Good for you. **** it.”  In his own defense, Riggan screams at his daughter, “Listen to me. I’m trying to do something important…To me… this is… my chance to do some work that actually means something.” Later, as the struggle continues and his ambition unravels, deep down he thinks, ” I’m nothing. I’m not even here.” A hard realization at 60-something. What if we get to the later parts of life and feel so stuck in a wander, wondering?

His drive for meaningful work, not empty popularity, is a trap that cycles over and over. To prove he wants to do something real, he goes to great lengths and in the end, only ends up popularly famous once again. Being stuck in a story he professes on stage, and walks out on the treadmill of Hollywood success, he yearns and finds, I think, “true freedom” in a way that costs him everything. The story seems to resonate with the real life loss of Robin Williams early this year. The questions, quotes, and on screen action, deserve a re-watch for further absorption. Birdman was great as a movie, not realistic but very real, as it asked me to suspend my disbelief and engage my search of self.

Boyhood was best because of it’s soundtrack, it’s raw and honest portrayal of adolescence, parenting, anger, mistakes, patterns we get stuck in and generational sins we can break. Filmed over 12 years in separate segments, and edited together to tell a connected story, was a wonderful thing to appreciate. There was no climax, no rising action and conclusion, just “life” with people trying to do what they could with what they had, learning and growing over time, and looking back at times, wondering what it all meant. As someone who spends time with adolescence, Mason’s assertion that  “I just feel like there are so many things that I could be doing and probably want to be doing that I’m just not.” captures the search for connection and purpose that accompanies a kid turning into an adult.

The Grand Budapest Hotel was absolutely entertaining. “Eye-candy” in the shots and scenery, and “conversation-candy” in the intelligent, witty, and hilarious script as spoken with eloquence and entertaining cadence. I would watch it again and loved it on the big screen. Drew’s analysis was most apt as he affirmed the movie was a commentary on the relationship between how we treat people out of the integrity of our own character. When we serve others with a sense of excellence, they are called up and into greatness. Gustave tells Zero, “Rudeness is merely an expression of fear. People fear they won’t get what they want. The most dreadful and unattractive person only needs to be loved, and they will open up like a flower.”

Sniper illuminated the lives of soldiers and their families split apart, and held together, by love and passion. The arresting ending, complicated layers, and a posture of gratitude, left our theater sitting in silence at the end.

The Theory of Everything was a sneaky rank climber for me. The acting was amazing and the story so layered with struggle, human triumph, moral ambiguity, and the tension between art, science, God, and physics. No scene lasted too long and the victory of man over deadly diagnosis was mind blowing to watch. 

Imitation Game is gut wrenching as you watch someone pour their life into something that must be hidden instead of celebrated. In his war victory and his personal life, I’m left thinking Alan Turning had only an imitation of true acceptance, respect, and fulfillment.

Whiplash moves down the list due to my discomfort with long instrumental drum solos. Impressive and awesome to listen to, yes, but I was crawling out of my skin by the end…which is…drum-roll please, very drum solo heavy. What I appreciated through contemplation with Whiplash was the father figure roles in the life of a growing up guy. The support of a dad who didn’t always enter fully into the depth of what his son experienced, but constantly showed up, was in sharp contrast to the abusive teacher who completely understood the drive and passion, but refused to ease up in his “encouragement” and “training” of the aspiring talent. Both men, dad and teacher, I believe, showed love. The movie exposed our tendency towards “righteous justification” of our actions when we refuse to be challenged. Also exposed was the brokenness that covers over and distorts our attempts to help or love.

I stop here. I do not attempt to assert I have figured out or can add to the experience of seeing these films. I write to affirm the journey into their worlds has touched upon mine. Until next year Oscar…

A picture of empathy from our own family past. A not sad Eli, comes alongside a distraught Andi…seeking to understand as only a brother can.

After someone shares a story, it’s an American, sometimes empathetic but all too often narcissistic, posture to respond, “You do? You have? You did? You liked it? You are?…..Well, Me TOO [or] Us TOO!”

Healthy and other centered listening tips instruct careful listeners not to interject into someone else’s story with our own. Instead, to ask more questions or provide a simple active listening prompt, “I hear you….Wow…Okay. Tell me more…”

Empathy says dig into the experience of another so much so that you begin to truly feel and understand what it’s like to be THEM in their experience. Empathy instructs us not to lay our own story on top of the one being told to us.

I’m not good at empathy naturally and listening is far down on my natural gifts scale…talking is much higher. I have lots of growing room and need help to humble myself enough to be changed.

On the other hand, saying “Me too!” can create community and connection, find similarities among strangers, or affirm good ideas. An appropriately placed “They did so….us too!” can inspire action, bolster confidence, or pass on wisdom.

Some concrete examples from my weekend, lest I babble in the abstract.

Here is a list of when to use “US TOO!” or when NOT to use “US TOO!” in my “I’m a total work in progress and a big screw-up often” opinion.

Go for it…toss a “Me too” or “Us too” out there, Example 1:

Drew: “I think standing on the floor of a concert makes it so much more of an experience. My body is engaged, I’m closer, there’s no way I would rather sit far away in a seat, in the stands”

Me: “The concert wimpy part of me wants to sit down for a minute but if you’re moving up into the crush of the floor crowd for the next band, me too!”

The result: Better views of the bands, human connection with fellow fans in a physically, sometimes uncomfortable way, but mostly in a way that opened us up to others, pushed us out of our bubbles, and let us go deeper into the music and the night.

Go for it…toss a “Me too” or “Us too” out there, Example 2:

Friend: Tells me a scary story about an almost life threatening incident over Labor Day weekend with kids at a pool. We discuss for over an hour the pulls of parenting- we want to give our kids space and confidence to explore the world on their own. We don’t want to hover over them, holding them back until we can be there, go before, and iron out every kink in their path. BUT, we MUST pay attention, wield fierce instincts, instill good decision-making skills into our little kids’ forming minds, and we must prevent any and all dangers we can. She said something like, “I can look back and learn so much from the story.”

Me: “Me too”, and her story has and should shape me, inspire me towards better parenting, and remind me of the gifts and miracles I have in the tiny bums that fill seats around my table. Shame on me if I don’t let this teach me.  My “Me too” here is a pledge to be transformed and to rise up.

How about a different response? When NOT to use “Us too” Example 1:

Eli’s first soccer game: There is a giant disparity in the talent and experience of the two teams on the pitch (is that a soccer word?). Our team is NOT the one with goals in the teens. We have one goal, they have all the rest.

Overhead on the sideline in the second half:  (Note: this is parents, not 8 year olds talking) “They are pushing our kids! The refs are not calling it. They aren’t calling anything! So…if the other team is going to push, Us too! Let’s just push them back. If those boys can get away with it today, we should too.”

I didn’t say anything. Inside my head, I agreed there seemed to be some unfairness in the match up, but don’t know enough about soccer reffing to blame the seemingly young (14? 15 year old?) refs on their first game of the season. More to the point, I did not want Eli to think that if someone else can get away with something that is not okay, all of a sudden, the offense becomes allowable, and he should do it too. For me, I was caught between the group think before me, and the conviction of raising my kid to think that the world does not owe him fairness, and that the rules don’t change because someone else is doing it. I wanted him to say, “Not me” even if it was only in how he played out the rest of the game. Athletic aggression, yes. Bitter retaliation, no.

How about a different response? When NOT to use “Us too” Example 2:

My sister: shares ideas about having a baby.

Me: “Me too! I blah blah blah blah blah” and a launch into a story from my own experience.

I cannot wait for Laura to have her baby and yet I fear I will take over her experience with MY mommy stories. Yuck! Yikes. How frustrating to want to tell someone your story and have them tell theirs, longer and louder!  I want to walk the line of sharing wisdom I’ve gain in 8 years and yet also realize the world has changed, I’ve grown up through the parenting process and didn’t know it all at the beginning. I look back and see lots of what I learned, I learned by doing it myself, messing up, studying my kids, and putting my head next to Drew’s and hoping a great idea would come. I want to walk with Laura and love her baby but I do NOT want to overstep or oversay.

**This concept expands to include anytime anyone tells me about something they are doing that I also do: go to Colorado, do Crossfit, grow a garden,  etc.. I know my “Me too”s must come only after their story is fully told and only if, adding mine would bring us together, add information, or deepen the conversation.

People are great. And as Jerry Sienfeld wisely says, “People…they’re the worst!”

We must be careful not to commiserate when we  should confront instead. I want to empathize not proselytize. I will affirm, “Me too!” and talk for hours about a shared interest with a peer friend- all along the way, asking questions and shutting up with they speak.

I want to grow up kids who know when to say, “You’re drinking alcohol? NOT ME”  as well as,  “You’re going to try that really hard academic, athletic, artistic thing? Me too! Even if we fail, let’s try!”  I hope their risks are taken boldly and wisely, and that their pain never comes on the heels of a negligent and uninformed “They are…so Me too”.