When Rhett walks out on
Scarlett at the close of “Gone with the Wind,” his final profane dismissal of
her carries the sound of finality. With
his towering physical stature and his super macho air of authority he fends off
her anemic, tearful attempts to dissuade him.
The two of us are through forever. I am putting you out of my life for good. He strides off into his new future seemingly
firm and confident. She is atomized and
lost. – Or is she? At the final moment
before fadeout, after her head clears, she declares just as confidently it seems
that she will figure a way to get him back.
“Tomorrow is another day.” Are
they once and for all gone from each other’s lives? Rhett is a man who has always known what he
wanted. But Scarlett is a woman who has
always gotten what she wanted or thought she wanted, a schemer with many
devices, to which Rhett has not always been known to be resistant. Is it final?
Moviegoers for three quarters of a century have enjoyed themselves
speculating about the question. We have
relished this exciting, sweet, tempestuous ambiguity. Each time I have seen the picture I have been
less sure one way or the other.
For centuries millions of eyes have looked at
the subtle visage of the Mona Lisa. A
popular song came forth back during the 1950s addressing itself to her, full of
wonder at what her face is communicating to the viewer. “You’re the lady with the mystic smile. . .Do
you smile to tempt a lover. . .or is that your way to hide a broken heart? Many dreams have been brought to your
doorstep. They just lie there, and they
die there! Are you warm, are you real,
Mona Lisa, or just a cold and lonely lovely work of art?” Yes, many stories have been woven around her. Experts have studied that spare little
smile. You can stare at that canvas for
hours and days on end and see almost infinite pictures. In her case there are many more than two
possible interpretations, perhaps hundreds.
We are thrilled to look at that face and its eternally stubborn refusal
to talk back and engage us. The
unanswered question lingers, and we would not have it any other way.
In my May 10 entry on the
blog I gave a glowing review of last year’s “Life of Pi,” quite simply my
favorite movie release out of 2012. Some
have been confused and disappointed by it, having expected a straightforward
linear adventure story – man overcomes the sea and the elements, man locked in
combat with a ferocious beast, shipwreck victim devising clever ways to stay
alive, etc. They have not been prepared
for the meditative aspect of it, the poetry of it, the mystery of it. More specifically they have not been prepared
for the ambiguous conclusion at which the screenplay arrives. The boy relates two versions of his story and
we are never told which one to believe, or whether some of each. The boy has been through a strange
metamorphosis of the spirit, perhaps has had some lapse of sanity and regained
it. He has finalized his understanding
of God. Perhaps his journey has been one
of the soul more than, or at least as much as, the body. One leaves the viewing enshrouded in the
mystique of man and animal and earth and sky and universe. It is a challenge to deep thinkers and
spiritual adventurers to sort through the images and the lyrical voices to find
nuggets of truth and beautiful surreal moments to remember. Which version of the story we choose to
accept will perhaps tell us something about ourselves. It is that kind of thing!
There are thousands of
examples of ambiguity in the realm of art and drama and literature. There are mysteries we do not want completely
solved, depths we do not want to be filled in, complexities we do not want
simplified. We are used to being seduced
by them, charmed, beguiled. We are
excited by the degree of our imaginations that they provoke.
But ambiguity can bring great
pain rather than pleasure in some instances.
It can cause heartache, stress and confusion. When the question of a defendant’s guilt or
innocence looms before a courtroom and a judge and jury, with an entire society
waiting for and in some manner invested in the outcome, a verdict can be a
catharsis, or a feeling of vindication and satisfaction or it can be a shock
and a stunning blow to expectations of justice as individuals or groups
understand it. I for one have nothing
but sympathy for the jury in the Zimmerman/Martin trial. They had to make a decision with practically
nothing in the way of evidence to go on.
They were shackled to the principle that anyone accused is innocent in
the eyes of the law until proven guilty beyond a shadow of a doubt. Each of the mothers heard the voice of her
son on the tape calling for help and rescue.
Each of the scenarios depicted by the contesting attorneys was credible. Two versions of events on that dark night,
both consistent with the facts made known, including the crucial tape
recording! Where does the finalizing
truth lie? Perhaps only inside the head
of George Zimmerman, from which it is not likely ever to emerge.
We like our murder trials
neat and compelling with outcomes easy to anticipate. We prefer the prosecution of known miscreants,
when the evidence is so blatantly set forth in the media that anyone of average
intelligence is already familiar with the details of the killing or killings
long before the jurisprudence gets underway and guilt and conviction is almost
a sure thing to be anticipated. We wait
not only for technical justice under the law to be brought about but for real
universal justice to be achieved, an outcome in keeping with a higher
morality. We just wait out the unfolding
of the drama. Even if somehow the
defendant unjustly beats the rap, little doubt remains of the person’s real
guilt. At worst we walk away helpless
with disappointment over the miscarriage, and no ambiguity is present to cloud
our minds or dampen the outrage. But
when nothing is obvious in advance of the trial and the truth lies cloaked in
the shadows, most of us are not sure where to take hold of the question of
guilt or innocence. I am not sure how I
would have voted if I had been on that jury.
How do you send a man to prison on such ambiguous fragments of evidence,
whatever suspicion you may have in your heart about that defendant?
The kind of ambiguity this
trial turned up also challenges the imagination, but in a much more troubling
way. Even the most open and fair-minded
individual finds him-/herself accosted by pictures flung upon the brainpan that
are hard to resist viewing, even if we fight them off and try to erase
them. Without facts or confessions of
wrongdoing, doubts and suspicions can rush in to fill the void, and loopholes
in the testimony and in the court record can get stuffed with prejudicial
sentiments and assumptions of culpability.
I do not want to watch my imagination foist itself upon the picture of
an unarmed seventeen-year-old suffering brutality or getting caught in a fatal
struggle with a stranger. Nor do I want
to watch that teenager make a foolish move that results in his mis-adventurous,
tragic death. Too many variations on
possibility left to the imagination by the ambiguous findings!
So what do we do with these
visceral disturbances left in such a trial’s wake? Are we mad enough to feel as if we want to
kill somebody? If so, who do we kill, if
only in our fantasies? All
justice-loving, humane individuals ache for some kind of finality or closure
other than the mere word of a man engaged in the suspicious business of
neighborhood watchdog and resting his case upon the dubious and dangerous
doctrine of “Stand Your Ground.” But we
are denied that closure and its denial tempts us into an outrage no less severe
than the one an obvious miscarriage would provoke.
We cannot count on life to be
fair and never will be able to. Whether
or not it was technically and legally fair to Trayvon Martin, we may never
know, but it certainly is not being fair to us who have to try to make sense
out of a senseless killing. Most
especially is this so for the boy’s family.
Time will ease the pain of what happened for us; for them the wound will
never completely heal. The same is true
for the hundreds of families throughout our nation who have had one of their
offspring fall victim to a violent death.
We can at least be thankful that people do not have to die from wounds
of the heart, however severe, but living with them takes unusual strength and
character. We cannot do too much praying
for the Martin family and others in the same boat.
To read other entries in my
blog, please consult its website:
enspiritus.blogspot.com
I welcome feedback. Direct it to bobracine@verizon.net
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