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On Not Saving the World by Bob Wallace I
don't think it's possible to "save" the world.
I don't think it's a good idea to even try.
Usually--maybe always--it involves wars and other destructive
coercions of the State. "Saving
the world" is just a rationalization for trying to conquer it.
As both an Aesop's fable and the Bible points out, tyrants always
call themselves benefactors. The
closest anyone can come to saving the world is to stop trying to club
people into being good, and just leave them alone to work out their
problems. Any help they want
they can ask for. George
Washington had it right in his Farewell Address: Trade with the rest of
the world, but otherwise stay out of its political problems.
But certainly don't try to "save" it.
Such good intentions, as the wise old saying teaches, are the road
to Hell. A
current example of trying to save the world?
Our attempt to "save" However,
I think it's possible to save individuals--family and friends.
The famous saying about this is, "No man hath greater love
than this, than a man lay down his life for his friends."
There's not a word in that saying about laying down your life for
country or society--just your friends (and that also means your family).
Excluded is "saving" the world, which always backfires
anyway. Saving
friends and family is something good artists understand, even if only
intuitively. The inability to
save the world is something politicians, court intellectuals and "You
fight and I'll watch" armchair warriors don't, no matter how many
times reality smacks them in their faces.
Because of this, I'll pay more attention to an accurate movie than
to some pompous twit with three names who has a Ph.D in Political Science
from Harvard or Yale. The
last movie I watched that dealt with the ability to save a few people, and
the inability to save the world, was Donnie
Darko. This movie, which
has become something of a DVD cult classic, works on several levels: it's
a science-fiction alternate/parallel universe story, a brutal but accurate
satire on public high schools, and a tale about a (maybe) disturbed
teenage boy redeemed by love. The
satire I can write about without spoiling the plot, but not the rest of
the movie. High school is
portrayed as a dungeon. Kids
snort coke in the halls and carry switchblades.
One good teacher is fired; another tells Donnie he cannot discuss
religion because "I could lose my job."
The principal is a clueless bureaucrat ("We're losing these
kids," a new teacher tells him. "I'm
sorry you've failed," he responds, as oblivious to reality as a
stuffed bird under glass). Another
of the teachers is a human version of fingernails on a blackboard.
The writer and director, Richard Kelly, said these things were
based on his experiences in high school in the '80s. Now
I'll have to spoil some of the plot to explain the rest of the film.
It doesn't matter, because the movie doesn't make much sense with
just one viewing. It makes the
best sense if you read the fictional book mentioned in the movie--Roberta
Sparrow's The Philosophy of
Time Travel. Donnie
is a teen-age boy, about 16 years old (the movie never gives his age), who
has been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic.
I wonder about that, though. Mostly
he is enormously intelligent, and has the added ability to see all the
emperors who have no clothes. Put
a kid like that in a public high school, and is it any wonder he's
considered bonkers? Here's
where things get weird. Donnie
is in bed one night when he hears a voice.
He goes outside to find a six-foot-tall rabbit (named Frank)
waiting to talk to him. As
he's talking to Frank, a jet engine falls through the roof of the house
into Donnie's bedroom. Had he
not been outside talking to the Frank, he would have been killed. Here's
where I have to spoil the plot for everyone.
When Donnie got out of bed, the universe split off into a parallel
universe. Everything that
happens after Donnie gets out of bed is in a parallel (or as it's called,
a Tangent) universe. The
problem with the Tangent Universe is that it's not supposed to exist, and
unless Donnie (and only Donnie) can merge it back into the Primary (or
original) universe, the world will be destroyed. Yet
when Donnie is informed the world will be destroyed, he says,
"Cool." He doesn't
care, because it means nothing to him.
Why, then, does he spend the rest of the movie trying to make
things right and merge the Tangent Universe back into the Primary one? He
does it to save a girl whom he has just met, with whom he has fallen in
love. Unless he merges the two
universes, she dies. At the
end of the movie, after the universe is put right, Donnie is back in bed
again, with the jet engine falling toward him.
He doesn't get out of bed, because if he does, the Tangent Universe
splits off again, and the whole mess starts anew.
The woman he loves will die. He'd
rather die than her. Yet, for
the first time in his life, he is at peace.
It's the first time in the movie he smiles. The
movie can be summed up in that saying, "No man hath greater love than
this, than a man lay down his life for his friends."
Only in Donnie's case, it's for the woman he loves.
He gives his life to save her.
Otherwise, as far as he's concerned, the Primary Universe can go to
Hell. What saves it from Hell
is Donnie's love for one person, not
some non-existent "love" for humanity. That
is the main message of the
movie--you can save a few people, especially the ones you love, but you cannot
save the world. Change has
to be done one person at a time, not the whole world at one time.
The "whole world at one time" is the fantasy of lunatics,
whose hopeless attempts at change always involve war and destruction. Even
though Donnie technically does "save" the world, it's still
a mess, consumed with violence and lies.
It's not "saved" at all, except in the physical sense.
The only thing truly saved is his girlfriend.
For that matter, Donnie is also saved from his problems by his love
for her. And even though
Donnie doesn't survive (at least in our fallen universe, the Primary one),
it is still very much an uplifting film. It's a shame that an obscure film-maker in his first film has more of an understanding of reality than the crackpots who almost always make their way to the top of the heap known as the State. Advanced degrees, decades of experience and high salaries (on the pubic dole, of course)--who needs them? The track record of those kind of people is ghastly, with wreckage strewn across thousands of years. They'd be better off--and us, too--if they bought an $80 DVD player and watched at least one funny, poignant, perceptive movie. discuss this column in the forum Bob Wallace has a degree in Journalism, is a former reporter and editor, and has been published at LewRockwell.com, Sierra Times, and The Libertarian Enterprise. |