|
![]() |
||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
From the author of Reel Spirit: A Guide to Movies That Inspire, Explore and Empower. THE WIDOW OF SAINT-PIERRE The Widow of Saint-Pierre A professor of Buddhism whom I once heard speak said that by the age of twenty-five, he had lied, cheated, and killed. But, he said, he was not a liar, a cheater, or a murderer. His point was that we are more than our past actions. All too often, however, those around us, and even close to us, refuse to see beyond past impressions and opinions; they don't see that it is possible to grow and change. When someone does see us for who we really are, here and now, we feel liberated. In this exquisitely somber story based on true events and directed by Patrice Leconte, we see both the beauty of people seeing beyond labels and the horror of people holding to old labels. Pauline (Juliette Binoche), the wife of the captain (Daniel Auteuil) of the garrison on the French island of St. Pierre off the east coast of Canada in 1849, is one who sees the person and not the deed. Pauline befriends a man named Neel Auguste (Emir Kusturica) who has been convicted of murder and sentenced to die by the guillotine -- as soon as the instrument can be shipped to the island. "We change, whatever we do," Pauline says. Supported by her adoring husband the captain, Pauline becomes Neel's mentor. The captain allows Neel to help his wife in her greenhouse and to do odd jobs for locals. His helpfulness, gentleness, and one outstanding act of heroism earn Neel the respect and love of the island's citizens. Speaking of the local bureaucrats who seek Neel's beheading, Pauline says, "They aren't punishing the man they sentenced." In other words, they are responding to Neel's past action, not to who he is as a person. Of course, Neel's case brings up questions about the death penalty, the purpose of punishment (reform or revenge?) and the role of forgiveness and redemption in considering punishment. These leaders criticize Pauline for being "too compassionate," but in truth she is simply responding to a person in need with an open heart and open eyes. She accepts Neel for who he has become and who he is as a person, rather than labeling him based on an act committed while under the influence of alcohol. She responds to him with true, unselfish, unconditional love -- regardless of ramifications. Pauline is not acting out of romantic attraction to Neel. For her, romance is saved for her husband, who idolizes her and tells her, "I love you for what you are." The couple have a deeply loving relationship that cannot betaken from them -- no matter what happens. "They can't do anything to harm us. I love you," the captain tells Pauline. He recognizes that just as people are more than their actions, so they are more than their bodies and human lives. They are, in the ultimate analysis, the love they give and receive.
YI YI Yi Yi translates "A One and a Two." Think of Lawrence Welk saying "a one and a two" to start a new dance number. Yi Yi may be said to be about the universal dance of life and a Taiwan family trying to learn the steps. The intricate steps of life's dance, as everyone knows, can be difficult to master. That's why we can identify with the various "dancers" in Yi Yi's extended family and what they are going through. There is the father, NJ (Wu Nienjen), an honest businessman coping not only with the unscrupulous dealings of his partners but also with a renewed interest in a long-ago love. There is NJ's wife, Min-Min (Elaine Jin), who has a nervous breakdown and goes to a spiritual retreat center to recover. There is their teenage daughter Ting-Ting (Kelly Lee) and her budding sexuality. There is their eight-year-old son Yang-Yang (Jonathan Chang), a sensitive youth tormented by the girls at school. There is also Min-Min's mother, who is comatose following a stroke, and NJ's brother, who has a rocky new marriage and a very visible ex-girlfriend. And there are others. Life in the high-rise apartment in modern-day Taiwan is one big soap opera from writer-director Edward Yang. The film has a deliberate pace that lets us study the dance. Yang doesn't have all the answers about life wrapped up in a tidy two-step, but he does offer a valuable suggestion for mastering the dance of life: We need to be aware of what is truly going on within ourselves and others. The heart and soul of the film is the young, inquisitive Yang-Yang, who is quietly concerned with the bigger steps of life, such as truth and perspective. "Daddy, can we see only half of the truth?" Yang-Yang asks. He wonders because it occurs to him that he can never see behind himself. He starts taking pictures of the backs of people's heads to help them see the bigger picture. As situations and relationships unfold, it is clear that people are only seeing half-truths and are thus reacting and judging from only partial facts. As a result, to continue the dance analogy, they step all over each other's toes and have one disastrous, frustrating dance after another. What they need is to become more aware of how and where they are stepping. The importance of awareness also registers clearly with Min-Min, who realizes that she has not been fully participating in life and is not aware of all it offers. "I live a blank -- every day, every day," she sobs. In contrast, a Japanese businessman whom NJ meets exudes awareness of life's potentials. "Every day is beautiful," he says, appreciating each moment. "We never live the same day twice." NJ provides an example of a person who seemingly has it made in life but whose life is actually beset with problems. When he is given second chances, he realizes, "There's very little I'm sure about these days." The realization is opportunity for self-reflection and growth. Growth does occur during the film's dance as characters become more aware of the truth about themselves and others. And some perhaps learn a startling lesson that people often make the dance out to be more difficult than it is. Min-Min says, "I've come to realize things aren't really so complicated." |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||