seeing the metaphor after forty-seven years

A few days ago, I was finally able to see the movie advertised in the poster above. 

I’d wanted to catch it during its initial release, back in 1977.  Not because of a review I’d read or a preview I’d seen.  I was just responding to that poster image.  But I didn’t stop to ask myself why.

I now believe:

I responded because the image reflected my everyday experience of life.

I might be walking along on a sunny day with my head in the clouds.  But all the while my feeling sense was saying: you’re traversing a rickety bridge in a wild storm in vehicle tilting too far to one side. 

Unfortunately, at the time, I was able to ignore what I felt.  I didn’t confront that sense of uncertainty until years later.

If I had seen the movie, I doubt I would have said: yes, that’s my life up there!  But perhaps by feeling what I actually felt, I might have at least experienced a catharsis. 

As it was, William Friedkin’s Sorcerer* only lasted a week or two in the theaters.  So I lost my chance.

But over the years, that image stayed with me.  Oddly enough, I never asked myself why.  So when I finally got the chance to see the film this month, I wasn’t thinking: let’s explore that metaphor!  No, simply stated: I hoped to see ordinary characters struggling to make it through an extraordinary ordeal.  I wanted to see honest physical and mental duress.  No cartoon superheroes for me!

Well, on that score, I got what I wanted.  What a harrowing thrill Sorcerer is!  Sometimes a movie is a pale version of what’s depicted on the poster.  Not this time. 

The next day, thinking back on the film, I finally considered the metaphor of the image.  I remembered my initial response.  I realized the connection between the image and what I was feeling at that time. 

But I also realized the image provoked a slightly different response in the present.

These are not just uncertain times for me—they’re uncertain times for all of us.  Will we get across this swaying bridge of broken boards?  Will we make it to the other side?

But even after that insight, I felt a little dissatisfied with the movie. 

Not because the four main characters were criminals.  I don’t want traditional heroes. 

Nor was I hoping for a feel-good Hollywood ending.  I don’t need the traditional narrative.  I want movies that reflect life and even when things work out in life, they usually don’t work out perfectly. 

Nor I was bothered by the motivations of those men.  They’re not trying to save a child, a family, or a community.  Each man is just trying to save his own miserable hide.  But considering how they’re suffering, I want to see them escape with their hides intact.   

That said, I wish one of them had revealed some higher aspiration.  At least one character could have risen above his feral instinct for a moment of blessed spiritual clarity.  As Andrzeg Wadja showed us in Kanal, even in a sewer you can experience an epiphany.

Call me a softie, but I need a story that gives me at least a little ray of hope.  Hope for the human race.  The light doesn’t even need to be that bright.  

Yes, we do witness an act of tenderness at the end.  But that act has tragic consequences.  Our little ray was snatched away right before the credits rolled.  Again I’m told: no good deed goes unpunished. 

I don’t believe that to be true.  But I do know our best efforts often go unrewarded.  I know this world doesn’t play by the rules I learned as a child.  I know we’re on a rough ride over a shaky bridge during a ferocious storm.  I know we could go off the road and explode at any moment. 

I don’t wish to ignore that reality.  I won’t avoid a movie that tells that truth with a metaphor.  But to that metaphor can we add another metaphor—the little ray of hope?  I need that ray in order to endure the storm.

(* I’ve found a number of interviews on YouTube in which Friedkin talks about the production of Sorcerer.  Not my favorite filmmaker, but the man did give good interviews.)

Common Courage: poetry book
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

O Lucky Man!

I found exactly what I wanted in this life…

According to a dream from two years ago. 

In the dream…

I’m walking along a downtown street with someone who I haven’t seen since childhood.  We’re headed to a place a few blocks away, directly up the street. 

I ask him about his life since leaving school.  Did he get married?  What was his occupation? 

All my questions are answered plainly, blandly.  Not a bad life, but certainly not exceptional.  Such an inquisitive kid; such a boring adult.  A shame, really.

I see some office buildings to the left.  I suggest we detour through those buildings on our way.  It’ll surely be more interesting than going straight up the street.

I expect to pass right through the first building.  But no—once inside, I discover it won’t be so simple.  The hall turns this way and that.  At one point, a staircase blocks our path. 

Eventually, I make it to the other side—but my childhood chum has disappeared.

Despite that difficult experience, I don’t return to the street, but head directly to the second building.  The way through this building presents even more turns and obstacles. 

At the end of the dream, I’m struggling to navigate a third building.

Well of course my childhood friend would disappear.  He’s sensible.  He’s rejected such complications in his life.  Who would want such trouble?

Apparently, me.  After the first building, I could have returned to the street.

But I didn’t because I wanted a route—a life—more interesting than a simple walk down the street.

But the dream isn’t just about making life interesting.  There are other ways to make life interesting.  I had another reason for staying on this path: I wanted to grow.  So I needed those challenges.

The dream says:

Consider yourself lucky.  Yes, you’ve dealt with confusion and uncertainty.  You’ve faced obstacle after obstacle.  But you’re a stronger person for having chosen this maddening path. 

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

another deposit

Yes, as stated in the poem below, I believe that what I learn in this life goes into a big bank of knowledge.

A bank that contains the accumulated wisdom of the Universe.

A good belief, I believe.  This way, I feel my efforts to be a better human being are not for naught.

Those efforts may seem to do little to change this world of conflict.  But I keep trying, because I believe I’m making good deposits.


SUNSET CELEBRATION

At the end
as our little Earth
sails into the sunset
I hope those left on deck
will hoist their glasses
in celebration of our accomplishment.

After all, to survive that long
we had to rise above
the dictates of our reptilian brain.

A higher degree earned
after millennia of pain.

I reject the thought
all that good work will be lost
as this planet rides the waves into the sun.

No, I say:
such wisdom goes
into a big bank somewhere—
where?  Somewhere.
Souls all over this universe
make deposits.

I won’t be there at our end
but I will be there at my own
and on my death bed
I’ll hoist a glass if I can—
I’ll celebrate what I’ve learned
during my class time on Earth.
I’ll know:

my rough ride on these waves
has been worth the pain
of frequent seasickness
because the gain won’t be lost
but stored for purposes
this tiny mind can’t possibly imagine.

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

fable of the man who saw his education in a night of dreams

While walking a winding path through a dense dark forest, the hero of our story awoke…

…to discover he’d only been dreaming.  No, he was actually climbing up a steep rocky mountain, the peak hidden in the clouds high above.

He then said to himself, “That forest dream came to tell me: life is a winding path.”

But in the next instant, he woke again.  Now he found himself couped up in a bubble of steel and glass.  His little one-man sub slowly descended through deeper and deeper shades of blue.  Big fishes and small bumped their noses on the windows. 

Our man then said to himself, “The second dream came to show me: life is more than a walk along a forest path.  Life is also a steep climb up a mountainside toward a mystery destination.”

With that thought, he woke again.  Now he found himself standing on a lonely road on a soggy foggy night.  Suddenly a big truck rushed past, splashing cold water and mud all down his front.

Shocked awake, our man then found himself sitting in a dark classroom—a kid among kids. 

“So what have you learned tonight?” an unseen teacher asked him.  “Can you tell the class?”

Our explorer stood and surveyed the small shadowy faces looking up from the rows of desks.  “I’ve learned that life is a walk on a winding path,” he told them.  “And a steep mountain climb.  And a deep dive down into the ocean. 

“But alas, along the way, you must endure nights of soaking rain and sloppy mud.  However…

“…now I know the rain and mud are part of my education.  So perhaps I won’t howl so loud next time I get doused.”

With that thought, he awoke to find himself where he usually found himself at 6:00 a.m.: in bed with his clothes hanging in the closet, waiting for him. 

After the grand events of the night, he felt like shucking off the coils of his workday.  But solaced himself with this thought:

“No matter how tedious life might seem at times…

“…I’m always walking a path through a land unknown.  And climbing to new heights.  And exploring the dark depths.  And standing strong in the rain. 

“And learning—yes, no matter what I do, I’m always learning.”

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
sky rope poetry blog
myth steps blog
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton