I've been listening again to the soundtrack to "Lady in the Water,"
possibly my favorite of all of M. Night Shyamalan's movies. I know, it
was pretty universally panned as being terrible. But why should I
care? I loved it and that's all that matters. I love it because it's
simple. I love it because it's beautiful and tender. I love it
because I can see and feel the heart and soul that M. Night put into
making it. I love it because it's fanciful and whimsical. I love it
because it's a creative way of doing a modern-day, allegorical
fairytale. I love it because it's honest.
My working
theory is that the people that hated it, do so because they don't know
how to enjoy something with childlike love anymore. Or that they are
far too "cool" to suspend disbelief for just a moment. And the rest,
well, they were just upset that M. Night took out some personal
aggression on the in-movie film critic. Yes, I can see that there was
definitely some pent up frustration there. But I can understand why.
As a writer, albeit an unprofessional one, I can fully understand that
feeling of frustration when someone doesn't "get" your work. When they
just don't see a point to it and don't really care to try to find one.
I
see M. Night's point in "Lady in the Water." I suppose it boils down
to purpose -- the purpose that each person has on this earth . . . that
they sometimes don't know what it is, how to live it out, or if they
even have one to begin with. We all need to feel as though our lives
mean something -- that we were put here for a reason, whether it be to
do something great, or something quite small, but still just as
important. Purpose is what drives us, makes us feel hopeful. And it
is what gives us comfort that despite all of the hard-knocks and
despite all of our mistakes, that maybe, just maybe, we will somehow
create something good out of all the bad.
Each of the
characters had a vital role in the story. Some even had titles, such
as The Healer of The Protector. But each one, no matter how small a
part, was necessary to the events that transpired. I have to admit,
Paul Giamatti's character was my favorite. But that's partly because I
adore him; he is one of three of my favorite actors, the other two
being Johnny Depp and Gary Oldman. One of these days I'm going to have
to expand that list to four favorites, and create a nice, comfy spot
for Sir Ian McKellan.
Paul Giamtti is wonderful in
this movie. He is kind, quiet, lovely, and broken. He is the sort of
man who you may not know has seen real tragedy . . . you may think that
he is just a loner, someone that has little to say and is mediocre to
the core. We've all seen people like that, or that we at least THINK
are like that. There is not much memorable about them. Cleveland Heep
is like that . . . easily dismissed. It makes me wonder just how many
people I have dismissed in my life, or how many people have dismissed
me. Probably far too many on both accounts.
Cleveland
wasn't always this way. He used to have a family, a job as a doctor,
and a regular home, instead of the small grotto-type house sitting next
to the aparment complex pool. He used to be engaged in the world and
alive. But tragedy has a blunt way of taking away your oxygen --
cocooning you from connections. Cleveland's family was murdered by
someone that broke into their home. He was a doctor and could not save
his own family. Can you imagine how much guilt you would have for
that? Your profession is saving people's lives, and the only ones you
couldn't save were the ones whom you loved the most.
Cleveland had retreated from the world after that, creating a
lonely existence in which no one knew his real story, until Story, the
water Narf, from the Blue World, who has been sent to "awaken" someone
meant to greatly affect the future of humanity. Story was the first one
who learned of Cleveland's past and true nature, by reading his
tucked-away journal that recounted all of his dark and long-held
secrets. When Cleveland finds Story reading his journal he takes it
from her and, bent over, cradles the journal against his chest, asking
her to please never speak of this again.
That part gets to me every time. The way he holds it so tightly
to his chest as if by her reading the journal she has somehow cut him
open and he is now trying to hold all of his organs inside of him
again. There is almost a fetal-like quality to it -- a certain security
from holding the body close to itself. There have been glimpses before
about who Cleveland is, but not until then do we discover what immense
pain he has been holding deep inside him.
That pain comes out beautifully near the end of the movie when
Story has been fatally wounded by the Scrunt. The woman who was
believed to be the healer held Story's limp body but failed to reverse
the effects of her injury. Finally it is realized that the true healer
all along was Cleveland, whom was originally believed to be the
Protector. Cleveland cradles Story's body in his arms, much like he did
with his journal, and begins to talk to her, telling her how much she
means to him. Suddenly, without saying it, he begins talking to his
family that he lost, telling them how sorry he is that he couldn't save
them.
He sobs, releasing years of pain. I absolutely lose it in this
part of the movie. I have never seen a more genuine and beautifully
gut-wrenching cry in any other movies or shows. Paul Giamatti is
amazingly honest and vulnerable. In this movie, he is just about the
most endearing character I have ever experienced.
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