To Things Previously Unseen
FILM AS MEDICINE
I discovered something new…
when watching a favorite film recently. Its title is perfect—The Meddler, with Susan Sarandon—but the first time I watched it, I didn’t agree.
The film opens directly into loneliness. Marnie, the protagonist, lies in her bed staring at the ceiling fan. A feeling hangs in the air — invisible, but heavy. On first watch, I barely noticed. It’s a quick scene; easily missed.
I saw it again, in her eyes, as she watched a performance of someone who strongly resembled her husband in both word and appearance. And again through a moment of relief that contrasted the far away look in her eye and placed her squarely in the present.
Time is a strange thing in widowhood.
How can they be so far away and then it feels like they’re right beside you? Yesterday, I was in the midst of Dan’s sanctuary. His man cave. The Garage.
Everything there reeks of him. Evidence of him exuded in each hinge, wire, and tool. We’re selling things that will no longer be used and it felt like he was supervising me as I made my way through the memories amid a tangible sense of his presence.
Time and Treasure
The death of Marnie’s husband brought her an abundance of time and treasure. This was the movie’s strongest disconnect for me since after Dan’s death I lost half my income and had very little free time as I am self employed. In other words, the “no work, no pay” plan.
Marnie’s funny interlude with her daughter’s therapist (yes, you read that correctly!) shone a light on the way she was spending her money on everyone but herself. Was she feeling guilty that she was still alive with more money than she could imagine spending? Was this a consolation prize?
Her experience with time felt similar since it seemed she had no real interests of her own. In addition to time and treasure, Marnie had an abundance of advice for others and I see now that the title “meddler” is perfect.
Time Heals When We’re Not Looking
The story turns when Marnie meets her first real friend in town. Zipper shows up in moments both tender and hilarious. His hobby of raising chickens takes the edge off his profession as a police officer.
Marnie hangs out with Zipper—a silver fox with a mustache and a baritone drawl who politely informs her that his ride is not a motorcycle, but a Harley-Davidson . . . Marnie is hesitating because in his own laid-back California way, Zipper reminds her of Joe, and she doesn’t know if she can love a man like that again. You can tell Zipper gets this even though he doesn’t know the details, just by the way he listens to her: with patience and serenity. —Matt Seitz.
Maybe I keep returning to this film because it seems to “get” me. It feels like it’s keeping me company while I try to live my life and also explore my journey through grief.
A lot of people are going to be surprised by how deeply this movie understands them. In its modest way, it has much to say about what it means to move through catastrophe, one step at a time. –Matt Zoller Seitz
Yes.
And it’s great company along the way.
