At last, it is time to devote one of these posts to the work of a director who has produced some very fine work, which are counted among my absolute favorite movies: M. Night Shyamalan. I have been wanting to do some commenting on his work in this forum for awhile, but I try to keep these posts in line with something current and his earlier work definitely appeals to me more than most of his newer work. In fact, I probably would not have seen
Split if not for its connection to
Unbreakable, as a long-awaited quasi-sequel, which set the stage for a more direct sequel in
Glass. Those of us who are fans of his earlier work know well, and lament, the story of how Shyamalan apparently wanted
Unbreakable to lead into a trilogy, but it allegedly lacked the studio support needed to make it happen. Upon first hearing of the surprise at the end of
Split, I was intrigued to find out how he was going to go about this sort of "back door" approach to finally making that trilogy happen... sort of. While the scene at the end of the movie, revealing David Dunn in the same "story universe," might have seemed to some like an afterthought designed to setup a profitable sequel, for any viewers who might be at all like me, it put the whole movie into perspective. The thematic content of
Split made it a very interesting counterpart to that of
Unbreakable, as both revealed very different angles of sight, if you will, from which to continue the ongoing reflection on human potential, vulnerability and brokenness, as well as on outlook, perspective and faith (just to name a few key themes). Indeed, I hope Mr. Shyamalan doesn't mind me saying that those two movies can be seen as reverse images of one another.
In part, what I offer today can also be seen as a follow-up to the
earlier reflection on a quite different story, Stranger Things. That post also dealt with some similar themes, especially that of the restoration of broken fatherhood, which is a very common theme for Shyamalan. We also see the deliberate contrast between the innocence of children and the jaded wisdom of experience, often found in the adults. This is an important theme in
Stranger Things, as well as in some of Shyamalan's work.
Unbreakable was one of his many early works, in which he clearly and very effectively used camera angles to invite us to reflect upon the perspective of children and how it sometimes asks us to turn our view of the world upside down. The struggle between David and his son, Joseph, who challenged him to open his mind and heart to the possibilities of the gift he was given and the responsibility it placed upon him. Two scenes in the kitchen are some of the most powerful in the whole movie. First, the scene in which Joseph pulls a gun on his father, hoping to prove that his dad is unbreakable, which shows Joseph's need to heed his father's wisdom. Yet, this is beautifully contrasted with the scene at the end, in which David slides the newspaper headline across the table to his son and silently mouths the words "You were right." By way of contrast, we also have the frequent flashbacks to Elijah's childhood, which show how the early wounds of his childhood were met by his childlike wonder, driving him to seek to know his place in this world. We see his mother's attempts to keep that wonder alive, while we also see the dark places to which his wounds drove him. This all flows into another key element of perspective in the larger story, spanning all three movies: namely how many of the loudest and most stirring apparent truths seems to come from the mouths of the villains. While this does not justify the grievous wrongs they commit, it not only enables us to see their humanity, but also invites us to ponder the danger that results from allowing fear to cause us to seek to restrain the most horrifyingly beautiful truths. This definitely seems to have been one of the strongest messages, by the time the story comes its conclusion in
Glass.
Finally, as
Stranger Things offered us the unique perspective of the teenagers, which portrayed that movement behind childhood and adulthood, so also we gain a similarly unique perspective from Casey and the others in
Split. One of the dynamics between the three teenagers is the contrast between the types of wisdom they think they have acquired from their early experience. This all points toward the even greater contrast, namely how Claire and Marcia seem to epitomize what "The Horde" fixates upon in the obsession with "those who have not suffered," while Casey is "not like the others," because she has been living with abuse since her childhood, like Kevin himself. It is no accident that the quasi-sequel to a movie built upon a contrast between a man who breaks like glass and another who is unbreakable reaches its climax when the villain spares his final victim, telling her to "
Rejoice. The broken are the more evolved. Rejoice." With the Horde, we hear stirringly partial truths, but viewed from a deeply distorted lens. But, with this revelation it begins to become clear. The real strength of Casey is not just in the way that her tragic sufferings have made her smart, smart enough to beat the animal, like her father taught her. The wits she uses, even when they seemed not right, have been genuinely what she needed to survive, also not unlike Kevin. So, her strength is in that she is able to see Kevin in a way the others cannot. She is able to have compassion.
This connection between wisdom and compassion seems to be important for Split. The ability to see, understand and navigate the brokenness of the world is seen as wisdom, in a way that makes those who cannot do so unable to see reality properly. This leads to a dramatic reversal of how most view innocence, experience and purity: "The impure are the untouched, the unburned, the unslain." What many would call innocence looks here more like a kind of privilege, which places the holder of this privilege at a great disadvantage when it comes to dealing with the harshness of reality. In this way, Unbreakable's childlike faith that awakened the hope in his hero gives way to Split's portrayal of children who have already been broken. This all makes this movie quite clearly a thematically darker, more tragic second part to the quasi-trilogy that began with Unbreakable.
Finally, the notion of childlike wonder maturing into adulthood finds an interesting embodiment in the young adult portrayal of Joseph Dunn in Glass. We see glimpses of how he has wandered with his father through the brokenness of the world and seems to have acquired a degree of "street smarts," yet he still retains his faith in the extraordinary man who is his father. The place in which the ending of the story finds him is not surprising, but it is also complicated in ways that merit a post of its own. Furthermore, while I don't claim this post to be entirely spoiler-free, I have chosen to keep my discussions of the ending of Glass somewhat vague for the time being.
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Just a reminder that David Dunn was not the
first one to be "Unbreakable" |
The contrasts of these various perspectives set the stage for
Glass, in which Dr. Staple attempts to convince David, Elijah and Kevin that they are simply suffering from delusions. It immediately prompts one to wonder at how desperately adulthood needs to recover childlike wonder, in order to truly be as in touch with reality as we like to claim. But, this childlike perspective has a flip-side, because Dr. Staple initially seems to be the opposite of Dr. Fletcher, who dared to believe in the extraordinary things she was finding in those deemed unwell, even if it made her appear similarly unwell to her colleagues. Notice the connection between the perception of wellness and a limited view of reality. Dr. Fletcher offers a more mature glimpse of one who has allowed this childlike faith to remain alive into adulthood. But, this ability to believe in what others consider impossible gives way, not only to wonder, but also to fear. Notice how early in the movie, she tells a colleague, "
There is no limit to what he (Kevin) can become," while she later tells Kevin himself, "
Surely, there must be some limit to what a human person can become." Whatever amount of belief one affords themselves, doubt still remains a helpful defense mechanism, which can even become a weapon of those consumed by fear. It seems that, if
Unbreakable was a reflection on wonder in the face of human potential,
Split was a reflection on fear in the face of human potential. Perhaps this is why the first feels like a different kind of hero's origin story, while the second feels more like a horror movie. They set the stage for a fascinating finale, when one of Shyamalan's classic "restored father" figures steps back into the scene, and the role of the original "villain" begins to be seen in a new, much darker light (pun intended).
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| Another of Shyamalan's great "restored father" figures: Graham Hess from Signs. |
Glass sets these three extraordinary individuals, not only against one another, but seemingly contrasts the various ways in which they confront a common threat, namely the despair that doubt seeks to implant within the soul. In the process, we come to a dramatic collision of various perspectives on their extraordinary nature: doubt, wonder, and fear, all in varying degrees and nuances. We see the evolution, both of how others view them and how they view themselves. For one, we see how David's unwavering sense of responsibility, with its natural inclination toward protection, remains his great strength, yet perhaps also a weakness, as it enables him to be manipulated... yet manipulated into what seems to be the right action.
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Yet another who was seemingly
"Unbreakable" before David Dunn. |
Perhaps the most interesting and fitting perspective to end on is that of Casey upon Kevin. The compassion she has toward him is beautiful. She sees the suffering man beneath, who is also a victim, but there is no justification of his actions. She dreads the evil he is capable of and wants to stop it. Over time, that process enabled her to see how it is for his good, just as it is for others, as she sees just how much the good man underneath is suffering and starved of love. She also sees that a great good was worked in her own life, as a result of her encounter with Kevin and the rest of his personalities, although much suffering came first. And it is such that the look of love and friendship with which she reaches out to him is not merely one of pity, but even holds a shocking note of gratitude. Again, this gratitude does not seem to be at his evil actions, but toward the man underneath, striving to be free. Her model of friendship becomes one, not only of compassion, but of unconditional love. In both
Split and
Glass, the caution with which Dr. Fletcher, Casey and even Dr. Staple regard the use of his full name seems of great importance. At first glance, it might seem like a silver bullet, as it stops the momentum of the threatening and villainous identities, wrenching them out of the light. But, it's not that simple. It seems like something one might use to attempt to regain control. But, the result is anything but control. It causes Kevin great pain and throws his entire psyche, complete with all of the personalities that have arisen to protect him, into a state of chaotic disarray. The tension in waiting to see if and when Casey will use this tactic is dramatic and beautiful. Casey has come to see the deeper truth of who she is. This is the intentional irony when she is told, "
You're the victim." Kevin also is a victim. But, he is more than a victim. Only Casey is capable of enabling him to see that.
No matter how painful it is, no matter how dangerous, we must strive to be who we truly are. The defenses we put up to protect ourselves not only hurt others, but they hold us back as well. We may have suffered. We may have been hurt and deeply wounded, but we are still extraordinary. "
The extraordinary can be explained away, but it is still true." Indeed, we must become who we are.
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