Movies as Healing Journeys
When I first heard the idea that movies could offer insight into
life's problems I found the idea far fetched. The idea behind
this concept is that people can be so caught up wrestling with
their issues -- dysfunctional relationships, bad choices in
life, addictions, and struggles to resolve childhood problems -
that perspective is lost. Watching certain movies, we can see
how others deal with similar difficult problems or issues. For
example...
Someone dealing with being with family over the holidays could
watch Rocket Gibraltar and come to an understanding of why going
home for the holidays as an adult can be so difficult.
People struggling with the concept of denial could watch the
Accidental Tourist or When a Man Loves a Woman.
Someone struggling with the issue of being judged could watch
Defending Your life.
Someone watching A Beautiful Mind can learn how the disease of
schizophrenia impacts individuals, families, co-workers, and
friends.
I was introduced to this idea of Hollywood movies offering
healing messages by a therapist, Dr. Gary Solomon, who wrote a
book, Reel Therapy. As a proofreader of the original manuscript,
and as someone who underwent therapy with Dr. Solomon, I have
first hand experience in how this process work.
I found that the underlying dynamic of using movies to gain
healing insights sprang from the fact that while I typically
protect myself when someone questions why I'm doing something, I
relax and let in ideas and experience my feelings more directly
when I'm watching a movie. I can also see things about myself in
characters in a movie that I can't see when someone else tries
to tell me something about myself. I generally respond to the
messenger, not the message.
One of my major issues when I started therapy revolved around
being a fixer. I couldn't understand why someone I was helping
in a relationship at the time was angry with me. Dr. Solomon
suggested I watch the movie When a Man Loves a Woman, with Meg
Ryan and Andy Garcia. In the story, Ryan is a lively personality
who brings excitement to the life of quiet, thoughtful Garcia.
When the drinking which fuels her fun personality becomes life
threatening, they have to deal with her alcoholism. She goes
into treatment. When she returns, there's a scene where Ryan's
children are squabbling. Ryan is dealing with the situation when
Garcia shows up. He basically announces, 'I'm the healthy person
here; will the recovering alcoholic please step aside so I can
fix this problem.'
I then saw why my girlfriend was angry. To satisfy my need to
'fix' her and feel good about myself, I needed her to not be
able to deal with her own problems. I wasn't giving her the time
to find - and be responsible for - her own solutions.
I could only see this dynamic when I watched this movie. I
simply could not understand this concept when it was explained
to me. I had developed a powerful self-image that revolved
around fixing others. When I saw the truth of what I was doing -
and why -- mirrored back to me in a movie, I didn't block out
the message, and I could then begin to deal with the underlying
issue of resolving my own problems instead of avoiding them by
helping others. Another issue I couldn't understand about myself
was how some people responded to my esoteric sense of humor. For
many years, good friends had asked me to understand how people
who didn't know me interpreted my humor. I shrugged off their
advice. Then Gary had me watch a film called The Men's Club,
about a group of men who decide to imitate a women's support
group to see what happens. A man who can't deal with his
feelings sabotages the club. He masks this by suggesting the men
go to a bordello instead of talking about their feelings. The
character I was asked to pay attention to was someone in the
group who generally stayed in the background making esoteric,
off-the-wall remarks. Remarks that often made no sense
whatsoever to anyone else.
The same kind of remarks I enjoyed making.
I could finally see what I looked like. This realization had a
potent effect on me. Since that time, I try to introduce myself
to people who don't know me in a straightforward manner before
indulging my esoteric sense of humor. A third movie Dr. Solomon
recommended I watch was Drop Dead Fred. This film took me into
painful territory I didn't want to explore. In therapy, when Dr.
Solomon would try and probe where I put my anger, I would not be
able to comprehend what he was saying; even though I knew he was
talking to me, his words were meaningless sounds. Even when I
re-listened to tapes of those sessions, I could not hear those
questions. I had some serious body/mind armor protecting me from
dealing with anger.
So Dr. Solomon recommended I watch Drop Dead Fred. In the film,
a young woman is abandoned by her husband. She returns home to
live with her mother and reverts to a more childish, dependent
personality. When she returns home, she also finds someone she
left behind long ago, Drop Dead Fred, her imaginary playmate.
Drop Dead Fred is more than an imaginary playmate, however. When
she was a little girl, Fred acted out her anger toward her
overbearing mother. While she silently stewed, Fred would smear
animal excrement all over the mother's beautiful white carpets,
etc.
When the young woman again decides to be an adult and be
responsible for her decisions, Drop Dead Fred disappears. He has
no purpose in her adult life.
I never had an imaginary playmate raining ruin on the people I
was angry with, but I found other outlets like cutting remarks
or passive-aggressive behavior. I also came to realize that in
my life I'd swallowed a significant chunk of my anger with large
doses of sugar, salt and fatty foods. Watching the movie helped
nudge me toward processing my feelings of anger.
Each of Dr. Solomon's books, The Motion Picture Prescription and
Reel Therapy, have indexes that cross reference movies by title
and healing messages. While some films focus on one topic,
alcoholism, for example, another movie might touch on several
issues, being raised by an abusive parent, alcoholism,
co-dependency. The basic topics covered in Reel Therapy are:
abandonment, abuse, adoption, alcohol, cop-dependency,
death/dying, denial, divorce, drugs, family, food, friends,
gambling, mental illness, relationships, sex/sexuality.
I'm not suggesting this process of watching movies with healing
messages is an easy cure for life's problems. I wrestle daily
with many of the issues I took into therapy. I'm just better at
recognizing what I'm wrestling with. That helps me make better
choices; or, if I still make bad choices, at least I can
recognize what I'm doing and change course.
I believe in this process not only because it helped me, but
also because many people in the world will never be able to
afford therapy. Most people, however, can afford to rent movies
that, along with a guide like Dr. Solomon's (other books on the
subject are available now), will provide them some healing
insight into their lives and struggles. And some comfort that we
are not alone in our struggles.
There's also a very practical benefit to this studying this
concept. Screenwriters can use the understanding they gain from
movies with therapeutic messages to build stronger, more
believable characters and plots. Someone writing a screenplay
about alcoholics could watch The Lost Weekend, the Billy Wilder
classic, to understand the dynamics of being an alcoholic or
someone dealing with an alcoholic. Another Billy Wilder classic,
The Apartment, has Jack Lemmon trying to climb the corporate
ladder by letting executives use his apartment for extra-martial
affairs. A great plan until he falls in love with his boss's
girlfriend. This film explores the cost of being willing to do
anything to succeed.
Stories that resonate deeply with audiences often have, at their
hearts, the issues many of us wrestle with in daily life. Star
Wars features an estranged father and son. The first Indiana
Jones film features a pair of mismatched lovers. Sleepless in
Seattle features a man trying to deal with his grief over the
loss of his wife. Memento features a man determined to create a
meaningful 'story' about his wife's death.
Take away each film's heart, and what's left is a soulless
exercise in plot mechanics.
In closing, I want to mention one last unresolved issue I have
from my work with Dr. Solomon. When I was proofreading The
Motion Picture Prescription, Dr. Solomon insisted that in the
movie Harvey, Harvey is an IMMAGINARY rabbit. I insisted Harvey
is an INVISIBLE rabbit. Dr. Solomon noted out disagreement in
his book. I'm sure anyone who watches the movie will agree with
me that Harvey is INVISIBLE, not IMAGINARY. I assume Dr. Solomon
has some deep-rooted, unresolved issues around invisible
rabbits. I hope someone will make a movie that deals with this
issue for the sake of others with this problem.