So...Big
Last year’s Oscar win for Best Foreign Film was a Michael Haneke feature produced in France titled “Amour.” It was a beautiful and difficult film to experience. One scene in particular I keep turning over in my mind. Emmanuelle Riva plays Anne, a retired piano teacher living with her husband Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignant) in their beautiful apartment in Paris. She silently suffers a stroke which results in multiple medical setbacks including eventual dementia, all within a very short period of time.
After their initial discovery of her condition before Anne undergoes surgery for a blocked carotid, the couple are seen contemplating the possible outcomes of overcoming this new obstacle, Anne looking anxious and pensive. She sits at the farm table in their kitchen with a large scrap book on her lap. She slowly turns each page poring over pictures of herself as a child and old newspaper clippings. Georges asks her what she’s thinking and her response is a kind, but overwhelmed, “No, it’s just…life. It’s so…big.” The resonance of this statement only grows as we see Anne’s health rapidly decline and the new obstacles of Anne and Georges’s life increase to a heartbreaking resolution. The truth of being overwhelmed by the vast reality of a life lived fully stays with me. The statement “-life. It’s so…big” is indisputable no matter what you think of the eventual resolution in this particular film.
It’s also indisputable in our own lives, whether or not you feel you lived a life of less than or perhaps quite favorable circumstances. Whether you’ve been blessed with a joyful, varied or comfortable life, or, alternately a path of intense struggle, maybe even danger, both journeys have their own transformative power. We experience our transformations as part of minute adjustments, added on in layers until we are changed so completely, we cannot even be clear as to the individual moments these transformations took place. We just know that in hindsight, they have in fact occurred. To take in the “bigness” of life in large bites would be too much for us to handle both psychologically and emotionally. Even examining the milestones of change in our lives can literally feel unbelievable.
My grandmother is close to 90 years old. She got an iPad for Christmas and enjoys learning how to use Facebook. I think what she loves about it is that she is able to see and share news of her grandchildren from all over the country, whether that means a picture from a film set I’m working on in New Jersey to a weekend romp my sister takes to Montreal or the latest on my brother’s college antics in California. All of this is available to her instantly and in one place, with some easy clicks and scrolling. No operator assistance or Western Union or Walter Cronkite needed. When you think about the technology to make that a reality, it’s a straight up miracle. What’s mind blowing is that this is the same woman that could go to the movies for 25 cents as a kid and whose high school class photo had barely any boys present because those who could, were drafted for World War II. How could the same individual experience such massive change: good, bad, shocking, joyous, but all integral to the fabric of a life, all part of one journey? I’m not just talking here about the “biggies” of widespread consciousness (events like the Great Depression, the advent of television, the assassination of JFK, the discovery that smoking was bad for you- who knew?!) but also the individualized journey of change that each of us experiences on top of that (the death of our parents, moments of disappointment in our former heroes, the creation of friendships and the joy of the ones that stick). What an immense experience in one lifetime.
For me, I like to relive these different moments of the journey by looking at old photos, even old cards or notes I’ve saved to specifically be reminded of details to whom I was, what I was experiencing at various times in my life. I like to see all the hairstyles I had forgotten about and be reminded of the in-jokes I shared with my Drama Club friends or the afternoon games with the boys next door to Vavo’s house. For others, perusing a record of the past might mean looking back at your Instagram profile or old albums on Facebook. Whatever it is, savor the memories in small bites so that the reality is more tangible, the good and the bad because all of it creates the rich fabric of a life. Life is so…big, from the scrapbook to your new iPad.
After their initial discovery of her condition before Anne undergoes surgery for a blocked carotid, the couple are seen contemplating the possible outcomes of overcoming this new obstacle, Anne looking anxious and pensive. She sits at the farm table in their kitchen with a large scrap book on her lap. She slowly turns each page poring over pictures of herself as a child and old newspaper clippings. Georges asks her what she’s thinking and her response is a kind, but overwhelmed, “No, it’s just…life. It’s so…big.” The resonance of this statement only grows as we see Anne’s health rapidly decline and the new obstacles of Anne and Georges’s life increase to a heartbreaking resolution. The truth of being overwhelmed by the vast reality of a life lived fully stays with me. The statement “-life. It’s so…big” is indisputable no matter what you think of the eventual resolution in this particular film.
It’s also indisputable in our own lives, whether or not you feel you lived a life of less than or perhaps quite favorable circumstances. Whether you’ve been blessed with a joyful, varied or comfortable life, or, alternately a path of intense struggle, maybe even danger, both journeys have their own transformative power. We experience our transformations as part of minute adjustments, added on in layers until we are changed so completely, we cannot even be clear as to the individual moments these transformations took place. We just know that in hindsight, they have in fact occurred. To take in the “bigness” of life in large bites would be too much for us to handle both psychologically and emotionally. Even examining the milestones of change in our lives can literally feel unbelievable.
My grandmother is close to 90 years old. She got an iPad for Christmas and enjoys learning how to use Facebook. I think what she loves about it is that she is able to see and share news of her grandchildren from all over the country, whether that means a picture from a film set I’m working on in New Jersey to a weekend romp my sister takes to Montreal or the latest on my brother’s college antics in California. All of this is available to her instantly and in one place, with some easy clicks and scrolling. No operator assistance or Western Union or Walter Cronkite needed. When you think about the technology to make that a reality, it’s a straight up miracle. What’s mind blowing is that this is the same woman that could go to the movies for 25 cents as a kid and whose high school class photo had barely any boys present because those who could, were drafted for World War II. How could the same individual experience such massive change: good, bad, shocking, joyous, but all integral to the fabric of a life, all part of one journey? I’m not just talking here about the “biggies” of widespread consciousness (events like the Great Depression, the advent of television, the assassination of JFK, the discovery that smoking was bad for you- who knew?!) but also the individualized journey of change that each of us experiences on top of that (the death of our parents, moments of disappointment in our former heroes, the creation of friendships and the joy of the ones that stick). What an immense experience in one lifetime.
For me, I like to relive these different moments of the journey by looking at old photos, even old cards or notes I’ve saved to specifically be reminded of details to whom I was, what I was experiencing at various times in my life. I like to see all the hairstyles I had forgotten about and be reminded of the in-jokes I shared with my Drama Club friends or the afternoon games with the boys next door to Vavo’s house. For others, perusing a record of the past might mean looking back at your Instagram profile or old albums on Facebook. Whatever it is, savor the memories in small bites so that the reality is more tangible, the good and the bad because all of it creates the rich fabric of a life. Life is so…big, from the scrapbook to your new iPad.
