Macbeth, Act IV, Scene 3 is an often overlooked but ultimately revealing scene. Malcolm, the rightful heir to the throne, is in exile talking with Macduff, a warrior who is at least Macbeth's equal. Macbeth has killed both Malcolm's father and Macduff son. So we have a fatherless child and a childless father coming together to defeat the murderous usurper.
Indeed, Macbeth seems obsessed with dual murders of fathers and sons. He always seems to succeed in killing one while the other survives. Duncan dies, but Malcolm and Donalbain escape. Banquo dies, but Fleance escapes. And Macduff is not home when his assassins arrive, but his young son is brutally butchered.
The witches plant the seeds of obsession by telling Macbeth he will be king, but not a father of kings; that honor will go instead to good father Banquo.
Back to Malcolm and Macduff. In order to test Macduff's loyalty, Malcolm tries to present himself as unworthy and unfit to be king. The older Macduff proves he is loyal to Scotland and honest with Malcolm, and this allows the puer to reveal his true virtue.
It is then that Macduff discovers his own son and wife have been killed. As Macduff wails, Malcolm tries to redirect his anger toward battle with Macbeth, but the older wiser Macduff must first express his feelings. In this, he teaches the younger man how to grieve, which we have yet to see Malcolm do for his father.
One can imagine the immediate bond that might take place between two such men, united by grief and loss.
From a Jungian perspective, Malcolm and Macduff seem to be the parts of Macbeth that he cut off from himself when he commit his heinous crime. Macbeth could not be a loyal son and so can never be a wise old man. He is cut off from his innocence and his wisdom. He has no progeny and no creativity. His fate is destruction.
So perhaps Macbeth, Macduff, and Malcolm can be viewed as aspects of the same man. Is Shakespeare's message cautionary, as if to say "here is what happens when you neglect your inner child and inner old man"? Or is his message darkly optimistic, as in "even your choice to walk the path of ego and self-destruction can lead to enlightenment and psychic integration"?
In the end, it is fitting that Macbeth must be beheaded. If they went after his balls, I doubt they'd find any.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
Hillman
He seems to stroll slowly, effortlessly to the stage but another look reveals him pressing his right hand into his cane and pulling his right leg forward and locking it in before the next step. I am reminded of the image of Geras, the god of aging, with the curved cane. Hillman arrived early so he would be seated before the particpants arrived. He hesitated at the step to the stage as someone moved out of a group to offer his arm so Hillman could grab it and climb up. Hillman drew himself up onto the stage and walked to his seat. His head did not match his body. His hair was white and thin at the top but his eyes were clear and open and excited. He sat next to Stanton Marlon whose book on the alchemy of the Black Sun was well recieved by the analytic community. There were 5 other guests Hillman handpicked for the panel from all over the world. They talked about image and archetype. Hillman reveals he hates the term archetypal psychology though he admits inventing it. He is particularly engaged with an analyst from Japan whose English is difficult. Hillman passes the conversation often to him but it isn't clear whether the man from Japan understood the thread of the conversation. Hillman tries to explain a concept he and the gentleman had been discussing earlier that day, the idea that he is already living in the afterlife. Hillman and this man enjoy this idea together. Then the man from Japan tries to explain the difference between Japan and the United States. American archery is more interested in hitting the target and how many times and how close to the bull's eye. The man stood up and assumed the form of the archer and then said, "The Japanese archer is more interested in the form he assumes before the arrow leaves him." The man stood there in position silently. Hillman was impressed. So it is the image before death that represents the life. This is why in the Japanese how someone dies is very important and will have influence on the afterlife. I once had a nurse tell me when she arrived to a home of a Japanese patient who had been struggling for breath. When the nurse took his blood pressure the patient suddenly took his last breath. The family believed the nurse helped his spirit leave his body to be in peace and the person's spirit came out through his last breath. You could not convince the family otherwise had you tried. In a way their perception of death was much more poetic than western medicine would allow. In the west there is only death. Nothing more. And since there is no afterlife then how someone dies doesn't matter. Dying in a state of shame is the worse thing for the Japanese. I did not see Hillman again until I was leaving and he was walking by himself from the elevators to the conference hall. I said hello to him and addressed him as Dr. Hillman. He smiled and said hello. Anywhere else, with anyone else he would have just been another old man walking with a cane trying very hard not to fall.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Billy Budd / Hud / Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
The Father, The Son and The Shadow: Who Gets Out Alive?
I spent the weekend with three classic films: Billy Budd, Hud and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Unwittingly, I had crafted an interesting three-part meditation on the nature of the Father-Son conflict and the Shadow's need to force confrontation, destruction and rebirth.
Billy Budd is Peter Ustinov's brilliant and underrated adaptation of Herman Melville's novella by the same name. Billy Budd is a perfect sailor. Young, attractive, idealistic and happy, he is the very essence of the Puer. Forced to serve on a naval vessel, Billy makes fast friends. But he finds himself and his shipmates subjected to cruelty at the hands of a man named Claggart, who lives to make men suffer and squirm. Claggart believes the world is a dark dangerous place, and so attacks others preemptively with patient, manipulative evil. Claggart represents the Shadow. Above both men is The Captain, who is the flawed father of the story. He sees both Billy's goodness and Claggart's evil. When the inevitable confrontation between the two men leads to Claggart's accidental death, the Captain is forced to punish and execute Billy. The Captain and every man on the ship knows it is immoral and wrong. But the law must be serve; the ritual must be obeyed. The sacrifice of Billy Budd can be viewed as a Christ allegory. But from a Jungian perspective, there would seem to be a more intricate dance taking place. The Shadow demands the confrontation. The father avoids it, so the son must be sacrificed. Billy's blood is on the Captain's hands. The Captain is left alive; perhaps by striving to be a better man, he may transform through the loss, shame, and grief.
Hud is a brilliant story written by Larry McMurtry about three generations of men living and working together on a Texas cattle ranch. Homer is the principled old man who owns the ranch. Hud is his drunken, manipulative and selfish son. Homer also has a grandson named Lonnie, a puer who admires both his Uncle Hud and Grandfather Homer for different reasons. Lonnie's father (Homer's other son, Hud's brother) is dead, killed in an accident caused by Hud. Never having forgiven each other, Homer and Hud engage in a proxy war, using the cattle ranch and Lonnie's impressionable psyche as the battlefield. In the end, Homer must die, along with his cows and his ideals. Hud wins the ranch. But he cannot win Lonnie, who walks away in the pivotal last scene as his own man. So again, the Shadow demands confrontation. But this time it is the Father who must be sacrificed. The Puer is transformed, and a young new king is crowned.
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is Tennessee William's classic play about a Southern patriarch called Big Daddy and his ne'er-do-well drunken ex-athlete son Brick. Inflated and egotistical Big Daddy has mastered the material world, but not the inner world. He is dying, and his son Brick is in a fruitless marriage full of resentment and self-destruction. So we have a Father and a Shadow. Where is our Puer? Was he killed off long ago, or do both men carry the archetypal innocence deep inside? In the end, only through confrontation and resolution can Brick get what he craves: for his Father to remember his own innocence and happiness of his childhood, to recall his fond feelings for his own long-dead father. So again the Shadow pursues the confrontation. And a sacrifice must be made with the impending death of Big Daddy. We are left with the Shadow dispelled as Brick promises to sire a new heir to the family name. The lost Puer is regained.
These tales reveal similar insights. In all three stories, the Shadow relentlessly pursues confrontation between Father and Son. In all three stories, Father or Son must be sacrificed; Death must be accepted. And in all three stories, transformation and rebirth are achieved, as difficult as that process may be for all parties involved.
I spent the weekend with three classic films: Billy Budd, Hud and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Unwittingly, I had crafted an interesting three-part meditation on the nature of the Father-Son conflict and the Shadow's need to force confrontation, destruction and rebirth.
Billy Budd is Peter Ustinov's brilliant and underrated adaptation of Herman Melville's novella by the same name. Billy Budd is a perfect sailor. Young, attractive, idealistic and happy, he is the very essence of the Puer. Forced to serve on a naval vessel, Billy makes fast friends. But he finds himself and his shipmates subjected to cruelty at the hands of a man named Claggart, who lives to make men suffer and squirm. Claggart believes the world is a dark dangerous place, and so attacks others preemptively with patient, manipulative evil. Claggart represents the Shadow. Above both men is The Captain, who is the flawed father of the story. He sees both Billy's goodness and Claggart's evil. When the inevitable confrontation between the two men leads to Claggart's accidental death, the Captain is forced to punish and execute Billy. The Captain and every man on the ship knows it is immoral and wrong. But the law must be serve; the ritual must be obeyed. The sacrifice of Billy Budd can be viewed as a Christ allegory. But from a Jungian perspective, there would seem to be a more intricate dance taking place. The Shadow demands the confrontation. The father avoids it, so the son must be sacrificed. Billy's blood is on the Captain's hands. The Captain is left alive; perhaps by striving to be a better man, he may transform through the loss, shame, and grief.
Hud is a brilliant story written by Larry McMurtry about three generations of men living and working together on a Texas cattle ranch. Homer is the principled old man who owns the ranch. Hud is his drunken, manipulative and selfish son. Homer also has a grandson named Lonnie, a puer who admires both his Uncle Hud and Grandfather Homer for different reasons. Lonnie's father (Homer's other son, Hud's brother) is dead, killed in an accident caused by Hud. Never having forgiven each other, Homer and Hud engage in a proxy war, using the cattle ranch and Lonnie's impressionable psyche as the battlefield. In the end, Homer must die, along with his cows and his ideals. Hud wins the ranch. But he cannot win Lonnie, who walks away in the pivotal last scene as his own man. So again, the Shadow demands confrontation. But this time it is the Father who must be sacrificed. The Puer is transformed, and a young new king is crowned.
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is Tennessee William's classic play about a Southern patriarch called Big Daddy and his ne'er-do-well drunken ex-athlete son Brick. Inflated and egotistical Big Daddy has mastered the material world, but not the inner world. He is dying, and his son Brick is in a fruitless marriage full of resentment and self-destruction. So we have a Father and a Shadow. Where is our Puer? Was he killed off long ago, or do both men carry the archetypal innocence deep inside? In the end, only through confrontation and resolution can Brick get what he craves: for his Father to remember his own innocence and happiness of his childhood, to recall his fond feelings for his own long-dead father. So again the Shadow pursues the confrontation. And a sacrifice must be made with the impending death of Big Daddy. We are left with the Shadow dispelled as Brick promises to sire a new heir to the family name. The lost Puer is regained.
These tales reveal similar insights. In all three stories, the Shadow relentlessly pursues confrontation between Father and Son. In all three stories, Father or Son must be sacrificed; Death must be accepted. And in all three stories, transformation and rebirth are achieved, as difficult as that process may be for all parties involved.
Monday, August 23, 2010
THe Cost of Mechination
The cost of machination is the sacrifice of the feminine. The cost of taking the easy route such as with the character of Peter Sarsgaard is sacrifice of the feminine but not in him, in those around him. He is the master of the feelings realm, the arts, the carefree life represented by Paris but what he lacks her father carrries, the senex, the sense of rules and responsibility and money doesn’t grow on trees and you have to work for it. But he is all too willing to sacrifice his dream of her going to college. He is as captivated by Paul as his daughter. The parents have sacrificed that part of themselves long ago and that part remains unresolved, unintegrated and it remains in shadow until Paul constellated that part of the them and led to the parents betrayal of the daughter. It reminds us how easy we can be tricked by someone who can tap into that lost self.
And what of loss. The incredible alchemical plates of Lucius signify a process that has captivated me. I believe it has to do with transformation but different from the Rosarium. A king is no longer listening to his servants as they are beseeching him. They are in want. One wonders if this is similar to the themes in fairytales in which desire and want are evident from the beginning of the story, such as Rapunzel and the desire for rapion and in Godfather Death and the desire for a godfather for his son. The want in our alchemical image is for a new king or a new view of the world, a new attitude toward the world. In modern times this desire is usually acted out and leads to change but at a very high price. The very public affairs and betrayals seen in the media are attempts, misguided as they are, at change or transformation. The psyche does not understand this need nor how to meet it. We have no road maps for this change. We think that all change comes from without, not from within, so live by those rules and end up acting out a dynamic that can be characterized as betrayal in order to precipitate change from within.
Let us look deeper. The son steps up to kill the king. This is not left to anyone else. The son kills the king is a very deep psychic need reflective of Freud, yet the son also represents the new moving forward to replce the old. A father feels this in his son, that he is there to replace him. This is very primordial and the father's usual reaction is anger and defensiveness and at worst, a father's excuse to destroy the son psychologically if not physically as in the case of physical abuse. But this death is not out of anger or hatred. It is very prescribed and serious. Upon the death of the king the son places the blood of the father on his own clothes. This act acknowledges the son's ownership of the death. He takes responsibility for this death and does not deny it. Human nature is very resistant to acknowledging a death that one has psychologically particpated in so this ownership is essential.
Then the son must bury the father, the king. The new buries the old but in the act of burial the son reluctantly follows his father into the tomb. We are told in the alchemical text the the son's movement into the tomb was aided by the art of the alchemist. One replaces alchemist with therapist and we see the therapist as an important component of moving the patient toward this burial, this movement into the grave where the old and the new go through a period of "incubation" together. So we cling to the old for a period of time. This is mourning.
And what of loss. The incredible alchemical plates of Lucius signify a process that has captivated me. I believe it has to do with transformation but different from the Rosarium. A king is no longer listening to his servants as they are beseeching him. They are in want. One wonders if this is similar to the themes in fairytales in which desire and want are evident from the beginning of the story, such as Rapunzel and the desire for rapion and in Godfather Death and the desire for a godfather for his son. The want in our alchemical image is for a new king or a new view of the world, a new attitude toward the world. In modern times this desire is usually acted out and leads to change but at a very high price. The very public affairs and betrayals seen in the media are attempts, misguided as they are, at change or transformation. The psyche does not understand this need nor how to meet it. We have no road maps for this change. We think that all change comes from without, not from within, so live by those rules and end up acting out a dynamic that can be characterized as betrayal in order to precipitate change from within.
Let us look deeper. The son steps up to kill the king. This is not left to anyone else. The son kills the king is a very deep psychic need reflective of Freud, yet the son also represents the new moving forward to replce the old. A father feels this in his son, that he is there to replace him. This is very primordial and the father's usual reaction is anger and defensiveness and at worst, a father's excuse to destroy the son psychologically if not physically as in the case of physical abuse. But this death is not out of anger or hatred. It is very prescribed and serious. Upon the death of the king the son places the blood of the father on his own clothes. This act acknowledges the son's ownership of the death. He takes responsibility for this death and does not deny it. Human nature is very resistant to acknowledging a death that one has psychologically particpated in so this ownership is essential.
Then the son must bury the father, the king. The new buries the old but in the act of burial the son reluctantly follows his father into the tomb. We are told in the alchemical text the the son's movement into the tomb was aided by the art of the alchemist. One replaces alchemist with therapist and we see the therapist as an important component of moving the patient toward this burial, this movement into the grave where the old and the new go through a period of "incubation" together. So we cling to the old for a period of time. This is mourning.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Big Jake
I couldn't sleep tonight, so I flipped on cable and came across the John Wayne classic "Big Jake" on TCM. I decided to watch it again all the way through.
I forget if Grandpa or Dad first showed me "Big Jake." One or both of them insisted that I watch it when I was very small. I've always loved the film; though I've seen several John Wayne pictures, it's probably the only one I vividly remember. It resonated deeply with me and instilled something that I am only now able to articulate.
A young boy is abducted from his family by a band of dark criminals. The boy's father is wounded during the attack (the archetypal father wound!), and so the powerful matriarch (who else but Maureen O'Hara?) must reach out for help to her estranged husband Big Jake (John Wayne).
Up to this point, all three of her sons have lived within her realm. Yet she sees their immaturity and insolence and knows that they need the energy of their father.
Is Big Jake a literal father or the archetypal father? It is difficult to see John Wayne as anything less than an archetype, and this story in particular presents him as more an ideal than a man. He agrees to help, and his two healthy sons are confronted for the first time with a true patriarch. As they ride down to Mexico, they enter the wild, contentious, but crucial father realm.
One son brings resentment and mistrust. The other is uncontrolled and destructive. Big Jake barks orders, lets them fall on their asses, and even throws a few punches in order to teach them the needed lessons: respect, listening, survival.
Big Jake travels with an Indian named Sam. Sam is hardened by a life full of danger and death, and yet is soft enough to offer trust and loyalty to his friend. He gently guides Jake's sons back to Jake when they want to defy their father.
The abducted boy is Little Jake. He has been taken by a villain who repeatedly threatens to kill him. So the puer is threatened by the shadow. Big Jake and Little Jake can only be reunited through confrontation with the shadow.
The shadow wants money. It doesn't care about women or children or right and wrong. It is ruthless and unrelenting.
Big Jake carries a chest full of money to ransom the boy. But of course we find out the there is no money in the chest. (As in "The King and Corpse," the Trickster must be tricked!) Material wealth is not what's really at stake; rather, it's a struggle for the soul of the boy.
Before the boy can be freed, Big Jake gives him a handgun. The boy must defend himself. As the final gunfight unfolds, the puer races out into the night pursued by a wild bearded thug wielding a machete. The brutality of nature is unleashed, and though he is dressed like Little Lord Fauntleroy, the boy cannot be spared exposure. He is thrown into the harsh reality of the world.
But the boy is not alone. In the end he is saved by an uncle, who is saved by a brother, who is saved by a father, who is saved by a friend, who is saved by a dog named "Dog." The men survive outside the mother realm by banding together. They show their love with deeds more valuable than gold.
The story ends with Big Jake reunited with his sons and grandson. We do not see them return to the mother's ranch. Perhaps psychologically, they have left it for good.
I forget if Grandpa or Dad first showed me "Big Jake." One or both of them insisted that I watch it when I was very small. I've always loved the film; though I've seen several John Wayne pictures, it's probably the only one I vividly remember. It resonated deeply with me and instilled something that I am only now able to articulate.
A young boy is abducted from his family by a band of dark criminals. The boy's father is wounded during the attack (the archetypal father wound!), and so the powerful matriarch (who else but Maureen O'Hara?) must reach out for help to her estranged husband Big Jake (John Wayne).
Up to this point, all three of her sons have lived within her realm. Yet she sees their immaturity and insolence and knows that they need the energy of their father.
Is Big Jake a literal father or the archetypal father? It is difficult to see John Wayne as anything less than an archetype, and this story in particular presents him as more an ideal than a man. He agrees to help, and his two healthy sons are confronted for the first time with a true patriarch. As they ride down to Mexico, they enter the wild, contentious, but crucial father realm.
One son brings resentment and mistrust. The other is uncontrolled and destructive. Big Jake barks orders, lets them fall on their asses, and even throws a few punches in order to teach them the needed lessons: respect, listening, survival.
Big Jake travels with an Indian named Sam. Sam is hardened by a life full of danger and death, and yet is soft enough to offer trust and loyalty to his friend. He gently guides Jake's sons back to Jake when they want to defy their father.
The abducted boy is Little Jake. He has been taken by a villain who repeatedly threatens to kill him. So the puer is threatened by the shadow. Big Jake and Little Jake can only be reunited through confrontation with the shadow.
The shadow wants money. It doesn't care about women or children or right and wrong. It is ruthless and unrelenting.
Big Jake carries a chest full of money to ransom the boy. But of course we find out the there is no money in the chest. (As in "The King and Corpse," the Trickster must be tricked!) Material wealth is not what's really at stake; rather, it's a struggle for the soul of the boy.
Before the boy can be freed, Big Jake gives him a handgun. The boy must defend himself. As the final gunfight unfolds, the puer races out into the night pursued by a wild bearded thug wielding a machete. The brutality of nature is unleashed, and though he is dressed like Little Lord Fauntleroy, the boy cannot be spared exposure. He is thrown into the harsh reality of the world.
But the boy is not alone. In the end he is saved by an uncle, who is saved by a brother, who is saved by a father, who is saved by a friend, who is saved by a dog named "Dog." The men survive outside the mother realm by banding together. They show their love with deeds more valuable than gold.
The story ends with Big Jake reunited with his sons and grandson. We do not see them return to the mother's ranch. Perhaps psychologically, they have left it for good.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
MacBeth, War and Death
Is the heroic pathway so hardwired into us we cannot control the context? Killing in battle was not enough, MacBath needed to extend the battle field into his own kingdom killing all those who could get in the way of his acheiving the throne. He and his wife, like Hickock and Smith, bands of brothers (and sister) coming togther to commit this crime that neither one would commit alone. The guilt becomes overwhelming for Lady and MacBeth slips into battle gear again which was never really retired only this time to meet his own death. Psychologically it is the same old story, the witches as messengers of the unconscious nag at our egos to become king, that is the supreme ruler, the predominant way of seeing the world. The king is always looking for supremacy. The unconscious is looking for wholeness but doesn't know the direct pathway, nor how to explain itself, so when the self says to kill the king, that is confused with killing the outer king (whoever is closest and highest in the land) But the real message is to kill the inner king so a new king can emerge. Whenever we confuse the outer world with the inner we make stupid mistakes like this. So why the guilt? Perhaps the psyche realizes it screwed up and instead of moving closer to wholeness actually moved far away and when you get those instructions wrong you realize you had only one shot at them really and what is done in the outer world is irrevocable. In the absence of true learning our neurosis takes over and we regress to handwashing and suicide or the terrible addiction to war.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
An Education
Another movie post. Peter Sarsgaard again. He does a wonderful puer aeternis and one in the grips of "mother". Great movie. I am giving a presentation on betrayal and using this movie as an illustration how betrayal can be transmuted into gowth and individuation. A high school girl preparing for admission to Oxford starts to question the worth of this educational pathway that only leads to an adult world that is dreary and devoid of passion, art and fun. She is smitten by an older man who is charming and worldly (I thought of Nick Arnstein from Funny Girl) played by Peter Sarsgaard. In this case not only is she seduced but her parents as well, who seem willing to give up their ambition of their daughter going to Oxford as long as David (Sarsgaard) is willing to marry her. Her parents give their daughter over to the archetypal puer. I am reminded of Rapunzel and the parents giving their child over to the enchantress for a little rampion. In both cases their is a betrayal by the parents. When the parents are seduced by the enchantress the daughter becomes the completely taken over by the archetypal witch. In the movie at hand it is the daughter being taken over by the charm of narcissus and we all know what happened to Echo as a consequence. The only adults protesting her abandonment of her Oxford dream is her teacher and principal. Each of these women seem as though the world of enchantment which seduces our young heroine was a world they had to abandon top pursue their education but its seems eahc is grieiving that loss and are a bit jealous of her escape into this realm. Consequently they do a poor job of mentoring her during this period but it is the teacher that comes through even after the principal abandons the girl and does not allow her to return to finish school to prepare for Oxford. The teacher privately tutors her through to the exam. I love this movie and the most touching scene is when the father played by Alfred Molina admits his failure as a father to his daughter and asks for her forgiveness.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
The Orphan
I watched a movie last night which a perfect portrayal of a man in the grips of the mother complex and the devastation caused by such a state. It was a commercially prepared slasher movie about a 9 year old orphan girl adopted by a well meaning couple trying to address their feelings of loss of a third child that miscarried. A review of the movie and synopsis of the plot can be read at the following site:
http://www.imdb.com/reviews/421/42123.html
What the review does not do is explain the underlying psychological structure that makes this a little more interesting that the average "evil child horror" movie. I found this more interesting than say a movie like "The Omen" because there is a very real reference to a psychological phenomenon that is much more accessible that the good /evil paradigm. John Coleman (Peter Sarsgaard) is the real problem in this movie because he has not yet sorted out his mother from his wife from his daughter. This is a good description of the mother complex. In not being able to sort this out he contaminates his marriage and his children and sets the stage for the adoption of a 9 year girl who is to say the least suffering from a character disorder and is a psychopathic killer. The principle characters in this movie are primarily women who are in one way or another against or mistrustful of Kate Coleman (Vera Farmiga)and are dead set on convincing her she is sick or crazy.
It is interesting that the husband finds this lttle girl after he and his wife visit an orphanage and are watching the children playing during a children's party. John took a stroll around the orphange by himself and came upon a lone girl painting in a crafts room and he was smitten by her and her paintings. This is the man that confuses his own anima with the charm of a little girl. This sets the stage for a rivalry between the wife and this orphan whose erotic desires toward the father eventually emerge in the movie. To the reviewer the movie collapsed because the husband believed in his adopted daughter long past reasonableness demanded he pay attention to all the signs. That may be as a critcal review of the film's structure but fits perfectly with the idea that when one is grabbed by the mother complex, one loses all sense of reason. Kate does come through the epxerience and John gets what he deserves ( I have no sympathy for men who refuse to grow up) and the other kids come through probably with some scrapes and bruises and some significant PTSD but what the hell do you expect when the father doesn't don his warcoat and meet the internal dragon head on to save his children from inheriting that garbage. Almost every woman in this movie from the mother in law to the therapist are against Kate and do not stand up for her. The only other woman, the nun,who sides with her doesn't survive. What does this movie say about women in our culture in marriages where the husband/father contaminates the entire family with his inability to grow up?
http://www.imdb.com/reviews/421/42123.html
What the review does not do is explain the underlying psychological structure that makes this a little more interesting that the average "evil child horror" movie. I found this more interesting than say a movie like "The Omen" because there is a very real reference to a psychological phenomenon that is much more accessible that the good /evil paradigm. John Coleman (Peter Sarsgaard) is the real problem in this movie because he has not yet sorted out his mother from his wife from his daughter. This is a good description of the mother complex. In not being able to sort this out he contaminates his marriage and his children and sets the stage for the adoption of a 9 year girl who is to say the least suffering from a character disorder and is a psychopathic killer. The principle characters in this movie are primarily women who are in one way or another against or mistrustful of Kate Coleman (Vera Farmiga)and are dead set on convincing her she is sick or crazy.
It is interesting that the husband finds this lttle girl after he and his wife visit an orphanage and are watching the children playing during a children's party. John took a stroll around the orphange by himself and came upon a lone girl painting in a crafts room and he was smitten by her and her paintings. This is the man that confuses his own anima with the charm of a little girl. This sets the stage for a rivalry between the wife and this orphan whose erotic desires toward the father eventually emerge in the movie. To the reviewer the movie collapsed because the husband believed in his adopted daughter long past reasonableness demanded he pay attention to all the signs. That may be as a critcal review of the film's structure but fits perfectly with the idea that when one is grabbed by the mother complex, one loses all sense of reason. Kate does come through the epxerience and John gets what he deserves ( I have no sympathy for men who refuse to grow up) and the other kids come through probably with some scrapes and bruises and some significant PTSD but what the hell do you expect when the father doesn't don his warcoat and meet the internal dragon head on to save his children from inheriting that garbage. Almost every woman in this movie from the mother in law to the therapist are against Kate and do not stand up for her. The only other woman, the nun,who sides with her doesn't survive. What does this movie say about women in our culture in marriages where the husband/father contaminates the entire family with his inability to grow up?
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