Mom & Me Four Archive

    It isn't a film we revisit often, but when I was channel surfing for Mom at 2000, we noticed it on one of the cable channels. She thought it might be a pleasant accompaniment to her Just Desserts dinner. I suggested, instead of watching it on TV, since it was on a channel that interspersed the movie with commercials, that we watch our copy of it. She agreed. I was intrigued because I wanted to see what my reaction to the movie would be in the wake of reading What Are Old People For? That's the thing about this book...it upped my sensitivity a good hundred-fold, if not more, to how we commonly degrade old age by our depictions of it:

• By insisting that an Ancient vitality is possible that's exactly the same as adult vitality and we are failures if we aren't able to maintain adult vitality as Ancients;
• by considering common Ancient vitality as a tragic decline from the summit of adulthood;
• and by glorifying only those few Ancients who, through sturdy genetics, are the human equivalent of the Energizer Bunny.

    The book makes the point that it's possible that, one day, the Ancient path will, indeed, promise the possibility of prolonged vigor...but it will be a prolongation of Ancient vigor, not adult vigor, according to Dr. Thomas, and, of course, we will still die and many of us will walk through the doors of death by slow progression rather than quick leaps, just at a more advanced age than now.
    Anyway, I was surprised. The movie wasn't nearly as blinded by the light of Adulthood as I thought. While, on the one hand, the transient vigor the elders received from the artificial "fountain of youth" was, yes, adulthood, even childhood vigor, I was impressed with the lack of negative dwelling on what it was like to be a normal elder. The portrayal of "Rose" was especially interesting: In one scene she curled in a fetal position during an exercise session; in others she portrayed a demented ramble, wherein she didn't recognize her friends; in yet another she spritely played Mah Jong with female friends who she clearly remembered and was portrayed as being able to sense the meaning of her friends pregnant silences. Although this may seem like a disjointed characterization, this is often how demented and/or infirm Ancienthood works: One day disengaged, the next day engaged.
    I also realized how important it is that the elders who decided to leave with the Antareans were told they "wouldn't get any older, wouldn't get sick and wouldn't die", but no one told them they would become "younger"; it was, in fact, implied that they wouldn't. Healthier, yes. Well preserved, yes. But not younger. They were also promised that they would lead "productive lives". The point of view of the book would have found this troublesome, as its take on this issue is that productivity is in the eye of the beholder and the problem, at this point in industrialized society, is that the beholders are exclusively adults.
    The two paramount questions the movie poses are:

1. Would you go with the Antareans if you were asked?
2. Is it be wise to "cheat Nature"?

    I decided to ask Mom, after the movie, if she had the chance, would she go? It was a curious conversation. I made sure she understood the terms and that one of them was that, although she'd be healthy, live "indefinitely" as she put it (she obviously understood the movie) and have amazing adventures, she wouldn't de-age, so to speak.
    "I'm not sure," she began. "Would you?"
    I really didn't have to think about it. Despite my desire to see the Path of The Ancients rescued from the doldrums to which we have currently assigned it, "Oh, yeah, I'd blow this pop stand. What would hold you back? Would you not want to leave your family, knowing that you probably would never see anyone you know and love again?"
    "No," she said, surprising me. "They'd be leaving me anyway."
    "Leaving you? You'd be the one leaving."
    "I mean they'd die while my adventures were just beginning."
    "Oh," I said. "Okay. So, it wouldn't bother you to leave them."
    "No."
    "Well, what would give you pause, then? What if you were given only 24 hours to make the decision?"
    "Would you be going?"
    Wow, I thought. That's interesting. Not that she can't remember my recently voiced choice, but that it sounds like my choice would make a difference. "Would it matter whether I went?"
    Her face registered surprise. "Well, of course! If you didn't go, I wouldn't."
    "Why?" I asked.
    "I wouldn't want to leave you alone," she said.
    I almost teared up. Almost. Not quite. "Well," I said, "I'd definitely go. I'm ready for something else. New forms of life, being a student and a teacher, learning how to live without the scheduled promise of certain death, feeling good all the time, my bags are packed. Except I guess we wouldn't need bags, would we?"
    "That right," she said. "We could leave all these boxes behind."
    "An added bonus!"
    "Let's do it."
    Although we missed the first hour because I didn't realize that it followed on television, we caught the last hour and a half of the sequel. It wasn't nearly as good, or interesting, or, for that matter, realistic. We both, though, noticed one short segment in which one of the characters, who was pregnant, mentioned that she preferred to raise her child without war or poverty.
    Mom and I turned to each other simultaneously. "That cinches it," I said. "I'm going, if I get asked."
    "I was just thinking the same thing," Mom said.
    I can't help but wonder what Dr. Thomas would make of this. After all, choosing to go is a blanket rejection of a fair deal of what comprises old age on this planet at this time. It is a denial of the importance of death. This decision, further, thumbs its nose at many of our cherished spiritual and religious beliefs about the cause of suffering and the beauty of nobly surmounting our circumstances as humans. But, you know, I have a feeling that if all of us were asked, most of us would say, "Take me, I'm yours." This gave me a chance to look askew at Dr. Thomas's propositions regarding the (supposedly nefarious) Power of the Cult of Adulthood. Is it simple societal brainwashing that causes us to yearn for more than death to this life, or is it the enchantment of being alive that imbues most of us with the desire to live indefinitely vigorous, engaged, peaceful lives?
    During the scene wherein Ben explains to his grandson the dynamics of the "trip" he and his wife are going to take, it occurred to me that the movie is an allegory for death, even as it overtly examines the possibility of an indefinitely long life.
    I think it's also important to note that Antareans, according to the movie, can and do die, under unusual circumstances, and Walter never says they can't. He simply says that, previous to losing his two crew mates, he'd never experienced the death of anyone close to him. I'd not taken note of this in previous viewings. I think this is important, and was definitely smart to include in the movie, because this is a system of beginnings and endings. We may choose to see these as rebirths, evolutions, whatever, but even while it appears that existence is ongoing, it also appears that it continues because of the beginnings and endings, not in spite of them.
    Nevertheless, it seems that Mom and I have made our pact. The next time the Antareans visit we'll be bidding you all good-bye.
    Later.