I had a history professor who once voiced his opinion on the great American drama, “Forrest Gump” by saying, “I liked the movie just fine, but what I don’t understand is why Hanks had to have a mental handicap?” The professor expanded on his frustration noting that if one of the purposes of the movie is to convey American history, through an American’s perspective, why that voice? What larger commentary is at play?
His questions popped into my head as I watched segments of the film the other night as it was on TV and as absolutely nothing else was on TV. And I mean nothing. I’m not much of a TV-watcher, so I realize that this lens is limited; however, I was left flipping between the movie and “America’s got talent.” Oddly enough, both shows could work their way into a hearty discussion concerning media commentary on all things American, that is, if I were ever to encounter that professor again, and he would remember me, and remember the comments, and perhaps also have an affection for lattes. Until then…
YES DRILL SERGEANT screams from my set. And like so many of the scenes from this movie, the Vietnam ones have stuck with me. Whenever the film is referenced my mind jumps to and from a variety of moments and dialogue, though invariably, Forrest's service to the military is forefront. I don’t know why. I’ve never been particularly passionate about war. I’m rather sure that had I been born in another generation I would be bra-less, in a tie-dye dress, ferociously smoking and wildly dancing to “I am the walrus” ultimately filled with a higher purpose of preaching peace and love.
Yet it's 2010, and I adore my undergarments (though play "I am the walrus" and I can't say there wouldn't be dancing). I re-watch with heroic admiration as Forrest pulls his rank out of the flaming bushes and bramble and runs them to “safety” yet where they will suffer in complete agony (I still groan and throw my body at the sight of the soldier’s skin flapped up over his face, where it looks like a phony Mrs. Doubtfire mask, except this guy can’t call up his gay brother to make him a new one. The left side of my face burns in sympathy pains.) When Forrest goes back into the danger zone for his fifth or sixth time, hoping to discover his shrimp-talking-friend-Bubba, he happens to stumble upon frantic, dire, dying, Lt. Dan.
Even though the images of explosions, injured men and the very last conversation Forrest has with Bubba were retained in my memory, I sheepishly admit that I had forgotten a very important subplot that negates a major relationship within the film: Lt. Dan’s legacy. His father’s and his father's father, and his father's father's father…you get it…had died in every American War. It was Lt. Dan's destiny to die under the American air raid that Forrest subsequently saves him from.
Being saved from your destiny is a complicated notion. And when I wonder whether or not it was the "right" thing, for Forrest to save Lt. Dan, it all comes down to the way you look at it. His road to recovery afterward was anything but pretty; however he marries at the end and is able to benefit from improving technology that provides him with metal legs and thus the return of some normalcy. At that point, does Lt. Dan consider himself saved, or does he still feel robbed?
Most would argue that there isn’t any use in entertaining these dialogues, especially as we relate them to real life, questioning what we did or what we should have done, said or should have said, etc. and how it would have all turned out differently had we...etc. Most would argue that whatever is done is done and all you have is the present…so move on.
What happens though when you don't have a present to move on to? Recently I've lost a relationship in my life. It's a complicated one. And while I watched this film, and listened to the cries of Lt. Dan, I wondered, from her perspective, what did she think we were "supposed to be." You could say that Lt. Dan and Forrest Gump have vastly different perspectives on life at the beginning of their relationship. Overtime, Lt. Dan seems to do more of the conforming, he isn't as angry or intense and he seems to appreciate the life that he has, even though it's not the one that he thought he would have.
I wonder, I hope, I even sometimes pray to a god I'm not sure exists, that she might one day change the way she feels. That even though it didn't all happen like perhaps we thought it would, there would still be something there worth valuing.
Until then...you never know what you're going to get.
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