Amour will leave you at a loss. A lot of French films actually do that but the ambiguity in this film is really striking. Not to say that it’s a terrible movie—it’s actually the opposite but it requires an appreciation that does not comes as easy as when one watches a Hollywood film.
The movie ran for two hours and so the last hour of the 6-9 class was allotted for the discussion. A little past 9, Mr. Calasanz started concluding the class with some points for reflection. One of his suggestions was the possibility that maybe the movie just doesn’t make sense, that the most one can do is just make little narratives that tie at most some scenes together. A grand story was not really accessible. So, for a whole hour, everyone was just taking a shot at making sense of the movie and then Mr. Calasanz suggests that maybe it doesn’t have to make sense. Mindboggling talaga.
Nevertheless, one relevant point that was brought up was the possibility of a legitimate limit to being for Others. I can’t exactly remember it accurately but how I understood it was that sometimes there comes a point wherein you’ve given so much that you just can’t. This is of course assuming that you’re constantly living the Law of the Other. In reality, although it is a decision between two lifestyles, the law of the I and the law of the Other is a perpetual challenge that should manifest in most, if not every, action or decision one makes.
The film features an old couple in their 80s, Anne and Georges. Anne has a stroke, which leaves the right half of her body paralyzed. Georges remains to be a good husband, being constantly kind, and taking care of Anne. As time passes by and Anne’s condition becomes worse, taking care of Anne becomes harder and has arguably taken a toll on their relationship. One day, as Anne experiences a fit, Georges tells her a story from his childhood to calm her down, and then he grabs a pillow and smothers her with it. Earlier in the movie, when Anne was just recently diagnosed, she said that she wanted to die already and not go through all of that. The movie ends with a scene of Georges hearing noise from the kitchen, and when he comes out, he sees Anne, alive and well again, washing the dishes. She instructs him to wear his shoes and they both leave the apartment with her leading the way.
Being in a similar situation as Georges who had to take care of the degenerating Anne, the love of his life, what would you do? How much can you give? Can you give what is required of you? How do you know what is required of you? Would you also go that far? Their story makes you sad since it was emphasized a million times in the film how “in sync” they were and how loving and full of kindness their relationship was.
I am not sure if I am allowed to ask those questions. In class, we discuss how we should respect the Other, how we should not totalize them, and that we must see them as Face. I subscribe to Levinas and his philosophy and I recognize that in living out his ethics, one must constantly make an effort, and it’s going to be harder than it is easier. That’s why it is dis-inter-esse. It’s painful; the separation from the self is also not automatic. Was it right for Georges to do that to Anne? What if that was what Anne wanted? Being “in sync” and after Anne saying earlier that she wants to die already, it can be argued that Georges knew what Anne wanted and he did that for her. Maybe killing her was actually a sacrifice on his part? But we say Anne is absolutely other and Georges did not have any right to do that. But at that extreme level, when Anne couldn’t walk, couldn’t talk, with a body and mind corrupted already, isn’t it better to have done that than watch her reduce even further? Seeing your spouse like that would also corrupt you.
To what extent can you give yourself—not just in the level of ethics but also ontology? And maybe it’s also too idealistic to separate the both during extreme situations. When it’s really too much is it really such a wrong thing to think of yourself? How do you even know what is required of you? Some situations leave you confused. We can’t tell if he killed Anne for her sake, for his sake, or even both.
We recall the solitude of being; being is the most private thing. My existence is intransitive. The other is absolutely other and thus, I am also absolutely other to others. Can we really escape this?
P.S.
I really encourage everyone to sit in that class. They watch interesting films, discuss it for an hour or so, maybe go for drinks after to continue philosophizing about the film, and have the honor of learning from the great Mr. Calasanz.
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