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Movies and the Status Quo

My DVD collection is all about juxtaposition — I own both the independent what-is-reality film Waking Life and the very campy Legally Blonde 2. And since I constantly quote Everything Is Illuminated, I have a feeling that one will be making its way into my collection soon. Oh, Elijah Wood. You're so ethereal.

Obviously, in terms of content, I don't condone every frame of these films. Generally, though, I like movies that are sort of "fringe," that tell a story different from the conventional.

But there's something to be said for the conventional, of course — it's in the conventional that we often see what's right in front of our faces.

Pop culture commentator Chuck Klosterman says that Reality Bites — a conventional movie in the sense that it encompassed lots of stereotypes about Generation X — is a period piece. When Winona Ryder picks bad-boy Ethan Hawke over good-guy Ben Stiller, says Klosterman, she is taking the path that every single member of Generation X would have taken, the path that is challenging but somehow higher because it bucks the obvious. He goes on:

As I stated earlier, all the clichés about Gen Xers were true — but the point everyone failed to make was that our whole demographic was comprised of cynical optimists. Whenever my circa-1993 friends and I would sit around and discuss the future, there was always the omnipresent sentiment that the world was on the decline, but we were somehow destined to succeed individually.¹

This got me thinking: How does my generation view the future? Do we share Generation X's cynicism and disillusionment with Reaganomic values, and do we believe that we are individual exceptions to the bleakness of the world? What do the films of my generation say about us and our view of the future?

In Search of the Ultimate "Gen Y" Film

One obvious candidate for generational analysis is Zach Braff's Garden State. The movie (which is generous with its use of profanity and sexual content) is widely considered to be a cultural example of our generation. The trouble with Garden State as a seminal film, though, is that it's consciously trying to be a seminal film — it doesn't necessarily demonstrate what's most important to my generation so much as the filmmaker's belief about what's most important to my generation.

Thus, the movie hits several very stereotypical "Y" high points: a pensive, likable main character, a whirlwind romantic relationship, the overcoming of childhood demons. Yep, those are the big ones, the overcoming of childhood struggles in particular. Garden State is mostly about transcendence, and I personally think transcendence is a legitimate staple of the Y mindset, not just a part of the dominant perception of the Y mindset.

Nonetheless, I, like many other members of our generation, am loathe to be defined by one movie, so I asked some friends what they thought the big movie for our generation was. I got a variety of responses. Pulp Fiction was mentioned, along with Dazed and Confused (even though it's about kids in the 70s), but we spent the most time talking about Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Spoiler alert: Eternal Sunshine is about two people who, frustrated with their relationship and the confusion and anxiety it's causing them, decide to erase each other out of their memories. Joel changes his mind, though, and a big chunk of the movie is comprised of him and Clementine running through his memory, trying to avoid annihilation. They are not successful. The procedure is carried out, and the two become complete strangers to each other in real life. But — and here's the thing — they meet again and end up together anyway.

Eternal Sunshine is about escape, only it's an escape that is never quite realized. Joel and Clementine's relationship was chaotic and painful, but it was somehow destiny, unavoidable.

I think that's how my generation responds to the world in general: We don't really know what to think about where everything is going, but we're along for the ride. The future may very well be terrible, or it could be great. Whatev.

Slow Starters?

Sometimes, though, I think our blasé attitude is a front. I think our ambivalence toward the future masks a deep fear, a fear that keeps us stalled. I'm not sure what the problem is. I don't know if we believe the bleakness of the world is insurmountable, or that we as individuals are incapable of achieving good things. I do think we possess a vague version of optimism; I think we do want success and happiness and believe that we'll drift toward it if we drift long enough. Trouble is, by most accounts, we don't really know how to go about finding success or happiness.

Almost everybody I know my age (myself included) is completely confused about what to do with their lives. We go to college, decide on a major, then decide on another major or two before actually graduating. We then take a one-year teaching stint, end up going back to grad school and thanking God for the insurance benefits at Starbucks. This is not a criticism, exactly — I really like our free-spiritedness and our belief that some things, like relationships and contentment and purpose, are just more important than an upward career path.

Nonetheless, members of my generation, just like every generation, need our own special reality check every now and then. Now may be a good time to ask ourselves: Do I approach the future in a way that reflects what I say I believe about God and the future?

Reality Check

Graduation-themed Bible studies always focus on the reliability of God and how He has "a wonderful plan" for our lives. And in speaking to a fearful, sluggish generation, lots of would-be motivators shake the omnipotence of God in our faces — do we not believe that God has a handle on the future?

But there's more to it than that, isn't there? When I'm afraid of the future, I'm not afraid that God doesn't want good things for me or that He's somehow handicapped to bring about His plans; I'm afraid that the things I'm in charge of will crumble in my hands. I'm afraid that there are parts of me that are so messed up that I can do nothing but fail. Success and happiness will elude me, not because God's arms are too short, but because mine are.

And therein lies my problem, I think: I see the road to success and happiness as an obscure, labyrinthine path, and there's only enough room on the path for one. It's a solo journey; I travel alone to a destination that pertains only to me — success is purely individual, don't you know?

When I fret about success, I'm forgetting to frame my individual story within God's larger story. I'm so focused on the possibility of failing and what that would mean about me that I forget that there's something else going on here — God is remaking the world, including me, and including other people. The destination is not success in terms of achievement; the destination is redemption, and we're all in it together.

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What do you think? Do you live in a way that backs up what you believe about God's plans?

Join the discussion!

I find that thought comforting, because it means that I'm not on the journey alone. And walking closely with other believers is a good way to bring into the light the parts of me that are messed up, which is a good way to achieve the peace and transcendence which movies like Garden State say are the real purpose of our individual journeys. Maybe another word for "transcendence" is "restoration," and maybe that's something God freely offers us.

Maybe one solution to our worries about what to do with our lives and how to do it is to reflect a little on what God does and how He does it.