The Possibility of Hope

The Possibility of Hope

“These are the words I want on my gravestone: that I was a helper, and that I danced.” – Anne Lamott

In January, my roommate, Teresa, and I went to see THE IMPOSSIBLE, a movie about a family’s survival of the Tsunami in Indonesia. We had seen the preview several months earlier. I remembered it vividly because the strapping man sitting next to me was moved to tears just by the preview. He was audibly crying, and it prompted him to reach for his wife’s hand.  It was one of those “pull-out-all-the stops” trailers that sucked you in and made you want to see the movie instantly.

While we knew it would be a difficult movie to watch, the preview assured us it would ultimately be inspiring and uplifting.  We headed to the Angelika at Mockingbird Station on a crisp January afternoon. We had been waiting for this movie for MONTHS, so We. Were. Excited!

As the credits opened, we sat in a crowded theatre and took in the beautiful scene.  Ewan McGreggor, Naomi Watts, and their precious movie children lit up the screen as they headed to an Indonesian resort for a family vacation. It didn’t take long for the chaos to ensue. One moment the family was at the resort pool having the time of their life, and in an instant, the Tsunami hit.

From the offset of the demonic storm, it was obvious that the director of the film wanted the audience to FEEL like they were in the eye of the Tsunami. He succeeded. You felt every blow from the mother’s perspective. We were thrust under the crashing, swirling, violent water with the mother (Naomi Watt’s character). We were tossed around with her and bludgeoned by the debris as it tore around her.  There were many moments where Teresa and I both had our hands splayed over our eyes, peaking through fingers to soften the blows. This went on for about an hour, both during the storm, and during the exhausting aftermath. There was a moment when Teresa and I looked at each other and said, “What have we gotten ourselves into?” with our eyes.

Fast forward several scenes. The mother and oldest son are separated from the father and the youngest two children. The mother can barely walk, and yes, it shows a gaping, bloody wound on her leg as seen through her son’s eyes.  Place hands over eyes...

Fast forward again. The mother and son are found by a native Indonesian and taken to a small village. I was touched and awed by how several women in that village circled around her to wash her and take care of her. They were practically fighting to help her. It was an amazing scene. They eventually transport her to a makeshift “hospital” so she can receive the care she needs. It was a horrific scene.

I was suddenly pulled out of the movie by reality when I began to hear a commotion on the row directly in front of me. A man was yelling at his wife to his left and shaking her gently. As I looked directly in front of me, I saw the woman’s head turned awkwardly upward towards the ceiling. Her eyes and mouth were wide open, but she appeared to be unconscious. It was horrifying.  Her husband was yelling, “Honey! HONEY! Wake up! Wake up! Is there a doctor?! Someone get a doctor!!!! PLEASE!” Imagine any cliché from movies or television, and it took place over the next few moments. The lights came up in the theater. The movie stopped, and the screen went white. All eyes were on the couple right in front of me. The man got on his knees and looked up at the woman sitting to my right and pleaded, “She’s my wife!” with tears in his eyes and anguish in his voice. It’s like we were all witnessing the worst moment in his life.

There were now people approaching the couple and offering assistance, and a nurse who happened to be in the theatre stepped in. The woman having the seizure (or whatever it was) came to and began to make a low howling sound. They laid her out, and the nurse put the woman’s head in her lap and tried to soothe her. I cannot even count how many people were calling 911.

“What’s the address? What’s the address?” a woman shouted repeatedly.

Someone else proclaimed, “It’s Mockingbird Station! I think they can find it!”

At this point, I realized I was standing and alternating on each foot, as if awkwardly  dancing. I wanted to do something to help, but I felt trapped. My roommate looked up at me and calmly said, “Russ…just sit down.” As I sat down, I realized I had apparently, involuntarily unbuttoned my shirt entirely while I was standing distressed. Thank God for cold weather and layers. Teresa and I giggled at that point out of necessity.

The manager of the theatre came in with bottled water for the victim and her husband. Both denied it. A doctor, I assume from the lobby or another theatre came in and talked to the husband and the victim. Everyone in the theatre had a unified look of grave concern on their faces. I looked at the woman to my right, and we had a moment.

“This is insane,” I said.

“I know,” she replied, “the movie was stressful enough.”

After what seemed like forever (actually about 15-20 minutes, I think), the paramedics arrived and gingerly placed the woman on a stretcher. A woman down the row began to ask, almost chanting, “Did someone get her purse? Did they get her jacket? Huh? Did someone get her purse and jacket?”

Someone finally responded, “Yes! See! Her husband has her things.”

We all began to try to get settled.  Some movie goers went out to the bar for drinks. The manager came back into the theater and announced, “OK. If it’s alright with everyone, we will now play the rest of the movie.” You heard a collective sigh as if we were all saying, “Here we go…we’d better brace ourselves.”

Then someone yelled out, “Could you rewind it about five minutes?!”

I’m pretty sure I whispered a four-letter word in reply, but the manager agreed.

We continued to watch the movie. There were many more rough scenes, but there were some profoundly touching ones, as well.

The scene that stood out to me the most was when the mother was lying on the cot in the makeshift hospital, and she looked over at her son. “You should go help people,” she said to him lovingly, “You’re so good at it.”

And he did.

When we left the Angelika that day, we were absolutely spent by the traumatic experience. I prayed for days that the woman in the audience was OK. The movie and the surrounding situation reminded me of life’s fragility, and how powerless we can be, but it also reminded me that as long as humanity maintains its drive to help each other in the face of adversity, this world still has some hope.