Ordinary People, Ordinary Families

Donald Sutherland died recently. There's been lots of media discussion about which of his movies was best. But in my book, there was only one, hands down -- "Ordinary People" (1980; currently on Netflix).  I saw it at least 4 or 5 times back then, and I watched it again a few nights ago, almost 45 years later. (I read the book by Judith Guest as well - a good read, and the movie follows it closely.)  I could still recite some of the lines by heart, and I could still anticipate the emotions and facial expressions of the actors. It made me cry back in the day, and it did it again now. 

The Dad, Calvin, (Sutherland) was a peacemaker, trying desperately to understand both son Conrad and wife Beth, and bring them together in love. He didn't allow himself to feel anger, but he could certainly feel failure, defeat, and sorrow. Although he had all the trappings of success, his life seemed pretty empty - at least to this observer. He said over and over again that he felt responsible --- responsible for keeping Conrad safe and for keeping the peace at home; and probably, for keeping up with the Joneses. I'm not sure where his center was, and I'm not sure that he knew either. The beautifully manicured lawn and perfectly tidied house were all about appearances. Their life was too. Calvin finally confronted his wife Beth about why she cared so much what he had worn to their son Buck's funeral. After all, it was their son's funeral!  Why should she even care? They went to Texas to play golf with friends over Christmas -- he could see through the superficiality of it all, but Beth embraced it. He could "see" these things, but he kept his own counsel until he couldn't hold it any longer.

Teenage son Conrad was expected to be perfect, and he was dutiful to a fault... until he couldn't manage it any more. The black hole engulfed him and resulted in a suicide attempt, followed by a 4 month hospitalization. He went to a psychiatrist for follow-up, purportedly to feel more in control. But he wasn't able to feel anything, and he especially wasn't able to forgive himself for being the one who survived the boating accident that killed his brother Buck. Conrad was on the swim team and sang tenor in the choir, and mostly got along with the kids at school, but was picked on too. He was an awkward teenager, not quite sure what to do with himself.  He just didn't know where he fit, now that his older brother Buck was gone, and (as the Dad observed) his mom had buried all her love and her feelings along with Buck.

Dr. Berger, the psychiatrist (played brilliantly by Judd Hirsch), was irreverant and tough, but had a heart of gold. He challenged both Conrad and his dad - and they rose to the occasion. Berger was fully present. He took risks and put himself out there, while providing a safety net for his clients.

I felt great sadness for Beth, the Mom (Mary Tyler Moore). She reminded me so much of the appearances-are-all suburban parents of my teenage years ... She kept saying how what happened within her family was private and should stay within the family. It was absolutely no one else's business. Her boundaries were extremely rigid. She struck me as a tragic figure.

The movie came out when I had been on the UT faculty for 3 years and was avidly reading and discussing the works of the founders of family therapy (Minuchin, Whitaker, Framo, Haley) and seriously considering becoming a family therapist. (Ultimately, I did not.) Minuchin's structural family approach was a perfect paradigm for analyzing the Jarrett family. I remember discussing it in the classes I taught on family relationships. I do remember that all that reading and those workshops made me question and challenge the premises and patterns in my own family and other families I knew. 

What was so powerful about that movie, and why does it still have a grip on me 45 years later? I guess, in part, it allowed me deep inside these 4 characters --- not just to observe them from a safe distance, but to taste their anguish and experience their deepest feelings.  I felt I could inhabit each of them for a bit -- feel what they were feeling, including the emptiness, the sadness, and the longing. Each of the Jarretts was in pain and couldn't see the way out.

My tears have dried for the moment, and I feel that post-emotion "stillness," but not exactly peace. Every time I hear the Pachelbel Canon, or see a Halloween scene of a suburban house with kids trick-or-treating, or experience the awkwardness of posing for family photos when people are pretending to smile ... I think of that movie and cry inside. There is redemption in the end for the Dad and Conrad -- they will each be fine,  and their relationship will be strong and serve each of them well. I will be fine too.

But Beth --- Beth couldn't see beyond herself, and that makes me very sad - for her and for their family. She will be great at putting on a happy face, while feeling shattered inside. I hope she will be able to risk getting in touch with that sadness and working through it in a safe space.

The movie was set in Lake Forest, IL, an upper-middle class / nouveau-riche suburb of Chicago. Picture perfect homes with imposing facades and manicured lawns, big cars - Cadillacs and Lincolns, and appearances to be kept up. Golf and tennis at the country club, followed by martinis. My upbringing was not that posh; my parents knew to keep their aim within their reach. But they observed it all.  We used to go to the Parade of Homes open houses, to aooh and aaah at the latest home conveniences and high-end features.  One year, it was bomb shelters (late 50s / early 60s).

But behind the facades, families were hurting, and not just in the movies. Everybody else's family seemed to be perfect -- but I am learning now, many years later, how not-perfect many of them were. Seeking professional help was seen as shameful and a sign of weakness. MTM portrayed that poignantly in the movie.

I don't long for those days at all. I'd like to think that we are living more authentically now -- but of course, that varies from family to family, person to person. All I can do is try to live the rest of my life as authentically as possible. WIth the wisdom earned through experience, I no longer feel the need to please people or be perfect. At this ripe old age,  I've decided that I'm just enough as I am.

The following quote from John O'Donohue (in Anam Cara) crossed my path as I was writing this post:

"If you allow yourself to be the person that you are, then everything will come into rhythm. If you live the life you love, you will receive shelter and blessings. Sometimes the great famine of blessing in and around us derives from the fact that we are not living the life we love, rather we are living the life that is expected of us. We have fallen out of rhythm with the secret signature and light of our own nature."

Wisdom gratefully received.

There are no ordinary people or ordinary families. We're all quite extraordinary, don't you think?