Musings on The Road: My Story of Sadness and Beauty

Several nights ago, my husband and I were sorting through the Video On Demand movie options, trying to predict which film would best entertain us. I have several on my short list (Alice in Wonderland, The Blind Side, Broken Embraces, etc.), but, as I expected, they aren’t really “guy” material, or at the very least, they weren’t my hubby’s first choices. The last time we sat down together to watch a new movie, my husband, Chopin, had the privilege of making the final decision (The Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day), so I knew I slightly held the upper hand for this night’s pick.


“How about The Road?” I suggested. “I think you’ll like it.” I had finished Cormac McCarthy’s post-apocalyptic novel back in January, and was anxious to see its interpretation on screen, especially with Viggo Mortenson (Strider!) as the leading man. And, despite the self-interest imbibed within my proposition, I really did think Chopin would enjoy the film. He had enjoyed watching No Country for Old Men, however much it unsettled him, so I figured this flick would be right up his alley. Chopin went with it.

Well, I just loved the movie. Obviously, it rearranged and edited aspects of the novel, but I think it brilliantly captured the desperately haunting atmosphere, the characters’ intensely honest emotions, and the beautiful love families are capable of sharing. These are just a couple of leaves from the entire tree; I could go on and on about how successful I think the movie is. It actually makes me like the book even more because I think it helped me better understand McCarthy’s intentions on a deeper lever (though most aspects of the work(s) are still floating around in my brain, unable to completely take shape). I love it when separate art forms can help each other out, when they make each other shine brighter. A big thumbs up for me, including the countless crying episodes and all.

Unlike his wife, Chopin had not read The Road before viewing it in its film form, so, unsurprisingly, he was a bit unnerved after being lambasted with it. “That was the saddest movie I’ve ever seen.” Huh? Really? I mean, you’ve seen a ton of war movies; this was sadder than Platoon? “Really?” I asked. “It was a great movie,” Chopin reassured me, “but it was just really depressing.” Well, yes, I had to agree; part of the movie is sad and depressing, which is why I had a little sobfest throughout it. But, at the same time, I think it distresses us because it moves us so deeply. In other words, because The Road addresses the love and goodness existent within dire, catastrophic circumstances, the work can definitely be described as sad and depressing, but also beautifully hopeful. Yes, the world’s environment has gone to hell, families are viciously torn a part, and children are left frightened without their parents, but at the same time, the goodness, love, courtesy, and generosity that persist create a higher level of magnificence and meaning. I know some don’t see it this way; I think Chopin does more so, though, after time allowed his initial reaction to settle. Regardless, McCarthy gives us a story that is ultimately real: one that is tortured as much as it is splendid. This excerpt from the novel, one that depicts one of the many conversations shared between the boy and his father, helps expound upon this point:


“[Man] Why dont you tell me a story?

[Boy] I dont want to.

Okay.

I dont have any stories to tell.

You could tell me a story about yourself.

You already know all the stories about me. You were there.

You have stories inside I dont know about.

You mean like dreams?

Like dreams. Or just things that you think about.

Yeah, but stories are supposed to be happy.

They dont have to be.

You always tell happy stories.

You dont have any happy ones?

They’re more like real life.

But my stories are not.

Your stories are not. No.

The man watched him. Real life is pretty bad?

What do you think?

Well, I think we’re still here. A lot of bad things have happened but we’re still here.

Yeah.

You dont think that’s so great.

It’s okay.”


McCarthy illustrates that “real life” stories need to be told, even if they aren’t initially perceived as “happy ones.” So, maybe this story isn’t happy, but it’s definitely beautiful. Must beauty coexist with happiness, or can they operate separately? I think they can exist separately from each other, despite all of the “bad things” surrounding beauty. Okay, I’m going to stop the philosophizing right now, before I become completely incoherent. Anyway, after reading and viewing The Road, I am confronted with my own story—something I think McCarthy aims to do to his audience with his text. How am I existing within the world right now, with all of the good and bad within it? How am I preparing for the future of my story, and of my children’s (the future’s) story? For indeed, sadness, destruction, and violence—all things that are “bad”—pervade our world, but in order to temper it, it is our job to recognize, encourage, and create beauty—the love and goodness that’s definitely possible within us, so that our world is more than just “okay.”