A Voice of Sanity – RobertRinger.com

By Robert Ringer

One of the many things I regret not having enough time for is watching good movies. I emphasize the word good to differentiate from most of the celluloid sewage that comes off the Hollywood production line — the 90+ percent of films whose only purpose seem to be to dull viewers’ minds with over-the-top violence, sex, profanity, and anti-Western propaganda.

Some movies are so good that you feel compelled to watch them again every ten years or so. The Graduate, one of the greatest “cult” films of all time, is one that falls into the once-every-ten-years category for me. And last weekend, I’m happy to say that I took the time to watch it. Once again, it did not disappoint.

True, the film centers around a perverse sexual relationship, but I’m not exactly a prude. I have no problem with looking past a bit of risqué activity if a movie has a good theme, good acting, and is well produced. And, above all, if it’s based on a great script. To be sure, The Graduate has all of these components.

I’ve written about the main idea of this film (the hypocrisy of “suburban life”) in two previous articles, “Here’s to You, Mrs. Robinson” and “Winking at Hypocrisy”, so I won’t dwell on it here. But there are other aspects of The Graduate that hit home with me on this particular viewing.

One is how intemperance, a lack of self-discipline, or simply bad judgment not only can destroy a person’s life, but the lives of those around him as well. In The Graduate, the infamous Mrs. Robinson (played by the late and beautiful Anne Bancroft) is the human equivalent of the serpent in the Garden of Eden, leading Dustin Hoffman’s character, Ben Braddock, into temptation.

Though trying hard not to succumb to her not-at-all-subtle overtures, Ben ultimately “bites the apple” and becomes embroiled in an affair. Unfortunately, not only are Mrs. Robinson and her husband best friends with Ben’s parents, her husband is also Mr. Braddock’s business partner.

It soon gets worse, as Ben falls in love with Mrs. Robinson’s daughter, Elaine (played by another legendary beauty, Katharine Ross). When the truth finally comes out (Doesn’t it always?), the fallout is catastrophic for all concerned.

Mrs. Robinson’s marriage ends in divorce, and she is presumably left with her alcoholism, her chain-smoking, and her rather disturbed mind. And Elaine, with whom Ben had fallen madly in love, strikes him out of her life.

That brings to the fore what for me is the most important thing to take away from the movie: the remarkable tenacity of the antihero. When I use the word antihero, I am referring to people who tend to fumble and stumble their way through life, yet somehow manage to come out ahead … people who are bullied and taunted during their school years, yet somehow manage to come out ahead … people who are ignored or waved aside by others, yet somehow manage to come out ahead.

In The Graduate, Ben is the classic antihero — a true master of the art of fumbling and stumbling — a lost young man who seems perpetually at a loss for words. Still, against seemingly impossible odds, he finds a way to transform certain defeat into victory — and, in the process, uplift the hearts of three generations of viewers.

After Elaine finds out about Ben’s affair with her mother and shuts him out of her life, she, on the rebound, accepts the marriage proposal of a prim and proper suitor. A wedding date is set, and when Ben discovers that the marriage is about to take place, he puts aside his fumbling and stumbling and goes into a full-court press in an effort to find out when and where.

In one of the frantic calls he makes to find out where the wedding is to take place, he is told that the ceremony is probably already over. And to me, his reaction to hearing this dreaded news is one of the key lessons to take away from this film classic.

Instead of hanging his head in sorrow and driving back home, he jumps in his car and speeds toward the church where the wedding is in progress. But as he nears the church, in predictable antihero fashion, he runs out of gas!

So, what does our antihero do when he runs out of gas? He jumps out of his uncooperative vehicle and runs the remainder of the way. And when he finally arrives — you guessed it — the doors are locked!

Again, instead of walking away in despair, our antihero dashes up an outside stairway and, through a large glass window, looks down on the wedding ceremony — which is about to end with the traditional bride-bridegroom kiss.

Without a trace of fumbling or stumbling, he bangs on the glass, desperately shouting, “Elaine! Elaine!” And, as could happen in only in a Hollywood movie, Elaine looks up and cries out, “Ben!”

After a wild struggle with Elaine’s parents and other attendees, Ben and Elaine, hand in hand, run from the church (barricading the angry mob inside by jamming a large cross through the handles of the front doors), jump on a bus that just happens to be making a Hollywood stop at the corner, and the bus pulls away with another “lives happily ever after” ending in the can.

Even though it would be hard to imagine such an ending in real life, there is a message in all this that is certainly applicable to our hard world of reality — and in Part II of this article, we’ll take a close look at what that message is.

_______________________________________

Liberty Education Interview Series

We’re happy to announce that Robert Ringer’s Liberty Education Interview Series has been officially launched. To listen to Robert’s recent interviews with Newt Gingrich, Ron Paul, Alan Keyes, Stephen Moore, and other prominent pro-liberty advocates, please go to www.robertringer.com and click on the appropriate icon in the left navigation bar.

You can also go directly to http://www.robertringer.com/liberty-education-interview-series.html. In either event, please encourage your family, friends, and coworkers to listen to these interviews as well. Liberty needs all the support it can get right now.

And be sure to let us know what you think about the Liberty Education Interview Series thus far.