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Hearts in Atlantis |
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When a package arrives announcing the
death of a childhood friend, Robert Garfield
returns to the New England home of his youth.
The once-vibrant neighborhood has
succumbed to time and neglect. He
reminisces while strolling through the
dilapidated house that, during his last
innocent summer there in 1960, was home to
him, his widowed mother and Ted Brautigan,
the uniquely gifted border who moved in
upstairs. From here, the tale is told in
flashback from 11-year-old Bobby’s
perspective.
Backed by the hits of Chubby Checker,
The Platters and Fats Domino, scenes show
Bobby’s most carefree days with good friends,
including his childhood sweetheart, Carol.
Climbing trees. Splashing about at the old
swimming hole. Walking along train tracks.
It’s magical. But things aren’t so great at
home. If Bobby’s mother is to be believed, his
no-good father gambled away their savings
before dying and leaving them in financial
straits. For his 11th birthday, Bobby doesn’t
get the bike he wanted. Mom gives him a
library card instead. Meanwhile, she’s a
clothes horse who always seems to be
thinking of own desires ahead of her son’s
needs. Desperate for cash, the pair rent out
an upstairs room to Ted who, as it turns out,
can read people’s minds. "Some think of it as
a gift," he tells Bobby, "but to me it has always
been a burden." It seems a tenacious group of
G-men want to control and exploit his talent in
an era of Cold War paranoia. Bobby and Ted
form a fast friendship that, while it lasts,
provides each with a refreshing view of life.
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positive elements: Friends stick up
for one another and share each other’s ups
and downs. When Harry and his pals pick on
Carol, Bobby rises to her defense. Later, when
the bully attacks and wounds her, Bobby puts
her on his back and carries her to safety. Ted
tells of a football player who gutted out a
difficult situation, teaching Bobby an important
lesson about perseverance in the face of
physical exhaustion. A barmaid tells Bobby
that his dad was a decent man who never
added to the troubles of the world (after years
of revisionist history about his dad, Bobby
excitedly reminds his mother, "He was
generous and he was funny and people liked
him"). Liz jumps to conclusions about Ted and
appears foolish for her unfair treatment of him.
Likewise, her mediocre parenting
demonstrates just how easy it is to alienate a
preadolescent through selfishness. Upon
realizing that she has betrayed her son, Liz
asks Bobby for forgiveness.
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spiritual content: Some families may
object to Ted’s ability to read people’s minds,
slip in and out of trance-like states and
temporarily transfer his ability to Bobby by
embracing him; it’s strange, but not
spiritualized.
•
sexual content: There’s an
undercurrent of suspicion on the part of Liz
that Ted may have dishonorable intentions
toward her son. But he’s no pedophile. If
anyone deserves her icy glares, it’s her boss,
who tries to take advantage of her while on a
business trip (it’s unclear just how successful
he is, though he is shown dominating her on
a hotel bed, clothed). Harry makes crass
comments about the size of Carol’s
chest.
•
violent content: Resident bully Harry
Doolin and his toadies grab Bobby and Carol,
intending them harm until Ted intervenes.
Later, Harry hits Carol with a baseball bat
(implied), separating her shoulder. He also
confronts Bobby, who disarms Harry and
pummels the lout with his own bat until Harry
manages to run away. Liz is tossed about on
a hotel bed by her boss during what, in
discretely cut flashback shots, appears to be a
case of acquaintance rape. Believing the
worst of Ted’s interactions with the wounded
Carol, Liz slaps him several times.
•
crude or profane language: Just over
a dozen profanities, including slang for a girl’s
breasts, several exclamatory uses of God and
Jesus’ name.
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drug and alcohol content: A bar/pool
hall serves drinks. Liz drowns her sorrows in
a glass of wine. When Liz’s boss gets drunk
at an out-of-town seminar, he proceeds to
force himself on her. Ted and Liz both smoke
cigarettes almost constantly. At one point,
Bobby chides his mother for her habit, which
inspires Liz to defend herself by quoting the
brand’s obviously lame advertising
slogan.
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other negative elements: References
to a writer "prone to flatulence" yield mildly
crude exchanges. There are mixed messages
about gambling, some suggesting that it’s a
sucker’s game (as when Carol’s mom plays
three-card Monty), while others indicate that
betting big bucks on long shots could be a
legitimate way to get rich quick (Ted earns
enough to live on for a while by wagering on a
prize fight). Ted’s views of childhood are
sweet and romantic, but they’re countered by
pessimistic ideas about adulthood
("Sometimes when you’re young, you have
moments of such happiness, you think you’re
living in someplace magical, like Atlantis must
have been ... then we grow up and our hearts
break in two"). Sure, idealism fades with
maturity, but is growing up necessarily a path
to heartbreak? Not if a person’s maturity is
given perspective by a relationship with Jesus
Christ.
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conclusion: If Alfred Hitchcock was
correct when he said that "style" is merely
self-plagiarism, no one may have a better
case against himself than Stephen King.
Currently "on trial," Hearts in Atlantis.
Exhibit A: Flashback stimulated by an item
from the past arriving by mail (The Green Mile).
Exhibit B: Story set in the late 1950s or early
1960s told in retrospect through the eyes of an
idealistic child on the brink of adulthood (It,
Stand By Me). Exhibit C: Kind-hearted
character possessing an uncommon ability
who is plagued and ultimately undone by said
power (The Dead Zone, Carrie, The Green
Mile, Firestarter, The Shining, etc.). Exhibit
D: Young bullies who get what’s coming to
them (Christine, Stand By Me, Sometimes
They Come Back, It, etc.).
Yet in spite of its over-reliance on King’s
decades-old formula, Hearts in Atlantis
still manages to pull heartstrings. We care
about these people, even if their futures are
foretold and their goals remain ambiguous.
Oscar-winner Anthony Hopkins gives Ted a lot
of depth, warmth and mystery—not an easy
combination to pull off. For mature viewers
able to work through the film’s intense
moments, occasional profanity and obscure
talk of psychic powers, there are great
messages about friendship, kindness,
responsibility to one’s children, respect for
elders and the need to keep from prejudging
people.
It’s also wonderful to see an 11-year-old
boy captivated by the fond reminiscences of a
man old enough to be his grandfather, rather
than by the latest TV show or video game.
Senior citizens possess a wealth of
experience, insight and wisdom
under-appreciated in modern culture.
Intergenerational friendships can be enriching
for both young and old, as this film
suggests.
For me, there was another unintended
benefit: In the wake of terrorist attacks and an
uncertain future, I found comfort in the film’s
nostalgic snap-shots of mid-twentieth century
Americana. A worn-out baseball glove. A kid
collecting Coke bottles. Fiery orange maple
trees announcing the arrival of autumn.
Directed by Scott Hicks (who captured the icy
Pacific Northwest masterfully in another
period film, Snow Falling on Cedars), the movie temporarily
transported me to a safer place, Sputnik
notwithstanding.
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