trying not to love
by Douglas Messerli
Mark Boal (screenwriter), Kathryn Bigelow (director) The Hurt Locker / 2008, limited USA release 2009
Yet there is something deeper and darker about SSG William James that even he does not comprehend. He is, as one officer calls him, "a wild man," a man careless with his life. Questioned by his Colonel, James admits to having disarmed eight hundred and seventy-three bombs. Yet, unlike JT Sanborn, James is not prepared to die, but determined to live. The opposite of the philosopher whose name he carries, William James does not have the ability to philosophize or psychologize, is unable to look inward and comprehend his own being.
Sergeant
JT Sanborn: But you realize every time you suit up, every time we go out, it's
life or death. You roll the dice, and you
deal with it. You recognize that don't you?
Staff
Sergeant William James: Yea... Yea, I do. But I don't know why. [sighs]
Staff
Sergeant William James: I don't know, JT. You know why I'm that way?
Sergeant
JT Sanborn: No, I don't.
Married and blessed with a son, James has virtually abandoned his
family, describing his own situation as a marriage that broke up, although his
wife still lives in his house. A call to his wife shows him hanging up before
she answers. The reviewer of the London Times
lamented that we never do find out why James cannot find satisfaction in
his home life. However, I think we do get some insights into "why he is that way."
Some scenes portray him as a kind of mad man: in one incident we see him
lying in bed dressed in his body armor. Yet, of all the soldiers, he seems the
only one willing to talk and joke with a young Iraqi boy, nicknamed Beckham, at
one point even playing a quick game of soccer with him. Later, a macho barrack
game, in which Sanborn and James give and take stomach blows, turns into rather
homoerotic roughhousing as James straddles a furious Sanborn, riding him like a
bucking bronco.
Another illegal foray with his buddies, leads to an attempted kidnapping
of Eldridge, which James foils by shooting the Iraqis—while crippling Eldridge
as well.
In a later scene Beckham seems to reappear, and cannot understand why
James will not greet him. Is the child a stand-in or the real boy, whom James
has confused with another? My theater companion insisted that if you looked
closely, the second boy was not Beckham. But, in some ways, it does not matter.
James has come to realize again that it is dangerous to love, and yes, it
appears he has come to love the previous Beckham. His relationship with the boy
was perhaps the deepest love he has ever allowed himself.
What we gradually begin to comprehend is that James not only keeps a
"hurt locker"—a container holding the picture of his son and all the
fuses he has disarmed—but is, himself, metaphorically speaking, a human hurt
locker, a man trying desperately to keep from exploding. Inside, he is a being
pulled in many directions, both spiritually and sexually. While he is clearly a
potentially loving person, in his attempts to contain it, maybe even closet it,
he is dangerous as well.
From the beginning, the film has counted down the days remaining before
these men can return home, and after that day finally arrives, we see James at
home with us wife and son. We might imagine a hopeful ending. But James in
civilian life is truly a fish out of water, a man unable to choose even a box
of cereal from the endless choices on the grocery shelves. His wife assigns him
tasks that a mother might give to a child, such as cutting up the vegetables
while she prepares their dinner. In the bedroom, Williams plays with his
delighted baby, opening and closing a jack-in-the-box. More to himself than to
the child, he describes his situation:
Staff
Sergeant William James: [Speaking to his son] You love playing with that. You
love playing with all your stuffed animals. You love your Mommy, your Daddy.
You love your pajamas. You love everything, don't ya? Yea. But you know what,
buddy? As you get older... some of the things you love might not seem so
special anymore. Like your Jack-in-the-Box. Maybe you'll realize it's just a
piece of tin and a stuffed animal. And then you forget the few things you
really love. And by the time you get to my age, maybe it's only one or two
things. With me, I think it's one.
We might imagine that the "one" he still loves is his son, but
in the next scene, as he arrives at a new base, beginning the countdown of 365
days all over again, we realize the only thing he loves is the danger of his
life, the possibility of dying or living hour by hour. In the world which he
inhabits—a world where no one can truly be safe—choosing anyone to love not
only endangers the loved one, but, like Pandora's opening of the box, may
further release the pain into the world surrounding. And in that sense,
perhaps, we understand that Staff Sergeant William James cannot be killed, for
he is already a walking ghost.
Los Angeles, March 5, 2010
Reprinted from Nth Position [England] (March 2010) and Reading Fictions: My International Cinema (Los Angeles: Green
Integer, 2012).
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