Swompdonkey

I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind last night --alone and exhausted from a crazy week of picket-line duty and 10-hour days. The Public Service Alliance of Canada was on STRIKE this week, and I ain't a member... I'm considered part of the excluded "management" category right now. That means I had to do employee liaison duty --basically stand outside my building with a bright orange panel vest from 6 am to 10 am, and stop people from sneaking into the building. Anyway, after the week I had, perhaps I wasn't in the right frame of mind to watch a movie like Eternal Sunshine, because I can't say I enjoyed it. Incidentally, I also rented The Punisher. It brought back fond memories of reading the nihilistic comics as an angry teen and it was right up my alley.

The bizarre cinematography and quirky style of Eternal Sunshine got on my nerves after a while, but more annoyingly, I couldn't figure out why Joel, Jim Carey's character, became so desperate to hold on to his memories of the character played by Kate Winslet. I guess it was the sentimentality of the character, and the realization that he really didn't want to forget his "Tangerine" after all, once he recovered from the sudden trauma of the breakup... but Clementine, as portrayed by the usually lovely miss Winslet, seemed to me to be an insufferably obnoxious, selfish and pretentious hippy slob with a real mean streak, not at all worthy of the male lead's heartfelt devotion. There must have been something special about her, but I think that the filmmaker failed to show enough of her sweet side to make her seem like someone worth hanging onto. Maybe I'm just a cynical bastard (OK, I admit it, I AM a cynical bastard), but, having taken the extreme step of decided to erase memories of his ex-girlfriend from his head (OUCH!), and seeing how most of the memories seemed pretty bad anyway, I couldn't figure out why the despondent Joel changed his mind halfway through the memory-erasing procedure, particularly since Clementine had had the procedure done first! --In the movie this cruel decision on her part is supposed to be excused because she is "impulsive"... excuse me? Jetting off to New York City for the weekend is impulsive... deliberately erasing someone from your brain is... well, something else entirely.

More to the point, and I speak from personal experience now, a person may indeed have many good memories of someone after a breakup, but sometimes, if there are enough bad memories, the bad ones can colour the whole experience, even taint the good memories enough so that in hindsight, the entire relationship may come to be viewed with some degree of ambivalence. That isn't to say you end up despising the person for all time... just that you can be philosophical about the whole thing and say "Well, on balance, that was a pretty lousy experience..." In time, you may come see the benefits of having had the experience, because you learn from it, don't you? And it makes you the person you are today. Still... what you don't do is look back and say "Wow, I'm really glad I have all these memories of this person!"...at least I don't-- you just try to salvage something good and do your best not to dwell on the bad. By that measure, the idea of rapid memory-erasing in order to accelerate the healing process, which is the central conceit of the story, isn't an entirely illogical one... although it is probably grossly unethical to tamper with peoples' brains the way they do in the movie.

I have had people ask me if I have any bitterness or rancor towards an ex girlfriend that treated me particularly shabbily some time ago... and I can say with some degree of pride that I do not. You see, I underwent some memory-erasing of my own. Not through some unnatural procedure... just by the slow passage of time. I lost contact with that person completely and somehow, whether it happened by design or by accident, both good and bad memories of that time in my life, so raw and painful for some time after the break-up, have faded to the point that I scarcely remember our relationship. Viewing the period now with the clinical detachment of hindsight, am I sad that I can't really remember much? Not really. I guess that is just the way my brain works. I have a vague sense that I may be depriving myself of something by either having repressed the memories or having lost them quite by accident, but then again, my head is always full of other good memories, because I try to make them every day.