Human and Whole: Two Films

On this early Easter morning, I am thinking many things—gratitude for my son's few perfect days home, gratitude for family and friends, gratitude for the sun rising, gratitude for the pink blending yellow ripping through white.

I am thinking, too, about the two movies I watched this weekend—"The Visitor" and "The Station Agent." Both produced by Mary Jane Skalski, both written and directed by Tom McCarthy. Both entirely human and intensified by the space between words that are thought but never said.

"The Visitor" is the story of a professor living in the acute aftermath of his wife's passing—a man going through the motions until he discovers two illegal immigrants living in the Manhattan apartment he rarely frequents. He allows his life to be changed by them—allows his heart to be broken newly as he enters into their music, faith, and sudden terror. There are so many ways to snap a life in two. Here, in the detention center of illegal immigrants, in the world of deportation, in the dare of trying once again to live, we witness new fault lines; we, like the characters, are heartbroken.

"The Station Agent," a movie I'd seen before, at my mother's insistence, focuses on Fin, a four-foot-five man who takes up residence at an abandoned train depot and wants nothing more than his own company. Such quietude, though, is denied him—by the loquacious Cuban who parks his food truck by the empty depot; by the beautiful divorcee down the road, who grieves the loss of her son; by the librarian (early Michelle Williams) who slides into Fin's life, then out again; and by the young girl who insists that Fin come to her school for a talk about trains, something Fin knows down to the most excruciating detail. There is a lot of walking on tracks in "The Station Agent"—intoxicatingly filmed. A lot of outright beauty between people. It is one of the most distilled films you will ever see, and one you must see, if you haven't.

I have clipped the daffodils from the back yard (uncountable numbers now). I have placed them on the table. One more meal before we drive our son back to school. And then the aftermath of goodness.

Happy Easter.