The State of American Adulthood

American adulthood is dead. There are no more "grown ups", just tall people with jobs. All around me I hear friends and relatives in their 30's and 40's saying, "I just don't feel like an adult. What does an adult feel like anyway? What does an adult look like? What would it take for me to know that I had finally reached a point of mental and physical maturity? Did my parents ever feel this way?

Last night I sat down to watch one of my favorite films; Otto Preminger's Anatomy of a Murder. This is such a solid film with a stellar cast, James Stewart, George C. Scott, Arthur O'Connell, Eve Arden, Lee Remick, and Ben Gazzara. As I was getting swept up into this picture with its seamless interactions and shockingly frank dialogue I couldn't help but notice how the subject matter was handled. I made some off handed comment about it to my husband who offered up a straight forward and cutting response.

"Well, this film was made by adults for adults."

Zing. A light went on and so many pieces came together in my head. Laying them out for you in this blog post will be a challenge, but I feel I must.

In order to give my thoughts some shape, I must attempt to capture a bit of the film for those of you unlucky enough to have missed it. (I do hope you'll see it if you haven't already- or better yet, see it again if you already have!) The story surrounds the murder trial of one Lt. Mannion, played by Ben Gazzara with acrobatic stillness, who has already admitted to the crime. The central question (you know how I love questions!) of the film revolves around personal responsibility and the validity of "temporary insanity" or "irresistible impulse", as it is referred to in the film. It seems that Mannion shot bartender Barney Quill after Mr. Quill raped his alluring wife, played deftly by a sweet faced Lee Remick. As down and out country lawyer, Paul Biegler (James Stewart) and the District Attorney (George C, Scott) jockey for position in the courtroom, Mannion's motive and responsibility come sharply into question. Preminger does his best to maintain objectivity, although his sympathies surely rest with Biegler or he would not have cast such an affable fellow as James Stewart.

I'd like to pause for a moment to rhapsodize about the incredible talents of James Stewart. I know many have pegged him as the It's a Wonderful Life guy and consider his style rather hokey. I urge you to look again. Beyond his characteristic stutter and lanky sweetness is a keen intellect and a well developed dark side. As much as you might like George Bailey, if you look closely you'll see he's a bitter, cynical man. His considerable charm makes him watchable, but he is angry and deeply wounded. Stewart walks the tightrope so delicately that he invites you to like him, even when he says and does awful things. This is such a valuable skill for an actor. It is disarming and provides many surprises for the audience. His performance as Paul Biegler is no different. Stewart plays a passionate, persistent and highly opportunistic lawyer in Anatomy of a Murder. There is a cynical edge to his portrayal that is unsettling and very complex. Watch his eyes. They are the human equivalent of the ticker at the bottom of the screen on CNN. Sometimes the ticker gives out frightening information.

Now I can return to my discussion on American adulthood. You see, what is most striking to me about this film is its stunning, unHollywood discussion of facts. There is very frank dialogue, especially for 1959 audiences, of rape, murder, motivation and panties. To be sure, there is humor, a sophisticated wit that permeates the dialogue and even THAT is acknowledged in the text. When the word "panties" is introduced, Preminger lets his audience snicker and when the judge confers with the attorneys about how they should refer to them George C. Scott says something about there being a French word for them but that "...it might be slightly suggestive". To which the judge replies, "Most French words are." The audience has a good laugh and then the judge admonishes us and reminds us that there is nothing funny about a pair of panties that factor in to the death of one man and the possible incarceration of another.

Throughout the film the discussion is stark and without embellishment. Today I can imagine the word "rape" being punctuated by dramatic music or by a hyperactive delivery as if the word does not carry enough weight on its own. Today, if anything serious is going to be discussed at all, the storytellers feel the need to spell it out for us, to talk down to us like we are children who cannot possibly understand the depth of the situation. Instead of encouraging us to think about any particular topic, they tell us what to think and how to go about thinking it. They try to shock us and then make some stupid declaration to the tune of, "We aren't doing this to shock you, but merely present you with the facts so that you may decide for yourself." Bullshit. Anytime someone says they aren't trying to shock you, they clearly ARE trying to shock you. And they sure as hell aren't trying to lay out all the facts, if they did then nothing would be all that shocking in the first place because you would then have all the facts to explain the shock away.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons I do not feel like an adult. I haven't been addressed as one. That is definitely in the interest of the status quo. If they can keep us sniggering about fart jokes and groin injuries, then maybe they don't have to make anyone accountable for crimes against humanity. Just sell us the next whoopie cushion and we'll shrug our shoulders about Darfur. What can we do about it? We're just a bunch of stupid kids.

There is a time and a place for infantile humor. We all think its funny. But that's all anyone is selling us right now. For a while, I'd like to be treated like an adult with a functioning intellect. There has got to be some other adults out there.

Somewhere.