A family. The family unit has universal, historical symbolism for any and every macro/micro community, culture, society, whatever. I guess what I mean is - it's function or dysfunction will tell you exactly what is and what is not, in the place you call home - whether that is the block you live on, the city, the state, the country, the earth, or the universe. "Rachel Getting Married" will explain, symbolically, why we fight terrorism with terrorism, torture with torture. It will explain why the "troubles" in Northern Ireland lasted almost a century. It will help you understand why the protestant church has 5000 divisions, called denominations. It will clarify for you the reason "christians" have the same divorce rate as "non-christians" in America. It will explain to you our need to predict and prepare for an apocalypse - and our need to prepare for war against aliens from Mars. It will explain the first world and the third world. It will make obvious how we can both hate and love another person, at the very same moment. It will explain the garden in your backyard, and also clarify your microwave oven. It may even make clear, why the son of God, born from a virgin, chose celibacy.
In the film, the father...
(deep breath)
...was literally a glass shattered, but held loosely together with scotch tape, not at all resembling his original being. total internal devastation.
the mother was a time bomb, volcano.
Rachel, Ph.D - like most psychology scholars - is looking for an answer to her own complicated, conflicted cognitions - using it as leverage to blame someone else.
Kym...
"When I was sixteen, I was babysitting my little brother. And I was, um... I had taken all these Percocet. And I was unbelievably high and I... we had driven over to the park on Lakeshore. And he was in his red socks just running around in these piles of leaves. And, um, he would bury me and I would bury him in the leaves. And he was pretending that he was a train. And so he was charging through the leaves, making tracks, and I was the caboose, and I was, um... so he kept saying, coal, caboose! Coal, caboose! And, um, we were... it was time to go and I was driving home... and... I lost control of the car. And drove off the bridge. And the car went into the lake. And I couldn't get him out of his car seat. And he drowned. And I struggle with God so much, because I can't forgive myself. And I don't really want to right now. I can live with it, but I can't forgive myself. And sometimes I don't want to believe in a God that could forgive me. But I do want to be sober. I'm alive and I'm present and there's nothing controlling me. If I hurt someone, I hurt someone. I can apologize, and they can forgive me... or not. But I can change. And I just wanted to share that and say congratulations that God makes you look up, I'm so happy for you, but if he doesn't, come here (12 step). That's all."
I was most genuinely "moved" with the mother's response when Kym was blaming her for allowing Kym to babysit Ethan, even though she new about Kym's drug addiction. her mother, in anxious defense of her decision, said something like..."but you were at your best, whenever you were with him". Kym didn't "hear" it (because in her mind, that statement puts all the blame back in her lap), but it was the truth of the entire film, for me (especially as a parent). the conversation became so honest, that words were no longer able to communicate feelings - and thus, violence erupted - and for a short few moments, it was a horror film.
the discovery of pregnancy and the wedding itself, were symbols of something new - of something bigger than ourselves - of the capacity for grace - even if it is rejected.
