Movies have enriched our lives with such a wealth of stories and
characters, behind which talented writers, directors and actors operate
like drivers behind the wheel.
By and large, it is all fiction, but to
the extent that movies as an art form can illuminate things about
ourselves, each other, and the world around us, then they serve a very
real purpose. This week I look at three curious characters, who, in
each case, figure in the profound human drama that they inhabit and
define.
House of Sand and Fog is a 2003 film directed by Vadim Perelman, based on the Andres Dubus III novel, and what a
tragic story it is. Academy Award winners Jennifer Connelly as Kathy Nicolo and Ben Kingsley as Massoud Amir Behrani head up a cast of deft acting, but my article focuses on Ron Eldard as Lester Burdon. Nicolo and Behrani lead troubled lives, and they're on a collision course with the titular house dead center in the crosshairs. I argue that Burdon is as the incendiary agent, who implicates himself into all of this and ignites a horrible tragedy. It is a case of an honest, earnest man, who is keen to help Nicolo but who makes matters worse, instead.
Eight month before the story started, Nicolo and her husband split up. Evidently this was such a disheartening experience for her, that she was virtually immobilized in her home: not taking care of herself, not opening her mail. She was so embarrassed about the split up that she decided not to mention it to her family. So when her annoying mother wedges herself into an upcoming visit, Nicolo tells her that her husband will be on a business trip.
She is a down in the dumps woman, and this is first underpinning of the tragedy.
Soon after that early morning phone call with her mother, some authorities barge into her house and stick eviction notices on her front and back doors. Nicolo is stunned, then baffled, then distraught. Deputy Sheriff Burdon is along for the eviction, and quickly we see that he likes her. He takes a more kindly tact with her, and offers to help pack up her belongings. He is pragmatic as well as encouraging, and persuades her not to take a stand against the eviction orders.
Nicolo is reminiscing over some photos in her storage space that night, when Burdon startles her with a visit. He is out of uniform this time, because his duty for the day is done. More than just kindly or encouraging, we see the initial sparks of attraction on his face. We find out gradually that he has fallen out of love and that his marriage is just one of sparing displays of affection for his wife. They have two children, whom he had promised never to abandon, especially after his own father had done that. But the glimmer of a way out of a loveless marriage is matched by the dark prospects of doing that very thing to his children.
These initial run-ins between Nicolo and Burdon add another combustible layer to the tragedy.
He drives her back to her motel, and advises her in no uncertain terms
not to go back to her house and instead let her lawyer handle things.
She doesn't listen. Later that evening, the motel clerk knocks on her door and tells that her credit card payment didn't go through. So she makes a hasty departure, that is, without checking out, and parks her car for the night in front of her house.
The next morning, her house is a construction site, as Behrani and his family have not only moved in, but they're also remodeling the house. It's like falling behind in a long race, then in a blink of an eye, you're lagging even further from the others. Just like that, her house is blatantly out of her control. It is in this unfortunate state of mind that this time, she seeks out Burdon directly. She drives over to the police station, pleasantly surprisingly him of course: They have lunch seaside among squawking gulls, then they have dinner over romantic lighting, and then at her behest they make love tenderly. They are two troubled souls who find some longed-for comfort and intimacy. There is no one step, no one moment or decision that makes things the way they are for people, would-be lovers in particular, but rather a series of such steps, moments and decisions.
All told, our human drama progresses in foreboding fashion.
Burdon puts Nicolo up in temporary quarters, and the day after their lovemaking, she returns to find him sitting at a small table and two bags on the floor at his side. He's left his family. She remarks half-jokingly that they're both homeless now. She admits to him that once again, she had paid her house a visit, even more disturbed to find that Behrani was entertaining two prospective buyers for the house.
He bought the house for a ridiculous $45,000 auction price from the county, and from a recent appraisal it was worth $174,000 in the market. He was a decorated colonel in the Persian military, and the family lived a lavish lifestyle. From what we can determine, when the Shah of Iran was overthrown, his cronies and their families also had to flee the country. Behrani had amassed quite a savings, but with only measly income from a construction site and gas station jobs, his family was burning through it all quickly in their lavish apartment. So the earnings from the house sale meant way more than just profit for him; it was also a major step toward recovering his dignity and lifestyle.
In their little chat, Burdon notices the welts on Nicolo's arm, where Behrani had to unceremoniously escort the errant lady back to her car. He had prospective buyers who were interested, and she was literally a fly in his ointment. The mild-mannered, caring man we saw was now combusting. Off the chair and pacing the room, Burdon is angry at what happened to his lover and he schemes to pay the proud colonel a visit himself.
Imagine this: You're years into a loveless marriage, feeling unhappy and trapped. Then, finally when you spy hope and love in the arms of a beguilingly attractive woman
, you will want to protect what you have found. The fact that she is troubled gives him reason to help, and perhaps in his mind it also lends him some grace or salvation from what he had just done to his family. Evidently he has more than a bit of a temper, to boot.
She seems ennobled and emboldened, but in the process Burdon crosses another fateful line.
Behrani is kindly and accommodating when Burdon pops in, wearing his uniform and sporting his medals. His idea was to frighten the new owner into selling the house back to the county for the price he paid. We already know that the market price has far greater personal import for Behrani - it is a matter of necessity for him and his family, as he pointed out to Nicolo's lawyer - but unfortunately Burdon has no idea of the story behind it all. Nicolo has a bit more knowledge and insight about the family, but he is full of prejudice in his mind, full of love in his heart, and full of fire in his eyes.
He is a loose canon, that is getting looser yet.
Burdon returns to the car, with Nicolo there waiting, after his tense run-in with the colonel. It is ironic that he felt that Behrani listened to what he had to say, meaning that he will do what he demanded after threatening deportation for the family. First, Behrani did listen, but filed a formal complaint directly with the police department, instead. Second, in the heat of his own efforts, Burdon no longer listens very well to Nicolo.
Clinical psychologists may be prone to ascribe this dynamics to Nicolo herself, that is, via
projective identification she gets her lover to act out her disappointment and anger and to do the strong-arming that she cannot do. However, I beg to differ: Burdon carries quite a bit of his own baggage into the combustible mix. If there is any projective identification going on, then he adds to it with his own readiness to dispense altogether with any defensive mechanism like
sublimation and instead tap into
displacement. In brief, Nicolo gives him as much reason to unleash his pent-up disappointment and anger and his previously-closeted rescue fantasy, as he gives Nicolo the means to relieve her despondency and recover her house.
Lester and Kathy are not at all Romeo and Juliet, but the terribly entangled lives that they now lead push them to an end as heartbreaking as that of Romeo and Juliet.
After that ill-fated visit to the house, Burdon drives to a friend's cabin a few miles out of town, where, clearly in Nicolo's mind, they have a bit of a makeshift home together. More lovemaking between them that night, as she rises out of bed the next morning fully unclothed and feels a certain joyfulness in the outdoor light. She cleans the whole cabin, and proudly announces it to him, when he returns. But he is out of sorts. He explains to her that he has to go back home to explain things more clearly to his wife and that he has to be home when his children arrive back from school. His repeated mention of
home with his family hurts her and frightens her. He promises to return in a few hours, but in the dark of the cabin a few hours later, she is sitting by herself with two uneaten dinner plates.
Without meaning to, Burdon has triggered Nicolo's own fear of abandonment.
Terribly distraught now, she heads for the convenience store at the nearest gas station, and buys up smokes and liquor. Apparently she means to burn the house down, when she buys a red gasoline container and a book of matches. But when she finds Burdon's bag in the trunk with his holstered gun inside, she comes up with an alternative plan. She drives to the house again, takes swigs of liquor, and points the gun up under her chin. She pulls the trigger, but nothing happens. Just a click. Aggravated she points it to her temple and inserts it in her mouth, and once again just a series of empty clicks. She evidently didn't engage the magazine properly.
Behrani hears her shouts, and hurries outside to find her trying to off herself. He quickly secures the gun, and carries her inside. It is a dramatic turn of heart for him, as now he feels nothing but compassion and care for her. In the lowest of lows, feeling abandoned, she clutches his hand and refuses to let him go. A bit later, she rises from bed to use the bathroom, and Behrani's wife encourages her to take a warm bath. She is evidently not done trying to off herself, as she overdoses on an entire medication bottle. The family is once again frantic in rescuing her. Behrani's wife manages to get Nicolo to vomit, after finding her unconscious in the bathtub.
In the meantime, Burdon does return to the cabin much later than expected, but Nicolo had long left. He drives over to the house, looks in from the back, and sees Behrani's son sitting in the kitchen and mesmerized by the gun on the table. He breaks in, recovers his own gun, and sees the family dragging his half-conscious lover out of the bathroom. They explain to him what happened, but he does not believe them. He orders them to take her to the bedroom, and holds them hostage in the bathroom for the night.
Remember, Burdon is a loose canon, who doesn't know the whole story, doesn't listen very well, and simply doesn't do the right thing.
Tragedy at this point is a runaway train, and there is no stopping it anymore. The next morning, Behrani offers a workable resolution: He will sell the house back to the county for $45,000, and give the check to the couple. In exchange, Nicolo must agree to sign the title back to him. It's a win-win proposition that resonates rather well with the pragmatic nature of Burdon's personality. However, she just wants to go. She's put herself and the family through hell, and the fact that they took care of her and saved her life, prompts her to simply let the whole affair go.
Again he doesn't listen. He knows that the money can give them a good fresh start together.
So with Behrani at the wheel, they drive over to the courthouse, with the son in tow. Burdon's plan was for Behrani to do what he promised, while he and the son waited in the car. But Behrani was worried for his son, and insisted that he come along into the courthouse. Of course, this meant that Burdon had to escort them inside, that is, expose himself in the company of some of his colleagues. It's a tense walk up down the sidewalk and up the steps, with him looking bedraggled, his uniform half-untucked. Once they round a corner, however, Burdon pushes Behrani against a pillar and threatens him one last time before they go inside. The son, who was mesmerized with the gun the night before, jumps at the opportunity to grab the gun from Burdon's side.
The two men are both frantic now. Behrani grabs Burdon, but Burdon is not worried about him as he was about the son. The son is nervously pointing the gun at the erstwhile officer, while the two men shout at him to put it down. In the meantime, two officers arrive at the bottom of the steps, and have a clear view of the son. Unwittingly and tragically, the son shifts focus: If he knew better, he'd have dropped the gun and put his hands up. But he wasn't born in the US, so he didn't know what he was supposed to do. So as he turns to look at the two officers below, the pointed gun in his outstretched arms follows suit as his whole body shifts. One officer shoots him dead center in the chest, in a tragic instance of self defense.
Burdon, Behrani and Nicolo are, by all accounts, well-meaning people. Granted, they are imperfect characters, but that is just human nature. They all try to do the right thing, under whatever circumstances they find themselves in a given moment, but their character flaws and situational distress combine for one incendiary ending to the story. I've watched this film quite a few times now, as it's clearly one of my top favorites, and recently found myself wishing: If only each of them had listened, and stepped back a moment, and weighed matters thoughtfully, and proceeded calmly, an entire tragedy could've been averted. Again they're not bad people, just as many, many of us aren't bad people, either.
But one wrong choice isn't just an isolated, one-off choice. Rather it's one of a series of wrong choices along a road, contrary to Robert Frost's iconic poem, that is most definitely well-traveled.
