Fradam

I apologise for the scattered nature of this post, but there was something on my mind that needed to get out. I saw two different films yesterday. The first was the new X-Men movie – Wolverine. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I’ve been an X-Men aficionado since childhood, something about the idea of humans being more than they are has a curious appeal. Possibly because a strange part of me feels that I might just have superhumanly long arms or something. I’ve never been a comic book person – my knowledge of the characters stems from morning cartoons, so with those memories in mind, I can’t say the experience differed far from expectation. The storyline developed around his relationship with Sabretooth, the various betrayals and counter-betrayals seemed only appropriate considering the somewhat confused state we find Wolverine in, in the first X-Men movie. Getting to meet Gambit was certainly a treat, and I hope to learn more of his history in future films. What I supposed surprised me the most were the action scenes. Aside from a few cheesy/movie-cheating moments, lots of it was quite “cool” (as witnessing people with superhuman abilities can be), but… hang on, it was cool?

I realise it’s just a movie. And movies aren’t real.

But when did scenes of violence, become cool? When did I become so desensitized that it didn’t affect me? What’s curious is that very concept was a storyline element in the film itself (Wolverine’s character developing a conscience and distaste for rampant destruction of life)… yet here I was, a viewer, who had the same issue. I know there are some films I’ve seen, which cross my own line. But the sheer majority of them, I wouldn’t bat an eyelid to the levels of violence depicted within. I feel guilt when considering this. Reflecting upon this makes me think about the films where they create animals out of humans by subjecting them to inordinate amounts of violent media; the theory being that what you put in, is what you get out. That principle does hold true for a lot of things, I can appreciate that… but I hope that all the violent films I watched growing up, hasn’t left me as some sort of raging beast, waiting to be let loose. I don’t dream of things like that, so I suppose that must be a good sign… i.e. the next time you see me, I don’t think you need to run.

The other film I saw yesterday was a video of my cousin’s visit to Australia back in 1997. My family took lots of photos of us growing up, but we couldn’t afford video. This was the first time I’d seen the younger version of myself moving around; talking and interacting with other people. The games we played. The things we laughed about. Aside from realising that my father could pass for an Indian film star, one of the things that stood out to me was the amount of wrestling/jumping/squashing sort of games there were. Part of me thinks of that as just part of the natural growing up process. Part of me considers a voice heard in the background of one of these scenes – “Where did they get so violent?” Thinking about that saddens me, as it’s a part of my childhood that obviously I’m not quite as proud of. I don’t recall being violent outside of the sibling rumble/tumble, so perhaps it’s not something I should worry myself over. I mean, we all went through that, right? That’s what I’m telling myself at the moment.

Perhaps what should worry me is the other side of the coin. What of apathy at the plight of reality for many, due to desensitisation from the media I’ve been exposed to? I realise we make decisions, on how we choose to respond to such stimulus, so don’t take this as blame-shifting. It’s not just the not-doing of things violent that concerns me, but the not-doing-anything-about of the violence in the world that concerns me. I want to respond.

Apathy does frighten me. I care… but am not always sure how to go about showing that.