The Man Without a Face and Free Willy Would Be a Good Double Feature...

When my friend Dan and I went to the video store the other night in anticipation of our long-planned media marathon, one of the movies he ran past me was The Man Without a Face, the 1993 film that marked Mel Gibson‘s directorial debut. He explained that he’d wanted to see it ever since it hit movie theaters, and I agreed that it was best not to let this particular dream be deferred any longer. So it was that we found ourselves with bowls of buttery popcorn and icy cans of Pepsi at 3 in the morning, ready to make this touching but unsettling film the midpoint of our marathon.

The Man Without a Face stars wide-eyed Nick Stahl as Chuck Norstadt, an angsty young teen who is saddled with a learning disability, a dead dad, an irresponsible mother (Margaret Whitton) and two half-sisters, each with a different father. Ten-year-old Megan (Gaby Hoffman) idolizes her older brother, but her hyper-intelligence annoys him. Meanwhile, teenage Gloria (Fay Masterson) treats him with nothing but disdain.

All he wants is to get away, to go to boarding school like the father whose background remains shrouded in mystery. So desperate is he that when he finds out Justin McLeod (Mel Gibson), a creepy, disfigured loner who lives in a mansion on the outskirts of town with his intimidating German Shepherd, is a teacher, he entreats the man to help him, never informing his mother where he intends to spend his summer days. Reluctantly, McLeod agrees, and so begins the slow process of healing two broken lives.

In many ways, this movie reminds me of Free Willy, a previous Dan and Erin Movie Marathon selection. Both films came out in 1993, and each deals with a very troubled boy with little adult supervision who finds a kindred spirit in a similarly disturbed soul. In Free Willy, that friend is a whale separated from his family and forced into captivity, whereas here, it’s a man misunderstood by society and scarred in a multitude of ways by a tragic accident.

Additionally, Free Willy was a major vehicle for Michael Jackson, who wrote and performed the film’s theme song, and unfortunately, as the release coincided with the first murmurings of inappropriate contact between Michael and some of his young fans, the title inspired a flood of crude jokes. It’s easy to think of Michael as a “man without a face,” as his own handsome features were so dramatically altered through a combination of scarring and surgery, easy to compare him to a character who spends years in hiding from a town full of people who find him freakish. And when accusations of molestation enter into the movie, threatening to destroy all the good that has been accomplished with this relationship, it’s almost impossible not to think of Michael.

Stahl does an excellent job of conveying the conflicted emotions of a boy who could be headed for a dark future if someone doesn’t intervene, and Hoffman is endearing as the sister who at least tries to understand. But it’s Gibson who really kept me riveted. His complicated character starts out as surly as Dr. House, and in the beginning he seems to go out of his way to drive Chuck away. Eventually, however, it’s clear that he enjoys the boy’s company and relishes being able to make a difference in a young life. Whenever the corners of his mouth flicker upward ever so slightly, it’s natural to feel warmer toward this cranky bachelor. Incidentally, I love that the moment that really cements their friendship involves him introducing Chuck to the John Gillespie Magee, Jr. poem High Flight, which Ronald Reagan quoted in his speech commemorating those killed in the Challenger disaster.

Though this is in some respects a family film, there is a dark undercurrent to it that makes it more appropriate for teenagers. While not strictly a feel-good movie, The Man Without a Face is profoundly moving and highly recommended.

A Presidential Love Story

I first heard about this book on Good Morning America, and Charlie Gibson's descriptions of it and the excerpts he read sparked my interest enough that when my grandma asked us to return I Love You, Ronnie to the library, I hung onto it a couple days so I could read it. I finished it just moments ago.

As most of us know from the media, Ronald Reagan has been suffering from Alzheimer's disease for the past several years. He just celebrated his 90th birthday on February sixth. I recall him as the president in office during the first eight years of my life. As I was quite young at the time, I wasn't paying much attention to what he was doing, but I always figured he was a pretty good president. I've read the speech he delivered in the wake of the Challenger explosion and seen how eloquent he can be.

I Love You, Ronnie is two things: a memoir, written by Nancy Reagan, of her life with her husband, and a collection of the love letters which he wrote to her over a span of 50 years. These letters actually make up the majority of the book and were the primary reason for its having been written. She wrote in her introduction, "I realized how valuable the art and practice of writing letters are, and how important it is to remind people of what a treasure letters -- handwritten letters -- can be. ... If only people could see Ronnie's letters, I thought, they'd realize so much, including how wonderful it can be to take the time to write what you feel to those you love."

Ronald Reagan wrote letters to his wife Nancy constantly, for no reason at all except to tell her that he loved her. He addressed his notes by using a variety of pet names, and he had a plethora of nicknames which he used for himself. He enhanced store-bought cards with his doodles and sentiments. The depth of the love he expressed in those letters was amazing, and each letter sounds like a voyage of discovery, as though he had just fallen in love with her at that very moment. In one letter he compared their love to that between Anne and Gilbert Blythe of Anne of Green Gables, but he insisted that the fictional couple's love paled in comparison to that which he and Nancy shared. Always waxing poetic, he nonetheless repeatedly proclaimed the insufficiency of his words to express the love he felt.

This is a beautiful and poignant collection, an intimate look into the lives of Ronald Reagan and his wife, Nancy. Unfortunately, they are increasingly the only reminder Nancy has of her husband; his mind is increasingly distant. In 1994, the former president sent America a letter explaining his diagnosis and thanking the country for the love he had been shown. He and his wife had disclosed their diseases before, and they hoped they could raise awareness of Alzheimer's in the same fashion. There is still no cure, but perhaps a breakthrough looms on the horizon. Until then, I Love You, Ronnie reminds us, as the Simon and Garfunkel song Bookends suggests, to "preserve your memories. They're all that's left you."

"I now begin the journey that will lead me into the sunset of my life. I know that for America there will always be a bright dawn ahead." -- Ronald Reagan, November 5, 1994