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2004-08-22
8:04 a.m.
It was probably long overdue. After many recommendations and much resistance because I generally am not a fan of art film, I finally saw Elephant.
You know what I hate?
I hate that little disclaimer that says, “This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to any real persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.”
Yes.
It was coincidental that the two kids loaded down with guns and ammo walked up to their high school and told their friend to get far, far away because something was about to go down. Coincidental that they decided to shoot the black kids, the jocks, the popular girls. Coincidental that Eric picked up a styrofoam cup and took a drink from it halfway through the massacre. Coincidental that he said, “Eenie, meenie, minie, moe,” as he threatened to kill.
Stolen dialogue, stolen actions -- all coincidental.
I reaffirm my statement that I am not a fan of art film. What a load of crap. What was all that staring at the sky? Was that storm rolling in supposed to be symbolic of . . . a storm rolling in? Wow, what a work of art. What genius it must have been for anyone to have created this. You know why it won so many awards?
Guilt.
People still feel guilty about Columbine. People still feel like there must have been something they could have done to stop it, something they could have known so they could have intervened before it happened. People still feel like they need to make amends for something that two kids in Littleton, Colorado did because they’re so worried about it happening in their own hometown to their own damn kids that it must surely make it less likely to happen to them if they go out of their way to award a shitty “art” film for making a poignant display of coincidentally stolen action about two kids that shot up their high school, ostensibly for no real reason.
I can’t fucking believe it.
I found the movie completely offensive. I found it offensive to the living and the dead persons really involved in the Columbine High School shooting. I found it offensive to me because I have such a close understanding of Columbine, such a personal connection of absolute horror, such an intimate relationship with the killers.
Psychotic, perhaps. But you can’t blame me for what my brain does against my will.
The only reason I can see that the movie could get away with saying it was a work of fiction was because it chose one of the possibilities for what happened in the library and went with it. Did Eric kill Dylan? Did Dylan kill himself? In the movie, Eric kills . . . I believe his name was Alex. And then didn’t kill himself before the end of the film. Oh, and they kissed in the shower.
What the fuck?
I’m so confused about the conflicting message of actual facts and slight rearrangements of fictional details. Sure, they were close friends. Sure, they spent the night at each other’s house occasionally. That doesn’t mean they were gay. That doesn’t mean you have to provide some faux-artsy justification for why they were so crazy. That says more about you than it does about them. You don’t like what they did in real life? That’s okay. They’re dead. Make them gay in the movie. Won’t that get back at them now that they can’t defend themselves? Real fucking smart. Now you’ve shown yourself as an intolerant asshole who thinks being gay could be a motivation for the killing that you obviously didn’t study closely enough.
No one in Elephant had a personality.
The “characters” were cardboard cut-outs of possible stereotypes, a double no-no in the world of “fiction.” Straight from Central Casting. But perhaps we can’t argue that because stereotypical jocks and popular kids were to blame for the real shooting, right?
I’m halfway informed about a major event in national history; I think I’ll make a movie.
The two kids got the guns from the internet, no questions asked. Ooh, ooh. Blame the internet, too. Won’t that be fun? Nevermind the absolute impossibility of that ever happening in this country. We don’t need explanations. It was an art film. It must know what it’s doing. It must be smarter than us. It must be right. Ooh, the internet is an evil, evil thing.
Evil.
The only thing evil about that movie was the fact that it was ever made. Now, I’m not saying there shouldn’t be movies made about Columbine. In fact, I think they should be made. But to claim they’re works of fiction when you steal facts from the event itself is offensive and insulting. To come to conclusions of any sort when showing the kids killing one another or killing themselves is just plain dangerous. And to spend three quarters of the movie watching people walk is about the most boring thing I can imagine watching.
You know, I can’t really defend my relationship with Columbine except to say that I am psychotically obsessed and I don’t know why. I’ve tried everything I can think of to get it out of my head, to make myself stop physically shaking each time someone mentions it, to explain why I had to travel two thousand miles for the one-year anniversary of an event in which I wasn’t involved, to stop getting offended by people’s tendency to think they know exactly what happened there when I know fifty billion times more about it than they do.
Nothing works, and that is not my fault.
In the end, the only reason I feel I have more authority to talk about Columbine is because I admit that no one can know more than Eric and Dylan knew. And I know that looking elsewhere for explanations and trying to place blame are the two most pointless and idiotic things to ponder after the fact.
Elephant was offensive, inaccurate, insincere, and boring. I had to see it, but I am ashamed to admit that I wasted my time and money on something so horrifically bad.
