The Weight We Carry
There are three movie lines from the last 25 years that continue to vex me daily. It’s been 9,131 straight days of limbo. Here’s my attempt to work through it.
A Beautiful Mind (2002)
A Beautiful Mind recounts the true story of math prodigy John Nash. The film opens in 1947 with Nash beginning his graduate studies at Princeton. Nash is locked in a fierce intellectual competition with fellow student Martin Hansen. Over the course of the film, Nash succumbs to severe mental illness and is institutionalized for schizophrenia, while his rival Hansen goes on to success and prestige in academia.
Years later, the pair meet again in Hansen’s office at Princeton.
Nash: “Seems you’ve won after all, Martin.”
Hansen: “They were wrong, John. No one wins.”
It wasn’t the movie itself that has caused me sleepless nights, but a review of it. A pundit I stopped following long ago wrote that this particular scene, this profound dialogue, was instead weak, childish writing that cheapened the whole film.
In point of fact, randomness and time level everyone. Anyone who lives long enough, and is well-adjusted, knows that no one wins.
Saving Private Ryan (1998)
Saving Private Ryan is the World War II story of a squad of U.S. soldiers who are ordered to find and bring home Private James Ryan (Matt Damon), whose brothers have all been killed in action. Two members of the squad are killed in separate incidents en route to Ryan. Once Ryan is found, the squad leader, Captain John Miller (Tom Hanks), puts Ryan under his personal protection.
At the end of the film, Miller is mortally wounded in a combat sequence while he shields Ryan. Miller pulls Ryan close and whispers: “James … earn this. Earn it.” Miller dies moments later.
These parting words from Miller are ridiculous, what actual weak, childish writing looks like. I reject the guilt that Miller is forcing onto Ryan and the torment Ryan must live with for the rest of his life — especially in a world where no one wins.
Despite Miller’s efforts to save Ryan, he actually killed him.
Taking Chance (2009)
Taking Chance follows Marine officer Lt. Col. Michael Strobl (Kevin Bacon) as he escorts home the body of a soldier killed in Iraq. Strobl, experiencing a mid-life crisis at his military desk job, volunteers to escort Chance’s remains back to Wyoming despite not knowing him personally. Throughout the film, Strobl encounters fellow Marines, airport workers, and the public who all connect with the fallen soldier in different ways.
At an airport hangar in Minneapolis, Strobl crosses paths with a young man also serving as a military escort. They exchange a few words as they wait for their respective caskets to be processed for the next leg of their journeys. Strobl realizes the other escort has a deeper connection to his cargo than simple military duty.
“Are you related to the deceased, son?” Strobel asks.
“Uh, yes sir,” says the young Marine. “He’s my brother.”
At screenings in theaters, this line drew audible gasps from the audience. At home, you dig your nails into your chair’s armrests to stop the room from spinning. It’s the most devastating line in the history of cinema.
As I get older, I’ve updated my thinking about what should be prioritized for health and longevity. Sun exposure is at the top, of course; exercise is so far down the list you need binoculars to see it. Number two isn’t food or even cold adaptation. It’s letting go. It is rejecting the pressure to win, to justify, to control. That way brings only anxiety, burnout, inflammation, and a reinforcing spiral of nervous system overload.