In the Bedroom - grief and dejection

(See also what the International Movie Database says about In the Bedroom.)

Please note: This article may spoil your spontaneous enjoyment of the film. A number of significant events are revealed, so if you want to watch the film without preconceptions, we advise you to read the article afterwards.

A glimpse of life beyond the limits of endurance

Most of us have been affected by grief at some point or seen someone close to us affected by it. Grief equals suffering - pain, meaninglessness, paralysis - and can lead to illness or even cut short a person's life. Much of the literary and other artistic depiction of grief emphasizes the possibility of recovery and even personal development.
This may be considered uplifting and fits in well with a Hollywood-style dramaturgical tradition. American independent cinema, however, often deals with problems from a different angle. Todd Field's justifiably praised film In the Bedroom portrays something tragic: people whose lives are destroyed by grief.

Old Testament tradition

In the Bedroom is a harsh tale in the Old Testament tradition of love and death, grief and despair, wrath and revenge. The main protagonists, Matt, a 53-year-old doctor, and his wife Ruth, a music teacher, live in Camden, a fishing community in Maine. Their only child, Frank, intends to become an architect but has stayed in his parents' home, mostly because he has fallen in love with Natalie, a recently separated mother of two.
Frank's parents (especially his mother) view Natalie as a threat to Frank's planned future. Life in Camden is dominated by traditional American values: barbecues on July 4, choral singing on Labor Day, playing poker with friends, baseball matches for the kids.

Idyllically innocent opening

The opening scene shows Frank and Natalie in love and almost idyllically innocent. Their obvious closeness contrasts with the unremittingly consistent depiction of how Matt, Ruth and Frank fail to communicate with one another. Frank has a vision of a house with an open space in the centre where everyone can meet. This is a metaphor for everything that his family, and perhaps the conservative small-town environment, is not.

Natalie is being persecuted by her ruthless ex-partner, Richard. In scene after scene, Richard's violent tendencies grow into an increasingly imminent threat. The explosion is as brutally sudden as it is inevitable: Richard shoots Frank dead, practically in front of Natalie.

Grief

Act two portrays Matt and Ruth and their grief, and shows what can happen to people when the law fails, when it is impossible to achieve justice. Lack of evidence - Natalie did not see the actual shooting – result in their son's killer getting away with a charge of manslaughter. Grief tears Matt and Ruth apart.

Central scene of the film

The cracks in their marriage can no longer be covered over by convention, goodwill and habit. Ruth repeatedly encounters her son's killer in the town (he is free on bail). The situation becomes intolerable. Matt's and Ruth's different ways of coping with and expressing their grief and anger lead to a heart-rending confrontation, the central scene of the film. Ruth accuses Matt of always taking the easy way out.

At the beginning of the film, Matt appeared human and good-natured, more like a friend than a father to Frank. Ruth believes that Matt was trying to live Frank's life, and that he was therefore never able to set limits. During great tension, Matt informs Ruth that he for a long time has perceived her as hostile and supercilious, and that Frank thought likewise. This is a terrifying scene, superbly acted by Tom Wilkinson (Matt) and Sissy Spacek (Ruth).

Matt seems eventually to make a visibly devastated Ruth realize what an unloving, cold person she perhaps always has been. At this point, an ordinary film might have ended - in a resigned embrace, hinting at reconciliation. However, as will become apparent, there is as little reconciliation as forgiveness in Ruth's and Matt's behavioural repertoire.

Revenge

Act three of the film deals with the revenge. Late one evening, Matt, armed with a pistol, abducts Richard at gunpoint. Richard must leave town, Matt says and it must look as though he has jumped bail. They drive to Richard's poorly furnished apartment, where he is to pack a travel bag.

A photograph of Richard and a smiling Natalie hangs on one wall, recalling happier days. In his vulnerability, Richard becomes pitiful, weak, human. We are faced with the question of whether an unscrupulous murderer has the right to be treated as a human being.

The prolonged sense of unease abruptly escalates to a new shock: Matt shoots Richard dead in cold blood, as he had planned. When Matt returns home early next morning, Ruth is awake. "Did you do it?" she asks. "You must be hungry. Do you want coffee?"

The American theme

In the Bedroom is based on a short story by Andre Dubus, with whom Todd Field consulted closely when planning the film. The themes dealt with by Dubus made a deep impression on Field: violence, abandonment and fading love between complex characters full of defects. There is, Field has said, an "American sensibility" in the way Dubus (and the film) portrays the notion of justice - good versus evil, an eye for an eye, justice through the barrel of a gun.

Dubus' stories show how painful life can be when the lies and disguises that protect us are peeled away, but also how loss and pain can bring us to our senses and liberate us. Field's earlier films, partly autobiographical, dealt with crises and dysfunctional families. He recognized himself in Dubus, "the Hemingway of the marital safari".

Experience of pain

Andre Dubus had experiences of pain and difficult divorces played a part in this. Furthermore he was confined to a wheelchair the last 10 years of his life following a road accident.

Dubus said he felt compelled to write in order to get to know the characters he was writing about, who constantly surprised him. We can understand this idea when watching In the Bedroom because the more we see of the characters the more difficult it becomes to predict what they will do next. The decisive actions are governed equally by chance and will, and above all by forces that become apparent to us only in extreme circumstances.

We only understand the explosive tension that lurks beneath the surface when it manifests itself in actions. The murder of Richard might resemble a scene from a western, but it also shows what kind of forces can be decisive for a troubled soul, regardless of time and place.

A special place in hell

In Dubus' version of hell, a special place is reserved for those who are half-hearted or passive: "… for, although they might seem to be present, they were not actually: they were witnesses to evil deeds and neither said nor did anything to prevent them; they were witnesses to joy but neither sang nor clapped their hands" (from the short story Rose).

Healing wound

Both Matt and Ruth seem to be singled out. What does it mean when they eventually take action? Does their revenge bring peace of mind? This is hinted by one of the film's less successful symbols: a wound on Matt's finger, which he sustained while fishing for lobsters, and which he finds healed when he examines it after murdering Richard.

Or is forgiveness, which none of the main protagonists is capable of, the only way of managing the unmanageable? One of the strengths of the film is that, throughout, it dares to take an ambivalent attitude on this question. No correct and simple answer is offered.

Cold blue atmosphere

In visual terms, the film is dominated by a cold, nocturnal blue atmosphere. The transparent clarity created by the camera work of Antonio Calvache is reminiscent of paintings by the American artist Andrew Wyeth, who, like Dubus and Field, lived in Maine.

There are allusions to Wyeth at several points in the film. Ruth is reading a biography of the three generations of Wyeth artists. Her hairstyle (plaits) is identical to that featured in a couple of Andrew Wyeth's well-known portraits of his neighbour Helga. The hill with a little house on top, in one of the very first scenes of the film, too closely resembles Wyeth's best-known painting, Christina's World, for it to be a coincidence.

Just like Todd Field's film, this painting is characterized by a provocative contrast between what is seen at first glance and what becomes apparent upon closer scrutiny. Wyeth's ability to create mystery and tension in apparently simple pictures of flapping curtains and people with their backs turned is echoed in many of the film's images.

The music that Ruth makes the girls' choir practise (mysterious-sounding songs from the Balkans) is like an acoustic counterpart to Wyeth's sophisticated primitive art with its restrained colour scale.

A gender perspective

The image of women presented in In the Bedroom is worthy of a comment. A few things are worth noting here Matt's clumsily symbolic words about deadly dangerous female lobsters, and the image of Ruth as Lady Macbeth at the end of the film. Just when we think she has reached some sort of painful self-awareness, it becomes apparent that her dominance and frigidity have dimensions we did not imagine.

Matt's ambiguous comment about the photograph of Natalie and Richard - "the way she was smiling" - also indicates a demonization of Woman, creating a flip side to the issue of guilt which is not easily dealt with. The prime example, however, is Ruth's habit of starting to talk about food in situations where it would have been natural to discuss thoughts, feelings and problems.

Some counterbalance to the negative image of women may be provided by the self-pitying attitude of the middle-aged men, concealed behind superficial macho jokes. However, in order to realize that Matt has his share of responsibility for what happens and is not merely a victim, we more or less have to acknowledge that passivity was regarded as one of the graver mortal sins by Dubus, a Catholic.

Road map of grief

The film provides a road map of the reactions and behaviour that can be observed in people in grief or crisis. It is customary to speak of different phases in the grieving process, even though, in reality, they overlap to a large extent.

The acute part comprises the shock phase, when the person affected finds it hard to absorb information, and the reaction phase, when emotions flood together in a way that is often harrowing and chaotic. When Matt looks at Frank's drawings, only a few days old but already cut off from life; when Ruth bursts into forlorn laughter at a piece of junk mail addressed to the dead Frank ("You may have won a million!"); when Matt, in a flashback, sees Frank as a small boy climbing a tree - these scenes portray loss and longing in a gripping manner.

Grief leaves its mark on everything; nothing will ever be the same again. Matt thinks he can see and hear Frank. Ruth tells the priest how waves of pain are washing over her.

The protest phase

Communication between Matt and Ruth, poor to begin with, becomes increasingly tense. Neither of them is able to talk about their thoughts and feelings. Matt takes refuge in work, and Ruth sits up all night watching TV and chain-smoking. Matt cuts the grass; Ruth cannot bear to see him spending his time doing this.

The protest phase - one aspect of the reaction phase - is characterized by irritability, inability to relax, social withdrawal, a kind of refusal to accept life and take part in it.

Encounters with friends become like walking through a minefield. At any moment, someone might say something that causes the semblance of composure to break. Matt's judgemental attitude to the lawyer also shows how grieving people take out their bitterness on those who are probably only doing their job.

 

Anguish and dejection

Anguish and, above all, dejection permeate Matt's and Ruth's life after Frank's death. They are alone, even in each other's presence. The awkward attempts by Matt's fellow card players to tread carefully become intolerable.

The difficulties that those around have in relating to the grieving person - sometimes a mixture of repudiation, sympathy and sapience - may contribute to and reinforce the dejected person's sense of exclusion and meaninglessness.

How much of all this is normal psychology and how much is pathological is not always easy to say. Approximately one in two people afflicted by grief develops a fairly significant degree of dejection. The microcourse is usually variable, and the dejection can be influenced by dedicated, sympathetic treatment. Antidepressant pharmacotherapy is indicated more rarely, but should of course be given if the depression assumes melancholic features: indistractibility, little day-to-day variability, inhibition phenomena, low self-esteem and life-weariness.

Passage of time can guide

The passage of time can provide guidance. If longer than three or four months has elapsed since a traumatic event, and the grief and dejection seem to be unchanged or deeper, we should start to wonder whether the grieving process has given way to genuine depression. Our attitude to treatment with antidepressants should be based on careful consideration of the symptoms as described above. It is important to actively question the patient - depressed people will often not talk about their problems spontaneously.

Temporary help in the form of anxiety suppressants and hypnosis may be advisable, or indeed unavoidable if the grief is so intense that it is paralysing.

If the grief seems to be locked in, or if the reaction is characterized by various symptoms of tension but no emotions are being expressed, then help of a more purely psychotherapeutic nature may be needed.

No standard grieving process

It is important to be aware that grieving processes do not follow any standard pattern, and that adequate treatment is, above all, tailored to the individual. There are no standard solutions for helping grieving patients to move on to what is known as the processing phase, where they gradually reorient themselves so that they can face life again.

In a couple of places, the film depicts the emptiness of clichéd notions of what can bring healing. People are supposed to talk about things, and, sure enough, Matt contacts with Natalie at her work, however, they have nothing to say to each other. In a wonderfully powerful scene, Natalie goes to see Ruth because she feels a need to say how sorry she is for what has happened. Ruth listens without saying anything - and then slaps Natalie, before putting her headphones back on withdrawing into herselft with her music.

Although everyone is different most people find great support in a fellow human being who listens with dedication. It is amazing sometimes what a difference it seems to make if a listener is able to convey the message that the feelings that exist are permissible and not something that needs to be hidden.

Some suggestions on how to use the film in knowledge and skills development

Working with people in crisis or with mental problems of various kinds is often a lonely job. As doctors or other care staff, we can find ourselves in emotionally demanding situations that require us to listen simultaneously, empathetically and to make a judgement. Reflecting with colleagues on our way of handling such situations can be a way of improving our skills.

A credible portrayal of the grieving process, as presented in In the Bedroom, can be used as a basis for in-depth discussion. The following are a few suggestions of issues that can be discussed:

• It is sometimes said that only those who have lived through difficult experiences know themselves. How do you feel about that? What does the film In the Bedroom have to say about the matter? In your clinical practice, have you seen any examples of "crisis and development"?
• Anger and rage do not generally disappear if the emotion is suppressed. However, in our culture it is not necessarily appropriate to express anger. What lies behind the rage exhibited by Matt and Ruth? What thoughts do you have concerning the showdown between them?
• Have you encountered patients in crisis or grief whose personality traits or other factors seem to have prevented them from receiving help? How did the situation affect you?
• What thoughts and feelings do you have about the scene where Ruth hits Natalie? What would have been the implications if Ruth had been able to forgive Natalie?
• Does Ruth or Matt exhibit any signs of dejection that ought to be treated with medication? Do you think counselling would help either of them? If so, how?
• In your opinion, are there any factors that can make it difficult to adopt a diagnostic attitude to someone in crisis or grief? Why?