Lars and the Real Girl

i read the screenplay for this movie in the Intro. to Screenwriting class i took about two semesters ago. i couldn't believe that it was the same movie as the one i'd seen in the trailers, as all of them advertised the movie as a complete comedy.

granted, as i read the script i did enjoy the funny moments (like the whole throwing the flower aside so as not to give Margo false hope thing), however, for the most part, i found myself more moved than tickled. even as i just read the script i knew that there was something more to the story than boy gets fake girl, boy loses fake girl, boy gets real girl and they live happily ever after.

at its core the story is actually about a guy who, having lost the one person who was supposed to be the source of unconditional love and human connection in his life, and blaming himself for that loss, pushes anyone who has the potential to be close away so as to avoid further complications following yet another devastating disconnection.

the event that triggers his sudden desperation for complete transformation to hermit is the pregnancy of his sister-in-law, whom he actually adores. as his own mother died during childbirth, the cause for his insecurity - which ultimately manifests itself in the form of a lifeless, life-size "female" doll that fits his exact specifications (like not being able to get pregnant/give birth or feel pain) - is the fact that he's so afraid of the same horrible thing happening to his brother's family.

before i managed to see it, the friends of mine who already had advised me that it was "just really, really awkward." after watching it, i knew that they were right in most respects - there's no avoiding the fact that certain scenes (like Lars's dancing at the party) were a little cringe-worthy, but, for the most part, i couldn't help but relate to Lars just about the entire time.

i'm not going to be melodramatic and suggest that i had it any worse than he did: i've never had to suffer the real loss of a parent or sibling. but i will say that, in a way, that might have something to do with the fact that i couldn't lose something that i never really felt i had in the first place.

but here is where it gets strange for me: that, though i did see a lot of myself in Lars, the other person i saw in him was my own mother.

she never had it easy. our grandfather, a traditional Korean man who warned her that the only way he'd pay for her college education was if she studied to be either a nurse or a teacher - rather than an artist as she wanted - and who wasn't afraid to use old Korean disciplinary methods, was never the kind of father our mom really needed or wanted.

so, instead of losing a mother, like Lars, she lost her dreams - a loss that is arguably as traumatizing as the former.

when she married my dad, he was supposed to be her way out of that life. and he did get her out of Korea and bring her to the US, but, much to her dismay, she still found herself wanting.

she was far away from home. she had to learn how to effectively communicate with people in English. she had to fulfill her wifely duties of maintaining the house and raising a family under a tight budget and with a more or less absent husband.

and she had to do all of that while dealing with my dad's infidelity.

i've never been one to buy into a cheater's excuses. a affair is, ultimately, one of the most inconsiderate, hurtful, selfish things one person can do to another. i've often wondered how and why our mom was able to stick with our dad for so long after finding out about those incidents, but then i remember her entrapment.

Lars both doesn't know how to and can't be with a real woman (or people in general) because he's afraid he might hurt her somehow; our mom couldn't break away from our dad and be on her own because she didn't know how to communicate and survive on her own, and because the first person who really showed her any sign of love betrayed her.

as my sisters and i grew up, our mom did her best, in her own way (that is, the only way she knew), to instill in us the feeling that someday we would do whatever we wanted and not be confined to the social laws that trapped women (like herself).

i'm not defending her actions, because i don't think anything really can excuse a lot of the things she did to my sisters and myself. my sisters and i have often talked about how we all wish none of us ends up like her. we've even gone so far as to say that, though we'd like to have kids, we wonder if it would be in the kids' best interests. like Lars, like our mother, we're afraid of ourselves and what kind of pain our limited knowledge of appropriate behavior might bring to the people we care about.

none of us had a decent model for human interaction.

so, again, this isn't a defense for our mom, but, having seen the movie and seeing Lars in both my mother and myself, i can't help but think that i have a better understanding of where we're both coming from. oftentimes, our actions rely solely on that with which we're familiar - nobody really consciously tries to be bad, but we tend to behave in the best way we know.

our own mother, brought up with abuse and disappointed hopes, continued those cycles when she had her own kids - cycles which worsened under the even more disappointing circumstances.

in turn, my sisters and i were given a special vantage points - those of being born a generation later and thus being better able to identify and [somewhat] cope with the situation, and having sisters who felt the same way. unlike our mom, we had something of an escape to look forward to.

so, when we were growing up, our mom continued the cycle of abuse - which is why i never felt much of a connection with her when i was younger. i didn't want to. the one person who was supposed to be the source of affection and confidence provided neither of those things, so i always had trouble relating to her or seeing her as my mother. so, even though my sisters and i were brought up with slightly better circumstances, this didn't mean that we didn't have to suffer for it first.

i developed a multitude of "problems;" among them OCD, anxiety, and depression. but, most importantly of all, i closed myself in.

when you're in elementary school and all of those puppet shows visit, preaching morals and good behavior, you're told from the onset that, unless consciously avoided and "defeated," abuse goes on in cycles, as the abused often turn the tables when their time comes around. in response, i made the conscious effort to avoid hurting other people as my mother had hurt my sisters and me.

i did manage to make friends in school and everything, but, for the most part, i also managed to hide under the guise of someone who was comfortable with herself and others and could make people laugh, usually by way of impersonating the root of my insecurities.

but even if i did manage to make people laugh, or make friends, i never really let people too close. i may have given my friends the illusion that we were close, or that i was completely open with them, but, for the most part, i always made the conscious decision to hide the bits and pieces of myself that i felt might potentially do some damage.

in a way, i guess, my mom stories became what the safety blanket (that is, a piece of the one person with whom he wished he'd had a connection) in the movie is to Lars: something that was always there when i needed to somehow relate to other people, and acted as a crutch when i felt inadequate.

Lars doesn't wallow in self-pity. throughout the film i got the feeling that, in some way, even though he wasn't able to verbalize it, Lars was at least somewhat aware of the reason behind is social awkwardness - but he was never willing to talk to someone about it or use it as an excuse. he just was, and he tried to hide it by way of adopting a "fake person." i was never my true self with other people.

but, eventually, like Lars, when i was finally able to accept my "condition," although i still do suffer plenty of social awkwardness with people i meet, i've finally opened up to the people who've already been part of my life (including both of my parents) - and i'm learning how to open up to the new ones.

Lars and Margo, in a way, are symbols of hope for me, so, even though i'll admit the film had its share of awkward situations, i couldn't help but see myself in him. granted, i know it won't be an overnight change (that is, my capacity for interacting extravertedly with new people), and i definitely have a ways to go before i can completely make it through a conversation without making an ass of myself. but i also know that there is a chance of recovery and hope for close human interaction. my fear of my being with someone and potentially unconsciously hurting them is dissipating and i can always look ahead and on the bright side.


"Day Too Soon" - Sia



"Big Mistake" - Tim Fite