A Monster Calls
This week I hosted a screening of A Monster Calls for 68 young people and their educators. Tossing my modesty aside for a second, I'm going to dub this my 'swelling-with-pride lightbulb moment' for having the brazen balls to put myself forward for such a task. Two years ago I couldn't even bring myself to watch a film about bereavement. Let alone in public. Let alone whilst attempting to lead an educational film festival screening.
A Monster Calls centres around a boy of twelve who receives visits from a tree monster. This monster tells him stories and in return asks for the one thing the boy cannot bring himself to do – to tell the truth and face his recurrent nightmare. The boy is trying to cope with his single mother's terminal illness. She is going to die, and deep down he knows it, but he just can't admit it. He is also trying to cope with incessant bullying at school, as his life and demeanour deteriorate.
In preparation for hosting the screening, I watched the trailer, I read the synopsis, I trawled the web for reviews. At my desk, I found myself holding back tears – already! How on earth was I going to cope in an auditorium, full of teenagers and their educators looking to me to hold the show together?! It seems I found myself signing up for the event in an out-of-body (more like out-of-my-mind) experience. Before I knew what I was doing, I was doing it.
So how did it go? Did I cry? Hell yes. Did I try and hide it? Somewhat. But in the preamble (which included a short film and discussion on encouraging boys to talk) I was upfront and honest, letting everyone know that they'd probably hear me sniffing a bit. That they might sniff a bit. And that's ok. What was important is that we were all choosing to spend the next couple of hours together, dipping our toes into a taboo topic that affects us all at some point in our lives. And even if not, we can build an empathy bridge that reaches out to those who are affected. In tandem on an anti-bullying front, to encourage adolescents (and adults!) to think twice before making someone's shitty day even more shitty. Because you just don't know what's already going on in their lives.
"Take each film (or book or TV series) as it comes and judge where you are on your orphan journey"
I love film. I live and breathe it every day in my job and my personal life. So I was gutted when I was no longer able to watch films that remotely touch upon losing someone. This occurred between Day One after my mum's death right up to Year Four. When faced with a film, or even a scene in a film, about loss, one of three things would go through my head:
'Oh god, I can't bear the thought of bawling my eyes out and attaching myself to this situation. It's too close and I'm just reliving my own loss again. Think I'll pass... Next!'
'Ah, I love this film. Great characters, great storyline, great soundtra... What? No... Don't die! You can't leave her! Nooo!'
'You know what? I'll give it a go. It might be a brilliant film and I guess I have to practise facing these kinds of topics again at some point.'
Being caught completely unawares is pretty annoying. You think you've signed up for a bit of no strings attached, then BOOM! One of the characters dies or even just leaves, altering the life of the protagonist forever. And you're sitting there thinking, 'This happened to me. This isn't just a story, this is my reality'.
My advice if you find yourself going through a similar thought process, is to take each film (or book or TV series) as it comes and judge where you are on your orphan journey, your location at the time of watching, who you're with and what else you have to do that day. But if it jumps you when you're out or with other people, don't worry. Remember that crying is a useful outlet and is nothing to be ashamed of. Most of us cry at soppy movies anyway, personal connection or not. That said, take things at your own pace. Only you can know when you're ready to make that step.
Oh, and do you know what a small group of boys were heard saying on their way out of the cinema? 'I cried a little bit.' 'Yeah, me too.' 'But that's ok.' Talk about finish me off...
So, how about you? Do you face your fears and brave the tears? Or steer clear until a time of greater balance?
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