Category: trauma

‘A Real Pain’ – Film Review and Analysis

“Traveling with a family member can be an invigorating yet challenging experience, especially when the family member in question has recently faced a potential tragedy, and you’ve become estranged from them.”

Traveling with a family member can be an invigorating yet challenging experience, especially when the family member in question has recently faced a potential tragedy, and you’ve become estranged from them. This is the dilemma faced by the co-protagonist of A Real Pain, David Kaplan (Jesse Eisenberg). On a trip to Poland, David must confront his family’s heritage while dealing with the eccentricities and hyperactive behavior of his cousin, Benji Kaplan (Kieran Culkin).

On the surface, David and Benji share a mutual love for their recently deceased grandmother and the memories they have of her, along with their childhood experiences. They are both nominally Jewish, although the film makes it clear that neither is particularly devout or observant. Benji is outspoken and upfront about his views on almost anything, while David is quiet, observant, and reserved in social settings. Benji seems to have retained the same rambunctious personality he had as a youth, whereas David now has a wife, a child, and a steady career in New York City as a digital marketer.

Following their grandmother’s death, Benji struggles to find his footing in adulthood. He works odd jobs in Binghamton, New York, and lives in his mother’s basement. Though less mature and socially aware than David, Benji is full of life and feels emotions more intensely. He has no filter, makes no apologies for it, and leaves a lasting impression on everyone he meets much to David’s frustration of not being able to do the same.

Despite not seeing each other for months after a distressing event in Benji’s life, the cousins decide to embark on a heritage trip to Poland. They join a group of American Jews to learn more about their ancestry and the circumstances surrounding their family’s departure from Nazi-occupied Poland. The group also includes other descendants of survivors with roots in Poland. The tour is efficiently led by a non-Jewish guide, who does an excellent job recounting the history of Polish Jews before World War II, the lead-up to the Holocaust, and the exodus of those who managed to survive. However, Benji finds the guide’s focus on statistics and dates robotic and disconnected from the lives of the people who were lost.

Benji’s outbursts during the tour seem socially inappropriate to David, displaying a lack of respect for the guide and the other participants. However, Benji’s emotional authenticity eventually wins over the group by the end of the tour. Unlike others on the trip, he refuses to numb himself to the pain of what they are witnessing and expresses his feelings freely without concern for others’ judgment. While his emotional instability troubles some on the tour, it also makes him memorable. Benji turns what could have been a somber and overwhelming experience into something more meaningful reminding everyone what it feels like to be truly alive.

In contrast, David hesitates to smoke a joint on the hotel roof, voice a critique during the tour, or even have a drink to relax after a long day. Meanwhile, Benji has no reservations about doing any of those things. Benji embraces life’s highs and lows, even when it leaves him emotionally unsteady, while David seeks stability and strives to remain even keeled through life’s challenges and opportunities. Despite his efforts, David feels let down by his job and struggles with doubts about how much his family truly loves him. Benji, on the other hand, is too immersed in the moment, sometimes for better, and sometimes for worse. The cousins admire yet resent each other throughout the film. Growing up in similar circumstances, they’ve ended up leading vastly different lives due to their contrasting personalities. While they can enjoy each other’s company, they also tire of one another quickly. Each character envies what the other has but is fiercely protective of their own lifestyle.

A Real Pain explores the concept of pain in a nuanced way: the pain of losing a loved one, the pain of dealing with a challenging family member, and the generational pain of having a family’s future stolen. The film captures how different people cope with these pains: David, Benji, the other tour participants, and even the tour guide, as they confront the events of the Holocaust, visit a Polish Jewish cemetery, and tour the Majdanek concentration camp. The message is clear: to cope with pain healthily, we must face it head-on in our own way. This journey of confronting pain is essential for building our resilience and strength.

Pain is what connects us to our humanity, reminding us that we are truly alive. During the trip, Benji recounts a painful memory: their grandmother once slapped him in a New York City restaurant because he arrived late for dinner. She had dressed up for the occasion, and the public slap left Benji feeling real pain. However, he acknowledges that this act of accountability, though hurtful, came from a place of love. Benji yearns for this kind of tough love from others, particularly from David. He craves someone who can hold him back from his impulsive tendencies, showing him care and affection in the process.

A poignant moment in the film occurs when David and Benji visit their late grandmother’s former house in Poland. The home is now owned by another family, and any traces of the Kaplans’ presence have long vanished. In a touching gesture, David places a stone in front of the house to honor their grandmother’s memory. However, the moment takes a humorous yet bittersweet turn when an elderly Polish man chastises them. He misunderstands their intention, believing the stone was placed maliciously to cause harm to the current elderly resident. Despite their efforts to explain the Jewish tradition of placing stones as a memorial to remember their deceased grandmother, the older man remains unconvinced despite his son’s English to Polish translation of their reasoning for having placed the stone there. Feeling awkward about the entire encounter, David and Benji decide to take the stone with them when they leave Poland.

In a beautifully symbolic gesture upon his return to New York, David later places the stone at the entrance of his Brooklyn home, where he lives with his wife and child. This act underscores the universal idea that “home is where the heart is.” While the memory of the family’s life in Poland has faded, their grandmother’s legacy endures. Her journey as an immigrant to America, striving to build a new life for her family while preserving her Jewish identity, continues to inspire her descendants, including David and Benji.

As the film concludes, the audience is left wondering about the futures of David and Benji’s relationship and their individual paths. The heritage trip and their shared memories of their grandmother seem to strengthen their bond. The film suggests that, despite their differences, family is ultimately the one thing you can rely upon in life. While Benji and David drive each other crazy, they also admire and need each other. The hope is that they will continue to support one another, bringing balance to each other’s lives with David finding more spontaneity and emotional authenticity, and Benji discovering greater stability and purpose.

‘Mystic River’ – Film Review and Analysis

“This book-to-film adaptation, praised for its emotional intensity and thematic complexity, remains one of Eastwood’s most acclaimed directorial efforts to this day. Mystic River is a powerful combination of stellar performances, masterful direction, evocative cinematography, and a carefully crafted screenplay making the film a standard bearer of cinematic storytelling.”

Mystic River, directed by Clint Eastwood in 2003 and starring an amazing cast including Sean Penn, Kevin Bacon, and Tim Robbins, is an intricate and darkly intense film that has left a lasting impact on audiences and critics alike since it first came out in theaters over two decades ago. Based on Dennis Lehane’s novel of the same name, the film explores deep themes of trauma, guilt, vengeance, and the ways in which past experiences haunt the present and future. This book-to-film adaptation, praised for its emotional intensity and thematic complexity, remains one of Eastwood’s most acclaimed directorial efforts to this day. Mystic River is a powerful combination of stellar performances, masterful direction, evocative cinematography, and a carefully crafted screenplay making the film a standard bearer of cinematic storytelling.

The plot begins in a working-class Boston neighborhood, not too far from the Mystic River, and centers on three childhood friends: Jimmy Markum (Sean Penn), Sean Devine (Kevin Bacon), and Dave Boyle (Tim Robbins). As young boys, the trio spends their days together, playing stick ball, hockey, exploring the neighborhood, and strengthening their bond as friends. However, one traumatic incident forever changes their lives, marking them all in ways that will resonate through their adult years. Decades later, their lives intertwine once more when Jimmy’s teenage daughter, Katie, is found murdered, prompting a deep and painful investigation into both the current crime and the unresolved scars of the past for each of the three main characters.

Set against the gritty, blue-collar backdrop of Eastwood’s Boston, the environment reflects the rough and bleak outlook shared by many of the characters, most of whom never left the neighborhood as adults. This urban setting becomes almost a character, embodying a sense of entrapment and suffocation and what ifs. Eastwood and the film’s cinematographer, Tom Stern, create a cold, foreboding atmosphere that mirrors the psychological darkness of the characters. The use of shadows and natural light throughout the film provides an eerily realistic tone, further immersing the audience in the story’s weighty themes. As a film, Mystic River, sets itself apart by giving each character room to grow and develop over the course of the two and half hours of screentime. Each of them has a unique backstory despite the overlap and they each have their own personal scars and demons to bear.

To understand the film better as an audience, we must go through each character’s backstory, motives, and circumstances:

  1. Jimmy Markum (Sean Penn) – Jimmy is a reformed ex-convict who did two years in prison who now runs a local convenience store. He’s fiercely loyal to his family, especially his beloved daughter, Katie, who he has tried to shield her from his checkered past. His character is marked by a volatile personality and a deeply ingrained sense of loyalty, one that can easily turn to vengeance, if provoked. This trait becomes particularly apparent when Katie’s murder brings his hidden rage and pain to the surface. Penn’s portrayal of Jimmy is raw and gut-wrenching; he conveys a sense of intense, bottled-up pain that feels as if it could erupt at any moment at any one person who he is feels is responsible or partly responsible for her murder. Jimmy’s background as a former criminal, his letting his emotions cloud his judgment, and the rawness of the recent loss of his daughter drive much of his actions, adding layers of complexity to his character.
  2. Sean Devine (Kevin Bacon) – Sean, one of Jimmy and Dave’s friends, is now a detective with the Massachusetts State Police who is investigating Katie’s murder, and his ties to Jimmy and Dave complicate the case. Although he’s become more distant over the years from both men, Sean feels a sense of duty and friendships to bring closure to Katie’s murder and perhaps, in turn, to his own fractured past. His unresolved feelings about the childhood trauma shared by him, Jimmy, and Dave gives his character a detached yet conflicted edge. Kevin Bacon’s performance as Sean is understated but poignant, particularly as Sean grapples with the uncomfortable ties between his childhood friendships and the demands of justice. Sean’s role in the story is not just as a detective but as someone attempting to reconcile his past with his present responsibilities. During the film, we also give glimpses into Sean’s present struggles with an estranged spouse and his own personal turmoil surrounding his commitment to his job as detective, which may have led him astray from the woman he loves.
  3. Dave Boyle (Tim Robbins) – Dave is the most visibly affected by the traumatic events of his childhood because he is the one who was physically and emotionally abused until he escaped from the nightmare one day, and Robbins’ portrayal of a victim of child abuse is haunting. As a result of the childhood abduction and abuse, Dave is marked by a pervasive sadness and paranoia that set him apart from others including Jimmy and Sean. Married with a son now, he still struggles with feelings of inadequacy, unresolved trauma, and the psychological scars left by his past. His character raises questions about the psychological ramifications of unresolved trauma, and Robbins plays Dave with a quiet and unsettling vulnerability as he is a boy trapped in a man’s body who never got to really grow up into what he wanted to be. This kind of trauma and sadness culminates in behavior that others in the film including his wife interpret as suspicious, especially as Sean’s investigation of Katie’s murder begins to close in around him. Dave’s struggle for normalcy and acceptance is central to the film’s portrayal of trauma and his seeking redemption for what had happened to him in the past, through no fault of his own.
  4. Celeste Boyle (Marcia Gay Harden) – Celeste, Dave’s wife, represents the emotional turmoil that affects loved ones in the wake of trauma. Marcia Gay Harden’s portrayal brings depth to the character of Celeste, illustrating the complexity of being married to a man who is emotionally distant and troubled. Her suspicions and insecurities about Dave’s behavior create tension within their marriage, which becomes another focal point in the larger mystery of what Dave was doing on the night of Katie’s murder. Through Celeste, the film explores how the impact of trauma reverberates through relationships, and her doubts contribute to the suspense as she becomes uncertain of Dave’s innocence.

The thematic core of Mystic River lies in its exploration of personal trauma and its long-lasting effects on those around the affected person. Eastwood skillfully illustrates how the characters’ pasts influence their present, emphasizing the psychological toll of unhealed wounds. The trauma of Dave’s abduction and abuse is a powerful throughline, shaping his entire personality and decisions, and is indirectly responsible for the fractures in his relationships, friendships, and the suspicions cast upon him, whether justified or not. The themes of guilt and retribution are intricately woven into the story, particularly through Jimmy’s character, as he vacillates between his roles as a loving father and a man haunted by his own past mistakes and violent tendencies.

The film also dives into the notion of justice, both formal and informal, in our world. Sean’s role as a Massachusetts State Police detective represents the lawful pursuit of justice, yet the lack of resolution to certain aspects of his past shows how incomplete the law can be in addressing psychological scars, especially in a community where the lawful pursuit of justice is looked upon with skepticism especially by Jimmy. Jimmy, on the other hand, seeks a more personal form of justice, operating on a visceral level almost as a vigilante for Katie and the community who were also affected by her loss, guided by his own sense of right and wrong. This contrast between official justice and personal retribution forms one of the central tensions in the film and between Jimmy and Sean, estranged friends who are brought back together because of Katie’s murder.

Mystic River subtly but powerfully engages with a subtle theme tied to the Catholic Church and refers to one of Dave’s abusers in the early part of the film’s plot. This also is shown in the film particularly in the Catholic Church’s allusions to the trauma and secrecy that have historically been associated with the institution, especially around issues of child abuse. Although the film does not explicitly delve into the church’s scandals, the storyline of Dave’s childhood abduction and abuse parallels the real-life abuse scandals within the Catholic Church that would become a dominant public conversation in the years following the film’s release in 2003. The film portrays the silence, guilt, and repression surrounding trauma for abuse victims, especially for male victims, in ways that align with the complex and devastating effects of institutional abuse later revealed in widespread reports that came out in the 2000s and 2010s.

Eastwood’s sensitive handling of these themes amplifies the emotional impact of the film, allowing Mystic River to serve as a quiet commentary on the long-lasting scars left by abuse, trauma, and lives that could have been different. The cultural resonance of the film deepened as these themes became more publicly discussed, especially with the Boston Archdiocese scandal coming to light just months before the movie’s release and other subsequent revelations about abuse within the Catholic Church. The film’s nuanced portrayal of silence and trauma thus became eerily relevant, mirroring real-world struggles for justice, accountability, and healing.

Eastwood’s direction in Mystic River is marked by a disciplined, almost minimalist style that avoids sensationalism or quick cuts and jumps. His choice is to keep the film grounded in the characters’ experiences, which creates an immersive atmosphere, allowing the audience to connect deeply with each character’s journey because they are fully fleshed out individuals by the end of the film to us. By focusing on small, authentic details—the cold, grim environment, the weathered textures of Boston’s streets, and the understated settings within homes and local establishments in the neighborhoods surrounding the Mystic River, Eastwood crafts a world that feels palpably real and one we can believe in as viewers.

Cinematographer Tom Stern contributes to this atmosphere by using a muted color palette dominated by grays, blues, and other cold tones, mirroring the bleak outlooks of the characters and their surroundings. The naturalistic lighting helps underscore the characters’ emotional states, with shadows and half-lit scenes, hinting at hidden secrets and unresolved traumas. The camera work is frequently restrained, using lingering shots that capture subtle shifts in the actors’ expressions, allowing their performances to be the focal point of each scene.

As an adaptation, Mystic River succeeds largely because of Brian Helgeland’s screenplay, which translates Lehane’s complex narrative into a visually evocative and emotionally rich script. Helgeland captures the essence of the novel’s psychological tension and moral ambiguity without resorting to heavy exposition, instead allowing the characters’ actions and interactions to reveal their deeper motivations and conflicts. The adaptation retains the novel’s depth by focusing on character development rather than plot mechanics, preserving the source material’s thematic weight.

The film’s pacing, controlled by Eastwood’s direction, also serves the adaptation well even at two and a half hours long in length. Rather than racing toward revelations, the narrative unfolds gradually, mirroring the pace of real life in how trauma is dealt with and the need for closure. This approach preserves the novel’s introspective tone, making it not just a crime thriller but a meditation on human resilience, the search for true justice, and the impact of unresolved pain.

Mystic River stands out as a masterclass in adapted screenwriting, direction, and performance. It is perhaps one of the greatest films in this young 21st century as well. Eastwood’s subtle yet unrelenting vision creates a haunting atmosphere that perfectly matches Lehane’s themes of trauma, revenge, and the flawed pursuit of justice. The ensemble cast delivers compelling performances, each actor bringing depth to their own character’s unique struggles and inner turmoil. With Stern’s atmospheric cinematography, the gritty Boston setting feels almost oppressive, creating a visual landscape as intense as the narrative itself.

Through its slow-burn approach, Mystic River probes deeply into the characters’ psyches and decisions, making the experience both unsettling and profoundly affecting. The result is a powerful film that not only respects its source material but elevates it, offering a cinematic experience that explores the human capacity for both destruction and redemption. Eastwood’s restrained direction, combined with the richness of Lehane’s story, makes Mystic River a film that resonates long after the final frame comes to an end.

The Weight of The Past

“Similar to the past’s effects on people, I believe that places with a history to them do leave an imprint to cause different emotions to bubble to the surface based on what occurred in those places.”

Similar to the past’s effects on people, I believe that places with a history to them do leave an imprint to cause different emotions to bubble to the surface based on what occurred in those places. People are often affected or morphed by what happened in their past though they are not defined by the past alone. The same could be said for those places you visit who spark up powerful emotions within us based on what happened there during its usage by people. However, when you visit a place that is a couple of decades old or even hundreds or thousands of years old, it leaves a mark on the visitor where you can feel the actual ‘weight’ of that place based on the history of what occurred there.

For some examples, places like Disneyworld, Universal Studios, or your average local street fair or amusement park, which elicit emotions out of us such as joy, wonder, excitement, and general happiness. In a similar way, your average local restaurant, community center, or place of religious worship tend to give off those same positive emotions based on their shared history of bringing people together for a common cause or common purpose.

However, you also have the opposite in terms of certain places in the world where you can feel the several mixed emotions that can arise from visiting there such as a historic fort or a castle or a battlefield. Where two sides fought to the death, there is a lot of pain, tragedy, and regret but also there are emotions surrounding the victory, triumph, or even the thrill of survival that would emerge from such places. A few examples from my own life that I could cite include the beaches and military cemeteries in the Normandy region of France, the expensive battlefield of Gettysburg during the American Civil War, and the grasslands that cover the previous battlefield of Waterloo during the Napoleonic Wars in Belgium.

There are also a few places in the world which involve such universal pain and human suffering that the weight of being there to witness the places in person where atrocities against people no different from you and I occurred can be almost overwhelming in terms of the emotional pain. To see the concentration camps of Auschwitz in Poland or Dachau in Germany and to also be on the grounds of a plantation where enslaved men, women, and children had their futures and freedom stolen from them to be used as expendable economic tools can make you sick to your stomach.

Such vile places need to be seen to be believed but you can feel the emotional weight of being there to know that dozens, hundreds, or thousands of people were brutally treated, beaten, or even murdered there can chill your spine while you’re there. While it can be difficult to go out of one’s way to visit such dark places where the worst of people is on display, we must go to such places despite the negative emotions you’ll feel while being there to prevent new places like that from ever popping up again in our world.

We must not only focus on those places that give us a sense of joy and happiness but recognize that we have to also go to those places that are infamous for their cruelty, hatred, and pain as well. There is a duality in terms of humanity that we have to reckon with in that we can better appreciate the good in life but realizing that there is also the ugly side to human nature that has been controlled and held in check whenever possible.

It is not just to feel the emotional weight of going to places where slavery, murder, torture, and pain were a daily occurrence for the men, women, and children who experienced it but to also realize that you need to pay witness to such places to make sure that we witness them in person so that other people cannot deny that those places even exist or that any evil did not happen there. By paying witness, we commit ourselves to the need to defend against such horrible places popping up in the future and by also instructing the next generations of young people about what happened there and why such places are left intact for them to visit. It would be great to demolish any mention of a plantation, a concentration camp, or even a battlefield but to do so would to be creating a sense of whitewashing the past and making it easier for such atrocities or violations against humanity from happening again in the future. We cannot risk the history being wiped away, which includes getting rid of any physical semblance of those places or the information, research, and facts along with it.

Now, I’m not saying you should go out of your way to visit historically traumatic places, but we need to be on our guard against those people who would deny that those places ever existed or what atrocities were committed there. I think this is especially important for students of different ages when they are old enough to go on class trips to such battlefields, plantations, concentration camps to witness the worst of humanity so that we can better ensure that ‘history does not repeat itself.’ It is not easy to convince parents or teachers of the utility of such visits, but part of life is realizing that not every place is like Disneyworld, and we have to understand the importance of highlighting the weight of places, both good and bad, and not ignoring one or the other.

One trip to such traumatic places is good enough as it can be deeply disturbing for people to go there and see the photos, watch the videos, and see the physical evidence of such atrocities in person. Such visits should be done with respect, attention, and long enough where the full impact of the emotional weight can be felt by those visitors. Most folks will never forget what emotions they were feeling when they were there and about hearing the history be brought to life for them so they realize it is not such pictures or information on pages in a book but real places in the world that we can point to and are being preserved.

For as long as I live, I will always remember the winter chill of being inside the gates of what was Auschwitz death camp in southern Poland and seeing the camps that stretched for what looked like miles. It was brutally cold, and snow covered the ground. You can only imagine how the innocent men, women, and children there would freeze to death in such conditions while they were huddled together in the bunks of those camps to keep warm while they were given barely any clothing, food, or water. The elderly Polish woman emphasized to us the importance of remembering what we witness on our tour of the death camps and how the people who don’t visit Auschwitz will also deny there ever was a Holocaust or that this camp even existed.

She made it clear to us that we as visitors and the entire world have the responsibility to make sure another Auschwitz never happens again because sadly, as she noted, it can happen again and has happened in other parts of the world. Wherever people’s freedom is snuffed out, where their human rights are denied, and where people are beaten, mistreated, or killed for who they are, what they believe, and where they came from, the lessons of Auschwitz and other dark places in our world will never be learned. She lowered her head and said a silent prayer at the end of our tour for the dearly departed.