For the first time in all the years I’ve spent watching movies, I finally saw a film that served as the impetus behind my taking a risk and utterly failing. It was the first time I was not only moved, but moved to act. I’m not talking about being in a film (for, as anyone who really knows me, really knows that no movie has called me to be an actress). No, I’m talking about that other type of acting: the verb of doing something.
The movie I’m talking about, of course, is “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.” I’m not going to sit here and wax poetic about how marvelous a movie it is (which, in all honesty, is more than marvelous and needs to be seen), but I will try to convey the inspiration and indelible impression it has left on me and how it profoundly urged me to make a change. In this film, the main character is constantly daydreaming, so much so to the point that when something truly unbelievable happens, he can’t believe that it’s reality. He zones out and imagines a separate and magically romantic life as his real one plays out in front of his unseeing eyes. Walter longs for a life that’s full of adventure and isn’t defined by the parameters of the situation he has let himself get stuck in. The painful realization that I was essentially watching my life story unfold before me in the dark movie theater completely struck me. I’ve spent every day of the last 26 years fantasizing about an alternate reality. And like Walter’s daydreams, mine are vividly captivating and deeply ingrained in my memory. I remember being eight or nine and being in the bathtub, imagining I was a mermaid and my father was Poseidon. When I was twenty, I was leaning on a counter at the store I was working in and I imagined that the really cute Italian security guard rode in on his sleek and sexy motorcycle, pulled me onto the back of it, and rescued me from the monotony of selling cheap jewelry. Every Sunday, I imagine I just watched the Patriots game at Gillette Stadium and I get to go down to the field and hang out with the biggest and most protective guys out there, my own personal friends being one of the best quarterbacks in the history of the game, his receivers, and the line backers standing twenty feet taller than me. Just yesterday, I fantasized that the man who has enraptured me somehow got my address, appeared on my doorstep, and passionately declared that all he wanted for Christmas was me. I’m by no means saying that my life is so horrible that I have to escape to make it through the day, a la Precious. I have a good life and I’ve certainly had the rare experiences where I couldn’t believe that this was actually my life (e.g., the entire time I lived in Italy or when the most gorgeous actor on the planet who’s work I’ve been following for a few years actually smiled at me). But, like Walter, my life has been somewhat lacking in adventure and my daydreams serves as a distraction from all that I’m not doing or achieving .
Seeing myself in Walter and the change he goes through was so poignantly inspiring. If this man, who is basically the celluloid me, can escape from his daydreams and go on an adventure, why can’t I? He made a conscious decision to risk all the comforts he had become accustomed to in order to search for an elusive photo negative. Instead of playing a reel in his head, he went out and let life run the reel. The courage Walter musters is somewhere inside me. To me, this story didn’t have the typical “Be the Dream” message or even that “Be in the Moment” sentimentality. It was more along the lines of “Adventure is out there; Go and get it” with a hint of needing to be brave. And it was this resounding message that led me to decide to embark on my own adventure. It wasn’t one where I saw the world but more of what I saw of myself. I escaped from my daydreams and pursued an adventure full of risk that called for a healthy dose of courage. I had the potential to lose a remarkable friendship or an opportunity that could bear the fruits of a most intimate relationship. Because Walter had been able to leap free of the limitless constraints of his imagination and grab hold of reality and live the life he had been thrust into, I knew that the realm of the real world was one I could shape by my own actions. So I took a deep breath and with firing nerves and an eloquence that is still somewhat unbelievable to me, I confessed something that had been speaking on my heart for some time. I was embarking on my own adventure and I had hoped this person wanted to go on this adventure with me.
I don’t need to reveal the particulars of the outcome, suffice to say that it didn’t turn out how I had wanted. But that doesn’t necessarily matter. Just like Walter didn’t need to know what the photo he was searching for was, all I needed to know was that I had done something so extraordinary by leaving everything comfortable behind and exploring a side of myself and reality that I hadn’t really experienced before. Yes, afterwards, I had the too oft-occuring meltdown consisting of berating myself for being a dreamer and wishing that the romantic part of me would die because it’s difficult being so idealistic in such a bitter reality, but the timely consequence of my actions has been that I am proud of myself for jumping in, heart first.
The sole reason I want to be on film is because I’m an escape artist. It is my job to allow my audience to escape for two-ish hours from their lives, be they mundane or exciting, routine or variable. The story doesn’t have to be real, but if I do my job right, I can convince them I believe it’s real. Reality is a hard pill to swallow, day in and day out. But film takes you on a wild alternate ride that’s day-dreaming made tangible. Film proves that despite the harsh reality, there is a way to marry imagination and wonder with the truth. Every piece of work is an exploration of the senses. Let’s go on an adventure.
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