RE: The Last Movie You Watched
October 3, 2018 at 12:35 pm
(This post was last modified: October 3, 2018 at 12:36 pm by Rev. Rye.)
Watching Tower, a documentary about the infamous Charles Whitman shooting. It's a fascinating look into those 96 minutes in Austin on 1 August 1966, especially with the decision to have it be part-animated (for re-enactmants of the day itself, because, well, do you think the University of Texas would allow re-enactments of Charles Whitman shooting people? In a country where mass shootings have been on the rise? For a low-budget documentary that needed Kickstarter funding?)
The one area I thought was lacking was the fact that the killer's state of mind was largely absent from the proceedings, which is a shame because, for the first time in a long time, looking into Whitman himself, I really feel for him. He was getting more violent in the months prior, he knew there was something seriously wrong with his mental state, it disturbed him greatly and, perhaps because of the mental health taboo and maybe because the state of neurology in 1966 was really bad enough that the doctors couldn't diagnose the pecan-size tumor pressing on his amygdala and the necrotic brain tissue surrounding it while he was alive, he seriously thought that the best option was to go up to a belltower, shoot a bunch of people, and demand that the world confront the mania he was succumbing to and find an answer (through the autopsy he specifically asked for at the end.) If he didn't do such a catastrophic thing, I'd break out the old Brecht quote about "unhappy is the land that needs a hero," but clearly the word "hero" doesn't apply to someone who snipes random teenagers. Naturally, my sympathy evaporates the second he fires the first shot, but it's kind of hard for my Will Graham instincts to not kick in when I read about him, especially when my childhood was shitty enough that I seriously wondered whether or not I was headed down the same road for years.
And Claire Wilson, the student who was critically injured and her eight-months-gestated fetus killed in the womb, and was the first person shot from the belltower itself, actually agrees with me about this instance of crying for the devil.
The one area I thought was lacking was the fact that the killer's state of mind was largely absent from the proceedings, which is a shame because, for the first time in a long time, looking into Whitman himself, I really feel for him. He was getting more violent in the months prior, he knew there was something seriously wrong with his mental state, it disturbed him greatly and, perhaps because of the mental health taboo and maybe because the state of neurology in 1966 was really bad enough that the doctors couldn't diagnose the pecan-size tumor pressing on his amygdala and the necrotic brain tissue surrounding it while he was alive, he seriously thought that the best option was to go up to a belltower, shoot a bunch of people, and demand that the world confront the mania he was succumbing to and find an answer (through the autopsy he specifically asked for at the end.) If he didn't do such a catastrophic thing, I'd break out the old Brecht quote about "unhappy is the land that needs a hero," but clearly the word "hero" doesn't apply to someone who snipes random teenagers. Naturally, my sympathy evaporates the second he fires the first shot, but it's kind of hard for my Will Graham instincts to not kick in when I read about him, especially when my childhood was shitty enough that I seriously wondered whether or not I was headed down the same road for years.
And Claire Wilson, the student who was critically injured and her eight-months-gestated fetus killed in the womb, and was the first person shot from the belltower itself, actually agrees with me about this instance of crying for the devil.
Claire Wilson Wrote:Through the years he remained largely kind of wooden in my mind. But the longer I've lived and the more I've seen, these precious little children who grow up and do sometimes horrible things, the more I have come to think of him as a very confused, very damaged young man. He died at about 25. There's a picture of him standing at three years old, holding a rifle on either side on the beach. I just think of him when he-he was that three-year-old who would have been sitting in my lap, you know. I'm a teacher. And I love that age --so much promise and so much hope. How can I hate somebody like that? I can't hate him, in spite of the incredible damage that he's done. I can't hate him. I just can't do that... I forgive him, yes. How can I not forgive? I've been forgiven so much.
Comparing the Universal Oneness of All Life to Yo Mama since 2010.
I was born with the gift of laughter and a sense the world is mad.
I was born with the gift of laughter and a sense the world is mad.