Perfection

Wow...I feel like it's been an eternity since I last wrote. In my defense, my 5 year old son broke his arm a couple of weeks ago and we've all been adjusting. He's in a hard cast, now, so I don't feel like I have to follow him around and shield his soft splint with my body. In fact, the cast is proving so durable, I wonder whether we should, as a prophylactic measure, cast all children's arms, legs and foreheads until they're about 7 years old and understand some basic things...like the laws of gravity, cause and effect, and corresponding action/reaction. Yes, I tend to be a bit overprotective of my children. I can't imagine what it would be like to try and protect my son as one of the last persons left on Earth after an apocalyptic event, like the father in Cormac McCarthy's Pulitzer prize-winning novel, The Road. (See how I worked that segue?)

I read The Road earlier this summer, and I still find myself moved by it. I admit, I haven't read McCarthy's other books, so I don't know if all his writing is like this, but I was blown away by his stark prose. The language itself mirrored the landscape in the novel. And never before has the word "okay" been weighted with so much meaning. In case you don't know, The Road follows a father and son as they travel to the coast through the charred country, hoping to find food, redemption, some sign of goodness... The world is covered in ash, the sun doesn't shine, and there are roving bands of cannibals. (McCarthy never says what caused the apocalypse because it doesn't really matter, but I picture a meteor collision, like the one that did in the dinosaurs.) The father's lungs are giving out, but he presses on, teaching his son to be the keeper of the fire...the fire representing the goodness of humanity. They don't say much to each other, but their affection for one another is apparent, as is the father's single-minded desire to provide for his child and keep him safe, while also instilling in him a sense of dignity and honor. He wants everything for his son that I want for my sons, just pared down to the minimum for survival. He's not concerned that the boy play nice on the playground, make the right kind of friends, or eat enough broccoli--he's concerned that the boy not get roasted over a spit, take a human life, or starve to death. I could write an entire thesis on this book.

I'm not sure that I pictured the father and son as I was reading, but somewhere around the end of the book, I got it in my head that George Clooney had signed on to play the father. I was convinced I was right. And I wasn't upset. I thought, "I could see that. He'll need to dirty himself up a bit, but maybe this is his Oscar role . . . something to appeal to his intellectual side before he loses more brain cells in Ocean's Infinity." I think I may have even told people Mr. Clooney had signed on. He hadn't. I'm not sure he was even mentioned for the role. Where did I come up with that? I'm blaming it on the go fug girls, who mention their "intern George" so often he permeates my thoughts (although I suppose if I didn't refresh their blog approximately once every 37 minutes, maybe it would help). The point is, George Clooney is not playing the father. Instead, it's the best casting I can imagine...Viggo Mortensen. I'm so excited - though I'm not sure excitement is the proper emotion for a post-apocalyptic roving-cannibals film. But can't you just see it? One of the most still, present actors of our time in a stark, bleak drama with little dialogue...it's perfect. Think about it...he's played a quiet wanderer in charge of small ones before...a Ranger to be precise . . . and the result was Middle Earth nirvana.

Whoever cast him, give yourself a pat on the back. Was it you, Mr. Clooney?