Hannibal Lecter, for example, and the cowboy who keeps 30 paces from either of his dueling foes
Hannibal Lecter, for example, and the cowboy who keeps 30 paces from either of his dueling foes
C ontemporary movies, or “films,” for the gratuitously pretentious among us, have suffered of late. As a result, America is directionless when confronting the viral threat. Our celebrities have been found to be far less the fabulous deities of the new age — primped and painted for the red carpets and in-person interviews — than horrifyingly ungodly, mere mortals who suffer bad-hair days. One cannot take virological advice from a celebrity with an unmade bed on a Zoom call with Ellen.
What then are we to do? To whom should we look? Not organized religion, obviously. It’s much too exacting and the pews aren’t as comfortable as a La-Z-Boy. Plus, stuffing one’s gob with chicken wings is frowned upon in most churches — though the Episcopalians might still welcome your presence, as it would increase attendance by at least 25 percent . . . No, I am afraid that we are simply too busy and important for theology. After all, we work fewer hours than our forebears and boast a quality of life that the queen of England could not have enjoyed even 50 years ago — instruction from religion simply won’t do at all for a people as decadently and actively lethargic as we are.
COVID-19 has made it as if we are the Israelites wandering in the desert for 39 years before finding out Moses is actually three English-speaking chipmunks stacked upon one another in a trench coat. To quote Commissioner Burrell from The Wire, “The gods will not save you.”
Instead, let us cleave to the movies of yore for direction, for it must be true that their guidance will keep us from a pestilential end. Those celebrities were so much more polished and upright, it’s inconceivable that they were anything other than the gods they portrayed on the silver screen. What these actors of yesteryear can impart to us is the importance of social distancing, mask-wearing, and the value of the outdoors in preventing the spread of infection.
Take for instance the example of Hannibal Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs. During his first meeting with Clarice Starling, he wisely remains within his glass cell. If he were outside the transparent cube, the possibility of droplets laden with infection could be transmitted via the air from Clarice’s mouth into his lung tissue. Being aware of the potential dangers of close human contact, the moisturizer connoisseur maintains his distance. Were this not enough, later, as he is surrounded by potential carriers of plague, the brilliant Hannibal Lecter elects to wear a mask. Truly a prudent disease-eradication activist, he is someone we would do well to emulate.
Heed then Clint Eastwood’s “Man with No Name” character in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. When confronting both “the Bad” and “the Ugly” characters during the final standoff — both adversarial characters, it can be assumed from Clint’s posture, are potential carriers — he assumes positioning and tactics we would do well to consider. Thirty paces from either of his foes allow for plentiful airflow, reducing the chance of infection. Second, he’s armed with a Colt 1851 Navy Revolver. Few things can buy one fresh, unpolluted personal space like thumbing the hammer of a loaded sidearm.
Third, and most important, he commences smoking a cigar. By fumigating the air in his proximity with high-quality leaf, even when drawing near other characters Eastwood can be assured of reduced risk to his person. Within the span of five minutes, the Man with No Name establishes the necessity of personal space, how the Second Amendment assists in pandemic prevention, and why cigar smoking should be more widespread — for medical reasons, you understand.
Darth Vader combines many of the previous examples’ best qualities. Retiring to a pod of seclusion should he need a break, when out and about he wears a suit that filters all incoming air. Should he want for transportation, he can take his personal spacecraft, keeping others and himself safe. How else could he conduct important Imperial business such as removing X-wing incursions from the Death Star trenches? The latest Imperial intel suggested a pathogen outbreak on Yavin 4, which would have given all the stormtroopers serious respiratory failure. This tidbit failed to be included in the final cut of the movie; but, why else would they call such a thing the “Death Star”? The recirculated air in the station meant that airborne disease could be catastrophic, given the tight living quarters aboard. Vader, castigated as a villain, was a hero all along.
The wisdom of movies from yesteryear affirms that wearing a mask and keeping distance from humanity — however you wish to do so — can save your life and the lives of those around you. Thanks, Hollywood, your worth is reaffirmed.