When I was 19, I fell in love with the kind of love I believed existed between Karen Blixen and her lover, Dennis, in the 1985 movie Out of Africa directed by Sydney Pollack.
In fact, until last week, my heart would leap at the very thought of that movie and the love I thought it captured. My memory would conjure the romantic, gas-lit dinner scene in which Karen (Meryl Streep) would beguile Dennis (Robert Redford) with the tales she spun. Of Karen and Dennis hunting, talking, going to sleep, facing a new day in the wilderness as equals, as friends. Of his unexpected arrival on sunny days, when he would sweep her off her feet and into the bedroom. Of Dennis's washing Karen's hair at their campsite. The sensuousness of this scene alone was for me the heart of the movie.
Of their flying together.
It seemed to my young heart that these two shared some special kind of love--no promises, no awkward and unnecessary commitments to social convention, no power games between possessor and property--that revolved around the freedom of two individuals together because they choose to be, bound together only by a shared passion for all the possibilities the imagination could present.
That was me 23 years ago.
Last week, I saw something else.
I saw a married woman bound by convention and propriety to her philandering husband, who uses her as his personal banker, on the one hand, and bound on the other by her love for a man who comes and goes as he pleases. I saw two men who lived as they chose thanks to a woman whose resources and commitment to the success of her plantation and well-being of her workers kept her in place and available to them on an as-needed basis.
As Dennis would speak to Karen of freedom and adventure and of leaving the landscape as free of his white footprint as possible, I thought, "It's well for you to live the unfettered life, but you go with the comfort and confidence of knowing your lover will be back at the farm waiting for you." In this way, he was no better than Karen's contemptible husband. The difference between the two? Unlike Karen's husband, Dennis never made any promises before God and man that he would ever stick around and be a partner in life. Unlike Karen's husband, Dennis had interests in common with Karen. They loved stories, they respected the local people, they loved sensual beauty. Also, he genuinely liked her.
Twenty-three years later, I can't get past the fact that both men took what they wanted from her and did as they pleased whenever they pleased with no regard for her feelings or her needs.
Twenty-three years later, I can't get past the fact that Karen had the last word when she transformed her life into art in the form of stories. She took it all and gave it back to herself and to anyone else who cared to look in the form of art. All this time later, I am over my crush on Dennis; I think Karen is cool.
The copy on the jacket of my DVD version of Out of Africa calls it a "great epic romance." A long time ago, I would have agreed. Now, though, see it as a story about how stories can turn the grit and muck of life--what so often stands in for love--into works of very fine art.
In fact, until last week, my heart would leap at the very thought of that movie and the love I thought it captured. My memory would conjure the romantic, gas-lit dinner scene in which Karen (Meryl Streep) would beguile Dennis (Robert Redford) with the tales she spun. Of Karen and Dennis hunting, talking, going to sleep, facing a new day in the wilderness as equals, as friends. Of his unexpected arrival on sunny days, when he would sweep her off her feet and into the bedroom. Of Dennis's washing Karen's hair at their campsite. The sensuousness of this scene alone was for me the heart of the movie.
Of their flying together.
It seemed to my young heart that these two shared some special kind of love--no promises, no awkward and unnecessary commitments to social convention, no power games between possessor and property--that revolved around the freedom of two individuals together because they choose to be, bound together only by a shared passion for all the possibilities the imagination could present.
That was me 23 years ago.
Last week, I saw something else.
I saw a married woman bound by convention and propriety to her philandering husband, who uses her as his personal banker, on the one hand, and bound on the other by her love for a man who comes and goes as he pleases. I saw two men who lived as they chose thanks to a woman whose resources and commitment to the success of her plantation and well-being of her workers kept her in place and available to them on an as-needed basis.
As Dennis would speak to Karen of freedom and adventure and of leaving the landscape as free of his white footprint as possible, I thought, "It's well for you to live the unfettered life, but you go with the comfort and confidence of knowing your lover will be back at the farm waiting for you." In this way, he was no better than Karen's contemptible husband. The difference between the two? Unlike Karen's husband, Dennis never made any promises before God and man that he would ever stick around and be a partner in life. Unlike Karen's husband, Dennis had interests in common with Karen. They loved stories, they respected the local people, they loved sensual beauty. Also, he genuinely liked her.
Twenty-three years later, I can't get past the fact that both men took what they wanted from her and did as they pleased whenever they pleased with no regard for her feelings or her needs.
Twenty-three years later, I can't get past the fact that Karen had the last word when she transformed her life into art in the form of stories. She took it all and gave it back to herself and to anyone else who cared to look in the form of art. All this time later, I am over my crush on Dennis; I think Karen is cool.
The copy on the jacket of my DVD version of Out of Africa calls it a "great epic romance." A long time ago, I would have agreed. Now, though, see it as a story about how stories can turn the grit and muck of life--what so often stands in for love--into works of very fine art.
5 comments:
I'm going to have to see this film. Sandy I'm on Face as Elizabeth Brown not LIZ, hope you can get there.....
I think there's a book that "Out of Africa" is taken from. Also, I believe Karen Blixen wrote it. It might be interesting to see what she said. Ah, you've got me adding to my to-read pile. :)
How interesting. It's probably been 23 years since I saw that movie and would be curious to my view after all my life experiences. I saw it much like you did in the past. I think I'll rent it again and have a movie night with myself.
Thank you.
Hello Sandy,
Hello;this is my first visit.
I sincerely think that you are an excellent writer with so much to share.
Who can forget young love ? How people change through life as they love and live...
Isn't it amazing how time and maturity changes our perspective?
I've never seen the movie, but appreciated your commentary.
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