On Family
If you are following this Blog, you’ve noted that film plays a big part in it. There’s “Camera, Action…America”, the podcast that son Marc and I are recording on roughly a monthly basis. Plus many of my Blogs —- notably yesterday’s post “On Religion”—- have taken a film or TV series as their jumping-off point (or news peg in journalistic parlance).
This morning’s blog is inspired by the really good series “The Day of the Jackal,” staring Eddie Redmayne as the Jackal and Lashana Lynch as his nemesis from MI6. This is the fourth iteration of the tale first spun as a best-selling 1971 novel by Frederick Forsyth. The book was followed in 1973 by a feature film. In 1997, Bruce Willis was “The Jackel.” All three versions —-1971, 1973, 1997 —- have not only the broad plot lines, but more importantly, the title character in common. The Jackal is the best, most highly compensated assassin in the world. He is an emotionless automaton, who executes his missions (and his victims, as well as anyone who interferes) with cold, calculated precision. He has no known family, friends, or lovers. He is the Lone Wolf personified and purified.
By way of sharp contrast, Redmayne’s Jackal has a family tucked away in Spain.. a wife and child whom he seems to genuinely love. While the Jackals of ‘71, ‘73 and ‘97 face only technical, tactical challenges, Redmayne’s Jackal must juggle his private life with his professional life… a task that becomes increasingly complicated and difficult as the ten-part series unfolds. The same may be said of Lynch’s character. Hers is a more cliched challenge. We often have seen protagonists in spy and cop movies portrayed as obsessed with their jobs, careers and cases. A classic example is Helen Miran’s character in “Prime Suspect.” Lynch’s Bianca Pullman is losing her husband and daughter, who by episode six or seven have taken refuge from the mayhem she’s brought into their household by moving in with hubby’s first wife. Now that’s got to be real desperation.
A sub-theme that really interests me is the retort of some of these job-obsessed protagonists that they are doing what they do for the benefit, or betterment, of their families. That’s Redmayne’s reply, when his wife finally figures out what he does for a living. It’s one last job, Baby. Then the three of us can live the life we’ve always wanted… forever. When you’ve seen as many films as I have —- thousands by now, some 70 of which were reviewed by me in years past for The History Place and some other pubs—- one movie reference leads seamlessly into another, and another, and another. Here, Redmayne’s retort reminds me of Michael in The Godfather, parts one and two. It should require no extensive reiteration from me to remind you that in part one Kay asks him if he’s killed his sister’s husband. After admonishing Kay that she shouldn’t ever ask about his business (Redmayne’s stance as well), he says okay, just this once… after which he lies through his teeth. In part two, the family theme takes on an even darker hue, as Michael continues destroying his family in order to save it. This time around he has his own brother killed, even though it’s pretty clear that Fredo has already been reduced to the harmless “favorite uncle”, good for little except fishing with Michael’s kids.
Will Redmayne’s Jackal lose his family in the process of trying to ensure a lifetime of financial security for it? I’ll leave it to you to find out by watching this great new retelling of Forsyth’s classic yarn.
What of real families in our all-too-real world? My own family suffered a body blow on October 10th, when my wife, Joey Cain, succumbed to carcinoid syndrome. Since then, I find myself rattling around our four-floor, 15-room home, and talking to her urn. (I’ve promised family and friends alike that, when the urn starts answering me, I will either return to the Catholic Church or voluntarily commit myself to some more secular institution. No such luck yet.) One good thing: I feel closer to my son Marc and daughter Claire, albeit they live on opposite coasts. I have always envied those denizens of my hometown whose kids have remained nearby, raising the grandchildren within spitting distance of grandma and grandpa. I boast only one grandchild and she is with an ex-wife in Germany. She might as well reside on the moon.
On the other hand —- and thank Christ there is another hand —- modern communication technology brings Marc and Claire to me with a miraculous ease and immediacy of which parents of past generations could only dream. I well recall traveling with Joey around Europe in 1973. I was 26 and just out of the Coast Guard. A teacher, Joey was off for the summer… and so, off we went to bum around The Continent for 11 weeks. During those weeks, we sent maybe a dozen post cards home. We called only once, a collect call from a post office building; the connection was awful and the conversation brief. It occurred to us later that we could have been kidnapped into white slavery or mugged-and-murdered and no one would have missed us for maybe a month or more. Back home, a weekly phone call was the best we ever did for our parents in between holiday visits home. That my children and I can converse in real time, face to face, on Zoom or one of its competitors is pure, priceless magic.
Equally magical is the ability to leap in half a dozen hours from one side of the continent to the other. Jet air travel is nothing less than magic, albeit 9/11 changed the ambiance of earlier days into a drab routine of security clearances, made more miserable by the miserly treatment accorded in coach class by most major airlines. Even so, to rise six or seven miles into the sky and soar cross country at 500+ miles per hour remains in my mind a miracle of the first order.
As for the institution of “The Family,” well, it’s been buffeted about some in 21st-century America. “According to the American Psychological Association, approximately 40-50% of first marriages end in divorce. The divorce rate for second marriages is even higher, with approximately 60-67% of second marriages ending in divorce.” (Google AI, citing this law firm, emphasis in original) On the other hand, while the nuclear family (e.g., the created and sustained by my 54 years of marriage to Joey) may be under stress, our American society and culture tend to tolerate a wider variety of “family” structures and configurations, e.g., gay couples who adopt children and form solid family units.
This Christmas, I enjoyed the privilege and the pleasure of spending a few days with Marc’s in-laws in Austin. His mother-in-law is a distinguished, retired U.S. Army general. Hubby had a successful career in education. They embraced me in my grief and sustained me through what would otherwise have been a much tougher Noel. “You’re part of our family now.” Music to my ears. And emblematic of my point: “Family” is a fluid, and thus a highly resilient, institution. Like organized religion (see yesterday’s blog), it survives and prospers because something very deeply embedded in our human DNA demands it. In 2024, even The Jackal needs a family!
