Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Good Letters

Home
Catholic
The Sublime and Beautiful

The Sublime and Beautiful

Last updated on: January 29, 2015 at 1:58 am by A. G. Harmon

The Sublime and Beautiful 2015-01-28T18:38:20-07:00 A. G. Harmon

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

From antiquity to the Enlightenment, one of the great aesthetic dichotomies involved the sublime and the beautiful. If the contrast of those terms is any indication of meaning in Blake Robbins’s movie of the above-referenced title, the intention is extremely subtle. The film deals with unspeakable tragedy, and one would be hard-pressed to find any conventional definition of either term as fitting for what transpires.

However, if they are taken not as terms to be distinguished, but as terms that inform a third object—due to an important excision of the second article “the”—there is more of an argument. That is, if the terms are taken as adjectives modifying a particular person or state—“that which is sublime and beautiful”—then you can see what he is after. Still, it takes some convincing.

According to the Longinian distinction (Longinus being the first to write about it), the beautiful delights in a pleasing way; the sublime, on the other hand, provides not so much delight as awe, and the awe often comes by way of the unsettling, even the terrifying. A meadow in springtime is beautiful; the rocky chasm of a mountain gorge, dropping off a mile deep, only inches away from the beholder, is sublime.

An experience of the sublime is exhilarating, but not necessarily pleasant, as would be the experience of the beautiful. But when the subject is the emotional life of the human being, those terms might be mutually applicable to the same state, at the same time, at least insofar as the handling of the sublimely torturous is something that inspires awe, and as much as the ability to survive the drop into the gorge can be beautiful.

Robbins sets his tale in a cold Midwest. The main character, Dave, played by the writer/director himself, is an out-of-shape, middle-aged college professor with a wife and three children. There’s nothing particularly wrong with his life, but he’s not particularly settled either. To wit, he begs out of a Christmas tree decorating party at his parents’ house by telling his wife that he has too much grading to do.

Instead, he sneaks off to meet his graduate assistant, with whom he’s having an affair. He appears to be having the kind of nebulous crisis that hits many of a certain age, one in which he wonders what the point of it all is.

On the way home, he checks his phone messages and finds his family has been involved in a car wreck. What follows is an unromantic chronicle of the man’s walk through hell. His loss is almost as complete as it can be, and what he’s left with is—as must always seem the case to those left behind—more of a curse than a blessing.

All relationships sour, as he can no longer say anything to people and no one can say anything to him. The sight of happiness in the world becomes an insult, an affront. Everyone draws back from the chasm, horrified.

However, the disposition that the character takes is an unusual one. He does not weep or wail, but neither does he walk about in shock. Instead, even when he stares at the all too real evidence of his loss, he does so with the unmoved expression of one who has been told something that he suspected all along.

He acts as though the pain he’s experiencing and the horror he’s witnessing are anticipated visitors, finally arrived. There is some small indication that he feels guilty for his absence on the night of the great disaster, but that too seems taken as more empirical evidence of the pointlessness of things.

Perhaps as a means to blast himself out of this limbo, plotting an act of revenge is the only shape his life can take. The man that brought about his loss is hunted. That kind of motivation must be understandable to all the aggrieved who have a particular person to blame, if only because it provides them with something to do when nothing seems to matter anymore.

Blood courses and muscles tighten when there is a direct object worthy of hate; such a purpose is revivifying, both because it offers a reason to go on and because it supplies some relief from the stagnant torment of sorrow’s bath.

That said, one drawback in the film is the uncertainty about how far Dave goes in realizing that revenge, and the depth of his responsibility for what befalls his target. The result is not clearly explained, and while ambiguity of meaning can be an asset, as per literary critic William Empson, ambiguity of plot development is not.

Also, the spiritual resolution that Dave comes to is somewhat compromised by this vagueness; that he takes the steps he does at the end of the film implies that he resists doing his worst. At any rate, the resolution is a quiet one—a small measure that puts him at a place that may be a beginning in the long climb out of his abyss.

Robbins seems to imply that this is the only honest point at which to end the tale, given the circumstances. Artistically, it is a commendable stopping place.

There are some predictable scenes and emotions in the film—rages, despairs, inexplicable choices—but then the path of loss and grief is not new; from a narrative standpoint, loss and grief may be unportrayable without this predictability.

And while transcendence over familial tragedy has been dealt with on a greater scale and with a broader range in such films as Rabbit Hole and, most wondrously, the Dardenne brothers’ Le Fils, Robbins’s contribution with The Sublime and Beautiful offers a unique portrait. It is that of a man in existential turmoil, beset with the kind of Job-like devastation that will either be the makings or the destruction of him, and whose journey through such a terrible place is worthy of awe, regardless of how discomfiting it may be.

A.G. Harmon teaches Shakespeare, Law and Literature, Jurisprudence, and Writing at The Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C. His novel, A House All Stilled, won the 2001 Peter Taylor Prize for the Novel.

The photo above is the official poster for the movie the Sublime and Beautiful, reviewed here.

Previous Post

January 28, 2015

The Crucifix’s Motley Crew

Next Post

January 30, 2015 The House Where Beauty Lives

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category A. G. Harmon Alissa Wilkinson Allison Backous Art Authors Brad Fruhauff Bradford Winters Bryan Bliss Caroline Langston Chad Thomas Johnston Chris Hoke Christiana N. Peterson Culture D.G. Myers D.L. Mayfield Daniel Bowman Jr. David Griffith Elizabeth Duffy Faith Film Greg Wolfe Guest Contributor Interview Jan Vallone Jeffrey Overstreet Jessica Eddings-Roeser Jessica Mesman Griffith Kelly Foster Lindsey Crittenden Morgan Meis music Natalie Vestin Nick Olson Peggy Rosenthal Personal Reflection Poetry Friday Reflection Relationships Review Richard Chess Richard Cole Sara Zarr Shannon Huffman Polson Sonya Bilocerkowycz Tania Runyan Tony Woodlief Topical Categories Uncategorized Vic Sizemore Writing

Select a Month October 2018 September 2018 August 2018 July 2018 June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 July 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016 February 2016 January 2016 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 May 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 August 2014 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 March 2014 February 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 August 2013 July 2013 June 2013 May 2013 April 2013 March 2013 February 2013 January 2013 December 2012 November 2012 October 2012 September 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012 May 2012 February 2008

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

What was Barnabas' original name?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Timothy Joseph Mark Silas