I never would have thought a movie about a guy under a white ghost costume would have much to say about life.
Apparently, a lot of people disagreed with that assumption, as A Ghost Story, starring Casey Affleck (mostly under the costume) and Rooney Mara debuted this year to rave reviews. I have yet to watch the entire film, but in reading about it, I must say myself that my assumption was wrong. (Spoilers follow)
It may sound odd to write about the meaning of a film I haven’t watched, but its basic premise – which could be surmised from various synopses – is a tremendous metaphor that hits home.
The story is on its face both simple and odd. A man who lives with his girlfriend dies and wakes up under a white sheet. He returns to their home and watches her deal with grief, all while remaining invisible and inaudible under his white sheet. Without saying too much about the particulars, she eventually moves away, but he stays.
That’s why this story hits home with me – I have trouble giving up the ghost. The irony of this film, in my interpretation at least, is that it doesn’t have to be about death at all. Rather, it’s a musing on loss, and one that looks at what life is like when we have to watch someone else move on while we’re stuck in place.
To quote the wonderful musician St. Vincent, in these times we are “dancing with a ghost.”
Psychologically speaking, it makes sense. Attachment has been shown time and time again to be one of fundamentals of the human experience, something we learned in order to survive. Consider those old, unethical studies in which children were deprived of attachment at an early age – particularly negative repercussions followed suit.
If you’ve ever struggled to move on, or if you’re there right now, don’t panic – it’s not unnatural. There is evidence, as discussed by psychologist Louis Cozolino in his book The Neuroscience of Human Relationships, that our brain may even reward us for dwelling on the memory of the person who is gone.
This stands to reason when you consider the way your positive memories with the person you miss most affect you. Those times were great in the moment, and it would make sense for us to want more of the happiness generated in those moments.
That being said, there are plenty of other reasons we may keep dancing with the ghost. Personally, I know regret sometimes plays a role – I wonder why I did things a certain way, or wish to take back mistakes I made. I’ve also found that loving curiosity can be a powerful tie to that past person – it’s easy to wonder what their life is like now, if they are happy, and whether or not we ever cross their mind.
Ultimately, we can end up like the man under the sheet – sitting in place while the world keeps moving around us.
To a degree, that’s okay. Grief is, after all, one of our most powerful and perhaps unpredictable emotions. We are a people who are meant to be around others and who often don’t appreciate change; when one of the others with whom we are closest is gone permanently, we face one of the biggest changes possible for us. So by all means, take your time to grieve.
There are people no longer in my life that will never completely leave my mind, and that’s okay. After I’ve taken time to grieve, I just want to make sure I’m not like Affleck’s character forever, sitting in the corner of the room watching the world move on as I grow roots in the past.