‘Why’d this happen?’
#30 - ‘Forrest Gump’
Forrest Gump doesn’t have any answers. This is, I suppose, understandable if we narrow our focus to the titular character. He’s not a “smart man,” as he willfully admits, so even though he’s lived through a great deal of momentous history - and had it touch him personally - we wouldn’t expect a treatise on what it all means from him. All Forrest has to offer is an unbelievable lack of cynicism and quotable nuggets of wisdom from Mama.
We might, though, expect more from the film as a whole. Forrest’s adventures give us a whirlwind tour of all the seismic societal change of the 1960s and 1970s, from the Civil Rights Movement to the Vietnam War to the disillusionment of the end of the hippie movement and free love to ping-pong diplomacy.
And we love the characters who take us on tour, don’t we? Tom Hanks is at the height of his powers, moving gracefully between the comedic posture and timing needed to insert his character in to all manner of situations where he doesn’t belong and the saccharine pathos that defines his love for Jenny. Sally Field and Robin Wright Penn and Gary Sinise and Mykelti Williamson process their own pain and struggles in part thanks to Forrest’s unquestioning loyalty and reliability. Forrest Gump is unquestionably one of the most memorable and quotable films of my lifetime. It even has a fair bit of technical magic - whether that be inserting Hanks’ visage in to archival clips of desegregation or press events at the White House or making Sinise a quite convincing double amputee.
Thirty years after its release, though, this is a film that has never been more impenetrable to examinations of deeper meaning. We can marvel at all the history that has transpired, but then what? What are we supposed to make of it all?
I’m not a Baby Boomer, so perhaps I’m not equipped to best answer, but the fact that I can’t even really hazard a guess - having seen this film countless times - is a bit of an indictment. Maybe 1994 was just too soon to process all of the turbulence experienced by that generation, but, again, that feels like making excuses for a film, which spends major chunks of its runtime almost acknowledging that it is drawing a blank.
“I’m tired,” says Jenny, summarizing the hard years she lived when she returns home to Alabama.
Forrest, meanwhile, just starts running for a few years. Once the turbulence of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s has died down, he’s able to get out and see America, coast to coast. He puts one foot in front of the other and grows a scraggly beard, but he’s barely able to explain why he’s doing what he’s doing. This doesn’t stop him from accumulating a cult-like following, but even those followers must find their own, individual meaning as they traverse the country with Forrest. He gives them a sense of purpose, but at the same time is a vessel almost empty of meaning.
One day, he stops. Like Jenny, he is tired and wants to go home.
OK, then.
What a metaphor for a film that undoubtedly captured the imagination of a broad audience, but for which a single explanation of why is as elusive as any popular film of which I can think.
In the film’s final moments, Forrest stands over Jenny’s grave, sunlight dappling through one of the large willow trees on his family’s property. Hanks scrunches up his face, as if trying to process all that has transpired, including Jenny’s untimely death.
“I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floatin' around accidental-like on a breeze,” he says. “But I, I think maybe it's both. Maybe both is happenin' at the same time.”
Forrest Gump - the man - isn’t equipped to answer an existential question like this, certainly not at that particular moment, but probably not at a later date either, even when the raw pain of his grief has subsided.
You might expect the film that bears his name to at least take a stab at an answer, but you’ll be disappointed.
Forrest Gump is book-ended by a feather floating in the breeze, but, in between, it doesn’t seriously consider notions of fate and free will - why that feather comes to rest near the park bench on which Forrest is waiting for a bus. Like its titular character, the most the film can muster is fatigue - a sigh and a non-committal “maybe it’s both.”