what i must never lose sight of: before i began this, i was flying yet again, perhaps from new york? or was it the UK? so many times back and forth now. not glamorous, not fun, just necessity. i think i was on jet blue, or some similar airbus thing with screens in the headrests. it was the middle of the afternoon, and i was flipping through my little screen, and i came upon an abysmal movie called shooter. and at some point it became very clear that the woman in this movie had been raped, violently raped, and in her trauma she shoots her rapist and then cowers next to marky mark. and i was horrified. children were watching this, people were watching this eating snack boxes, people were watching this absently while i wanted to weep and cringe as the woman was weeping and cringing.
not too long after, we saw a highly recommended, highly lauded, film at home: gran torino. and then i started a book that was on the verge of becoming one of the most popular novels on the planet: the girl with the dragon tattoo.
can you see where i’m going with this?
when did this become the seeming shorthand for crazy evil guy? when did it become so, ugh, so quotidian? and what, exactly, is gained by putting it before us, moment by moment? at what point do we cross the line from acting as witness to tacit approval to even closet participant?
it is the 21st century and i am researching the 18th century and it feels like nothing much has changed.
and really, what i wanted to see was the woman turn around and keep shooting: marky mark, the rest of the shady guys, the writer, the producer. and then give a few slaps to the slack-jawed passengers on the airplane as well.