Recently, I saw the movie All Is Lost with Robert Redford who plays the only character in the movie with almost zero dialogue. Many say its’ his best part of his long acting career and worthy of an Oscar. His character is a skipper of his own yacht sailing all by himself in the middle of the desolate Indian Ocean. His boat hits a floating shipping container causing a huge gaping hole. We discover he is a very experienced sailor who promptly repairs the hole and prepares for whatever will come next.
The rest of the movie is an incredible story of survival against the elements. Although we hear him loudly cry out for “help” to passing freighters and over the radio,“this is the Virginia Queen with SOS over,” we do not know his name, but for almost two hours you’re stranded right along with him in his boat. At a critical moment when all certainly seems lost, the man, disheartened and desperate, utters one of the few words in the entire film. Head bowed, he moans, “God.” Is it a prayer of despair? A cry for mercy? Or for a miracle?
We watch a man think. You can tell he is seeking solutions and considering his next move. But he’s also contemplating his dire circumstance. You forget Redford is acting, and you just see a man fighting for his life. Maybe you can relate?
Don’t miss the first few poignant minutes. While he says only a few words in the movie in the very beginning of the movie on a still blank screen, before we see the man or his boat, we hear Redford in a very brief voice over, setting the scene. Here’s a portion of that opening monologue:
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know that means little at this point, but I am. I tried, I think you all would agree that I tried. To be true, to be strong, to be kind, to love, to be right. But I wasn’t . . . All is lost here . . . except for soul and body . . . that is, what’s left of them.
“It’s inexcusable, really, I know that now. How it could have taken this long to admit that, I’m not sure. But it did. I know it now, and I’m sorry. I did not want to go, I still don’t, I fought till the end, I’m not sure what that is worth, but know that I did. . . I’m sorry. “ And so the movie begins.
What’s he thinking about when he says these words? Sorry for what and to whom? Is he hinting at a confession? Seeking forgiveness? Reaching for redemption? Writing his last words to put in a bottle?
He made us think? Could we be writing similar words given the right circumstances. What would be your last words to those that matter to you?
In an article in the New Yorker adapted from his book about 911 Jonathan Safran Foer writes,
“Hundreds of phone calls were placed from the twin towers between the time the first plane hit and the time that the north tower collapsed. When words should have been most impossible to find, there were words of grace, and dignity and consolation. Mostly words of love.
If we really want to understand the truth of this event and what it can teach us about our own lives we should look to the men and women who saw that death was near who called home on their cell phones. And not to express anger or fear or bitterness but simply to say ‘I love you, take care of the children, have a good life.”
What can we learn from All is Lost and the callers from 911? Don’t wait for a eulogy to say words of affirmation and love to those that matter to you. Tell them now, not only will they greatly appreciate it, it could change their life.
With Hope and Healing,
Mark
