OK, THE ACADEMY has spoken and assisted suicide is officially chic. That's right, the
Best Picture Academy Award Winner ("Million Dollar Baby") and the Best Foreign Film ("The Sea Inside")
have more than a shiny, new Oscar in common. Both films have as their focus the controversial
subject of the right to die.
What's up with that? Heck, maybe if they had done a biopic on Kervorkian instead of Kinsey, Liam
Neeson would have carried home an Oscar.
Actually, the topic is not all that controversial. Most people are still against people taking
someone else's life. And although people aren't as apt to call suicide a sin as a generation ago,
people still frown on it. But Hollywood is doing it's part to help move our moral goalposts.
Alright, enough ranting.
The Sea Inside tells the true story of Ramon Sampedro, a Spanish paraplegic who tried tto "die
with dignity" for 20-some years after a tragic diving accident. Spanish actor Javier Bardem plays
Ramon. And once you see Bardem in a flashback to the young Ramon, you realize that the real Academy
Award winner should have been the ingenius makeup team that makes the studly 36-year-old actor look
like a much older (and balder) man.
Unlike "Million Dollar Baby" (which sneaks up on you with this sobering topic after an hour and half
of pure Rockyesque feel-good), "The Sea Inside" hits you right between the eyes with the subject in
the opening scenes. The story focuses on how Sampedro tried to change Spanish law to legally
permit his demise. As the plot unfolds several women enter Ramon's life -- a lawyer with a limp, an
emotionally needy factory worker and a long-suffering sister-in-law. Ramon ironically makes more love
connections in this movie than Don Juan. Paralysis is apparently an aphrodisiac. And the more
women that throw themselves at our lonely hero, the more intent he is to die.
The Catholic Church also makes a guest appearance in the film in the form of a boorish buffoon of
a priest who wants us to believe that God alone is sole proprietor of life and death. Sampedro's
sharp tongue and superior wit make mincemeat of the unlikable churchman. And the sister-in-law gets
her jabs in as well.
Although the screenplay makes it clear that the religious establishment is out to lunch on this
subject, I couldn't help but wonder how the quaint, backward world of Sampedro would have looked
without the influence of the church. Would Sampedro's family have so selflessly cared for him for
nearly thirty years if it had not been successfully brainwashed by the church's odd doctrines of
self sacrifice and duty? Would his sister-in-law have nursed his bed sores, emptied his colostomy
bag, daily washed away his stink and shaved his stubbly face if she had simply been concerned with
her own personal dignity?
The most revealing scene in the movie shows Ramon weeping in his sleep. He asks aloud why he
couldn't be like everyone else. By "everyone else", he is not asking for the ability to walk again.
Rather, he is asking why he is incapable of being grateful for the good things he has experienced.
Why couldn't he, like the rest of us, love life and fear death? This is the question that most of
the audience is left asking themselves by the close of the film. Sure, being a paraplegic is a
bummer, but this guy was surrounded by a family that loved him, people who cared for him and a steady
stream of women who were ready to marry him. Why couldn't he shake his nagging death wish?
(SPOLIERS AHEAD)
As you can imagine the real-life drama ends in existential triumph. Our paralyzed hero manages to
get the girl, outwit the system and have someone do him in. The camera fades to black and the
credits roll.
It is, in many ways, like another movie that came out last year. Unlike "Million Dollar Baby" and
"The Sea Inside", this particular movie was snubbed by the Academy. But maybe you saw it. It dealt
with a lonely man intent on dying who was assisted in his quest for death by a handful of clueless
religious leaders and some fun-loving Roman soldiers. Surprisingly, that movie ended on a far more
hopeful note. Oh well, Mel, maybe next year.