Movie Review

TVA International, directed by Billy August, starring: Viveka Seldahl, Sven Wollter, Swedish with subtitles, 128 mins, 2001.

Martin Fischer (Wollter) is a brilliant and attractive composer and conductor. Barbara Hartmann (Seldahl) plays first violin in an orchestra in which he is guest conducting one of his pieces. At a practice he detects that something is wrong with the piece and she points out an error in the composition. He is grateful, generous and charming in the awkward moment and is obviously taken with this attractive and talented woman. She is much attracted to him and indeed they fall in love. It's a little awkward because they are each married to others and have grown and accomplished children and grandchildren. No matter; she announces the end of a loveless marriage to her children and we accompany Barbara and Martin on an idyllic honeymoon trip to the Mediterranean. They settle in to a life of composing and collaborating in a beautiful sun lit studio in the country in Sweden.

I didn't know what the movie was about when I rented it. It had lots of music and subtitles so it's bound to be good, right? When Martin made a second mistake I felt a clutch at my heart. "My gawd! He's got Alzheimer's!" I thought and I was right. Alzheimer's movies are a kind of growth industry and I wonder whether it is THE ANXIETY for Boomers; the loss of control and meaning; the dependence and burdensomeness to others. We've seen it in our parent's generation and we fear it for ourselves. It is easy to sentimentalize and wring pathos from every scene. There was pathos and irony enough but this is a touching but realistic movie.

Martin continues to work and collaborate with Barbara. There are occasional lapses but they solve problems and carry on. He triumphantly produces the score for a long awaited opera and Barbara dashes off to post it to his manager. Something causes her to look in the package and she discovers to her horror that there are just scribbles on the pages. It sets the stage for one of the ironies of the story. In the first flush of their newfound love they solemnly promise to be honest and forthright with one another. At this point she engages in a subterfuge with Martin that his opera is still being produced. The beginning of the end comes at a family birthday party for Martin in a fancy restaurant. He wanders off to the bathroom and is discovered peeing in a plant beside someone else's table. They rush to restrain him but he becomes violent and has to be subdued. At that point he is committed to hospital. His daughter's theory to Barbara is that at some deep level of consciousness he knew he had become too much of a burden for Barbara and needed to do something dramatic to get himself off her hands. It is an act of love for the one who had exhausted herself in devotion to the great love of her life.

In "The Courage to Be", Paul Tillich suggests that the meaning of The Work of Christ is found in response to the great anxiety of the times. Overall, we do not live in an age where Guilt and Condemnation are the same overwhelming concerns as in the Middle Ages when Anselm propounded the notion of Sacrifice for Sin. We do know something of guilt but we are consumed by anxiety over Despair and Meaninglessness. The love of God at the core of creation is demonstrated for us in the "Cross". We are made more righteous by Christ's death than we were before because of the example Christ sets us, kindling in us by his grace and generosity the zeal to imitate him. This subjective understanding of the work of Christ gains moral weight with the relatively recent notion that The Creator suffers too, suffers with the creation. It is only the sense of being loved that is able to overcome the meaninglessness and despair that we experience in our time. I suggest that despair lies at the heart of our Boomer Anxiety about Alzheimer's.

Barbara and Martin express this to and for one another. Her prayer of goodbye to Martin as she regretfully but without guilt resumes her life is a poignant symbol of the work of Christ in our lives.