It takes "The Village"

Like many, I eagerly await each new M. Night Shyamalan film since The Sixth Sense, which I thought was outstanding. His work has been decent since then—Unbreakable was my favorite—but he'll never catch us so unguarded again and so each subsequent movie struggles to measure up.

I recently saw The Village, and there were moments when it was terrific. I don't think I have ever heard a woman in the audience moan with such audible anguish as I did during one scene of The Village. But by the time the movie had run its course and unraveled the mystery one couldn't help feeling disappointed, especially by revelations that in hind-sight rendered earlier scenes illogical.

The Sixth Sense, on the other hand, I can watch time and again. I recently discovered it on television and even with the commercial interruptions and edited-for-TV censorship, I was still struck by the outstanding craftsmanship, brilliant screenplay (every single line perfect!), and spot-on performance (I almost typed "dead-on") by young Haley Joel Osment.

Seeing it again after all these years reminded me of the first time...and of an email I wrote at the time capturing my reaction. So here is something from the vaults. It captures a hint of my sensibilities when the boys were two and dad was brain-fried and exhausted, albeit employed:

*****

Sent:   October, 1999
Subject:   I see dead people

...I first saw The Sixth Sense with a friend, Steve, while on vacation at Lake Tahoe this summer. Steve was vacationing with his wife, Caroline—a college classmate of Kathy's—the same weeks we were in Tahoe. We took several long hikes together during that week and we discussed the movie at least half a dozen times before the obvious struck me.

We were at the top of a scenic outlook with a gorgeous view of the Nevada valley and the Lake Tahoe basin when I experienced a series of flashbacks that usually only happen in the movies.   Flash: discussing the movie while Kathy and Caroline pretended not to hear.   Flash: feeling lightheaded while struggling to keep up with Steve on our hikes.   Flash: our babysitters complaining how cold it was in our rental home in the middle of August.   Flash: Caroline visiting Kathy each morning and the two of them chatting while completely ignoring me.   Flash: calling to check my voicemail, but not having any messages even though I didn't leave a "while I'm on vacation message."   Flash: Kathy pulling away from my cold feet at night which I could never seem to get warm.   Flash: Kathy recently telling me about a friend whose husband died of a bike accident over a year ago.   Flash: half my work team relocating their cubicles to another floor while mine alone remained in a sixteen cubicle section.   Flash: Kathy making plans while at Tahoe to start consulting with Palm when she got back, but nobody from Palm ever talking to me about it.   Flash: driving Steve to the movie and drifting across the double yellow line when I was trying to change a radio channel.   Flash: lifting Kevin from his crib while he reached for Kathy and whispered what I swore sounded like, "I see dead people."   Flash: returning again and again to the same cubicle, the same bedroom, the same commute, the same meetings, but never noticing even the slightest reaction to my ideas or suggestions or complaints.

And you thought you were surprised by the ending of the movie. How would you like to have seen it and later discovered a much more personal message, but still not have any idea what unfinished business you need to take care of...

--John

...it's okay, you don't need to adjust the thermostat; I have meetings to go sit in on now.