Bright Feathers and Redemption

On Saturday I watched The Shawshank Redemption, again, for the dozenth time. I’ve seen it on cable, VHS, DVD, and now as a streaming movie from Netflix on my iPad.

I always think that I can just sit down and enjoy the storyline and not get all caught up in it. Not so. I sob like an abandoned baby at the same points in the film every single time. It hits me hard and I can only watch it every couple of years as it is emotionally draining. I find that spring is a good time to screen it as the beauty of the season can somewhat offset the dreary gray tones of the movie.

After spending decades together in prison, the two main characters, Red and Andy are separated, in a good way (I’ll try to be vague and not spoil the movie, in case you haven’t seen it. Nope. Sorry, I have to share this, to make my point.) Spoiler alert. Andy escapes through the sewer line and Red remains in prison. And this is how Red sums up being left behind.

Red: [narrating] “Sometimes it makes me sad, though . . . Andy being gone. I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice. But still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend.”

People come and go in our lives. Those with whom we develop long, deep relationships are the ones that, when they are gone, due to distance or death, are the ones that we miss the most, the ones that we have the most difficulty reconciling their absence from our days.

In this solemn prison movie, I recognize some of myself in Red, a short-sighted man who lacks hope, perhaps too accepting of whatever hand he is dealt. In Andy, I see my brother, gone now 15 years this May. He lived briefly but intensely. He loved his family deeply. But, in the end, he sacrificed for others, was put through a torturous measure of hell, then was dealt a mortal blow. I believe in my heart that he has now received some measure of redemption and is in a better place.

Red thinks of his friend Andy like this: “When I picture him heading south in his own car with the top down, it always makes me laugh. Andy Dufresne... who crawled through a river of [crap] and came out clean on the other side.

In the end, they meet again on a Pacific ocean beach . . . a “warm place with no memory.” I can’t always see the last scene because it’s blurry . . . though it’s no fault of the film. But through the haze, I see a joyful reunion . . . devoid of judgment or earthly weight. Just sunshine, a boat, fresh sea air, and two men reunited for the last time.

Above is a picture of my brother, sitting on a pile of rocks on a Bolivian mountainside. Not a subtle visual, I realize, but all that I had on hand to represent the hard lot he endured toward the end of his life. His feathers were just too bright. Like Red, I just miss my friend.

So, in spite of its troubling themes, I do recommend seeing this film. It is the farthest thing I can imagine from your typical chick flick . . . there is nothing light, romantic, or comedic about it. But it is deeply moving and, for me, cathartic as I ponder life, death, and the stuff we have to go through to get to the other side, better for the experience.

Be warned: Shawshank is rated R for language and prison violence. Please watch it on a Clearplay DVD player or wait for it to show up somewhere in a form “edited for television.” Thanks.