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 earts in Atlantis is a Stephen King novel that, I
believe, is separated into multiple parts involving separate characters. The
movie itself is only about one of those sections, although some of the
characters eventually gets their own section in the book.
The Hearts in
Atlantis movie is about a psychic named Ted Brautigan (Anthony Hopkins) who is fleeing Hoover's
FBI during the '50s and
winds up in the Garfield house along with Bobby Garfield and his single mother
Elizabeth Garfield. The boy, Bobby, happens to be a
little bit psychic, too, and learns to use his talents from time to time. As
Brautigan, Anthony Hopkins proves once again that he can play
any role, become anyone, and you'll never waste a single doubting about his
believability. The man is, bar none, the finest actor I've ever seen in my
lifetime.
But don't be mistaken and think Atlantis
is some kind of psychic/superpowers movie. Brautigan's "gift" (or as
he refers to it, his "burden") rarely shows up, and when they do, it's
not of the spectacular variety. This is no X-Men or a child's fantasy
about having superpowers. The real story
behind Atlantis is the early childhood of just-turned-11 year old Bobby
Garfield, played by a marvelous young actor name Anton Yelchin. It's Bobby's life that we're concerned
with, and Brautigan just wanders into it.
The story unfolds as an adult Bobby is called to the
funeral of an old friend. There, he discovers that his childhood sweetheart,
Carol, has also passed away. The news sends him back to his old home, now since
abandoned and condemned, where he relives his memories. Brautigan is one of Bobby's
most vivid memories. Bobby recalls the summer he turned 11 and longed
for a bike that his mother refuses to buy him because (as she likes to remind
him) they have no money and his father left them broke and in distress. Of
course, as Bobby notices, mother sure seems to be able to buy herself a lot of
nice new dresses, and her boss is starting to make her spend more and more time
at work for some reason. Bobby's mother has problems of her own as you
might have noticed. She's single, with an 11-year old son, and she's still young
enough to realize that her life means more to her than her son. Her priorities,
to be sure, are a little selfish-minded.
Brautigan's story is the movie's "B" plot. We
don't really learn much about Brautigan and his story doesn't surface
until more than halfway into the movie. Brautigan is being searched by the
"men in black" of Hoover's FBI. It is the '50s and America is in the
throes of paranoia about the Evil Soviet Empire. In an effort to battle this
threat, the FBI are using psychics to "seek out" Communist sympathizers. Sort of a human lie detector. Brautigan sees some
ethical issues
with that and flees into the countryside. The MIBs that comes to town to look
for Brautigan are mysterious figures, shown in atmospheric light and never with
any detail. They are faceless men, truly just "men in black" instead
of actual "men."
Which brings us to director Scott Hicks and writer William
Goldman (admittedly one of my favorite writers, of novels and movies). Scott
Hicks
shows with Atlantis that he's a man with many skills. The movie is great
to look at, and Hicks' choice of angles and lights is truly amazing. The man has
a great eye for detail, and even quiet moments are abuzz with electricity. Not
easy to do when the bulk of your movie is about 3 young kids and how they spend
their summer. There really is little mystery to the movie. In fact, the movie is
one big "how I remember my childhood" film, in the same vein as
Stephen King's other work, "The Body," which was turned into the movie
Stand By Me. Atlantis is King's memoir about small town life and
how it is affected by the communist manhunt of that era.
Hearts in Atlantis is also about how slow things are, how time seems to stand still, when
you're young. And that, really, is at the "heart" (forgive the pun) of
the movie: the passing of time, and how we remember things, and how as children
time stands still, but as adults they seem to pass with a blink.
Ask me again about the '90s in 10 or 20 years and I
might be able to tell you some details about it. I might be able to tell you
about how a band called Nirvana came out of Seattle and changed the music scene
and changed how teenagers saw themselves and lived their lives. Ask me 30 years
from now about what happened on September 11, 2001, and I'll tell you how my
heart sank and the pit of my stomach felt as empty and barren as a desert when I
saw the Twin Towers fall on TV. Or maybe I won't remember anything at all, and
it'll all seem like a dream that zipped on by with the blink of an eye. I would
like to hope that I would remember a lot of things in great detail, but judging
by my recollection of the '80s, that might not be the case at all.
Or like young Bobby and young Carol, I might promise myself
to remember everything and write often, but time might just take its toll, and
I'll forget. Time is like that. Always fleeting when you need it the most, and
always plentiful when you don't. (Or at least when you don't think you need it.)
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