Grace is Gone

I went to a screening of the new John Cusack film “Grace is Gone” last night, and I have to say, I wasn’t wowed. These days, I’m really looking to be wowed.

I had high hopes. This event was at the National Press Club and sponsored by TAPS, a nonprofit organization offering assistance and support to survivors who have lost loved ones in military service. At the beginning of the night, they asked all the people who had lost a loved one in the military to stand, and the number of people was astounding. Before the film, we were addressed by Warren Pellegrin, a father of four who lost his wife and had consulted with Cusack as he researched the role. With all this in mind I was expecting to be moved. I was expecting to not just cry, but sob. I was expecting to not just see a fictional family, but a personification of Pellegrin and the other families sitting around me. I had an image in my head of the real people who have answered the door and heard that their loved ones were truly gone.

Throughout the relatively short film (running time: 85 minutes) I kept waiting for it to hit me. We had each been given a goody bag complete with popcorn, snacks, and tissues so I expected I would need them. It didn’t take long for people around me to start sobbing. I have to say, I am a pretty emotional person and it doesn’t take much to make me tear up, but it just wasn’t happening. I started to wonder if something was wrong with me. Am I jaded and bitter to the human experience? Does death—the death of a beloved wife and mother no less—not move me? Out of guilt I started to think about my own mother (who has never served in the military, but is still my mom…I was reaching here to relate and experience the pain!) and then it dawned on me: if it really took all that effort, it wasn’t worth it.

I wanted a real experience. I wanted to leave with renewed frustration about the war and heartbroken over the loss of life. Don’t get me wrong, I am truly humbled and devastated by the brave men and women who serve, and in some cases give their lives for our country. I attended a military funeral at Arlington National Cemetery last week and was impressed with the honor and ceremony, and perhaps I hoped to see something similar onscreen. But, maybe that wasn’t the purpose of the film. What “Grace” does do is portray pure blinding, immobilizing grief. It depicts the type of sorrow that renders you helpless, irrational, and unable to function. In that capacity, Cusack shines.