Surviving "The Impossible"

"Who set the alarm?"

Two minutes into The Impossible, marital squabbling between a husband and wife suggested normalcy. I found it interesting to be gently engaged in dialogue as they tried to remember who was last to leave the home and secure it---a curious foreshadowing, as the invasion about to come into their lives would shake that security beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.

In the winter of 2004, one of the most catastrophic natural disasters in history took the lives of more than 250,000 people when a tsunami struck Southeast Asia. Based on a true story and directed by Juan Antonio Bayona, this film chronicles events in the lives of Maria (Naomi Watts), her husband Henry (Ewan McGregor) and their three young sons, Lucas, Thomas and Simon (Tom Holland, Samuel Joslin and Oaklee Pendergast). A family vacation to a resort in Thailand is interwoven with hints of concern and alarm. As the family soars to their destination amid abrupt jolts of the aircraft, there’s a pace, a timing engineered toward what’s about to happen next. It's in the violent whip of a page as Marie reads a book poolside with Henry and the children. Palm leaves snap beneath a pattern of birds' flight in the sky, darting for an escape. We know something is off, though the children splash and spike a red ball in the pool. In moments a wall of unimaginable waves will engulf them all, thrown by nature’s crashing wrath.

Disaster movies are nothing new, especially with our heightened attention to global struggle and a "planetary cleansing." Reading the synopsis beforehand and being aware of its basis on a true story made The Impossible all the more riveting. But why this film is truly one of the best this year is because it requires an emotional endurance like no other film I’ve seen in a long time. The Impossible is palpable, not only for its immense visceral filmmaking effects in the disaster itself; the greater heartbreak arises from the sweet tenderness and intimacy gingered throughout that horror.Marie and oldest son Lucas find one another while being pulled by the vigorous rush of water, separated from Henry, Simon and Thomas. Both mother and son are bruised, torn skin and gaping wounds exposed as their hands stretch to reach the other. The water engulfs and grabs their bodies while it rages, devouring everything in its path. All the while, the family is ripped apart as Henry and the two younger sons also hurdle through the chaos miles away. These scenes are graphic and the pace rushes you along with them.

The film earned one Oscar nomination for Naomi Watts as Best Actress. Personally, I feel there should have been more. But hey, that’s how it goes, right? There are many great films out there, no denying that---yet I am compelled to write about this film because I feel very few elevate something we all could use now: hope, humility, the recognition of our frailty and how, in the midst of hell, still we are capable of profound compassion. Without beating you upside the head with never-ending "big" scenes, The Impossible allows a respite, a moment to catch your breath, and that’s where such delicacy produces a scamper for a Kleenex to snare falling tears.

Watts gave an Oscar-worthy performance. Having studied and worked professionally as an actress, I gave consideration to the dynamics at work to produce a believable and harrowing result. First, the harsh physical conditions of the filmmaking on set, above water in tanks and more so in underwater scenes. Watts expressed in an interview her discomfort with it from previous personal experience. I highly doubt many find comfort being twisted and thrashed in a man-made flood. Yet, the presence and immediacy in scene and character, especially those of interior reality, organically take shape from the physical. If you’re rehearsing a scene for the portrayal of a business executive or a district attorney, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans won’t cut it. Put yourself in a dinner jacket, and the psychological energy will adjust your posture but also foster an authentic connection to your role.

So, I took note of the carved and crafted scarlet gashes in flesh from the make-up department and the extremities of the set to create the havoc and destruction. Watts also noted in interviews that María Belón (on whom Watts' character is based) was available during times when Watts was stuck in the mechanics and the job at hand. Conversing with Maria brought her right back to a clear drive and intent: one life struggling to survive the horrific swallowing of hundreds of thousands.The sensational performance by young actor Tom Holland just can’t go unnoticed. As Lucas, this young man accessed his resources with the seasoning and maturity of a pro. I’m very excited to see more of him in the future. Over a week ago he was awarded Young British Performer of the Year, according to the London Critic’s Circle.

This film is filled with intimate scenes that transcend the experience and break your heart. They expand your soul in just a few lines, like this exchange between youngest son Simon and an old woman (Geraldine Chaplin), both discerning the stars at night. While gazing up at the sky, the old woman says, “Some of these stars have been burnt out for a long time … they’re dead, but once were so bright that their light's still traveling through space. We can still see them.”

While Simon struggles with the possibility of his mother and brother’s death he asks, “How can you tell which ones are dead or not?”

“Oh, you can’t, it’s impossible. It’s a beautiful mystery, isn’t it?” she answers. That scene derailed me, and my sweater was a giant wet chenille mess.

Hefty cinematic effects are woven gracefully with those tender scenes, and that is achieved through the brilliant artistry of composer Fernando Valesquez. During a couple scenes in which an area of quiet resides between dialogue, I was lifted by the emotive voice of a cello’s strings. This musicality did not remove or disconnect me---just the opposite. The composition discreetly scooped and elevated the emotion, like a distant fragrance that doesn’t intrude, but softly cradles you.

This film did something to me that rarely happens. I went in to see a movie that many were talking about, yet wasn’t on my radar. Halfway through the closing credits, I rose from my theater seat and found myself sensitive and "aware" of everyone around me. Yanked out of the rush of life, I slowed down and found myself desiring to be kinder and gentler to every human being around me. The Oscars will be over soon, and the next day I’ll be back in the haphazard hustle and bustle of my day and those who cut me off in traffic---but after seeing The Impossible, the result of taking into consideration the fragility of humanity will remain. How many films make that possible?