A remarkable analysis of
This Way of Life by
Mary Trainor-Brigham (Shamanic Screenwritng) for her
Deep Cinema series.
A Trojan Horse of Blessings
The iconic image of a ruggedly handsome man atop an equally impressive steed ~ rearing up between dappled grassland and dazzling sky, mane and tail lashing in all directions ~ tells us some essentials about
THIS WAY OF LIFE, the sterling documentary it advertises.
It tells us, in a glance, that the man in question is capable and seasoned, outdoorsy and independent, the sort of man who can probably fish and hunt, read the land and weather, wrangle wild horses and build their corrals ~ living as best he can outside any deadening constraints of Western civilization. And all of this proves to be true.
What this image doesn’t disclose is that what we actually have here is an inverted and updated Trojan Horse, in the best possible sense of the term. Instead of being the predictable tale of a Lone Ranger, THIS WAY OF LIFE reveals that the rider, Peter Ottley-Karena of Aoetoara/New Zealand, is a man for whom marriage and family are of paramount value. The question this story poses is ~ can he secure his beautiful, growing, and beloved brood a home, with his integrity intact?
Opposition to this dream resides closer than even the usual social, political and economic demands that erode the likelihood of obtaining freedom in this day and age. For Peter is the chosen enemy of a stepfather who still operates out of the worst possible facets of the old Patriarchal paradigm: the will to be divisive, destructive and, above all, domineering.
This documentary begins with the Ottley-Karena family living contentedly in a humble house, over 100 years old, which has been handed down the Karena line for seven generations. And while they hope to secure ownership when the stepfather puts it on the market, the older man’s dodgy dealings insure that they cannot even place a bid. This sets off a domino effect of conflict which escalates from intimidation and deceit to assault, theft, and vandalism ~ with the very societal elements which should provide the family protection only adding to their vulnerability ~ creating circumstances so relentlessly stressful as to trigger anguishing loss. Can they rally? And endure? It is, time and again, truly a matter of life trumping fiction.
Director/Cinematographer Thomas Burstyn and his wife, Producer/Writer Sumner Burstyn, bore witness to this young family’s travails and triumphs for years, and such dedication shows. This allowed them to not only transcend the Lone Ranger motif, but to also evolve beyond the classic struggle ~ albeit of Mythic proportion ~ of whether a Son can indeed carve out his own destiny rather than be subsumed by the grinding will of the Father. This timeless opposition is part and parcel of the story, and indeed gives it passion and propulsion. But even as it dramatically plays out, it is augmented by prophetic challenges spilling from within this Trojan Horse ~ can the calcified Patriarchal model be shattered, not only the younger man’s determination, but by the vibrant voices and value of women and children as well?
I-Thou vs. I-It
Peter’s bonding with his horses, at its best, reminded me of how philosopher Martin Buber developed his “I-Thou” relational model, which he contrasted with, and valued over, Patriarchal society’s far too common “I-it” subjugation. As a youth Buber had a most beloved steed, and felt in turn the animal’s enthusiasm for him. Whenever he went from home to stable he could sense a frisson of recognition, a mutual delight shimmering between the two of them Then one day he entered the barn with a different attitude, an objectification allowing for a cold measure of the sales value of the handsome horse-flesh before him. The noble beast immediately registered the difference and never forgave his owner. And thus a new philosophical theory was co-created!
And while Peter avers that the horse “must be to man as man is to God,” you get the ever-increasing sense throughout this film that he’s not apt to be making Buber’s youthful mistake in his deeply engaged way of life. Not with his wife, Colleen, and six children so close to heart. Yes, six, count ‘em, as Peter does from his perch in a stunning tree situated over a river gorge, citing a true litany of love for Llewelyn, Aurora, Malachi, Elias, Corban and Salem. In the Asian art of Feng Shui, the element wood represents ancestry/authority. And indeed, Peter’s intimate mixture of confession and vow amplify his maturity as he explains how their youngest child, Salem, coming as she did in a time of crushing turmoil, saved his soul. If his honouring of a wee spirit isn’t enough to achieve a polar reversal of the Patriarchal power template, add to it his poignant resolve to spend the rest of his life becoming worthy of his wife’s love.
This profound familial devotion is the hinge of the film, providing a stake in the sand a quantum leap beyond what torment Peter endures from his natal lot, and will likely set you rooting for the Ottley-Karenas 1000 %. The stepfather is an oppressive shade for much of the film, with the viewers thinking he might emerge at the auction, at the home, or at a Sunday service ~ thus a well-wrought and tantalizing tension is maintained. Colleen thoughtfully describes how her family’s respect for all members makes Peter’s family’s modus operandi alien and sad for her. So it is a woman who leads the way into a more peaceful model. And it is another woman, Producer/Writer Sumner Burstyn, who finally breaks through the fourth wall of witness and goes toe-to-toe with the stepfather, an encounter which reveals that his heretofore well-documented sense of divine entitlement and caprice can actually bleed into crazy-making incoherence. And all the while he maintains a dictatorial tone of self-righteousness, employing a twisted brand of psychic aikido by which he mutates every exchange into service of the old commandment, “Honour thy father and they mother.” Egad.
Cinematic Magic
I first had the pleasure of viewing Thomas Burstyn’s cinematic skills in Mike and Rosemary Riddell’s wondrous THE INSATIABLE MOON, and so knew I could count on more of his excellence here. He supplies an impressive dance of interior and exterior revelations: buzzing flies feeding on a puddle of crimson blood; unflinching steadiness as Llewellyn’s horse staggers on a steep mountainside and sets off a wee avalanche; Colleen’s handsome, tender face as she foreshadows, then reveals, a tragic loss; the family riding bare and bare-backed off a cliff and into swimming waters; an image of Jesus juxtaposing a jagged, blown-out windowpane as Peter ponders the need to be peaceful when rage swells up within him.
The Burstyn's have in their main man an articulate, homespun philosopher equally comfortable pondering matters familial, economic, social, political and spiritual. But theirs is no “talking head” presentation. They ground such abstractions with their rich genius for weaving the visual, the aural, and the sensate. Indigenous Maori sensibilities are subtly infused via an ongoing thread of reverence for nature. Indeed, we are taken from a Western objectification of land, weather, animals and family to a richer participation in genuine relationship with all, and finally, into an almost alchemical, shamanic immersion from which you won’t want to emerge.
As Peter’s ruminations move us from the outside of a horse to its inner spirit’s bond with his (I-Thou), from his outer-world travails to his willingness to use them to polish his soul, we visually ride with him from mist-ribboned woodland down into rain-drenched water and up again into a panoramic, volcanic, mountainous panorama: no less than a death and rebirth, an initiation. And before he encloses the porcelain-pale face of his youngest child (the one who saved his soul) into the black-leather embrace of his jacket, we catch a glimpse of her expression, as silently enigmatic as those of their ancestors’ portraits in the nearby graveyard. And thus the lineage is unbroken; a thread of goodness and wisdom is shown to prevail, despite the brutal and misguided efforts of one apparently lost soul.
While celebrating how this documentary fires flawlessly on many cylinders, I must admit it left me dissatisfied on a couple of points. One is that Peter is shown to be far too calm in the face of the worst destruction endured, with Colleen (ordinarily so generously disposed to mirth) and the children left to express the tumultuous emotions: she with anguished expression, they by acting them out with toy soldiers or by burying them into the deep subconscious realm of mermen and mermaids. Even if Peter wanted to restrain himself for whatever reasons, it seemed unnaturally cool not to have him at least gallop off to detoxify some of the rage he admits to only a year later. Another omission for me was not to learn anything about Peter’s relationship with his biological father. Whenever children are adopted into blended families, ghosts bloom and must be appeased, and I was left hanging on that key issue. But these are sins of omission, and what we are shown is very smooth and engaging indeed.
Cinema Verite
The challenge for actors in fictional films is to so embody their characters so as to convince us they are real. Since documentaries, cinema verite, begin with that state of genuine incarnation, what do we ask of them? More profound revelations: an assurance that even the quotidian cycles of life may be as replete with magnificence as “mundane” sunrise and sunset can. That children, creatures and cosmos are interwoven. That our innately sacred, ordained covenant to unfurl and forge our souls will be fulfilled. That even when our dreams are crushed, new directions will be revealed, this time stirring from within. THIS WAY OF LIFE provides all of this.
In modern initiatory work can be found a phrase, “the burning of the Summer Home,” describing the necessary loss of childish dreams, a loss which we must endure in order to ignite a more evolved destiny. Here such conflagration is a literal, cruel and unnecessary attempt to sunder the ancestral line. In the face of such anguish, we seek the phoenix’ resurrection most avidly, longing to be assured that heritage has a deeper frequency than materialism, that grief and growth are indeed two sides of the same coin.
Ultimately this apparently modest slice of life, via deft story-telling, provides an arc of development which applies not only to one family in the back of beyond, but engages entire cultural gears: our shared longing to deconstruct an old model which is abusive of far too many and to supplant it with one of our own making. As our rigged economic system and oppression by corporatocracy collapses, THIS WAY OF LIFE becomes an option that feels vital and venerable rather than quaint or exotic. I want to wrap up this review with high praise: by the time the credits rolled, I was left feeling, in a quiet yet indelible way, that these beautiful people are necessary to our way of life, as they display our participation in nature, and demonstrate that the personal is universal. May their message radiate worldwide.
Mary Trainor-Brigham
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