The Great Ganesha

Here’s to the profound religious experience that comes from doing a job well and being grossly underpaid.

Having successfully survived another meeting with a couple of my committee members, one of whom routinely strips me naked and flogs me, while the other idly stands by and watches with a smile, I decided to finish up some errands and take the rest of the day to myself.

Getting home early, I switched on the TV, expecting to be thoroughly bored but was pleasantly surprised to see The Big Kahuna playing on IFC. A young moi saw and enjoyed this movie several years ago, but the movie still resonated with the older, jaded version. Depending on your mood, the movie can be at worst, a pleasant viewing experience, and at best, moving.

The movie was #54 on ‘The 2005 Top 100 Spiritually Significant Films (TM)‘, right above Dogville (which, incidentally, happens to be one of the best movies that I have seen) which was at #55, but below the Apu Trilogy which came in at #39. And, in case you’re wondering (I was), The Passion of the Christ was at #35. That the list exists is not surprising. That they’ve actually trademarked the phrase ‘Spritually Significant’, is. The irony of that notwithstanding, a movie, a really good movie, can undoubtedly be a spiritual experience. I’m certainly not the first to compare the movie theater with the church and the movie screen with the pulpit. Back in the day, the silent movies were screened in churches. For practical reasons, of course, but it was a church, nonetheless. And the organ music you hear in the background of all those Charlie Chaplin films you saw as a child, was actually played live by the church organist. Not that I’m a Christian or a church-goer. In fact, I’m an atheist. But that does not prevent me from considering a movie to be a religious experience. How an atheist can find a movie to be a religious experience, I leave you to figure out in your spare time.

But I digress. The Big Kahuna is about three industrial lubricant salesmen stuck in a motel room at a sales conference in Wichita, Kansas. One is a cynic and a husband (Kevin Spacey), equally dedicated to both occupations, the other is world-weary and recently-divorced (Danny DeVito) and the third (Peter Facinelli) is a newly married, wide-eyed, naive youngster who is a devout Christian. Almost the entire movie is shot in a mid-level motel suite, where the three are waiting (directly or indirectly) for the big kahuna or “the biggest manufacturer in the Midwest” to show up so they can make their sales pitch, clinch the deal and leave flush with money. While they are waiting, they talk about life, love, God, business, marriage and more. The Spacey character’s cynicism frequently clashes with the kid’s devout sensibilities, while the DeVito character constantly tries to intervene to keep Spacey in check, or to patiently teach Junior a lesson or two. Through these two extremes of faith, as it were, and DeVito’s man-in-the-middle, some very interesting and witty conversations ensue. For instance,

“Do I strike you as a particularly religious man, Phil?,” says the Spacey character.

“Not even the slightest.” replies DeVito.

“Then why am I seized with a sudden overwhelming desire to pray?”

The film is loosely based around Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, but is unfortunately, neither as absurd and comical, nor is it as universally appealing. Like the play, the movie could be viewed as a metaphor for life, with the big manufacturer as God, reflecting how most people wait their entire lives for the big kahuna to arrive in some form or the other. In fact, the word kahuna is Hawaiian for shaman or godman. The metaphor is furthered by the fact that the Spacey and DeVito characters, who are both older and either cynical or world-weary, have little reason to believe in God’s existence. In the movie, they neither see the big kahuna nor do they know if or when he’s in the room because, as we find out later, he didn’t write his real name on his name-tag (a metaphor for the apparent superficiality of those who need scientific proof for the existence of God, perhaps?). The only one who speaks with him is the young ‘un, a devout Christian. However, Junior’s naivete and religiosity, prevents him from fully appreciating this opportunity. At first, he doesn’t realize he’s talking with him. And later, when he does, instead of pitching their product, all the novice talks about is Jesus. Spacey, upon learning about this, remarks sarcastically,

“Did you mention perhaps what line of industrial lubricants Jesus would have endorsed?”

The kid cannot understand why Spacey is so angry at his actions, since to him Jesus is infinitely more important than industrial lubricants. Finally with arguments leading to fisticuffs blamed on “the lateness of things,” Spacey leaves the room. And after a fairly intense monologue by DeVito, the neophyte has some kind of epiphany.

As is evident in the language and the setting, the film is quite American in spirit, and that makes it somewhat specific in its appeal. This is not entirely a bad thing, in my opinion, since if you can understand the cultural references, then through them, the universal themes the writer was trying to touch upon become clear. And I think very few people are spared exposure to American culture these days. Some might view “American culture” as an oxymoron, but that’s for another post.

A nice bonus to movie, I thought, is the soundtrack to the closing credits. This, it turns out, is read verbatim by Lee Perry from a column written in the Chicago Trbune by Mary Schmich, and mixed and put to a beat by none other than Baz Lurhmann (of Moulin Rouge! and Romeo+Juliet fame). The result is a song called Everybody’s Free (to wear sunscreen) and it starts off with:

Ladies and gentleman of the Class of ‘97. Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

What’s the advice? Well, it includes things like:

Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.

And:

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.

Well, perhaps it’s because it’s one in the a.m., or because I’m a sucker for these kinds of things, but I thoroughly enjoyed them. If you’re interested, the entire lyrics can be found here and the story behind the song is here.

Apart from the closing credits, the movie is filled with some excellent quotations, including the one at the top of this post - a mantra for grad students, perhaps. More movie quotes can be found here. I’ll end with something that Danny DeVito tells Peter Facinelli (the kid) towards the end of the movie:

“It doesn’t matter whether you’re selling Jesus or Buddha or civil rights or ‘How to Make Money in Real Estate With No Money Down.’ That doesn’t make you a human being; it makes you a marketing rep. If you want to talk to somebody honestly, as a human being, ask him about his kids. Find out what his dreams are - just to find out, for no other reason. Because as soon as you lay your hands on a conversation to steer it, it’s not a conversation anymore; it’s a pitch. And you’re not a human being; you’re a marketing rep.”

The marketing rep in me is telling you to watch the movie.