So, season three of this blog starts next week. I’m
going to kick things off with a Man of Steel week. I have watched this film
three times – that is over £30 damn pounds...gone. But I loved every second of
it. After each sitting I felt like I had watched something special – but also
the more I watched it, the more emotional I got.
For me, I think the emotional core of Man of Steel rests
with the fathers, especially Russell Crowe’s Jor-El. Every time I watched the
beginning sequence or when Jor-El’s essence appears in the fortress of
solitude, I couldn’t help but think of my own late father and what I would give
just to have one last conversation with him.
...
My dad died of cancer the week I turned 18. I wasn’t particularly
close to him – I was in awe of him and scared of him. Also, in truth,
at 18 I wasn’t the most mature of people, I wasn’t interested in anything particularly
serious such as school, religion, what my future held or my own heritage. The
only thing my father and I ever bonded over was Formula 1, films and, to my
every-lasting gratitude, Arsenal Football Club.
And then he got a brain tumour. I can safely say that the
next 2 years after my mother told me and my sisters the news about our father
were the worst of my life. I closed him and my family out so I wouldn’t have to
face up to the truth that he was dying. In fact the only meaningful
conversation I had with my Pa after he was diagnosed involved me making him
promise that he wouldn’t die. There isn’t a single moment in my life I regret
more than that one.
So he died. But at his funeral I remember being captivated
by these stories of my father’s life that I had never heard before. Amazing
stories. I heard about how at an early age he went to do manual work in
Mozambique to help his family out. I heard about how he was even smarter than I
realised at school. My mum told me stories about how they got together, how he
reacted when all of us kids were born and how he sacrificed his career as an
account to work in the NHS so we could stay in the country.
Of course the next couple of years were difficult for the
whole family but every problem I had, I couldn’t help but wanting to speak to
my father about it. I wanted to ask him about women mostly and was desperate to
know more about Malawi and his childhood. I remember coming out of university
and being unemployed for a hell of a long time and thinking what I wouldn’t give
to have the advice of my dad. But in reality the reason why it took me so long
to accept my dad’s death was guilt – mainly guilt about not knowing him well enough
and not asking him all these questions I had in mind when he was alive. I had a lot of
growing up to do (I still do) and felt like I had no guide.
So the brooding Clark went through absolutely resonated with
me. This is why I ignore the criticism of the film being too dark and miserable
because to me it makes absolute sense. Parents are bloody important to
understanding a lot about yourself when you’re a human being – they must be
vital when you are an alien.
...
I think Man of Steel is a remarkable film and I am finding
it fascinating reading the mixed reviews it is getting. I hope the film makers
are just as bold with their vision in the sequel and they don’t compromise.
Anyway, next week we have three great guest posts on the film so
make sure you check them all out.
