American Beauty - the flying plastic bag

After writing about "My life on the clothes-line" I came across the famous "flying plastic bag" scene from the movie "American Beauty" from 1999 directed by Sam Mendes and written by Alan Ball.

There are many interpretations whether the film is a mystery story, a kaleidoscopic journey through American suburbia, a series of love stories or whether it deals with loneliness and beauty. Many of the scenes are about life in general and deals with issues such as hate, anger and frustration. And it is sometimes hard to figure out whether it is a funny drama or a serious comedy.

But the reason it is mentioned here is that from my point of view, one of the main messages of the film is to show that even in situations of utterly ugliness, there is beauty in everything - even if it at first sight looks insignificant, meaningless or boring. In this perspective even an inharmonious plastic bag floating and dancing in the wind above a parking lot in front of a wall on a cold gray day becomes beautiful. As the plastic bag is representing the real value of life and beauty, so are the swing patterns of the clothes-line a kind of carrier wave at which I in the end find my personal resonance in order to bring everything into better harmony.

In the film Ricky recognizes the beauty of everyday life in small things and shoots a video of as much as he can in fear of missing it. The scene with the flying plastic bag is what he considers the most beautiful thing he has ever captured. He tells Jane that the dancing plastic bag got him to realize that there is "an entire life behind things" and he feels that "sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it ... and my heart is going to cave in".
 
Take a look at the flying plastic bag scene with Ricky and Jane...

My life on the clothes-line

Autumn has arrived bringing rain and windy weather, and stripping the trees of their foliage. I also feel the winds coming from shifting directions and the increasingly rougher climate. I have got the feeling that my life is put on display to the eyes of everyone and that it may be subjected to scrutiny and analysis from any point of view by the whole world including myself. I feel like a piece of laundry dangling from side to side on the clothes-line, constantly being tossed about by the winds, desperately trying not to lose my grip of the line which is snarling at me and hurting my palms, but nevertheless is my loyal traveling companion.

The uncertain prospects for the future mingled with the most likely well-intended and meaningful opinions of many people about what would be good for me and my future together with my own imaginative attempts to gather the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that forms my life are jostling me in every direction, to and from in inharmonious figures. Systems like storms blowing from all directions are trying to control me by tearing me off the clothes-line and blow me in the same direction as everything else torn off the line. They make me flutter in a way that passes my comprehension, from time to time making my body assume acrobatic positions which may make the observer wonder if the man hanging from the clothes-line is out of his mind. "Well, he probably does not belong to our group, but might be one of these people who wastes his time on drying!" they seem to think while hurriedly passing by in their own world.

I am growing thin-skinned and my resistance is failing by the numerous attempts at blowing me off the line. If I lose my grip I will fall onto the fence which is just in front of it – this clothes-line which is snarling and hurting me, but nevertheless constitutes my life line right now; the same on which I am cautiously crawling in calm weather. My considerable ability to change direction and turn my back on the rain when it becomes too much, and my face to the sun when it appears on rare occasions in autumn, weakens or even disappears in the chilly nights.

Now and then, when the wind falls and the sun is shining, I may collect all my energies and actually be able to swing the line; all the washing is gamboling while I have risen so high up in the air that I can look over the fence. When I am up there my view is extended. I see life and possibilities and even though it is chilly, I feel an inner warmth and optimism – I have the sensation of being my usual self again.

I perceive reality as a need to be myself from time to time on the clothes-line. To be myself and not being afraid of drying on my own conditions – and to be able to define my own swing pattern and to find my personal resonance in order to bring it into better harmony. I realize with growing clarity the importance – as well as the necessity – of finding my proper wind direction so that I avoid being sacrificed, chafed and numb from hanging on the clothes-line, and, finally, blown off. If somebody would help me, this is where I require assistance. Then I will be able to lose my hold of the line and climb down safely to the ground, land on both feet and stand firm.