There comes a point when you just need to give up the ghost. When you have nobody left to love and nothing left to prove, what’s left? Your body is rotten and your pain is endless. Just let go. There will be no repercussions for leaving. God is dead. We ate him.
The Revenant is a story about the human spirit. And humans are the worst. Our spirit is driven by anger and revenge. When the only purpose in your life is taken away, the insatiable need to murder those deemed responsible will be the only thing to keep you moving forward. The human spirit sucks. Wouldn’t it just be better to let go and be swallowed into infinity?
The moment a grizzly bear breaks my limbs, tears gaping holes into my back and rips my throat open I’m just going to say, “Peace. I’m out.” Well, I suppose it’ll be more of a gurgle. And I guess I might not be ready to leave yet. I suppose having a son might cause me to push forward and survive. But the moment he’s horrifically murdered in front me while my crippled body lays helpless? I’m done. See ya.
Maybe that’s what’s missing. I need a son. If I have a child maybe then I’ll understand the will to survive. A son will anchor me to this mortal existence. A son will force me to believe in God. How can someone I love so much be gone forever? Of course he’s gone to a better, infinite existence. He isn’t gone forever.
Or maybe I really died in that spectacular bear assault, or even earlier in the mind-blowing opening battle. Maybe everything that came after is the fever dream of a dead man. That would explain the plethora of weird glitches in the otherwise perfect and natural reality.
I began to see herds of weird blurry animals. Their fur and movement were so off-putting I was sure I’d entered a dream state. Or how about when all the indigenous people started talking like ventriloquists? Words would come out of their throat but their lips would barely twitch. What I witnessed wasn’t real. A higher being was trying to trick me into thinking everything was alive and beating.
I really must be dead.
But then why does my journey keep going on and on and on and on and on? Why are their so many similar shots of trees? Why are there so many delusions within this delusion? Why all the unnecessary repetition to prolong the torture my existence? My body has been destroyed. My soul has been crushed. My heart has been broken. My skin has been peeled back. All of my blood has been shed.
Survival is such an ugly, terrible thing. What’s the point?