Rain Man

Let me begin by saying that I love movies. My husband, two sons, and I usually watch between two and four films each week. I have several flicks that would fall into my list of all time favorites, each with its own significance to me personally, but for the purposes of this blog, I have chosen to write about Rain Man (released on December 16, 1988) starring Dustin Hoffman and Tom Cruise. Not only is it one of the absolute best movies I have ever seen, but there are many different layers to this movie that have touched my heart and continue to resonate with me, year after year.

To those who have not had the pleasure of viewing this brilliant film, it is essentially the story of Charlie Babbitt (played by Tom Cruise), who is shocked to discover upon his father's death that he has an older brother, Raymond (played by Dustin Hoffman). Charlie is very angry that his wealthy father, Sanford Babbitt, did not leave him any money in his will, while Raymond, who is autistic and has no real concept of money, is left $3 million. So, Charlie decides to use Raymond as a bargaining chip for half of their father's estate. He takes Raymond out of the institution where he has been living for many years and brings him on a cross-country trip from Ohio to Los Angeles. What begins as an abduction turns into a journey of inner transformation for Charlie, and it becomes quite an adventure for the long isolated Raymond too. The scenes of their time in Las Vegas are one of the highlights of the film.

As a Special Education teacher, I taught disabled adults for 16 years, many of whom were autistic. I found Dustin Hoffman's portrayal of Raymond Babbitt, an autistic savant, to be astoundingly realistic, down to every detail and nuance. The Academy Award he earned for Best Actor was certainly well deserved for his phenomenal performance in a most difficult role. This film contributed greatly to raising awareness and understanding of autism. In addition to being a Special Education teacher, I am also the mother of two adult sons with autistic spectrum disorders, so I am grateful for this increased awareness. For many in the general public, this was their first introduction to the world of autism. Hopefully, after viewing Mr. Hoffman's moving performance, many people changed their negative perceptions about this condition for the better. Bear in mind though, that most autistic individuals do not possess the types of abilities the character of Raymond has and autistic savants are rare, occurring in approximately 10% of the autistic population, with only 10% of those reaching the same levels of ability as Raymond.

I can identify to some extent with Raymond because I share a few of the same compulsive qualities he displayed, although certainly not to such an extremely obsessive degree where these qualities completely limit my life. Yet, I have enough of my own idiosyncrasies that I can relate to how any compulsion can affect our lives. For better or worse, I have an ability to remember dates and events which is similar to Raymond's, although again, not to such an extreme degree. Also, I see patterns and connections everywhere without making any effort to look for them. It's hard to describe, but they simply appear to me in my mind very clearly. As Raymond says, "I see it."

Raymond's autism isolates him from the world and he protects himself through strict adherence to routines and rituals. His innate talents and vast knowledge are overshadowed by his limited grasp of reality, his extremely poor social skills, and his inability to participate in what the rest of us might consider to be a normal life. I have often struggled with a deep sense of isolation which thankfully, was counterbalanced by my equally deep need for socialization, understanding, and a connection to the world I live in. I wonder how long I might remain in my solitude without that balance and if I could find a similar comfort there to that which Raymond experiences. The thin lines between seclusion, loneliness, and solitude are barely perceptible at times.

There are a number of things that happened to Charlie that I identify with for various reasons. On the surface, I don't have much in common with the fast-talking, impatient, self-absorbed, imported car salesman who uses people and is not interested in their feelings. However, I know that in my teenage years, I was quite the "wild child" so perhaps I might have been perceived to be more shallow and self-centered by those who never took the time to know me. I do understand growing up in a family with repressed anger and secrets, where far too much is hidden ... where what lies in the shadows seeps into the fabric of a family, slowly eating away at it until the fragments that remain become far too fragile to embrace.

I was 23 years old when my father died and Charlie was in his mid-twenties. Charlie was not there when his father died, nor was he even on speaking terms with him. I was the only one of my father's four children he was estranged from when he passed away. Even though I tried to reach him in time, he died before I could arrive at the hospital. There were no final words of reconciliation or comfort ... no last glances ... no last chances ... no goodbyes. It has been one of the most painful regrets I have ever had to live with. Yet, when one of my precious twin sons lay dying in the NICU at 6 weeks of age, I believe this is why I found the strength to hold his tiny, frail body in my arms until his heart stopped beating and he took his final breath. No matter how heart wrenching, I could not allow another loved one to die without being present at the very end.

At the reading of Sanford Babbitt's will, Charlie is bequeathed his father's beloved 1949 Buick Roadmaster and his prize winning hybrid rose bushes. Charlie becomes furious about this, but I remember thinking when I saw that scene how much it would have meant to me to be left anything at all by my father, especially to be left items which were important to him. Turns out I wasn't even mentioned in his will at all which did not make me angry, but hurt me and, in my mind, confirmed my longtime belief that he thought very little of me. Naturally, this was painful for a long time, but is now all part of a deeper understanding of the situation. People don't always live long enough to work through their issues and improve their relationships with loved ones, but the relationship itself always lives on in the survivor, consciously or unconsciously. Therefore, the hope remains that at least one person can come to terms with the reality of what was and choose to move forward through forgiveness, love, and acceptance.

Charlie had no idea that he had an older brother. To share the same father and the same last name is no small thing. Being denied the opportunity to grow up knowing all of your family, all of your siblings, is to be robbed of an important part of yourself. I have personal knowledge of this because I only became fully cognizant of my own older siblings when I was a teenager. I totally identify with Charlie when he says, "You know, I just don't understand. Why didn't he tell me I had a brother? Why didn't anyone ever tell me that I had a brother?"

Early in the film you learn that Charlie has a distant memory of a figure he called "Rain Man" who used to sing to him when he was very little. A turning point in the movie comes when Charlie finally realizes that Raymond is actually the "Rain Man" from his childhood and his heart softens towards his older brother. I must have been aware on some level that I had older siblings, yet this never fully settled into my consciousness until age 15 when I came across some of my father's legal papers while searching in a drawer for my birth certificate. I clearly remember certain things almost jumping off the pages at me ... my father's divorce from his first wife ... two children ... a house in Queens, etc. How could I not have known about all of this? Simply put, the family I grew up in was filled with secrets and I learned at a very young age not to ask questions. My curiosity was tethered to a very short leash which was always held in a tightly clenched heart. I learned to fear the answers and reactions I might receive, which transferred into a fear of asking questions in the first place.

On the surface, Rain Man has very little to do with me. Yet the story itself and certain scenes within the movie relate very closely to portions of my life. There were times in the film that Charlie had a look on his face or an inflection in his voice that I have such empathy for and fully comprehend. I find this to be a very touching film that echoes my belief in the power of family and the importance of acceptance. Younger brother Charlie's transformation through his efforts to establish a connection with his previously unknown older brother, Raymond, is especially poignant. One of my favorite lines in the movie is towards the end when Charlie says to the psychiatrist reviewing Raymond's case, "You have to understand that when we started out together, he was only my brother in name. And ... and this morning, we had pancakes." Shared experiences, even with people vastly different than ourselves, become learning opportunities and create memories upon which we can build bonds and forge relationships. These experiences are like planting seeds which can blossom and grow into something more than we could ever imagine if they are nurtured by caring and compassionate souls.

I see many personal touchstones and synchronicities in this film, from the very small (Charlie's girlfriend was named Susanna and I am Susan) to far larger issues such as family dynamics and the yearning to make a connection with someone under the most difficult of circumstances. My appreciation for this movie is deepened by the close affinity I share with my two sons who have autistic spectrum disorders and the amazing individuals I had the privilege of teaching during the years I spent in my profession. This movie provides much insight into the world of autism, which not only shapes the life of the autistic person, but all those who love and care about them as well.

Our inner universe is filled with minutia and within the infinitesimal aspects of endless details, our minds and hearts dwell in a place that only we are fully acquainted with. Spoken language falls short when trying to explain our true selves and only the sharing of experiences and feelings can come close to expressing what lies beyond words. However, once in a while, a movie comes along that speaks for us and resonates with us on such a personal level that we are forever attached to it. For me, Rain Man is such a movie.


Susan68
Age 54
email: STPitcher@aol.com
Sunrise, FL 33323 USA