I Don't Believe in One-Way Streets: a.k.a. Why I Didn't Hate the Movie The Soloist

Tracy Jordan once said, "I don't believe in one-way streets. Not between people, and not when I'm driving." Like many other instances in 30 Rock, I noted that this was a pretty clever line and moved on, only to have one of those "OH! That's like this one time on 30 Rock!" moments that drive my friends who've never seen the show up the wall. 

That particular line came back a few weeks ago when I went to see "The Soloist" in theaters. I was really hesitant to see it, because it looked like the usual formulaic, self-righteous story of magnanimous [white] man swoops in to save less-capable and underprivileged [black] man. The story is everywhere- in film, books, and, possibly most irritatingly, in real life.  The era of colonization has ended, but celebrities, entrepreneurs, and governments sail in to "save" African and Asian countries [see my last post on the spread of democracy and the Iraq war]. The movie started out exactly like I feared. LA journalist Steve Lopez (Robert Downey Jr.) sees Julliard-trained cellist Nathaniel Ayers (Jamie Foxx) homeless but playing his two-stringed violin beautifully. He writes a few columns about him, gets a new cello and some cello lessons donated, and is lauded as a hero. Lopez desperately tries to "fix" Nathaniel, and the only ways that he knows to measure his success are by helping/forcing Nathaniel to meet societal benchmarks like keeping his cello in a homeless shelter or living inside an apartment. These changes don't make Nathaniel any happier, and actually further aggravate his schizophrenia. Robbie Oibst on her blog "Joy Dance," puts it nicely: 

In order to help this homeless musical genius, the journalist naturally decides to give him shelter and a way out of his illness through drugs and therapy. But the celloist wants no part.

How many times do each of us seek to "help" someone else by making them into versions of ourselves? Shouldn't everyone want what I have? 

On top of that, due to some kind of combination of Nathaniel's schizophrenia and Lopez's arrogance and holier-than-though attitude, Nathaniel begins to conflate Lopez with God. This extreme situation, thankfully, forced the movie turns around. Nathaniel articulates my concern, though unfortuantely I can't remember the line or find it on the internet. (And I thought you could find anything on the internet!). The gist of it was that although Lopez calls Nathaniel by his first name, Nathaniel calls Lopez "Mr. Lopez," and that that discrepancy shows the inequality in the relationship. The Kansas City Star's review of the film observes that "This Steve Lopez connects with his fellow man at only the superficial level; his friendship with Ayers forces him to depths of concern and commitment with which he is profoundly uncomfortable." 

The film's conclusion is that the best thing Lopez can do for Nathaniel is to be his friend. Not his benefactor or his god, but his friend. Lopez needs someone to listen to him, not someone to "fix him" to conform to a societal expectation. So next time you try to help, stop. The goal is not to help the other person to be more like you, but to be a friend. Come down off your pedestal, shut up, and listen. If you're on a one-way street, make a turn and try to go in a different direction.