Matthew McConaughey & Lincoln 4
The Philosopher’s Enigma
What a ride so far, right? We’ve really come to get to know this guy (and there are still more from 2014 to review), but did you know he came back to do more in 2019?
Alone, the philosopher is solitary, thoughtful, pensive, maybe even slow.
But, in a room full of people and with the right car, the philosopher is intriguing, mesmerizing, and alluring. How so? Because he has answers. He sees “how things connect.” In the social setting, the philosopher is transformed into a man of mystery. Behold him now:
The scene opens with an aerial shot of a rich home somewhere. It is completely buried by the greenery of this forest. Again, the music is Interstellar-y. There is laughter and the philosopher is heard talking. About what? His mom.
What is this story? At the patio table where he is telling this story, there are exactly EIGHT people captivated by this story. And in front of them all, he is connecting the dots of the elements in his half-story: some background sound, his mom, him calling to his mom, his mom already being there, and him not knowing she is there. Once he has connected the dots in the story, the effect lands, and the people are amazed. Someone’s mind is blown. She audibly gasps.
But, it has been a long night of mom stories, and so the next scene is them entering the house, lots of bustling chatter going on. Entering the house with everyone else, he is having another half-conversation with the same one who was audibly astounded by the mom story.
Now, his contribution to this half-conversation is incomprehensible. Closed captioning won’t even pick it up. But, cranking the volume up on this flash comment, he can be heard saying:
“…is the same reason he…”
Whatever it was that was discussed, we’ll never know; however, we do see the philosopher at work again “connecting the dots.” He has illuminated that maybe something isn’t as complex as it seemed because two disparate things happening are actually connected by the same motive.
To which she responds with, “I think so, too, actually.”
A visionary! He has pointed out the obviousness, and she agrees in the full thoughtfulness: I think so, too.
She is pulled to another conversation by someone, but the philosopher’s eyes are stilled by something in the room they just entered. His gaze deep and approach slowed. What does he see? The enigma.
The camera pulls back. It is him and a pool table. It is a table full of dots to be connected. The pool balls are scattered across oblivion, a pool stick left in dismay from this next impossible shot leans against the table. Who, if anyone, can bring this situation to resolution?
The philosopher acts. He strides to the stick. His movements are quiet but thunderous. Someone from the hallway hears the thunder of his motion and points to him for the others to share in observation.
The philosopher takes aim, summoning his powers, and strikes a single, strange-angle shot somewhat over his shoulder.
“I’ve never seen that before,” says someone from the hallway.
The scene now splits between him leaving the house, alone, him driving, the cue ball swerving between the others, dodging obstacles and weaving its way to tap just one ball at the other end of the table sitting just in front of a corner pocket down.
This is mastery. Not only does he know how to connect the dots, but knows which dots don’t need to be connected. His aim is true; this is clarity in motion.
As the cue ball and car meld into one, the voice echoes again, “I’ve never seen that before.”
This time, he responds. Under his breath, “I have.”
HE’S ALREADY SEEN IT. Of course! The enigma is his play-thing. The master of the universe who can connect the dots with pure control and awareness already knew because that’s his job. That is who he is!
He drives off.
More soon,
Trevor