Revisiting Running With Scissors
Once in a while I see a movie, this time in a theater, and instantly know I want to see it again. I need to see it again. A clear line separates before movie and after movie life. It leaves an imprint on my mind and psyche. I need to watch it over and over along with listening to the soundtrack. Music in movies isn’t always prioritized. When chosen thoughtfully scenes shimmer and emotional resonance is more powerful and palpable. This is how I felt, and still do, about Running with Scissors.
This memoir by Augusten Burroughs, Running with Scissors, first intrigued me on the shelf of the gone, but not forgotten, Borders book shelf. Like all visual creatures, the book cover intrigued me but the story was juicier. A “crazy” family drama centered around a doctor/ therapist who forever changes Augusten and his life. It was too good for my imaginative teenage brain. I ingested it rapidly like cotton candy never getting full and craving more; escapism at its finest. My life seemed impossibly dull in comparison. I had the boring, stable family life Augusten wanted. I lived vicariously through him while thumbing through the pages.
When the movie came out, a few years later, I saw it. Unlike most film adaptations, the movie stayed true to the book in spirit even if every detail couldn't be given screen time. I loved it. I hadn't heard most of the songs before but they worked seamlessly to direct action and emotion. Annette Benning rose to the top of my best actress list from this performance. I'd never seen someone deftly slipping in and out of the various moods of Augusten's unstable mother, Deidre.
The faux audience clapping in “Benny and the Jets” when Augusten's father is unceremoniously leaving and then for their arrival at the doctor's house. The saxophone preempting the cries of frustration echoing through several different characters from “Year of the Cat”, all in anguish. The folksy but earnest twang of “Teach Your Children Well” while the character profiles show the audience what happened to the real people these actors inhabited.
The nefarious undertones laid bare in Nat King Cole's “Stardust” while Neil stalks up the stairs with scissors to harm the doctor who adopted him. Earlier talking to Augusten, he remarks the only way the doctor found to calm him during his rage attacks is playing soothing music with the Nat King Cole song stated explicitly. This song does have a haunting beauty juxtaposed with the impending doom shown onscreen. Nothing happens to the doctor but everyone feels wounded just the same as the household surrounds him at his bed as Neil stalks into the night.
Before rewatching the movie I listened to the soundtrack on Spotify because of course someone made this playlist just for me. When the movie was released in theaters, I tried to track down these songs via Limewire, RIP, and some of them remained elusive. As I went through this playlist, the songs remained steeped in those long ago emotions from the film even if I couldn't remember the exact scene. Alone they are fine but together become elevated and help deliver emotional wallops throughout the film.
Poetry and writing is sprinkled throughout the film. The best poetry reading comes from the most disturbed person in the film, Neil, mostly through his delivery than anything else. Everyone in the reading group reels backwards with his first word basically screamed from someone masquerading as timid. I’m surprised I didn’t try to write poetry after watching this movie the first time. Even then I knew somehow the poetry wasn’t great.
I almost winced when Fern, played by Kristen Chenoweth, reads her poem about flowers devoid of metaphor and solely about flowers. Another great aspect of Annette Benning’s portrayal of Deidre is her caustic wit and one liners. She tells Fern her poem sucks. “When Anne Sexton writes about flowers she isn’t writing about the goddamned flowers!”, she shouts at her fellow poetry group members. She ends the scene with a more subdued, “Get the rage on the page, ladies.”
If Deidre wasn’t mentally ill and delusional she would be my hero. She still is in the sense that her character nudged me towards my own writing. If she could write so could I. I had a habit of consuming movies and books about writers even if I didn’t notice. I was exploring the possibilities of writing as a hobby and maybe more one day. On one level it validated my writing impulses but I was still unsure. I didn’t embark on my greatest writing endeavor at the time until after I graduated from college.
I wrote to fill the gap between graduation and my leap into the adult working world. In the meantime I wrote a book. I accomplished something most people never will. Not even publishing a book but writing words on the page consistently and coming out the other side with a complex story. It might not be the best and I might never publish it but I have tangible proof of my endeavor. In some small way I’m sure Augusten Burroughs and his story inspired me to keep writing. Running with Scissors will always be special to me.
