Where my thought’s escaping
If someone recommended a television program to me with the promise that it explores a platitude as ridiculous as “It’s harder to be left behind than to leave,” my eyes would roll so violently back into my head that they would come out the other end like bullets through my brain. And yet, there I was earlier this week, watching the third season premiere of HBO’s The Leftovers with literal tears in my stupid, misty eyes; moved inexplicably.
To describe The Leftovers in terms of plot would be a disservice. But while it’s not nearly enough to provide the context of its world – one in which two per cent of the world’s population has suddenly and simultaneously disappeared – it’s probably necessary. The show’s foremost theme is, not surprisingly, loss. But it also walks a fine line between life and death; sometimes allegorically; other times literally. Kevin Garvey, the protagonist with the most screen time, spends an episode in purgatory where he must sing at a hotel karaoke bar in order to come back to life. This weird manicured and concocted bit of programming – a parable as much as a drama – should have no right being as emotionally engaging as it is. And yet, it does. When Kevin sings “Homeward Bound,” it’s devastating to both the character and the viewer.
What the show does best, more than any single plotting device, is to present a storyline with enormous stakes that feels deeply personal. Each character in the series is forced to deal with a void, whether it’s the disappearance of a loved one or a mystery that might unlock further understanding; a missing bit of information just as intangible as the people who vanished. And that’s what hits so hard. Watching these scenarios dramatized on the screen forces us to consider the voids in our own lives. It’s no coincidence that the most emotional outpouring on the show occurs in purgatory. The show is about in-between places; swamps and small lakes where footing is never certain. It’s about navigating the distance between our desire for guidance to handle life’s problems and the brutal understanding that our existence is full of elements we cannot control. The Leftovers portrays our struggle to grasp this cruel circumstance so coherently that it strikes something within us.
As cloying as it may sound, it hits the funny bone of our soul. We don’t quite know why we feel the reverberation, but we feel it all the same. Even as it leaks out our damned eyes.