Infamous

Today I finally watched Infamous. I haven't gotten around to watching Capote yet, but that will come.

It was so interesting to me to watch the details of a story I knew only marginally, and to learn. I think the movie did justice to the people - the raw humans - it was depicting. It put a face to the killers, as stories are wont to do. But it affected me.

I always have identified with the villains of almost any story. I wonder if it's got anything to do with the fact that I often label myself as wicked or odd or peculiar. At any rate, I seem to have the ability to see things from the baddy's point of view right off. With Little House on the Prairie I always empathized and sympathized with Mrs. Oleson - of COURSE she acted the way she did! She had goals and desires just like everyone, but her methods were unorthodox, and didn't fit in with the rest of Walnut Grove society. She was a business woman - why should she NOT be shrewed, and demanding. She wanted attention and position in a place where no one cared much for that - of course she would seem overblown, and her efforts useless. Yes, she could have just acted the same as the other women, and they would naturally accept her, but that was not HER! Her personality was different! To her, things made utter sense the way she did them. I was always glad that she had a remarkably understanding husband.

Disney movies have been the same. With the exception of Gaston, I've always been able to see and value the goals, methods and motives of the villains. Ursula, Hades, Jafar, Maleficent. I don't say they were right but I understand them.

This applies to all stories, not just film. I guess I'm just unusally empathetic.

And it applied again today, to the story of Truman Capote and the killers he met in jail. The film, the book, perhaps even real life put a human face onto an inhuman act. By the end of the film, when the two men were hung, I burst into tears at their deaths. I know that the characters and their real-life counter parts killed 4 innocent people. I know. But I cried for the two men who were killed in punishment, too. And while I sat there dripping onto the throw pillow, I asked myself what I was crying for - loss? emotional investment? waste? I'm not sure.

The movie did its job. I was moved. I cried for the killers, just like when I cried for Jeffry Dahmer. It's easy to say it's just because I'm wicked too, but I honestly think it's because I've a tender heart, no matter what facade I put up.