Tyson

“It’s like a Greek tragedy. Only I’m the subject.” Those were Mike Tyson's first words after seeing James Toback's movie for the first time. The two have known each other since 1985 and sat down to shoot a heartbreaking documentary of the Mike Tyson of old and the Mike Tyson of now. It was a highly personal experience for sure, you can feel it in every word that comes out of Tyson's mouth, as well as in every frame shot by Toback. The film is a must see for boxing fans and regular people alike.

I must admit I have always been interested in the enormous fascination caused by Mike Tyson. It's easy to see why that happened after watching this movie. What I find much harder is the meaning behind this modern Greek tragedy. What can Mike Tyson's life story teach us? What went wrong? What could have been prevented? Was there really any hope for him, or was he really doomed from the beginning?

 

The public perception of Mike Tyson is that of an animal, a monster unleashed upon the world, a demon spreading havoc everywhere around him. The gentle Tyson is virtually a complete unknown. Few people realize the huge depth of his persona, the incredible emotional range he is capable of. The roller coaster ride his life was is our best proof of that. He is textbook bipolar, that's true. But that can't be all there is to it. Think for a moment that Lennox Lewis was born in Mike Tyson's place. Would things have been the same? For some time I was tempted to think that Mike Tyson was a real life character from Coen's Fargo, and some time I still think that there's just a lot of randomness that brought him along this path so far. There is nothing to learn from this except that life is sometimes cruel and people succumb eventually to the evil around them - there's simply nothing to do about that and you have to accept it as it is. Life can kick you around like a piece of trash, pay attention to that! Is that everything we can learn from Tyson's story?

I think there's more to it. I think Mike Tyson might have been the most highly sensitive persons to have ever walked the face of our planet. All this man needed in his life was love - simple, true, unconditional love - and he needed a lot of it. He never received it, not from his parents who abandoned him, not from Cus who saved him from the streets only to turn him into a ferocious animal, not from the women in his life and most certainly not from the bloodthirsty public who managed to drive him to the point of believing he doesn't deserve it. Tyson had to fell into the lowest of lows in order to receive a breadcrumb of compassion, he had to become a ghost of his former self, an emotional and physical wreck in order to be seen as a human being. Could Tyson have done anything to prevent this? No. Could it have been prevented? Yes. This is the lesson we need to learn. Most of us are born with thick skin, we are not that sensitive, but there are people in this world that are more fragile than the most. They might hide behind huge muscles and intimidating looks, behind fake self confidence and arrogance sometimes. Pay attention to them, try to see each and every person for what they are, because there is a little bit of good in everyone. And sometimes there is a lot of good that just needs a little help to be revealed.

Dennis

I stumbled upon Dennis by accident. The 18 minute short film by Danish director Mads Matthiesen made it's way into the 2007 Sundance Festival, but I only discovered it by chance in 2009. It tells the story of this huge professional body-builder, Dennis, who is strongly attached to his mother and has his first date - at least in a long while - with a girl he saw at his gym. It's now freely available on youtube, so you can watch it right here:

Let's start from Mads Matthiesen himself. "I’ve only made films that I really feel for. I prefer to focus on the story and the characters – letting technique be secondary. So, you never know what other people will get out of them, or whether they will like what they see", he said. The first reaction after watching Dennis is almost instant compassion for this gentle giant, in each and every viewer. I think it's triggered by this huge unstoppable looking man, this imposing presence that fills every frame, being in such a powerful contrast with his inability to fit in, his social powerlessness. It's important to take into account that this is an internal process for him. The girls like him, more importantly Patricia likes him, but it's his own insecurity of being treated like nothing more than piece of meat, of not being good enough, that causes him to flee. He takes his time before getting home, and at this point you can't help but see a little schoolboy walking home with his bike.

A central piece in defining Dennis is his relationship with his parents. Yes, both of them. Even if his father is physically missing from their lives, his presence is always felt. Do the sons bear the sins of the fathers or not? Although undeservingly so - as always, in this case they do. The constant threat of one day turning into his alcoholic father is one of the key inhibiting factors in our hero's life. The father's menacing ghost is kept around the house by his mother, and mainly not because she's trying to control Dennis, but because she could never get over him. The mother still loves him and never ceased to, and is precisely this the reason she is so controlling and so attached to Dennis, way beyond a normal mother and son relationship. She projects two different types of love over Dennis, to the point of drowning him and inhibiting his development, like a gardener that waters his flowers too much.

In the end, I think that even if we all should feel sorry for Dennis, but at the same time we should also be glad for him. Although emotionally scarred, Dennis retains deep inside his soul the pureness and essence of a child. Few people manage to reach adulthood without losing their inner child and the goodness in their heart. Like the director says, "That’s what love is or ought to be – daring to stand by your own fragility.” And who is more fragile than a child?

The Beach

Right now, I want to catch some sun on a beach. A beach that's on an island. In the Pacific. There's no one else on that island except me and a native 18-year-old Lomilomi masseuse also specialized in grill cooking and fresh fruit cocktails. Also fishing. A single story hut and a huge hammock are the only man-made accommodations on the island. There's music playing in the background and it is good music that, strangely, I've never heard before in my life. It's precisely the kind of music I wanted to listen to. I think I want the water to be deep blue and I also want a four meters tall waterfall somewhere on the island. There are lots of small wild animals, but most importantly there are birds. Lots and lots of strange and vividly painted birds that sing each one in their own magically delicate language. For a moment I wish I was the Noam Chomsky of birds. I would've liked to know what each and every one of them told to the others and how exactly they did it, but not today. Today they are musical instruments, organic and with a mind of their own.

Thor, my five years old dogue de Bordeaux, sits near the hammock enjoying the shade and struggling to crack open a coconut. I've never tried to feed him coconuts before, of course, but my instincts tell me he's the right guy for the job.There are also two cats. One is a Norwegian Forest Cat, the other a Blue Russian. I think I'll name them Tom and Jerry, since they are chasing each other all day long anyway. I don't think I remember ever seeing a cat playing on a beach, but today I am. They look clumsy.

I spend my days eating fruits and grilled fish - half of them being of species unknown yet to modern science - sunbathing and swimming in the ocean. Then there's the massage, the waterfall showers, playing with the cats, playing with Thor, listening to the birds, more swimming and more sunbathing. There are no TV sets, no radio, no internet, no newspapers. I've grown a full beard and I only brought with me one t-shirt that I'm not wearing at all. I'm constantly switching between L'Île mystérieuse and Lord of the Flies. A story of grown men written for the children and a story of children written for grown men. I wonder if it might have been the same island.

It's night now and I fall asleep in my hammock along with the two cats sitting hugging to my left. I quickly lose consciousness and I start wondering trough the island's forest. It is early morning in this dream, and I walk along a trail I don't remember existing before. Some thirty yards away I notice a tall fat man walking towards me.  He looks happy, even radiant, having this huge smile on his face. I can't tell what his age is for some strange reason, he could be anywhere between twenty and eighty years old, but I have a feeling he is the kind of man you could have a wonderful conversation with . We meet in the middle of the trail and I see the two cats rubbing their heads against him with affection. I don't know what to say now, but before things could get awkward he asks in the warmest voice possible: "Do you like ... pie?"

This is serious

I wanted to create my own blog for at least five years. But being a part-time ninja and lazy prevented me from starting one. Until now!