The Forgotten: How Certain is Certitude?

This review was published originally on cinekklesia on September 20, 2005.

If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does.

James 1:5-8, NIV

I was pleasantly surprised by Joseph Ruben's The Forgotten (2004). Contrary to what some may think, I am not a movie snob; I can enjoy Hollywood popcorn fare as much as anyone. (I just can't enjoy bad Hollywood fare.) While The Forgotten is by no means a work of cinematic brilliance, it's a good escape and relatively harmless fun. Save it for a Friday evening after a long, tiring week.

In our movie, Julianne Moore plays Telly Paretta, a married, well-to-do woman in New York City who is grieving the loss of her son, Sam, who died in a plane crash 14 months prior. When we meet her, it appears that she is making emotional progress, spending less time going through her late son's paraphernalia and returning to her freelance editing gig. However, when she finds out that someone, perhaps her husband Jim (Anthony Edwards), has removed all of her son's photos from the house, she has a breakdown; after all, only a heartless scoundrel would think that removing all evidence of one's deceased child is an appropriate step in the healing process. There is just one problem: Jim didn't remove those photos.

Apparently, Telly has paramnesia, which, according to The Free Dictionary, is "a distortion of memory in which fantasy and objective experience are confused" (accessed 19 September 2005). Both Jim and her psychiatrist, Jack Munce (Gary Sinise), inform Telly that her son never existed. She had a miscarriage and experienced a subsequent trauma so severe that she imagined nine years' worth of motherhood and took those imaginations for lived experience.

Sound implausible? We soon discover that Dr. Munce's diagnosis is woefully incorrect. Telly meets up with Ash Correll (Dominic West), whose daughter was killed in the same plane crash as Sam. He, too, was informed that he mistook an imaginary child for the real thing. While he initially believes his diagnosis, he begins suspecting, at Telly's encouragement, that something is afoot. When both Telly and Ash start getting chased by agents of the National Security Agency (NSA), we then confirm that the paramnesia is merely a ruse for a much larger conspiracy. Is the government conducting secret experiments on children? Are other entities, even more powerful and secretive than the NSA, involved? [Enter sinister music here.]

Yes, it's a bit silly. As I said, The Forgotten is nothing more than Hollywood popcorn fluff. However, not only can it entertain a weary mind looking for an unchallenging aesthetic experience, it also raises an interesting issue. The reason why The Forgotten has any plot at all is due to Telly's insistence that her son not only existed but that he could still be alive. Despite opposition from friends and family, despite her diagnosis from a member of the psychiatric establishment, she refuses to cave in to the majoritarian tyranny seeking to enslave her mind.

What remains vague, however, is the source of Telly's certitude. How did she know that her son was not a mere figment of imagination? How could she be so certain that everyone else was wrong? Near the end of the movie, Joseph Ruben stumbles around for an explanation. Perhaps the reason is primordial and biological: The mother-and-child bond, after all, is supposedly tough to break. Yet, how can one explain the fact that Telly seems to be the only one who continues to remember when all of the other parents accept the diagnosis of paramnesia? Maybe Telly is a special mother. Or perhaps she's the prototypical mother, the best mother, the Platonic ideal of motherhood.

Such explanations sound sloppy because they are. The Forgotten simply provides no good reason for Telly's powers of recollection or her steadfast resolve in the face of opposition. The only answer is tautological: Through sheer force of will, she believes because she wants to believe.

Unfortunately, outside of The Forgotten, such tautology proves intellectually and spiritually unsatisfying. I am not here talking about Big Matters of Faith, like belief in God, the divinity of Jesus, or the authority of Scripture. Nor am I talking about minute epistemological questions worthy of late-night undergraduate discussions ("so when a tree falls in the forest and nobody's around..."). Rather, I'm talking about those questions that fall in the middle, the questions regarding God's specific will for our lives, the ones that may not have direct, obvious answers in Scripture.

Take the aforementioned quote from James. It's pretty scary. If I pray for wisdom, then should I believe the first thing that pops into my head after I say "Amen"? If I pray for wisdom regarding how I use the resources God has given me and then immediately think of a BMW, then should I purchase a BMW? Am I merely following the Word — or am I gaming the system? (For the record, God has made it clear that my purchasing a BMW would be a very bad decision on several levels, including financial.)

On a more serious note, is any meditation on the myriad of thoughts floating around in my brain mere proof that I am a doubter, "a double-minded man, unstable in all he does"? Is any meditation on whether God "truly" is calling me to do X proof that I am just ignoring my conscience or eschewing the Holy Spirit? And how does 1 John fit into this:

Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world. This is how you can recognize the Spirit of God: Every spirit that acknowledges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, but every spirit that does not acknowledge Jesus is not from God. This is the spirit of the antichrist, which you have heard is coming and even now is already in the world (4:1-3, NIV).

Unfortunately, a meditation on such questions requires more space than a movie review can provide. Suffice it to say that The Forgotten, while entertaining, takes no interest in probing the issue of certitude. Telly believes simply believes she wants to, but such tautology meets few epistemological standards, Christian or otherwise. I welcome readers' thoughts.