Mean Creek: The Fragmented Self

This review was posted originally on cinekklesia on June 19, 2006.

Ever since the Enlightenment, the "self" has been a topic of endless speculation, discussion, and debate among intellectuals. What, exactly, is this thing we call a human? Can humans truly be perceived as "individuals," as atomistic beings who can be treated as sovereign domains unto themselves? Do humans have an intrinsic, individual selfhood that can demand this sovereignty, or are we socially constructed beings whose "self" is merely a facade for the various attributes that come together and form a seemingly coherent "person"?

Jacob Aaron Estes' Mean Creek subtly examines this question of the self, how we construct it, and what happens when we encounter someone whose self doesn't cohere successfully. In the film, we meet up with Sam (Rory Culkin), a small kid who gets beaten up by George (Josh Peck). Sam's older brother, Rocky (Trevor Morgan), and his friend Marty (Scott Mechlowicz) decide that such injustice should not go unchecked; thus, they devise a scheme to invite George to a "birthday outing" in the woods in order to humiliate him (and thus, dissuade him from bullying again).

During their outing, we learn that George's identity and personality are not so easy to pin down. While at the beginning of the movie, we think that he is just some big, stupid, uncontrollable bully, we later learn that in a different context (such as a birthday outing), he can be quite amiable and even generous (he gives a present to his prior victim, Sam). We also learn that George has a learning disability — could that explain some of his aggressive behavior? Does George have a neurological condition that challenges not only his academic performance but also his social skills?

Estes takes a classic plot device—confusing audience members regarding how they "should" feel about a main character—and puts it to good use in Mean Creek. Some of the members of the conspiracy begin to have second thoughts about their plan, and they argue amongst themselves (in hushed tones, apart from George) regarding whether they should go through with it. However, when we think that the kids are going to abandon their plan, George learns the true nature of this "outing" and starts acting up again, showing his "mean" side, the side that initiated the plot in the first place. As such, events begin to unravel from there.

Whether intentionally or not, Estes presents us with a discussion of the self and implies that we are not intrinsically coherent beings, though we put up a good front. Most of the characters in the movie have an "identity" and a "personality" that seem "put together" — whether we like the character or not, we sense that there is a "whole person" there, and we can form a judgment about that person without much trouble. With George, however, we are presented with multiple identities and "presentations of self"[1] that confound us. At one point, he is a thug; at another, he is generous. He is affable in one instance but becomes cruel and rude the next. He seems like he may have some gifts and talents, but then he does something completely inept and embarrassing. We are not sure what to make of him, except to assume that his behavior is a result of some "incomplete" or "faulty" neurological development.

One could argue that George is the proverbial exception that proves the rule. Humans do have whole, coherent selves—as exhibited by the other characters in Mean Creek—and George is merely an outlier: a person who couldn't get his self together due to his disability. However, this argument ignores the very real possibility that the other characters merely do a good job of presenting coherent selves; they, too, are nothing more than a collection of socially constructed attributes. Even if one just focused on neurological characteristics (i.e., George is different not because of anything social, but simply because of his neurological disability), we are still left with an absence of self — after all, if we are just a collection of neurological attributes, then we still lack the holistic coherence, the whole-that-is-greater-than-the-sum-of-its parts, that for centuries has defined the self in Western culture.

Some may criticize this viewpoint and argue that the denial of a coherent self is also a denial of the soul. However, can we not acknowledge that we are creatures of attributes, both social and biological, and that we consciously and unconsciously combine these attributes in our "presentation of self"? Does not the soul, the deepest entity that communes with God, exist in some sense (or in some cases) apart from the myriad ways in which we present ourselves to the world? Is not the denial of coherence also an acknowledgement that we are incomplete creatures who are struggling to find that True Self but who fall woefully short? Is not our supposed coherence merely an attempt to convince ourselves and others that we "have it together," while we secretly know that any catastrophe (or even minor event) can unhinge our carefully constructed identity?

Thus, perhaps the "self" is merely a false coherence, a facade that should be examined with skepticism by Christians. This is not to deny that we each can have a individual relationship with God; however, we also should acknowledge that we are heavily conditioned by biological and social forces, and much of the way we perceive the world is not the result of honest, autonomous investigation, but rather, of our neurological limitations, cultural prejudices, and socio-economic status. In one sense, the reason why the other characters in Mean Creek found George so confusing (and repulsive) is not because he was so different but because his self-presentation (his performance) was so flawed — and thus, so revealing.

Note

[1]This term is borrowed from the title of Erving Goffman's most famous work, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. I have never read this book, nor have I read Goffman's other works, nor do I claim that this review in any way coheres with his ideas. Nevertheless, I suspect that this review has been informed unconsciously by at least some of Goffman's theories since I am married to a sociologist who has studied them. In any case, all responsibility for this review rests with me alone.