Part 26 (1/2)
GREG.
We tried this, uh, complicated stop-motion, uh, animation thing, to get you fired up about beating cancer, but, uh. It ended up just really goofy and, uh, not what we wanted.
EARL.
So, now we're, uh, trying this.
BOTH.
[garbled]
GREG.
You go.
EARL.
Naw, you go.
GREG.
Just go.
EARL.
slowly, somehow painfully Uh . . . All right. Uh. You probably don't understand how grateful I am to have gotten to know you. Because first of all, the odds of that happening, normally, would be very low, because, speaking perfectly honestly, we don't travel in the same circles, you and me. So it feels like . . . a blessing, to have had you in my life these past few weeks.
I admire a lot of things about you. I admire how smart you are, how perceptive, and observant. But, uh. What I'm just really in awe of, is your, uh, I don't know how to put it. I guess, your patience. If it was me, I would be angry, and miserable, and, and hurtful, and just terrible to be around. And you've been so strong throughout, and so patient, even when things aren't going right, and I'm in awe of that. And you've made me feel, uh, blessed.
finis.h.i.+ng, husky-voiced So, uh, yeah.
How the f.u.c.k was I supposed to follow that.
The basic problem was, Earl meant everything he said, and I couldn't say the same stuff without lying. Because Earl is just a better person than me. I don't want to sound like a melodramatic jacka.s.s, but that's the truth. I was pretty sure I couldn't say anything sensitive, and rea.s.suring, and touching, without it being a lie.
EARL (CONT'D) choked up and now sort of angry Your turn.
Was Rachel inspiring to me? Did I really think she was smart, and perceptive, and patient, and everything else? No. I'm sorry. Look: I feel terrible. I wish that getting to know her had been this big inspiring life-improving thing. I really do. I know that's what's supposed to happen. But it didn't.
EARL (CONT'D) Dude. It's your turn.
So what was I supposed to say? The truth?
EARL (CONT'D) punching Greg in the arm Your turn, jacka.s.s.
GREG.
Right. Right right. Uh. The main reason we made this video is, uh. We want you to get better. And, uh. Look. The thing is: I know you can get better. I know you're strong enough, and, uh. Yeah. I just wanted to tell you. Uh. I believe in you.
talking maybe a little too much now And that's, uh, I realize now, that's why we wanted to make a film. To tell you that we believe in you.
just really driving the lie home at this point And that's why we, uh, made the film.
I spent an entire weekend listening to myself say ”we believe in you,” and wanting to punch myself in the face. Because it was such an obvious lie. If we really believed in Rachel, we wouldn't be rus.h.i.+ng to make this film before she died. Plus, I mean, why the h.e.l.l would we believe in her? She didn't even believe in herself. She told me point-blank she thought she was going to die. She was stopping treatment and going home and waiting for the inevitable. Who were we to argue with that?
At the same time, there wasn't really anything else to say.
Mom walked into the computer room late Sunday night.
”Honey.”
”Oh, hey.”
”Are you still working on the movie for Rachel?”
”Yeah.”
”How's it going.”
”'Sgoing fine.”
”Oh honey. Shhhhh.”
”'Sfine.”
”Shhhhhhhh.”
”h hurnk.”
”It's hard to lose a friend.”
”Tha , at's, snot it.”
”It's hard, honey.”
”That's not , n not , , it.”
”Shhhh.”
Rachel the Film (dir. G. Gaines and E. Jackson, 2011). This film, a loose homage to leukemia victim Rachel Kushner, is perhaps most noteworthy for its confusing mishmash of styles, incorporating doc.u.mentary footage, confessionals, stop-motion animation, and puppetry in what can only be thought of as a huge mess. In fact, directors Gaines and Jackson begin the film with a grainy, pixilated apology to Rachel herself, admitting that the film is badly organized and basically incoherent. After that comes a pastiche of awkward well-wishes from high school students and teachers, sock puppets. .h.i.tting each other, LEGO characters with incomprehensible accents, poorly scanned photos of Kushner's childhood, and other absurdist one-offs with extremely limited relevance to the subject matter. The weepy, melodramatic conclusion, again featuring the directors, is frankly unwatchable. It is, however, a fitting end to what is almost certainly the worst film ever made.
The last time I talked to Rachel, she had seen Rachel the Film a few times, and I wasn't sure how to talk to her about it. She was in bed, as usual, but not wearing her hat. She sounded the same as ever: kind of scraggly-voiced and congested in the nose. It occurred to me for the first time that that's maybe what I sound like a little bit, too.
”Hey,” I said.
”Hey,” she said.