The Unbearable Lightness of Being

I am here one day, and on the next, I am gone.

Yet I am part of a community, a society, and a species, that will continue after I am dead. I live in the immeasurable debt and preparation of those who have gone before, and I make a way for those who will follow me.

Thanks to the construction of a society by those who have lived before me, I am able to experience a vast array of pleasures, easily and regularly: the joy of learning in vast libraries, delicious and abundant food and drink, and a comfortable and stable home environment, filled with people I love.

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The 1988 film The Unbearable Lightness of Being, based on a novel of the same name by Milan Kundera, is a beautiful and heady examination of such issues of living, death, individualism and society, through the story of Tomas, a surgeon (Daniel Day-Lewis), his wife Tereza (Juliette Binoche), Tomas’s lover Sabina (Lena Olin) and their dog Karenin. This drama unfolds against the backdrop of the 1968 ‘Prague Spring’, in which the people of Czechoslovakia rose up against the Soviet powers who controlled them, and were consequently repressed by an influx of tanks and troops from Warsaw Pact powers. Tomas, who writes a tract comparing the Communists to Oedipus, is instructed to sign a retraction for his radical piece, which he refuses to do. As a result, he loses his job as a surgeon, and moves out to the countryside with Tereza, where they live and work together, away from the complications of urban life and politics. Life turns, with the cycles of nature, in seasons: through friendship, love, and loss.

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I watch this film in my home, and feel deeply moved by its clarity and resonance. Undoubtedly, I reflect, I live a very fortunate life. I am out of range of the oppressions of authoritarian regimes, yet I too am capable of coming face to face with the rock-face of freedom itself: the horror that allows both true authenticity and self-discovery, and simultaneously threatens to break the human spirit against it. My body has the capacity for an incomprehensible range of experiences. Running through the fields of the English countryside, or the deeply vibrant smell of fresh coffee: these sensations bring me into the present moment, shocking me into clarity.

And yet, like Tereza, I am so often unable to attain the ‘lightness’ that allows Tomas to experience life’s pleasure so fully. I repeatedly cling to rusty anchors of justice, guilt, jealousy and stubbornness, which eclipse the bare reality of life and its sensory beauty, replacing them with myopia, distraction and obsession. With the seemingly endless and multiple narratives that run on in the mind, the prospect of quiet — silence, even — can seem to be an ultimate object of desire. As the Oedipal myth dictates, in order to ascend to a position to control our world, part of us wants to overthrow — kill, even — the very elements, structures and stories that brought about our existence. Thus, the Communists sought a new world, free of the oppressions and tyrannies of the class system of nineteenth-century Europe. By the time their dream had materialised into the political reality of the twentieth-century USSR, they had cause to ‘put out their eyes’: their narratives had become, in turn, tools for oppression.

Beneath the ideology, in any society, there exists the freshness of human life: often buried, but still capable of germination. Philip Kaufman’s film makes much of the concept of nakedness, and the willingness of different characters to remove their clothes and perform without covering — in front of a camera, a lover, or both — is deeply revealing of their personalities on multiple levels. Tereza’s coyness in her encounter with Sabina makes a scene of startling emotional power: mirrors, veils and lenses frame, reflect, and contain the vulnerability of the naked body in the gaze of another, powerful, naked human being. Yet the experience is shattered by the arrival of Sabina’s boyfriend at the apartment, and the rushing-in of everyday social forces once more. Sabina casually introduces Tereza to Franz as if nothing of deep consequence was taking place, and time closes in again to prosaic flow. This is a ‘moment of being’: immensely fragile, but in equal proportion, radically generative.

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The Unbearable Lightness of Being presents such moments in all their nuance and psychological complexity. In each, there is the opportunity and nightmare of life’s ‘lightness’ — capable of remaking the brief, imperilled world. However, the film should remind us that it is possible to live without fear, a comfort wrapped up in the patterns of eternal recurrence. There’s nothing ‘revolutionary’ about revolution. The ancient Greeks knew it, and set it out in their drama: the ascendant king will kill the former powers, and be terrorised by the conflict of that deposition. And yet, such is human nature, in its most essential core: it drives the work and progress of our world, generation after generation. I can only have silence to be heard through the fading of another voice that would speak. The existence of the prior voice (tradition, parent, or institution) is unbearably light — and so is mine. Our permanence can never be assured, and yet, this price — for the pleasure of being — seems fair, at least, to me, in this eternal moment.