Graduate 105: Bagger Vance, A Case Study in Existentialism

In this entry, I will review the main points of the storyline and highlight areas where the existential themes are especially evident and explain the content and details of what is expressed, drawing connections with the ideas of Martin Heidegger and Soren Kierkegaard.
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The Legend of Bagger Vance (which is based on a novel by Steven Pressfield, though I will deal only with the film version) begins shortly after the turn of the century and tells the story of Rannulph Junuh (Matt Damon), the rising golf star of Savannah, Georgia. He is extremely successful as a young man, winning the heart of well-to-do socialite, Adele Invergordon (Charlize Theron), and is very popular among the townsfolk. But all that is changed by the first world war. The devastation and brutality that he experiences on the front lines absolutely break his spirit. At one point, he is the only one of his company to survive a particular engagement; and though he is still celebrated as a hero, in his heart, there are deep wounds and scars that he seems unable to come. He does not return to Savannah for a decade and, when he finally does, he is reclusive and withdrawn.
But all that changes with the onset of the Great Depression. With no tourism, the Invergordon family is made all but destitute; and in a desperate attempt to draw visitors and reinvigorate the town of Savannah, Adele decides to sponsor a golf tournament between the two greatest golfers of that time, Bobby Jones and Walter Hagen. But the townsfolk insist that there must be a representative of Savannah in the tournament (someone to show those Yanks what the South is made of) and soon they are knocking on Rannulph Junuh's door. Through a series of events, Junuh agrees; but there's still a problem. His spirit's still broken; he's lost his golf swing. How is he going to pull himself together for the tournament?
It is at that moment that a figure emerges from the darkness of the night to offer his caddy services to Mr. Junuh. The man goes by the name of Bagger Vance (Will Smith).
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At this point, I will break off to deal more directly with the background of existentialism as part of laying a foundation for thinking about what follows in the film. This treatment will not be complete; frankly, it may also not be correct. I plan to reread much of this material in the near future. Much of this is from memory, but I think I am right and I think it will be helpful and if I'm wrong I'll write about that later. In fact (I'm writing this sentence after having written the entire blog entry) it is probably best to think of these as my own thoughts with slight references to established philosophers' ideas; I will not claim, at this time, that what I write reflects their views; however, I have borrowed material from them and used it to make my points.
To appreciate what about existentialism is important and interesting for understanding this film, we must go back to Soren Kierkegaard (1813-1855), whom some call the grand-father of existentialism. He did not actually write about existentialism, but his ideas directly influenced Martin Heidegger and others who would write about it. Of particular note, for our purposes, is his short work, Fear and Trembling.
Now Kierkegaard was a Christian (of a sort), however, many of his books were written under a pseudonym, Johannes. And Johannes was not a Christian. The play on perspectives is interesting because it allows Kierkegaard to describe Christianity from a non-Christian's perspective, with interesting results.
Two figures in Fear and Trembling are significant for us to consider here; they are the Knight of Resignation and the Knight of Faith. Each of these, we may usefully (if imprecisely) say, represent different levels of spirituality. The first is not very difficult to grasp; the Knight of Resignation is the individual who is looking forward to the afterlife. He recognizes that the hope of the future life is so much greater than the present life that he places no value on the present life. He holds everything in this life loosely, recognizing that it is only fleeting and temporary. He accepts suffering when it comes because he is most concerned with the future life. This is an important step in any person's spiritual development--the realization that the present life is only temporary and fleeting and that we should place real value on eternal things and future things. But Kierkegaard emphasizes that that is not the highest level of maturity. There is a still greater level that is reached only by the Knight of Faith. The irony is that though he is more 'mature' than the Knight of Resignation, he is not, thereby, more 'resigned'. Just the opposite, in fact. One might say that the Knight of Resignation has his head always in the clouds--always looking to the far and away future and not paying attention to the here and now. But for the Knight of Faith, the here and now is just what he is concerned with. Of someone so supremely 'spiritual' one might expect that he would walk around with a halo around his head and floating six inches off the ground; but, no, he is just as solid as the rest of us. He is comfortable and at home in the world. And the irony is that he, as 'spiritual', is more at home in the world than the people who are of the world.
Certainly there is a sense in which the unspiritual person is "at home" in the world. After all, he does not believe in an afterlife. All he has is "this life" and "this world". And, yet, the unspiritual person also finds himself as being not "at home" in the world. This is a great irony that is well-documented by thinkers and writers and poets and artists and philosophers throughout history. For the unspiritual person, even though "this world" is all there is, "this world" is still not a safe place to be. This world is full of threats and dangers--people who want the same things we want, people who want to take advantage of us, people who want to use us, people who want to hurt us. Nature is also a source of danger--earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes. Much of the unspiritual person's life, then, is dedicated to and focused on trying to carve out a safe place within the world.
Now the Knight of Resignation takes one step beyond the unspiritual person. The Knight of Resignation recognizes that the world is not a safe place, but he can live with that reality and even face the dangers of life because he is looking to a world beyond "this world".
But the Knight of Faith takes still one more step beyond the Knight of Resignation. This is what Kierkegaard's narrator marvels at, because he doesn't understand it. Someway, somehow, the Knight of Faith is able to live in this world and be "at home" in this world. For the Knight of Faith, the world is a safe place. He doesn't fear the things that the unspiritual person fears; but he doesn't not-fear the things of the world because he's "resigned" to them either. Somehow, the Knight of Faith is so "in tune" with the world, so "at harmony" with the world, so "at home" in the world that it is a safe place for him.
This "at-home-ness", this "harmony", expresses the ideal toward which, I expect, many of us strive and long. Yet it remains elusive for so many. To be "comfortable in your own skin" might be another way of putting it.
These key aspects of the Knight of Faith are what Heidegger tries to capture in his account of authenticity in Being and Time. He describes the "Moment of vision" as a condition or state in which, given one's goals and ends, the world presents itself to one as a supremely conducive environment for the accomplishment of those goals and ends. It is a picture of total harmony in which one's desires find the means of their fulfillment immediately at hand and available. There is a tone of perfect confidence and contentment and peace and security.
Isn't that what we all want? Isn't that what we all need?
Isn't that what Rannulph Junuh needs?
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The Legend of Bagger Vance uses golf as a metaphor for life. When Bagger first happens upon Junuh, he says, "They say you can tell a player by his grip. A man's grip on his club--like a man's grip on his world. Rhythm of the game--just like the rhythm of life."
And in Junuh's case, his golf grip does reflect his grip on his life and on the world--it ain't good. He's out of harmony, out of sync. "The trick is to find your swing," Bagger says, "Somewhere in the harmony of all that is, all that was [and] all that will be." His picture is all-encompassing; he knows that Junuh fits somewhere in the world and he aims to help Junuh find that place.
Bagger is a total contrast to Junuh. Bagger embodies peace, contentment, confidence, serenity. This is variously and humorously demonstrated throughout the film. Early on, as Junuh begins to feel the pressure of the people's expectation, Bagger comments (seemingly randomly), "That is some storm heading this way." There isn't a cloud in the sky at that point, so Junuh takes him to be referring to the upcoming match and his own unpreparedness. Even as he packs his bags in an attempt to run away from his problem, Bagger is totally relaxed. Junuh's about to run out on the tournament and Bagger asks whether he can keep Junuh's extra pair of shoes. Of course, Junuh eventually does come back and commits to playing the game... and a rainstorm really does show up, just as Bagger predicted.
There's a young kid, Hardy Greaves, who is a big fan of Junuh's and wants to help out, but hasn't got the nerve to ask to be his forecaddie. So what does Bagger tell him? "I ain't got time to sit around and wait until you [decide to ask] so this here is what I'm proposing. I'm going to assume that just about the moment you get up the nerve to [ask] is going to be just about the same moment I'm going to tell you 'yeah'." It's a silly example, in some ways, but it also reinforces the point that Bagger Vance is completely at home with himself and the world and the people around him. Nothing ruffles him--in contrast to Junuh is ruffled by just about everything.
One of the most important dialogues is between Bagger Vance and Hardy Greeves, the night before the tournament as they survey the course together. I shall attempt to reproduce the significant portions here.
[The two are taking a short break and Bagger is coaching Hardy on his putting.]
Bagger: Golf course puts folk through quite a punishment. It lives and breathes just like us.
Hardy: You think Junuh can win?
Bagger: Yeah, if he finds his authentic swing.
Hardy: Authentic...?
Bagger: Inside each and every one of us is one true authentic swing. Something we was born with; something that's ours and ours alone; something that can't be taught to you or learned; something that's got to be remembered. Over time the world can rob us of that swing, it gets buried inside us--all our could-a and would-a and should-a's. Some people can forget what their swing was like.
[During this time, Hardy has been trying, unsuccessfully, to putt the ball into the hole. Bagger picks up the balls and tells Hardy, ]
Bagger: Keep swinging [the putter].
Hardy: But I don't have any balls.
Bagger: Don't worry about hitting the ball or where it's going to go. Just swing the club. Feel the club. ... Close your eyes.
Hardy: (perplexed) Close my...?
Bagger: You can't make the ball go in that hole. You have to let it.
[Hardy closes his eyes and swings the club as Bagger encourages him to enter into the moment, to listen to the sounds of the knight, feel the weight of the club, keep swinging the club... keep swinging that club until you're part of the whole thing, he says. Mantra-like, he speaks as Hardy, with eyes closed, swings the club back and forth. Bagger drops a ball in front of Hardy, and Hardy hits it into the hole.]
It is no accident that the film-makers set a strongly mystical-tone to this scene. Bagger is a kind of mystical character. Or, put another way, he seems to capture something of what the mystics were always pursuing.
The question is: Does it make sense, what Bagger is saying? Think about that and we'll return to discuss it later.
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The first round of the four-round tournament goes badly for Junuh. He is agitated and uncomfortable. At bottom, it becomes clear, he has unresolved issues (both in his life and in his game--again, the analogy at work). And unless they are resolved, it seems, Junuh will surely lose the match.
Things begin to turn in a conversation between Junuh and Hardy in the locker room.
Junuh: You really love this game, don't you.
Hardy: It's the greatest game there is.
Junuh: You really think so?
Hardy: Ask anybody. It's fun. It's hard. You stand out there on that green, green grass and its just you and the ball and there ain't nobody to beat up on but yourself. Just like Mister Newman keeps on hitting himself with the golf club every time he gets angry; he's broken his toe three times on account of it. It's the only game I know where you can call a penalty on yourself if you're honest, which most people are. There just ain't no other game like it.
Accountability is a strong part of philosophical existentialism that has been lost in its popular form where people tend to talk about an individual's ability to be whatever he wants to be; popular existentialism is very sloppy in this way. But philosophical existentialism, especially as Heidegger approaches it, is firmly grounded in rules. To be a golf player is to play by the rules of golf. To take up or choose or claim a particular identity is to conduct oneself in a manner in keeping with that identity. Certainly it would sound very foolish for me to say that I am a philosopher who never writes papers, attends conferences, teaches classes, or knows who Plato is. Those are the very things that make a philosopher a philosopher. Again, recall that popular existentialism is not keen on limits and boundaries so it is fitting that this film should use golf as its metaphor, a game in which one is not so much in competition with other people as with oneself.
This point will reemerge later.
It is during the second round that things begin to change. Junuh reaches to take a club from Bagger, but Bagger stops him...
Bagger: I think it's time.
Junuh: Time for what?
Bagger: Time for you to see the field.
Junuh: (exasperated) The field--I see the field. It's 445 yards long; it's got a little red flag at the end of it; it's twelve strokes ahead of me. Come on.
Bagger: (stopping him again) That ain't it. 'Cause if you was seeing the field, you wouldn't be hacking at that ball like you was hacking weeds out from under your front porch.
Junuh: Just give me the club.
Bagger: (as if relenting) Sorry I brought it up. You go on. You go ahead and hack away.
[But after a moments thought--knowing how badly he's done and how things aren't likely to change...]
Junuh: Alright, what's the field.
Bagger: Fix your eyes on Bobby Jones. Look at his practice swing. Almost like he's searching for something. Then he finds it. Feel that focus. He's got a lot of shots that he could choose from, but there's only one shot that's in perfect harmony with the field. One shot that's his. Authentic shot. And that shot is going to choose him. There's a perfect shot trying to find each and every one of us. All we have to do is get ourselves out of its way and let it choose us.
Bagger: Look at him. He's in the field.
Bagger: You can't see that flag as some dragon you've got to slay. You have to look with soft eyes. See the place where the tides and the seasons and the turning of the earth all come together--where everything that is becomes one. You've got to seek that place with your soul, Junuh. Seek it with your hands. Don't think about it. Feel it. Your hands are wiser than your head ever will be. I can't take you there, Junuh. I just hope I can help you find a way.
[Again, the tone becomes mystical as Bagger's voice, mantra like, fills the air and as the camera shifts to scenes of nature and the surrounding world. Junuh finds his swing and his game is transformed. He comes back from twelve behind and things begin to look almost optimistic for him.]
I didn't comment on it when I first mentioned it, but the whole idea of an "authentic shot"--and the use of the word "authentic" to describe it--is just about the biggest, brightest neon sign that one could post to indicate that existentialism is at the heart of this movie. Authenticity--owning one's life, being responsible for choices and actions and their reflection on one's identity--is key. But notice, also, the close connection between authentically owning oneself and harmony with the rest of the world. There's one shot that is in perfect harmony with the field and it is when the individual is centered that he is able to be so in harmony with nature as to recognize what course of action is appropriate.
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Another key turning point takes place in the third round. Junuh has regained his confidence; but in doing so he has become over-confident. And in a rash move, he winds up sending his ball into the trees. As he searches through the undergrowth beneath the shadows of the trees, he begins to hear voices. The shouts of men, the blast of artillery, the sound of gunshots. He hears the voices of his comrades, shouting, crying, dying. In a moment, the weight of his broken past and the weight of the tournament come bearing down on him and he doesn't have the strength to continue. Suddenly Bagger appears beside him.
Bagger: You gonna be wanting a different club there, Junuh?
Junuh: I can't do this.
Bagger: (casually) Well, you might just loose your grip up a smidge. You know, a man's grip on his club is like a man's grip...
Junuh: That's not what I'm talking about.
Bagger: (more seriously) I know.
Junuh: No, you don't.
Bagger: What I'm talking about is a game. A game that can't be won, only played.
Junuh: You don't understand.
Bagger: I don't need to understand. There's not a soul on this entire earth that ain't got a burden to carry that he don't understand. You ain't alone in that. But you've been carrying this one long enough. It's time to go home and lay it down.
Junuh: I don't know how.
Bagger: You got a choice. You can stop or you can start.
Junuh: Start?
Bagger: Walking.
Junuh: Where?
Bagger: Right back to where you always been and been standing there still, real still, and remember.
Junuh: It was too long ago.
Bagger: No sir, it was just a moment ago.
Bagger: Why don't you come on out of the shadows, Junuh. It's time for you to choose.
Junuh: (as he looks at the impossible shot necessary to clear the trees to the green) I can't
Bagger: Yes, you can, but you ain't alone. I'm right here with you. I've been here all along. Now play the game; your game, the one that only you was meant to play; the one that was given to you when you come into this world. You ready? Come on, take your stance. Strike that ball, Junuh. Don't hold nothing back. Give it everything. Now is the time. Let yourself remember. Remember your swing. That's right, Junuh. Settle yourself. Now is the time.
[And Junuh does make the shot, against all odds. He's found his authentic swing.]
The image of a game that can't be won but only played is also strongly existential. Heidegger, who speaks of identity in terms of possibilities envisions one's ownmost possibility as one toward which one can only reach but never attain. There is always striving, always moving, always chasing, and no end to the process. After all (again) it would not make sense to speak of a person who became a philosopher and then stopped writing papers, attending conferences, reading philosophy books, etc. To stop doing those things is to stop being a philosopher. There is no state that one reaches where effort is no longer required or called for. There is always moving forward toward the end or the goal.
The final test and turning point come at the last hole in the last round of the game. Junuh is still a stroke behind his two opponents, but there's still a chance for him. But when removing some stray pieces of grass from around his ball on the green, the ball shifts.
Junuh: (to himself) The ball moved.
Hardy: (softly) No.
Junuh: It moved. I have to call a stroke on myself. [Turning to walk toward the officials, Hardy runs up beside him.]
Hardy: No! No, don't do it. Please, don't do it. Only you and me seen it and I won't tell a soul. Cross my heart. Ain't nobody going to know.
Junuh: I will, Hardy. And so will you. [As he walks off toward the officials, Hardy runs back to Bagger.]
Hardy: You've got to tell him not to do it, Bagger. It's just a stupid rule that don't mean nothing.
Bagger: That's the choice for Mr. Junuh, Hardy.
[And Junuh does take the penalty. And it is at that moment that Bagger chooses to make his exit.]
Junuh has demonstrated that he is prepared to live authentically--by the rules. He is owning the game, owning his identity, owning himself. Bagger's coaching work is done. Junuh is reconciled to himself, to the demons of his past. He is ready to face the world, he has the sight and ability to grasp what is necessary in each moment. Again, recall Hardy's words from earlier about his love of golf and the accountability that is built into the game. By accepting the penalty and not hiding from the potential shame of losing on account of it, Junuh has demonstrated that, like Bagger, he is once again "at home" in the world.
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The Legend of Bagger Vance is compelling and moving. But does it make sense? I return to that question. Having finally committed to writing just some of the thoughts that are buzzing around in my head (to analyze this material well would take much longer) I realize that there are gaping holes in what I've offered as background. (By that, I do not mean that what I said is wrong, only that it requires much more expansion.)
The film certainly captures very true aspects about human nature--about brokenness and the scars that men and women carry. In the character of Bagger, we see an ideal for which so many people search; he arouses a deep longing in our hearts.
But recall what I said about Kierkegaard and Fear and Trembling. Bagger Vance is very similar to the Knight of Faith. But what is significant about the description of the Knight of Faith is that it is from the perspective of an unspiritual person. Johannes does not understand how the Knight of Faith does what he does and one is left wanting an explanation. I think the same is true of Heidegger's descriptions of the authentic person. He captures some of the characteristics but cannot say how to reach that condition or state. And even though, I think, the film-writers try to get at the heart of what it means to be "at harmony" and "at home" in the world, they really don't succeed. The closest they get is some vague ideas about union and harmony with nature. Certainly we recognize that many of us are not in harmony with nature; certainly we want to become at home in nature; but how? Is it by direct engagement? Or something else?
What Johannes failed to realize (and Heidegger and the film-writers as well) is that this condition of peace, serenity, contentment, harmony, etc. is not one that comes from direct engagement with those entities. Rather, it is tied to one's relationship with God. God is the one who is in control of nature. When one is in harmony with God, then, one will be in harmony with nature. Understanding this basic truth resolves one of the major dilemmas of the alternative view; after all, it doesn't seem possible to be in direct relationship with nature. Some of Bagger's language seems to suggest that it is possible to connect directly, person-to-nature. But I think it makes much more sense to say that we can connect with God (who is actually a person) who is in control of nature.
When one is properly related to God, then all the rest of the pieces of the puzzle--life, nature, people--fall into place; because God is the source of all things. Then is one truly at home in the world, in one's own skin, in the plan and purposes of God who created all things and sustains all things by his sovereign will and grace and love.
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God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.