Borrowed Life

Ethan Hawke told his superior brother, genetically designed to be better than the godborn child of the might not live as long or have a perfectly strong and effective heart
same parents who chose a genetically perfect the second time around, one who wouldn't die of an imperfect heart, one who would use his genetically perfected DNA to rise to the top of the heap not by chance but by choice. And yet godchild's brother never bested him at swimming -- or caught him before he blasted off into space to live among the stars. He had dreamed of navigating the imperfect system on planet EARTH, studying space mechanics and working hard to perfect his imperfect body. In the end, even without the perfect genetically designed life, he made his dreams come true, not only with his hard work and dedication to his dream, but with a borrowed ladder, the designer DNA that wasn't good enough to earn international swimming star, Jerome Morrow, more than a silver medal at the Olympics. Second best in all the world, but the fault wasn't in his genetic profile. The fault lay in Jerome's actions that kept him from being the best in the world, gold medal swimming star, and in Jerome's entitled attitudes and over arching arrogance.

Relying on genetically designed DNA is one thing, but it all falls apart without the hard work and mental/emotional fortitude that can turn a faulty body with a fate chosen through determination -- or mother and utopia planned -- results. Unlike the valid Jerome Morrow who threw away his future with drink and sybaritic excess, Ethan Hawke, the borrowed ladder who focused his whole being, dreams, and hard work on the stars, disproved the efficacy of a system designed to improve on the lottery of love and caring for someone else. Once again, natural talents and gifts are no substitute for plans, schemes, and scientific promises. The best laid plans of mothers and men will always be undone by hard work versus entitlement and scientific design.

The same is true in the end. No matter how much Russian money and misguided rich girl dreams, the gods of hope and change will stand -- and fall -- when balancing on clay feet.

Here in the real world where Hollywood remains a dream factory and the reality is as tenuous as tinsel and the golden glitter on the Xmas tree, it is all garbage that will end in the after holiday bonfire or mingled with the trash of wrapping paper, tangled ribbons, and dried out fir tree twigs and branches accented with the detritus of too much eggnog and booze and sprinkled with cranberries and used condoms -- or cigars. Not even the gold and silver of shiny ornaments and tinsel can survive long after Xmas day or New Year's eve.

Actors may gain fame from their heartfelt portrayals of other people's dreams and visions of fictitious reality, but only while youth and energy last. It is unfortunate that youth and energy are limited commodities, especially when limited by entitlement and sybaritic excess. An actor can learn his lines, but exists only on the screen, captured digitally or on fragile celluloid, and is ephemeral at best. Even in real life memories remain as long as someone exerts the focus and concentration, often aided by photos where youth and energy were captured for a brief moment in time, and more than often undone when excess overrules the strength of the borrowed ladder -- or life.

You may have fond dreams polished and bright in memory and ultimately undone by the foul taste of fact and reality. One can live in a dream only so long as viewers are willing to lose themselves in the dark for as long as they can afford to keep the movie running and the film stock intact. Too bad for most the time runs out. Biology forces us all to bow to the results of drinking and eating so much. Inevitably, nature beckons and the call cannot be ignored long or urine and feces must be wiped and flushed down the plumbing or scraped and dried off before laundering out the clothing and linens. Oh, the ignominy of nature intruding where dreams and promises, once so bright and shiny and new, become just another layer in the landfill or ashes on the winds.

No matter who good the borrowed life and no matter how much money you throw at the fake, all is for naught in the end. The day after Xmas will dawn and the sun will come up after New Year's eve. Time marches on and so must shattered dreams no matter how long one believed Xmas and the party would last.

That is all. Disperse.