Fantastic Mr. Fox

When people talk about university they always mention the life long friends they made. And that is certainly true, but what about the lifelong ghosts we acquire there, too? You know exactly who I’m talking about, an individual (or two) you became so enmeshed with during those early months that you couldn’t believe you had been happy before you met them. But just as the north wind doth blow, they were gone as quickly as they came. Either you realized you weren’t as well suited as you thought, one of you drops out or transfers, or maybe there was a rift. Whatever it may be, they stay with you. They haunt you.

My first college roommate was an American girl up from a small town in Vermont. Nutty brown hair, olive complexion, strong, beautiful, all five ft of her. She was a talented film maker, loved colour, and screamed outdoorsy. So why was she sleeping (more like tossing and turning) three feet away from me in this big metropolitan city?

Well, she grew up less fortunate than most. Her mum was an artist and with that decision to live by passion and not for money, comes some uncertainty. My friend, having felt this uncertainty from the day she was born, wasn’t going to make the same ‘mistake’. Here she was, studying at a prestigious university that would guarantee her a nine to five with a reliable pay check. But sadly, just because you want to want something doesn’t mean you actually want it.

Wes Anderson’ Fantastic Mr. Fox with its tapestry of oranges is a perfect example of wanting something different from your nature. The cinematic re-telling of Roald Dahl’s Fantastic Mr. Fox is a masterpiece, appealing to all ages, its lines have a way of sticking with you for days, weeks or even years after that first watch. Themes of loyalty, tradition, nature, friendship, and love are woven into every scene. I believe what makes this film resonate with so many people is that all those themes are part of our genetic makeup as humans, they hold us together, they hold our relationships together and they keep society bearable.

My friend left all those things that had kept her together for the first 19 years of life behind, and came to pursue what she saw as success. She didn’t want to live in a hole anymore. And neither did Mr Fox. The problem with that is foxes live in foxholes for a reason. Mr Fox wanted bigger and better, better house, better views, and a better job. And he got it, all of it, but he wasn’t satisfied because it wasn’t him, it wasn’t his nature to have or be all that, none of it was. And so the itch went unscratched and his need to have ‘everybody think he’s the greatest, the quote on quote fantastic mr fox’ didn’t come true, until he was trapped and cornered. Fox did what Fox did best, he dug. As viewers we saw him become the Fantastic Mr. Fox, and those around him saw him embrace what they knew he was, a fox.

My friend didn’t feel good in the big city, she felt like a ghost. Her colour bled out on to every concrete corner until nothing was left but her shadow. And then that was gone too. Last time I checked, she was thriving (in technicolour) at some liberal arts college on the East Coast. She was being who she was meant to be, and boy did it look good on her. We don’t talk anymore, she wanted to erase the city and faces that went along with it from her life. I understand that. But the thing they don’t tell you is people will come into your life for only short periods of time and won’t ever leave, not really.

The thing they don’t tell you is sometimes loss is for the better, I went from being around her, in the tunnels like Mr Fox’s family and friends, to being a mere viewer on the other side of the screen, occasionally stalking her instagram. The thing they don’t tell you is that it’s okay.