Michael Suarez
Count me as one of the many who didn’t fully grasp Donnie Darko when I first saw it over two decades ago on VHS. It wasn’t until the director’s cut in 2004 that I understood just what the heck happens at the end of the film. As Neo tells the Architect in The Matrix Reloaded:
Choice. The problem is choice.
It’s a bold undertaking to tell the story of sacrificing one’s life and have it involve a 16-year-old, albeit one played by Jake Gyllenhaal. Still, writer-director Richard Kelly, in his debut feature, manages the task with aplomb. Considering both the original theatrical version I first watched, as well as the director’s cut, I’m confident in saying that Donnie Darko is kind of a masterpiece.
Which version of the film do I claim as being a masterpiece? As much as I should be able to provide a clear answer, given that it’s my own statement drawn from my own subjective conclusions, it’s complicated. I wish I could say that I ignore one or the other, but I simply can’t. Whenever I watch the theatrical version, I’m reminded of specific beats from the director’s cut, including the excerpts from Roberta Sparrow’s The Philosophy of Time Travel. On occasion, when I put on the director’s cut, certain moments, like those pesky excerpts, throw off the film ever-so-slightly for me. It’s contradictory, but ultimately, all it means is that, like the various versions of Blade Runner, my love for the film extends to all versions. That said, if I had to pick one, if I’m being completely honest, it’s the director’s cut.
This is the version that I fell in love with first, though over time, and it is this version that I recommend to people. So, forgive me, purists, but this is a version that’s a masterpiece. All of that said, though, both versions of Donnie Darko contain the same elements that I want to discuss, so it doesn’t matter which version you prefer or have even watched. The important thing is what each says about sacrifice and being young.
The film takes place in the ‘80s, though it could certainly take place during any decade since. Yes, there are plenty of excellent needle drops throughout, and we have the 1988 Presidential election in the background, but I wouldn’t necessarily say the ‘80s are all that important to the film. It’s mostly a setting that Kelly would’ve understood, given his own adolescence took place concurrently. That said, I suppose it works in its favor, in that no one has a cell phone, and the lack of cameras allows for Donnie to do quite a bit in secret, from flooding the school to burning down motivational speaker-cum-pedophile Jim Cunningham’s house.
What I’m getting at is that Donnie’s feelings transcend the time period of the film, as well as his mental condition. I could’ve been Donnie in high school, speaking out against nonsense, being willing to ask questions, being frustrated with the reading material assigned in my favorite class, having a thing for the new girl, talking about strange things with my friends, and questioning my own free will. Yes, these are things I see in Donnie, and I don’t believe I’m the only one.
I do question whether I had it in me at that age to sacrifice my life for another person. If you could ask 16-year-old me whether that was something I would do, I’d say yes, and I would believe what I was saying. However, looking back on myself, I see the difference between would and could. I would do it, yes, but could I do it when the time came? I’m not so sure. And I find that admirable about Donnie. When Gretchen dies, it’s like everything just clicks for him. He understands that he’s been granted permission to travel through “God’s channel” to see a possible future that he could undo by staying in his bedroom to allow himself to be crushed to death by a plane engine, thereby saving Gretchen.
He does not need to consider what it means to die. Hamlet seemingly had all the time in the world to ponder his existence, questioning what the afterlife could possibly be, but Donnie? Time is quickly running out by the end of the movie, and though he takes his time to meet his date with destiny, he knows what needs to be done. His laughing in bed has always seemed to me to be many things all at once. He cannot believe it’s true, in that he’s traveled back in time to the night he first encountered Frank; he’s happy, in that he knows that Gretchen will live once he’s removed from the picture (though I imagine her stepfather will still find her and her mother?); and he’s elated that there is some higher power out there.
Is it God? It’s what Donnie and Mr. Monnitoff talk about after class. Is it a fourth-dimensional being, which could be construed as God? Possibly. Aliens? Beings from the future? I cannot say. But I do know that it doesn’t matter. Donnie Darko is not a film about answers, as frustrating as that is for many viewers who want stories to make sense, for all the pieces to fit perfectly. Thankfully, I am not one of those viewers. I don’t need a story, or in this case a film, to make complete sense. I just need it to work. This film works for me.
The reasons: the characters and the story. That’s probably not an original thing, but it’s true. I love the characters I’m supposed to love and hate the ones I’m supposed to hate. The film is impeccably cast, and I will sing praises for all who are on camera in this movie. Jake Gyllenhaal is in top form here, and I will always love Jena Malone in everything she does. Patrick Swayze and Beth Grant are excellent antagonists. The Darko clan is all good, Katharine Ross as Donnie’s therapist is, and yes, Noah Wyle and Drew Barrymore are so good as the two teachers every kid in high school should have.
As for the story, Richard Kelly made one bonkers of a film, but it’s still very much a high school movie, and one of the best of its kind, even if it gets forgotten that it is one. Donnie Darko tells the story of a teenage boy who is taken on a journey of discovery, and in the process, bonds with his parents, finds love, and ultimately learns what it means to die. Along the way, there’s smoking, bullies, great music, a talent show, obnoxious faculty, staff, and administration, and a quiet girl who can’t seem to say anything other than, “Shut up,” albeit in varying ways. I can’t honestly say I knew this specific world when I attended high school, but it’s not that far off.
I know that Kelly was only in his mid-20s when he directed the film, which allows him the benefit of looking back at his own adolescence without being too far removed from it. Still, it’s impressive that he doesn’t sugarcoat anything or present the world of the ‘80s in rose-tinted glasses. Characters are willing to do and say ugly things. More than that, though, Kelly is able to take a sobering look at being young and recognize that youth doesn’t equal lack of understanding. Everyone is different. Young people are capable of ignorance and apathy just as much as adults are. Donnie is a prime example of how he is capable of more.
As I said, he does more in the end than I may have done. This could have something to do with the heightened emotions teenagers experience, possibly explaining how I could’ve believed at that age that I was capable of sacrificing myself, too. Donnie is the perfect age for this experience. For him, losing Gretchen would be the end of the world, as would be the feeling of being stuck in high school or simply being a teenager in America in the late 1980s. I’m not suggesting that the end of the film doesn’t happen. It does. It’s a part of the plot and the story.
However, it also works as a metaphor. No, Donnie does not kill himself. He is, indeed, not Hamlet, deciding whether to take his own life, therefore questioning what it means to exist. Donnie is stronger than that. He takes matters into his own hands. He was shown this possible future, and he made the decision to change things. Gretchen will live. What of everyone else?
They seem to recall the events of the film, in some form or another. What will they do with these dreams? Will they become better people? Will they go on and pretend none of it ever happened, because in a way, I suppose, it never did once Donnie died? I don’t know. All I know is that Donnie took himself out of the equation so that someone else could keep going. Sacrifice is an incredibly courageous thing to do.
Richard Kelly directed one hell of a film. That it’s his first full-length feature is insane. Yes, he had a lot of talented collaborators who had his back, but talent is talent. Whether he squandered it or not with his follow-up Southland Tales is another matter, and one I’d love to discuss one day. As for Donnie Darko, it’s a film that jams a lot of things into it, but with a purpose. Life is messy, and ugly, and hilarious, and heartbreaking. Why not make a film that reflects this? But again, the film is so assuredly made that it never feels like a mess to me. It feels whole, whether I’m watching the theatrical version or the director’s cut.
This is a film about what it truly means to make a choice. We make choices every day. Some of these decisions seem inconsequential, but in an existence that is constantly the result of cause and effect, it stands to reason that every single choice we make means something, whether it’s telling the bullied girl something reassuring, exposing a monster to the world, or sacrificing one’s life for another.
“To be, or not to be?” Donnie is shown both answers to this question, and in my opinion, chooses the right one. Donnie Darko is one of the best films so far this century, which may not be for everyone, but its lesson is certainly for everyone. Would I ultimately make the same choice as Donnie? I don’t know, but thanks to the power of film, I was able to confront that very question. I hope all who see this film do the same.
