Photo by the extraordinary Emily Helfgot
Several Thursdays ago, I was slowly backing up from the kitchen counter while watching episode 6 of NetFlix’s Bodyguard on the family iPad mini. The scene I was backing away from involved a character attempting to defuse an explosive vest that had been strapped to their torso by the Series Baddies: One. Wire. At. A. Time.
By the looks on their faces, none of the characters - munitions experts all - thought this character was going to succeed. I didn’t either; not because I’m a munitions expert but because this same vest had appeared earlier in the series and hadn’t yet exploded. So by virtue of Chekhov’s Gun, this character was about to go the way of smithereens.
It was a strange thing to be backing away from the scene because I normally love watching Human Beings explode on-screen. Be it the exploding head of a stuffy academic; the splat of a World War II sticky bomb gone wrong; or the toxically-wasted body of a Detroit baddie going Sloooooosh; it’s exciting to see human bodies at the mercy of forces, natural and otherwise. I also prefer on-screen violence to its sickening real-life counterpart. (For example, I once saw a man punch another man’s nose and almost threw up.)
My receding from the counter though was caused not by the horror of the violence but in the Holy-Hell-Is-It-Going-to-Happen?!-ness of it. With each snip of the wire cutters or wipe of the brow, I literally squirmed as I stepped backward. I looked sideways at the screen because I was afraid that if the explosion did come, not only would my heart stop but bits of the character’s blood, guts, teeth, bone fragments would come flying out of that mini screen and coat my skin and the kitchen walls permanently. In the middle of this, my wife Emily walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water and I literally forgot how to interact with her. It embarrassed me to feel that way in front of her because Emily has seen me at my lowest and most vulnerable. To hide my discomfort, I faked a smile and muttered, “This show is great.” It must have worked because Emily smiled back, got her glass of water and left the room. And then I prepared myself for the gore.
I like having extreme physical responses to anything I watch. (movies, tv shows, play, etc.) Yes, comedies make me laugh, Horror movies increase my heart rate and blood pressure, Dramas engage my emotions and leave me seething with anger, frustration, confusion, and sadness. But the film or show that makes me squirm and sparks a very real urge to crawl out of the skin that holds my bones and internal organs is the mark of a truly wonderful viewing experience. Movies are physically passive pastimes so when I do come across ones that leave a visceral impression, I’m usually grateful for - if not exhausted by - the experience. The final moments of Bodyguard were a little underwhelming. But after the extreme stress and tension of the potentially exploding vest, I consider myself sufficiently whelmed.