Before exploring what is the greater contingency that Thirteen Conversations draws our attention to, it is useful to highlight what it is not. I have been suggesting that accidental events such as car crashes are not used by the multi-protagonist film solely to connect all of its characters or even to simply propose that accidentality has a greater role in life than we realise. There are certainly multi-protagonist films such as Snatch and 11:14 that use a car accident to momentarily connect most or even all of its main characters, but such a gimmicky use of a car crash is not all that common in the multi-protagonist film. Similarly, while there are examples such as The Sweet Hereafter (Egoyan, 1997), Amores Perros, 21 Grams, and Bluebird (Edmands, 2013) that are primarily interested in how people cope with a trauma caused by a car accident, suggesting the significant effect that accidentality can have in life, multi- protagonist films that make this their central interest comprise only a small proportion of the whole. On the other hand, there are many examples – among others, Slacker, Short Cuts, Pulp Fiction, Go, Magnolia, Bug (Hay and Manfredi, 2002), Any Way the Wind Blows (Barman, 2003),and Crash – that depict a car crash, but which treat it as just one of the many accidental things that can happen in life. There are also countless multi-protagonist films that are highly interested in human interconnectedness and contingency (often expressed already in the title), but that do not depict any car accidents. A random sample pool of the latter would include films such as Grand Canyon (Kasdan, 1991), 71 Fragments of a Chronology of Chance, Smoke (Wang and Auster, 1995), Happiness, Beautiful People (Dizdar, 1999), Happenstance, Code Unknown, Dog Days, Sunshine State (Sayles, 2002), Dirty Pretty Things (Frears, 2002), Chromophobia (Fiennes, 2005), Look Both Ways (Watt, 2005), Me and You and Everyone We Know (July, 2005), Babel, Fast Food Nation, The Edge of Heaven, Adrift in Manhattan (de Villa, 2007), and 360 (Meirelles, 2011). This suggests that while car crashes are rather common in the multi-protagonist film, they are by no means a necessary feature of the form for connecting the lead characters, nor is accidentality a dominant interest of the form. Thirteen
86 Conversations likewise serves as a demonstration of that because neither does the car crash connect all of the main characters, nor does the crash itself form the film’s main interest.
So, what it the greater contingency that an accident such as a car crash can draw one’s attention to? Before this question can be answered in relation to Thirteen Conversations it is vital to illustrate just how central the topic of contingency is in the film. As I will briefly show, all the main characters will come to understand the contingent nature of their preferred social imaginary. In the interest of brevity, I will follow more closely Troy’s actions after the accident. Perhaps the most socially critical aspect of Troy’s fallout after the accident is the fact that he comes away “clean” from the accident – meaning that no social or legal repercussions follow his action. Although I have shown Troy’s escape to be possible only because of a coincidence, the film suggests that the privileged can often conveniently conceal their wrongdoings, while the less fortunate have to face the consequences of their actions. This can be noticed in the garage scene, following the one where Troy drives away from the accident site, where he can be seen covering his fancy BMW with a white sheet of clothing as if nothing had ever happened. On the other hand, Troy later prosecutes an unemployed Hispanic defendant (Fernando López) who also claims that his crime was largely caused by contingent circumstances. Even though they both think that they have killed a person, Troy remains firmly on the other side of the bulletproof glass when he visits the defendant in prison. Troy’s seeming innocence is the eyes of the law is later contrasted with the devoted Christian and goodhearted Beatrice’s actual innocence, who can be seen, similarly to Troy when he was covering his BMW, throwing a white bedsheet right towards the camera [Figure 2–5].
87 It soon becomes clear that Troy has great difficulties of erasing the moral impact of his actions, despite having bombastically declared in the bar “fuck guilt!” to indicate that the moral aspect of his work has little value in comparison to the benefits it provides to a society. After the accident Troy can be seen moping in his apartment and in the following day the courts of justice in which he works are shown to rise majestically towards the sky, reminding to him the burden of the values he must uphold. Troy’s inability to look past of what has happened is represented by a white piece of notepaper in front of him becoming stained by the blood dripping from his forehead. When Owen wonders if Troy, who is feeling sick from the accident, is hanged over from last night, Troy fiercely defends himself as if he were on trial, saying that he hardly drank anything at all in the bar. However, such reasoning does little to alter Troy’s changed perspective from a prosecutor to that of a potential criminal. Later that day Troy studies newspapers with great care to see if there is any mention of the accident and when being summoned to see the bureau chief at the district attorney’s department the next day, Troy cannot hold back his worry by querying what the meeting will concern. As an ironical coincidence, it turns out that the chief has recommended Troy for a promotion and wants him to prosecute a petty thief who accidentally turned into a murderer when the victim fatally hit his head on the ground during the robbery.
The film returns to Troy in a later segment titled “Fuck guilt” – again highlighting how a line of dialogue changes its meaning depending on the context. At this point the resolute Troy has given up on driving altogether and is selling his car to Walker who carries out the most stereotypical steps to counter his unacknowledged midlife crisis – having an affair and owning a sports car. When the two take the car for a test drive, the viewer finds out that Gene was likely right about Troy’s wealthy upbringing as the BMW is a gift from Troy’s parents. When Walker hears that Troy is a prosecutor, he tells Troy that he was recently a victim of a robbery. After a long pause Troy asks if they ever caught the person responsible for the crime – a question that now appears less to do with Troy’s righteous attitude and more to do with an egoistic worry over if he will ever be caught. The bombastic Troy from the bar with a constant upright figure who did not recognise Gene as an equal speaking being, is now being replaced with a crouched and serious looking young man who listens to Walker carefully and resembles an insecure teenager by repeatedly avoiding the gaze of others. Such changes in one’s perspective and self- perception are a constant interest of Thirteen Conversations. I have shown how they are at first often presented as disagreements of which the characters remain unaware, but eventually via unexpected occurrences will also become obvious to the characters themselves.
88 Thirteen Conversations’ interest is very similar to an idea in the later thinking of Rancière that he calls “the distribution/partition of the sensible” [le partage du sensible]. This idea can be seen as the main point where Rancière’s thinking on politics and aesthetics come together. Rancière offers a rethinking of aesthetics where it is not seen as equivalent of art theory, but is rather concerned with “a mode of articulation between ways of doing and making, the corresponding forms of visibility, and possible ways of thinking about their relationships (which presupposes a certain idea of thought’s effectivity)”.254 Rancière is interested in what
could be described as the “primary aesthetics” and which encompasses “the very manner in which something in common lends itself to participation and in what way various individuals have a part in this distribution”.255 The understanding of primary aesthetics echoes the exchange
discussed above between Bordwell and Branigan, where the first saw film as following common comprehension, but the other took the discussion to a more philosophical direction by asking what affects our comprehension. Rancière takes such questioning even further by not only arguing for a level of aesthetics that comes before the rules of art, but by claiming that the arts are inherently political because of their ability to question and affect this primary level of understanding.256 Art, just as party politics, can play a significant role in the distribution of the sensible, which determines what can be seen and said and what appears as natural in a society. Rancière explains a similar relationship between politics and philosophy as such: “Philosophy does not become “political” because politics is so crucial it simply must intervene. It becomes political because regulating the rationality situation of politics is a condition for defining what belongs to philosophy”.257 While in the last chapter I will demonstrate how Rancière’s thinking
on the different ways of understanding art can provide film with the means to be(come) political, here I will continue exploring how Thirteen Conversations can be seen as proposing an understanding of equality that is very similar to Rancière’s thinking and which reveals the workings of the distribution/partition (partage) of the sensible to all the film’s main characters. It is important to note how, similarly to Rancière’s thinking, Thirteen Conversations explores the change in one’s comprehension on the very level of cognition. Walker offers the clearest example of that via his inability to recognise his own defining qualities and the positions of others. The latter is not limited to Patricia, with whom he has fallen out of love, but also carries over to his new love interest Helen (Barbara Sukowa). Although Walker claims that
254 Rancière 2004: 10.
255 Rancière 2004: 12. 256 Rancière 2004: 13. 257 Rancière 1999: xii.
89 his life has changed significantly since he met Helen, his infantile attitude remains. For instance, Walker has not even noticed that he is still living out of the single suitcase with which he had moved out. When Helen brings up the issue, Walker can be seen looking at the suitcase next to him in surprise. The scene echoes Walker’s earlier ignorance of the umbrella. Even though Walker immediately begins to brag how he will “start over” by buying new things instead of collecting the rest of his belongings from his old apartment, the film undercuts Walker’s boasting about his ability to change by having him explain a light effect on a wall in his traditional manner – via physics as a “simple light refraction through a converging lens”. Rather than recognising, for instance, a rainbow or an abstract combination of colours, Thirteen Conversations shows Walker to primarily structure his world via physics. That this is not the only possible framework of understanding is suggested by the fact that the light effect is projected to the wall by Walker’s own glasses. The film’s understanding of a plurality of theoretical positions available to people is also suggested by having Helen, an English professor, explain her husband’s mental state by quoting John Milton’s Paradise Lost [1667/1674 (2003)]. To further highlight the contrast between Walker and Helen the film cuts from Walker’s explanation to Helen who smiles at him gently as one would to an innocent child who is taking something insignificant far too seriously.
That Walker literally comprehends his surroundings largely through physics is further accentuated when he buys Troy’s car and quickly calculates how fast it could accelerate to a speed of 60 miles per hour. Walker claims to be “different now” and been “set free” by Helen from a “life of predictability [and the] dullness of routine”, but the film questions his ability to change by showing him say these words as he mechanically makes a bed and sets their next meeting on exactly the same timeslot. The limitations of Walker’s worldview start to become obvious to him only later in the film when Helen has decided to stay with her husband and is no longer answering Walker’s calls. Thirteen Conversations shows that while for Helen it was an insignificant affair and Patricia has long ago left behind the apartment in which they lived and the life to which Walker thinks he can return at any moment, Walker ends up sitting alone, with his suitcase still neatly packed, in the same spot as in the earlier scene with Helen. The “simple light refraction” on the wall is now a green smudge, indicating Walker’s changed emotional state. The limitations of Walker’s worldview become plainly obvious to him in the following scene where Walker learns that a student of his who he had treated unfairly has committed suicide by jumping off a building. Walker’s realisation of his restricted perspective is further accentuated by his star student (Avery Glymph), who, instead of showing compassion,
90 resembles Walker by treating the tragedy as just another assignment in physics and quickly calculates the angle of the fall.
It is important to clarify that Thirteen Conversations is not suggesting that Troy’s understanding of law or Walker’s view of physics is in itself incorrect. This becomes most evident in the film’s treatment of religion, explored via Beatrice who sings at a church choir and keeps a head of doll as a keepsake from childhood on her cupboard to remind her that God had saved her life as a child when she nearly drowned. Rather than implying that Beatrice is ignorant for being religious – something that at first sight might seem to be suggested by the “Ignorance is bliss” subtitle that introduces her – the film instead through all the characters highlights the limitations of one’s perspective on life. Thirteen Conversations is also hinting at viewer’s inability to judge such grand topics as the absolute law or the existence of a divine entity with any certainty. The limitations of Beatrice’s worldview become evident when she offers to fix a shirt to an architect (Malcolm Gets) to whom she works, despite the fact that she is only a cleaner, indicating that she is secretly in love with him. It is the same shirt that later blows out of Beatrice’s hands and gets her almost killed. However, after Beatrice has spent a considerable time recovering from the accident and finally feels well enough to return the shirt, the architect falsely accuses her of stealing.
The architect is not simply depicted as an unfair rich white man who scolds a working- class woman. That the architect’s criticism is partially justified is hinted earlier when Beatrice’s co-worker Dorrie (Tia Texada) visits her at the hospital. When Beatrice asks about work, Dorrie complains that one of the customers has written another complaint about her stealing. The film suggests that these complaints might not be entirely baseless, because the spectator has repeatedly witnessed Dorrie slacking at work – something that Beatrice is too kind-hearted to notice. When Dorrie says that the architect has stopped the service because he does not want other cleaners around beside Beatrice and we see Beatrice being flattered and smiling, there is another logical explanation for this – the architect has cancelled the contract because Dorrie stole from him. After all, Dorrie has been constantly complaining how unjustly rich the architect is compared to her. While Thirteen Conversations avoids a simplified binary where spoiled rich people are contrasted with hardworking lower-class people, the film, at the same time, leads the viewers’ sympathy quite clearly. As such, we see Beatrice walking in the pouring rain without an umbrella following the architect’s unjust accusations. It is necessary to note just how similarly to Rancière’s thinking the film represents the issue, as the architect, largely because of his different social status, had never even recognised Beatrice to be on the same level with him. This is evident from the way he rarely pays any attention to Beatrice even when she is
91 talking to him, how he entirely misses the significance of her fixing his shirt, and how it comes as a total surprise to him when it turns out that Beatrice has not stolen from him.
Because of the emotional blow and the accident that Beatrice suffers from, she eventually appears to give up her faith in God. At one point, this is illustrated by Beatrice explaining the accident not in her usual manner, as a sign of divine intervention, but rather, as Walker would, emotionlessly claiming that the accident happened simply because she was in the way of the car – just two bodies colliding in space. That this is not Thirteen Conversations’ value judgement on faith, is evident from the fact that in different scenes both Beatrice’s mother and Owen confirm that her chances of surviving the car crash are considered by doctors to be almost miraculous. The baselessness of Beatrice abandoning religion is suggested once more by the end of the film when she is about to commit suicide, but a man across the street smiles at her restoring her faith in humanity. This demonstrates that Thirteen Conversations is not interested in debunking law, science, or religion, via Troy, Walker, and Beatrice, but rather explores how these frameworks can lead to social injustice. While Beatrice, who in one scene listens to a lecture in church about how Christians must endure, suffers injustice without complaining (both from Dorrie’s slacking at work, the accident, and the architect’s insults), the other characters invoke injustice, often without even realising it, because of the social imaginary they value. Troy had made clear to Owen that he considers them better than the rest of the society, accentuated by the way he kept emphasising what “we” as attorneys can provide to “them” the people. The way Walker constantly talks down to people as he does to his students also suggests that his bias is supported by his status as a professor and by his knowledge of physics. Gene is likewise shown to be an unprofessional and dominant superior to his co- workers, who, much like Troy, does not even look at people most of the time when talking to