El oso

I hate Grizzly Bears. I hate them because I'm terrified of them. Nothing in the woods is gonna set you free like confronting a bear (well, maybe the Zodiac killer). Whenever you're out there, away from it all, there is the looming threat of The Bear. He is nature raw; he's a wake-up call, saying, "it's time to prove who you are and where you belong, now!"

Imagine loving a film from the point of view of your worst enemy. Think about feeling empathy and compassion for your most horrible nightmare. That's this film for me.

Sure it helps that the narrator is an innocent child, abandoned in the woods. Sure, he has dreams just like you do. He even chews mushrooms and trips around like you did as a teenager. He learns, he grows up, he faces trials, he is loved and protected.

The Indians say that when you kill an animal, you must respect his living soul. His rights are the same as yours. Maybe you had the edge this time, maybe you live a little longer. But, in the end, you are one in the same. Only the arrogance of man makes you think you're more important. The hunter supplicates because he's out-brawned. It's only later that he realizes that he is The Bear. Maybe not now, or before, but sometime. What would happen if everyone thought of themselves as an integral part of it all? That the trees, the rocks, the animals, the clouds, hell, everything of the earth was impossible to separate from humanity's own lifeforce?

It is rare when a work or art can change a perspective that's been locked in for a lifetime or re-enforced by centuries of civilization. But, for one magical moment, I was The Bear.