M. Night Shyamalan's Split: Unleashing the Beast

Glass opened on January 18th, and I couldn't be more pleased with it. As such, I've been featuring a series on M. Night Shyamalan's catalog of work. Not every movie will be featured; only my favorites, and I've been sick lately delaying my schedule a bit...a lot. So welcome back, stay tuned, and enjoy part two of this peek into the mildly obsessed.

I didn't know that Split is a part of the Unbreakable franchise, now known as the "Eastrail 177 Trilogy," until Glass became a sure thing and the first trailer came out, so I'm still getting to know Kevin Crumb and his 23 alters.

I had trouble writing this post because this movie is not my favorite of the ones I'm profiling during this series. This is not to say that it isn't good. It's quite excellent, especially in the treatment of the titular disorder. I recognize now that my hesitation stemmed from a sense that I needed to highlight this representation and some of the backlash it's received. I debated, for days, whether to bother with this topic, especially as I began writing and it got long, as my rants often do. Did we need to rake this topic over the coals again? Did I need to be yet another person beating this topic with a stick? I was about to cut the whole section when I realized this is exactly the problem with the way we deal with social issues these days: it's either too much or not at all, and someone always feels like they're being told they can't talk. That's too bad. Like it or not, some things need to be said, and you might be surprised where I go with this.

Part I: Thoughts on Responsibility in Representation

A childhood fascination: DID past & present

I've been fascinated with "split" or "multiple" personalities - now known as Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) - since 1990 when Shelley Long starred in a miniseries about a woman with 92 personalities called Voices Within: The Lives of Truddi Chase. Truddi had been sexually, physically, and mentally abused by her stepfather and mother as a small child (a typical story for those with this disorder). Much of the miniseries focused on how her alters or "Troops" helped her cope, as well as the strain of trying to integrate said alters to one personality. These characters had come to feel like friends, and the idea that she might "kill" them off (the process of integration is much more complex than that, but I know there are those who feel it would be like experiencing a death) in order to be normal turned my stomach. When Truddi (Shelley) gleefully declares via t-shirt "2, 4, 6, 8... We don't want to integrate!" in the last scene of the movie, I couldn't help but cheer for her and anyone like her. It was my first inkling that mental illness didn't have to mean that you must be fixed in order to function in society. In fact, I didn't see her as mentally ill. I saw her as many people who happened to live in the same body. Much like Dr. Fletcher spoke of Kevin and others like him, people like this are remarkable.

So, it's likely that I was already primed to root for Kevin Crumb and his 23 alters. I only needed a reason. The compelling philosophy that there are those who don't suffer and they are the ones who are broken or tainted certainly caught my attention. It's an idea that hasn't been played in conjunction with DID, to my knowledge. It's rarely played at all. Of course, the disturbing aspect of this is the remedy: that such people should be expunged by the Beast. While I felt concerned by the tired tropiness of the kidnapped girls to be used as sacrifice at the beginning, losing clothes in a way that couldn't feel anything but rapey, I enjoyed watching the way Casey's background and patience paid off for her. The fact that she both foils the Horror Victim trope and confirms the Beast's philosophy, winning his respect, was all I needed for this film to succeed in my book.

Yet the ongoing cinematic history of DID is spotty at best. From characters like Jekyll & Hyde, Psycho, and Sybil, up through the likes of Gollum, the Hulk, and Tyler Durden, this genre has mostly focused on the disorder as a vehicle for villains and plot twists. It shouldn't be surprising that the majority of DID sufferers are sick of it, or that they were quite ready to boycott yet another such portrayal.

Giving voice to a group

As an Autism advocate, I know the sting of seeing yet another such character portrayed incorrectly and, worse, vilified. It is bad enough that the media does such things, and perhaps this is art holding up the proverbial mirror to reality. Unfortunately, there are those who truly believe what they see, rather than diving deeper and, really, that is the true crime. That it still need be said that such people aren't typically dangerous, that one should look at such a portrayal and recognize that this is work of fiction, to neither be believed or endorsed and that, even if it was based on something true, could not be representative of a whole.

Furthermore, I think Shyamalan did pretty well here. The research he did on this film, that McAvoy did, is more than many filmmakers are willing to do, and it shows. Despite the title of the film, the correct name of the disorder is used throughout the movie. I'm not sure I even heard anyone refer to it as "split" or "multiple" personality. Instead, we are introduced to the plight of people with DID through Dr. Fletcher, a woman with a crusade to validate this stigmatized condition, as there are still many health professionals who do not even believe that DID exists, despite numerous cases and studies asserting otherwise. Additionally, there is a body of evidence that shows that alters can have different abilities, illnesses, and other personality aspects, which Shyamalan used rather effectively to ask a question: if one alter can have diabetes when none of the others do, then what else might the human brain be capable of when separating identities?

As far as I'm concerned, we hit neutral territory on the reality of DID. While I will never tell someone to suppress their feelings or not to act as their convictions compel them, I do wonder if encouraging people not to watch this film does more harm than good. After all, it is only if you watch the movie that you see the positive aspects, the points at which the filmmakers said, "Yes, we're going for the trope, but we're trying to do it responsibly. We seek to do our small part to educate and ask new questions." Without seeing this, the movie does, indeed, look like every other portrayal that uses the condition as a mere trope.

Who's responsibility is it?

Perhaps that's crediting the entertainment industry with more than they deserve, but movies are also art. Art seeks to hold up that mirror to society for the purpose of change. And change does not come quickly without major upheaval and backlash. More often it is at a snail's pace so that we have time to reflect and assimilate. True, it doesn't always do a good job, but sometimes it's all we've got. It reminds me of how some people won't watch classic movies because they don't like how women and other minorities are portrayed in them, rather than celebrating the triumph of the slow journey such people have taken and seeing how they spoke up and stood up and lay the groundwork for future generations. As much as I hate it, too, the reality of civil rights movements is always a slow one.

And here's the thing: some of the onus of responsibility has to be on the viewer. Regardless of what side of the debate you're on, we all need to take a step back and think. Is this fair? No. It isn't. It isn't fair that the media is a virtual shitshow of biased stories that help keep oppressed people oppressed, and require us to speak for ourselves. It isn't fair that entertainers and artists don't do their homework. It has nothing to do with fair. That's why we the Viewer/Reader/Listener gotta do ours, too.

The reason why people get angry about these portrayals is that we're a culture that's become complacent to have everything spoon-fed to us in palatable chunks, whether or not those chunks have any nutritional value, so to speak. We then feel betrayed that we were misled by the thing we felt absolutely no responsibility to put our own effort into, to verify or stand-up and speak our own stories. Again, I'm speaking to all sides here. We can no longer be content to have change delivered to us via Tweet. We cannot place the onus of responsibility solely on the art/artist, and then heap criticism without acknowledging that at least they tried, to point out what they did right. We the Consumer have to be willing to watch, to glean what is useful and build on it, to question that which feels off and do our own research to find answers. That's how revolutions succeed.

So.

I really enjoyed this movie. No major complaints. It's simply that I love Shyamalan's work for the warmth and hope that underlies his films and, while there were definitely elements of hope in this movie, it was missing that warmth. I'd put it at the bottom of my list of favorite MNS movies, right before Signs. Still, there are so many things worth talking about, so let's dig in.

~`~

Part II: Thoughts on the Film

"We look at those who are shattered and different as less than.... What if they are more than us?"

~Dr. Fletcher

Dissecting the Alters

A look into Kevin Crumb's world...

The Light

This is what it's called when one of the alters takes over, "taking the light." Cool way to describe the process, taking a spotlight, of sorts.

Having a System

I'm big on systems so I can appreciate the epic necessity for a functional system among multiple identities. You would simply have to. How would you make sure you satisfied everyone's needs, got to the right appointments? How would you make sure that the one personality who has diabetes gets her insulin? This is more than sharing the light. This is sharing space; you can't really have separate houses for each personality, not when there are that many. Even separate rooms for each is a stretch, even if you're rich. Crumb is not rich. So he gets by with a very specific system: different clothes for each alter, separate toothbrushes, as well as other items that people wouldn't usually share amongst each other.

Interestingly, there are some specific concessions here. Hedwig, the 9-yr-old rap lover, has his own room. It is likely that a 9-yr-old wouldn't fully understand having to share his room with the others.

The video diaries were an interesting piece, though I suspect that was done more to provide proof for Dr. Fletcher that these other personalities existed. As an actor myself, I tend to enjoy seeing multiple identities performed. I would have been interested, however, to see more of how they each "took the light."

The Dominant Personality

Having a dominant personality is, I suspect, part of having a system for this disorder. Barry is dynamic and outgoing, a talented extrovert with a genuine interest in people. Furthermore, he seems to be the most stable of the alters. He's the perfect choice to show the outward face of all those identities, which raises the question of why he is still referred to as "Kevin". I noticed this particularly among the critics writing about this movie. They all generally refer to "Kevin" rather than "Barry" or even the currently present identities like Dennis, Patricia or Hedwig. It's another instance where we see the stigma associated with this disorder and that, in my opinion, is probably very damaging.

A lot of times the original personality is so deeply traumatized, that they cannot actually function in society, and have handed the reins over to one of the alters. There's an example from Voices Within when one of Truddi's alters explains that the original identity known as "Truddi" had long been dead, a result of continued abuse. The other alters had taken over her body at that point, one of them undoubtedly acting as the dominant. Can you imagine?

Is it right, then, to refer to the collective as that original personality when they are not the Dominant, when they may no longer even exist? Why aren't they giving these identities the respect that they deserve as separate entities? And the answer, of course, is that "Kevin" is the legal name attached to that body. It matters little to the authorities that there are multiple people living within. It matters even less that Barry seems to be the one most present. This particular disorder is an invisible disability - rarely well-respected or believed - so why would authorities and the greater public refer to one of the alters? It's pretty sad when you think about it.

The Horde

The Horde is the group of "believer" identities, who are trying to bring forth the 24th identity: the Beast. If there is to be said to be any kind of villain in the story, it is these three. They are the ones who kidnap Casey, Claire, and Marcia.

Dennis

Dennis has OCD and a proclivity for watching young women and girls dance naked. He is the taskmaster of the alters, and is in charge of many of the details for this planned coming of "The Beast", including the kidnapping of three teenage girls. It's not a great start for a character's likeability, is it?

Like so many characters in Shyamalan's repertoire, however, it's hard to judge Dennis too harshly. For one thing, he manifested as one of the alters because of the abuse done to Kevin by his mother. Dennis was the one who could endure the abuse, protect the others. He has perhaps the most fortitude of them all. Furthermore, it seems his unsavory proclivities may be mostly trigger-based (which in no way justifies them). We find out that recently Barry has been assaulted (sexually, it is surmised) by a couple of teenage girls while at work, likely causing Dennis to go into overdrive. Indeed, Dr. Fletcher remarks that she is "pleased to meet" Dennis when she catches him impersonating Barry (a beautiful moment), implying that he doesn't surface much.

Dennis is ultimately a sympathetic character. From the start, there is a heavy sense that he doesn't want to be doing this. After being triggered by a traumatic experience visited upon the alters, he feels pressed to do what he can to protect the group, reminding us that anyone can be prey to manipulation.

Though he is initially the creepiest of the alters, he may not be the worst; because there's nothing scarier than a fanatic.

Patricia

You like Patricia despite the disturbing aspect of, well...pretty much everything about her. The way she gestures, her way of sitting still and espousing manners; you know right off the bat that she's some kind of child care-taker-type, perhaps a governess. She is one of my favorite performances from McAvoy here.

Yet it's the absolute faith she has in the Beast and his(its?) purpose that is truly terrifying. While we're meant to fear the impending Beast, these are the people you should be wary of, the kind who believe they are right above all else: the fanatics. And she delivers.

It's interesting that Patricia is the one who comes before the Beast, giving credence to that idea that sheer willpower - absolute faith - can bring something, or someone, into existence.

Hedwig

Hedwig, a 9-yr-old who's into Kanye West music, has his own special power. He can take the light whenever he wants....which might lead one to believe he is the true dominant personality. Often when we see a child portrayed as an identity in someone with DID, they seem to be representative of some lost aspect - call it innocence or naivety - of childhood, that what makes a child a child. They are literally a child frozen in trauma.

Beyond that, I'm not a fan. He seems to mostly serve the purpose of giving Casey someone to trick.

Casey: Not Your "Typical" Victim

"The thrill is about whether you can or can't outsmart this animal."

It's difficult to handle a character who is a victim of rape - of repeated molestation and abuse at the hands of a relative - with the appropriate level of care. I'm not sure that Shyamalan does it here, but one thing is clear.

Casey is a survivor.

It is here that I call back to the points I made about the viewer's responsibility in representation. Casey understands what many survivors of horrible things understand: it's her responsibility.

Now hold up a second. Don't get too angry just yet. Actually, do get angry, because this should piss you off entirely.

You see, when someone is wronged, victimized, or in some other way had something done to them, it is the fault of the perpetrator of the wrong. Yet it is the victim/survivor who must bear the burden. They are responsible for carrying it. They are responsible for dealing with the havoc wreaked on their lives and, hopefully, they will be responsible for laying down this burden at some point. Never doubt, however, that as one does that, they are alone. No amount of loving family, friends, or fellow victims/survivors (which Casey doesn't even have) can truly alleviate that burden.

Casey understands this all too well. She wears her trauma in layers like her clothing, allowing her to hide the scars, pain, shame, and fear. It is her armor. She maintains herself in the face of possible death because, for her, this is tame compared to what usually happens.

Yet it's not just her trauma that keeps her calm and focused. Her time with her father before losing him to a heart attack taught her some things. She's smart; she takes in her surroundings, instructs the other girls how to evade Dennis's unsavory clutches (urine). When it comes time to escape, she keeps her head well enough to find the keys that get her out of the room.

It is this survivor mentality and her trauma which save her in the end. Exhausted, scared, much of her clothing - her armor - is gone, having been taken or lost throughout the picture (unlike the other girls who were disrobed almost immediately). When all the layers are peeled off, it is her truth, the scars showing her pain, which saves her.

"Your heart is pure. Rejoice. The broken are the more evolved. Rejoice."

~The Beast

And with that...The Beast leaves.

We have some messed up thought processes for the differences between victims and survivors. It is often felt that victims are weak. This is so far from the truth. Victims simply have not found the tools to access the survivor within. Through these horrible ordeals, Casey finds a strength in herself that she had probably forgotten existed, a strength that the Beast sees, too. It allows her to survive both the Beast and her uncle (because that is the true monster in her life). And as she sits in that police car, transformed, you can see the silence is over. You just know it.

Split gives us the message that the time has come to break the silence, whether it's through the efforts of Kevin Crumb, his alters, and Dr. Fletcher to educate the world, or by Casey speaking out about what has been done to her.

We speak out to heal.

And there it is. There's my warmth. Because ultimately Split is about surviving trauma, about acknowledging that sometimes the initial circumstance is not what's going to make us stronger. That often times in our trauma, we become stuck, we need help to heal. While I don't recommend kidnapping and near-evisceration as a therapy technique, no one can say what the catalyst for healing will be. Because Shyamalan got one thing right in this case: the only way out is through.

Fitting into the Eastrail 177 Universe

As I said before, I didn't know that this movie had anything to do with Unbreakable until the Glass trailer dropped, and there was McAvoy reprising his role. I immediately got Split and watched it, and it was then that I saw the secret that really ought to have been spoiled for me a long time before by the internet: David Dunn, sitting in a diner, talking about Mr. Glass.

As a part of this trilogy, affectionately and unofficially named the "Eastrail 177 Trilogy", I wasn't sure how I felt about Split. It felt so different from Unbreakable. For example, the music is by West Dylan Thordson. The music works fine for a psychological thriller, but it wasn't James Newton Howard, whom I grew to love precisely because of Shyamalan's movies. Still, I couldn't help but notice the tie-in at the end. The music filters into the Unbreakable theme as the alters regroup and discuss how the Beast has power, how they cannot be ignored any longer, before cutting to the diner and David. This modified version of the modern "stinger" sets up rather perfectly to head directly for Glass.

Here are a couple more hints at Split's membership in a "larger superhero universe."

The Birth of a Beast

There'd been a theory floating around the internet that Kevin Crumb appears in Unbreakable. In the scene where David Dunn stands in the crowd feeling everyone out, we see his visions of these people's horrible acts. Suddenly, a woman walks by with her child, forcefully dragging him along. When they touch David, we hear the voices of the two: the woman yelling at the child, and the child's screams overlapping. But we do not get a picture of what is happening.

It has been speculated that this is Kevin Crumb and the abusive mother we immediately grow to loathe in Split. The big clue is the absence of a vision to go with the screams. It is the only instance in that entire scene in which that happens. What everyone points out, however, is that when the child's voice can be heard screaming, there seem to be multiple voices crying out and screaming. If you listen closely, one of the child's voices sounds like a little girl.

Are we seeing the beginning of the alters? Had they already begun by this point?

We are given further evidence in Split itself when Kevin goes to the train station. He buys flowers and brings them to a platform. It seems as though he may have lost someone there. Did they jump? Did something else happen?

Is it possible? If so, it is where the Kevin we know is born; and so, too, where the Beast is born. How fitting.

The Beast and Jaguaro

Another moment in Unbreakable hints at the Beast. When Glass is describing the character of Jaguaro as a classic comic book villain, and not the mastermind Glass is, one can't help but think of the Beast. Big strong, animalistic, fingers twice the length of the others, skin of the rhinoceros... The list goes on. As I pointed out in my post on Unbreakable, the description of Jaguar could partly apply to Glass, too. Is Shyamalan setting us up at the very beginning for David Dunn to eventually have two villains to battle? It certainly seems so, falling right in line with the pattern of everything Glass points out about comic books coming true for them all. Indeed, some research revealed that Shyamalan had meant to introduce the Beast in the first movie, but decided on a character study of an emerging superhero instead (thank the stars).

Shyamalan encourages us to see the human value in characters we would label as evil. He gets us to root for the villains. And isn't that what a good storyteller does?

_____
Resources:
SPLIT: A REVIEW AND ITS UNEXPECTED MERIT
From Split to Psycho: why cinema fails dissociative identity disorder

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Title: Split

Released: January 20, 2017

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Director: M. Night Shyamalan

Writer: M. Night Shyamalan

Music: West Dylan Thordson

Actors/Actresses: James McAvoy, Anya Taylor-Joy, Betty Buckley,

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