This movie ruined my life.
That’s what I thought to myself, sitting on a stranger’s couch with two equally strange dogs, cornbread crumbs tumbling out of my mouth.
Now, I promise this is a movie summary with a correlating movie review, but I feel like some back story would put my italicized comment in context.
The Canadian travel-drama film “One Week” (2008) did indeed ruin my life. It did come at an unexpected, though not unneeded time, and much if its message stays with me to this day. For a little more about my story with it, stay tuned. (For those who would like to skip ahead to an in-depth film summary, skip ahead to the “Bad News Blues” heading. For the review, skip ahead to the heading “And finally. . .the Review.”)
Some Back Story
So, why was I in a stranger’s house, you may ask? And how the fudgemuffins did this factor into a film review?
You see, I was house sitting. I’d just quit my job so I could focus on writing, and was doing a crap job at it. In my defense, I had just flown home to Virginia for yet another FUBAR family adventure. As eldest daughter and two-days-recently unemployed, it was my familial duty to help facilitate my mother’s move. You see, my father had put it into foreclosure on the sly, so when it thankfully sold instead of going to auction, there was no warning, no time for preparation, and of course no fair weather what with the country-wide snowstorms.
With help from truly selfless souls at church and in the neighborhood, the house was sorted for donations, packed, cleaned, and away we went in a U-Haul containing my mother and sister’s earthly possessions, across 17 states back home to Utah where they would move in with me. After a few weeks of moving around storage and opening enough boxes to clear a walkway, I was officially jobhunting again.
But I was restless. From lack of sleep? Probably. Still, there was something else. The familiar tug inside my ribcage. A tug tethered somewhere across the sea to other lands. That tug stretches and dips down into an itch in the feet, running all the way up and in to a restless mind. It was time to travel again, though I had not much money saved. I was brainstorming ways to get back out and backpack abroad again and who knows, maybe working on the book there with a more permanent residency.
Rewind back to the unemployment part. I remembered a house sitting app I’d bought a year before, back when I had a handsome income and a flexible work schedule. There were plenty of job openings in Salt Lake City, which was nice for someone living in the area. But living about 40 minutes south, and gas prices deplorable at best? No sirree, not for this broke bitch. So I had an idea. If I could land solid house sitting gigs in SLC, then I could work there without a crazy commute, if even partially.
A great idea. In theory. In practice, nobody wanted a girl with no sit reviews watching their dogs, even with my Rover experience. And certainly not with their boogie houses. I was back to square one.
Until Sandy. I’d received a message on a house sitting app for an owner in Sandy who had declined my application, but was very kind about it. This certain lady had a sitter who needed to leave early and she knew I was still willing. She offered me a deal: if I watched her dogs and house for a night, she’d write me a stellar review, ensuring I’d get more sits. Her offer was too good to not take up. That’s how I found myself hanging out with some dogs I’d only met a day prior in an unfamiliar house with nothing to do in the suburbs.
It was just that time when the sun set and the chilly air was picking up. I’d just gotten back from walking the dogs. They were both sweethearts, and were ready to snuggle on a warm blanket on the couch. I was supposed to be working on a design and quilt square, but the couch was comfy and the dogs were warm, so we all cuddled close and I turned on the tv. The nice lady had Disney+ and since I’d been reminiscing about my 90’s childhood classics, I figured I’d watch The Mighty Ducks.
At least, I was trying to. I’m sort of a Boomer when it comes to technology, and I couldn’t figure out how to work the controllers to navigate the apps. Turns out Disney is real good about taking down their movies on any YouTube posts, so that was out, but there was something that had come up in the search that piqued my interest. It did include the titular actor Joshua Jackson, though with a motorcycle and an open road in place of a hockey rink. Because I had some time to kill, I clicked on the video, not knowing what to expect.
It’s here Ben’s tale begins.
Bad News Blues
Ben Tyler has just been diagnosed with stage four cancer. For those of you who don’t know (and that’s including the protagonist himself) it’s the final stage of cancer, the end of the road, as it were. What a buzzkill not only for his job, but an interruption to his upcoming wedding to the love of his life. Understandably upset, Ben races home, passing a man selling his vintage motorcycle.
The narrator gives us some back story about Ben: about his long-since given up ambitions of singing, and a failed novel. He teaches at some generic school you see, and one of his initial impulses was relief at not grading any more crap papers from students that not even his rousing recitation of Tennyson’s Ulysses can shake from ambivalence.
On a whim–and because who gives a flying fart about accident statistics when your chances of living past a few months are slim to none anyway–he buys the motorcycle.
This comes as quite the shock to his fiancée Samantha, a girl with a perpetually pinched scowl and bad hairdo. Now I may be biased, this being Joshua Jackson we’re dealing with, but hot damn. Girl, seriously? Pacey Witter himself stands in front of you, and that gives you no reason for eternal rejoicing??
She thinks he should drop the wedding plans and seek treatment immediately, as his slim chances may improve the sooner he starts chemo. Not yet, he responds. Before he decides on treatment plans, or if he even wants any, he wants to hit the road on his new ride. He then asks her to accompany him to go explore together, and of course, she says no. Because who would want to spend alone time with their super hot betrothed, let alone one who has a ticking time limit?
My frustration with this basic white chick knows no ends.
Maybe there was something more (hint hint) about Ben’s initial impulse to cancel his wedding, but he’ll get to that later. For now he takes the sage advice of a coffee cup to “Go West” and follows the road where it may take him.
There are no dumb reasons
He doesn’t get too far before second-guessing his decision. Had he really started this journey on the suggestion of a coffee cup? Sure, he saw some cool murals, a big lawn chair and some scenery, but what about his life? Maybe there was a misdiagnosis. Maybe he was wasting his limited time without his loved ones. Maybe he was being dumb and careless, just like Samantha said.
Sitting on a bench on the turnaround back to Toronto, he meets two Irish teenagers. Side note: I knew Canada was home to vast and varied ethnic groups, but the large Irish presence surprised me. Anywho, these teenagers need a new tire to finish their journey, but decline Ben’s offer to drive them to the shop. It would break the rules of their wager to bike across the country, you see, and they can’t risk their prize case of beer. So Ben bids them good luck, and realizes a big thing:
Maybe there are no dumb reasons to travel. If a couple of kids with no tires who had nothing more than a case of beer stake were making their way west on subpar equipment. . .then surely no reason to hit the road was small or foolhardy.
Ben passes the unseen test, and presses on west.
Pregnancy Scare
At a refueling stop, Ben finds a book tucked in his bag. There was a note from Samantha asking if he could read the story to their kids. Panicked at the possibility of her being pregnant, he talks with her, and she confirms no she’s with child silly goose, it was just a poorly-phrased manipulation move to guilt-trip him into coming home. (Okay, I get you care about him, but it’s been like one day girl, calm your tits on this. Strike two.)
Notwithstanding the guilt-trip tactic, Ben reads the book. It was something he wrote based on a story his father told him about the Grumps, a magical creature that once roamed the lands. The finder of it could ask a wish and a boon, and if there was anyone needing a wish granted and a boon to his soul, it’s our intrepid protagonist. So he resolves to seek the mythical Grumps, and since there was no description of one, determines he will know it when he sees it.
The Opening Road
The good feelings don’t last long. After another enlightening depressing conversation with his fiancée, Ben asks if Samantha settled, if she would change anything. Your feet, she responds, “they reek.” We’re then treated to a delightful scene of Ben asking a random pharmacist his professional opinion on foot odor. The pharmacist soon sees the young traveler is deadly serious, and to his undying credit, gives him an earnest response. His answer leaves Ben wondering why Samantha would lie about his feet. (Answer: Because she sucks. But he doesn’t know that.)
The open road sure is dotted with motel dives and yellow lawn chairs. At one of these such motels with just such a chair, Ben ponders his fate and his relationship. Next to him a fellow motel motorist (cameo musician/activist Gord Downie) shoots the breeze.
“So you have direction but not destination” he astutely sums up. The stranger mentions his own battle with cancer. This mystifies Ben, who finds it odd this stranger should casually converse about the Big C.
He beat the odds in cancer and in life, the stranger goes on. His marriage is going twenty five years strong and they’re still in love. This more than intrigues Ben, who asks him how he knew his love was the real thing.
“If you have to ask–you’re not. And you already knew that.” With a puff of (medical) marijuana, Ben openly admits for the first time that the love of his life might not be.
The road continues west into Manitoba, and with what must be some kind of cosmic synchronization, Ben calls Samantha as she tries on another wedding dress. Without even seeing it, he knows it’s because the bodice grabs her boobs funny even without her saying it.
“Did you ever think it’s the boobs and not the dresses?” His words not mine. Though I have to say, I don’t disagree with what seems a correct assessment of the cherries.
Either the metaphysical significance of the statement is lost on his beloved, or she understands too well what that means. Because when pleading for Ben to come home, he affirms he’s not ready yet. Though not because he hasn’t thought about treatment–the reality of what may come lingers in his solitary moments, and it seems only the sunlit horizons can antidote the fear of what comes next.
Changing Winds
In case you forgot this was Charlie Conway we were talking about, our protagonist ends up at a hockey rink. No less than Anaheim Duck hockey player Derek Vincent guards the one and only Stanley Cup. He was taking some alone time with the cup (since he was unconscious during the victorious tail end of the game) and it’s his first chance alone with it. Instead of letting Ben polite-himself away, he invites him to take a moment to likewise celebrate with some champagne. In a suggestion of kindness maybe inexplicable even to him, Vincent invites him to kiss the cup.
“They say it’s good luck,” he throws in as an aside, but you can’t help see he believes in it, too. If ever there was an object of legend that could cure his cancer, maybe it was this.
In case you forgot this was Ben we were talking about, his luck doesn’t last long. With a bike that won’t start, he’s stuck in the middle of unfamiliar territory a name like Saskatchewan suggests. In a momentary loss of control he throws his phone, causing him to miss a call from Samantha. Soon after he finds a dead dog at the side of the road, of a sign of what can only be another bad omen.
After notifying the owner, Fran, the rough and tumble farm girl picks Ben up. The dog lasted longer than any of her marriages, she laments. But Fran and Ben bond, she fixing his bike while he offers to hear her story. Far from her son, she’s out of luck herself and in debt with the ailing economy. Does it ever make you bitter? He asks in all candor.
“That’s the thing,” she responds with an optimistic countenance. No, it doesn’t.
“Though getting laid every once in a while wouldn’t hurt.”
Ending the day with his first horseback ride and encouraging his new friend to go on her own road trip, it’s hard to say if the Stanley Cup luck wasn’t in the equation after all: Fran heeds his travel encouragement and goes to visit her son, meeting the love of her life on the way.
BAMF in Banff
After a roadkill collision and an awkward victory dance, Ben decides he’s done with crappy motels and crappier weather. Not careful about saving funds for retirement, he checks himself into the presidential suite overlooking Banff National Park. Samantha must have sensed he was in close proximity to comfort, because she tells him she’s catching a flight the next day.
Panicked at his fiancée not approving of his search for a creature of fancy, he does what any reasonable daydreamer would do and heads into the forest with no compass, water, or warm clothing. Just when hypothermia looms a real threat, a dog and its correlating camper owner cross his path and offer aid.
Singing around the campfire, Ben and the mysterious yet hot camper Tracy have real talk. There will be no second novel, he affirms, and rejection pretty much crushed any creativity that remained. Their earnest conversation on pursuits vs delusions resonates with Ben in deeper ways, and at the end of it, he in no uncertain terms makes his desires known. (As a Plan B, Ben could have used the whole near-hypothermia thing as a valid excuse for a “skin-to-skin contact” avenue, but with this musical chick, the direct approach seemed to work just fine.)
What the surprise when Ben finds none other but his fiancée waiting in his room the next day. His honest confession to sleeping with a rando precedes some real talk with Samantha. Part of it is about things they maybe should have had long before their engagement. This leads to Ben admitting what we already guessed, that his life and love were not what he wanted. (The conversation with Tracy from the previous night is an interesting contrast and deviation from his previous beliefs: just one night prior he was the one calling wants delusional, and Tracy defending with “Somebody has to fill the world’s delusional quotient.”)
Samantha does manage to somehow make it about her, even in the midst of this breakup. She never thought what they had was settling or second best, she explains, and you can’t help but believe her. With a warning that running away won’t keep reality from catching up with him, she and Ben part ways.
Catching Up
It does catch up to him. Further from Hope and journeying through Hell’s Gate, Ben descends into realms that not even getting sloshed can alleviate. The further he rides, the more even he can see his cancer surface with each rest stop. With a bitter twist of the knife, he finds his bike crushed in the parking lot of a restaurant. It seems his ride west, like his life, was meant to be cut short.
At the end of the line, Ben dons a wetsuit and sallies forth to Vancouver beach. A German couple asks for a photo to commemorate their time in a beautiful country, and Ben agrees it is a beautiful land indeed. Surfboard in hand, he paddles out into the western waters. The water is blue, the sky is wide, and even Ben is seemingly at peace with the end of his road.
Until, that is, a humpback whale breaches beside him. Though he didn’t know what a Grumps would look like, there was no doubt he was in the presence of a creature marvelous and magical.
Turns out he found it after all.
The Road Home
Ready at last, Ben journeys home. Arranging treatment with his family, he makes one last stop at Samantha’s. Their last time together is quiet and intimate, and we, like Samantha, wonder what he will do next. The narrator’s last voiceover plays over bookstores putting a book entitled “One Week” in the promotional windows, Ben Tyler’s name on the cover. And though we do not know for sure whether our friend and hero Ben makes it alive, the empty desk and blackboard scribble of Tennyson leaves us with something of an immortal legacy, alive or not.
And finally. . .the Review
This film is, foremost, an homage to all things Canadian. From a First Nations ceremony dance to the Stanley Cup, it’s got every province and stereotype in between. Joshua Jackson in the titular role hails from British Columbia, and you can see the unbridled pride for his land and people in every scene. It seems dishonest to the spirit of the film to be filmed anywhere but on location, and with the young German surfer’s remark of Canada having the most beautiful land in the world, it’s hard to disagree. The soundtrack, also made up of sole Canadian artists, features Gord Downie and Emm Gryner in bit yet poignant character parts.
Yet the dedication to nationalism doesn’t come off as conceited. Rather, it makes a celebration of culture awash with humanity and affection. To summarize a commenter on the film’s YouTube stream, “As an Asian American male, I’ve never felt so proud to be Canadian.” Which I, somehow, can now say I relate to.
And it’s no wonder. Nearly every pivotal revelation is brought about by another human being. Ben’s genuine connection with people and their likewise effect on him help him realize what really matters and vice versa. This is seen in the encounter with the Irish teens, the pharmacist, the motel motorist, Vincent, Fran, the hot camper Tracy, the Germans, and more. This aspect of the film illustrates in narrative what is true for all who travel: we go out to seek, but we find in return. Ben went out searching for a boon of the Grumps, a magical healing and health, but thought what he really wanted was Time. What he wanted most of all was connection and meaning. It wasn’t his family or closest friends that could bring that, but those he met along the road. But with that new connection and meaning, he could in turn go back to his family and friends and love even truer than before.
There’s a certain onset of regret after the end of a good film. Aristotle in Poetics discourses on the importance of catharsis via tragedy. The viewer (or, as I argue, the participant) of art experiences pity and fear. These feelings purge or purify the participant. Good art, in other words, makes you feel something, something irrevocably deep, something that ruins your life in what we hope to God is for the better. After viewing this film, I put my phone down, and slowly scratched a dog absent-mindedly behind the ear. Something was done that could not be undone. In doing this plot summary, I had a good deal of time (two months later, to be exact) to appreciate what that cathartic experience has meant for me. It is said best by the narrator’s remarks: “When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold on to them. They are the life boats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely illusive.”
That’s why I travel. To seek and keep that healing from living death: From whatever fears hold us back, from blindness to beauty in the land and people around us. To make sure my own life is not illusive or elusive. For you see, it is easiest to recognize on open roads, and the eternal struggle is to remember that even back on familiar paths. To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
So, back to that housesitting in Sandy. Why was I ruined? Because catharsis is real, and there was pity and fear. Because I realized I was afraid. Afraid I was missing out on my own life. And more than anything, afraid of not realizing it until it’s too late.
So I seek for that clarity. We all seek that clarity to remain, that clearsighted courage and purpose. We all seek the boon of living in the now, of not missing a single eternal moment. And so Ben’s journey becomes our own.
And that truth can ruin you. For the better–I hope–if you, like Ben, follow it down the road.