Good Will Hunting: Actually a comedy about one Smartass & his friends from Southie

One of the greatest movies of all time — and, like I’ve stated in the past, Matt Damon’s best turn. In short, I can watch GWH whenever, because it gives me allthe#feelings. But it’s meant to be a comedy and I don’t know how I feel about it.

And, as I’m sure most GWH nerds do, I relate (at least, I think I feel like I relate) most to Damon’s character; meaning, when I watch this movie, I like to think of myself as this undiscovered genius that no one gets — which is fine, because, like any self-titled “genius”, I don’t want to be understoodSOTHERE! #Pompous.

The problem is, I’m not smart enough — AT ALL — to match wits with MIT’s top minds and leading professors. So, in order to cleanse myself of this fictionalized mindset I have of myself when I’m in GWH mode, I re-watched it (again), with the intention of trying to not take the movie seriously. After doing so, here’s what I realized:

Clearly the film, directed by Gus Van Sant, goes out of its way to distinguish Will Hunting from his Southie bros — Ben and Casey Affleck; the Ranga dude — by showing the audience his smahts.

Examples include: 1) Will showing up an entire courtroom while defending himself on the stand, after beating up the dude who bullied him back in kindahgahden; 2) his seemingly compulsive need to write numbers and squiggles on a mirror with a black marker — just ‘cus…

; and 3) his takedown of the ponytailed guy in the Harvard bar who picked on Chucky, whose attempt to impress the two ladies at the end of the Harvahd bah by pretending to be a Harvard student.

By this point in GWH, it feels implied that the audience is supposed to accept that Will’s brain power is related to his apparent “Photographic Memory.” Also: Van Sant goes out of his way to imply Damon is a lost soul, living below the poverty line, and basically in a state of Limbo — what’s more important: putting his skills to use and leaving this place (South Boston) for a girl, or sticking around with Chucky and the gang, living one paper-bagged beer and one small hot Dunkin’ Donuts coffee post-arraignment at a time.

Spared a prison sentence by Massachusetts Institute of Technology professor Gerald Lambeau — provided he agrees to help the professor solve some of the most difficult mathematical proofs in the world — Will’s inner-self starts to come out around his psychologist, Sean (Robin Williams), who had roomed with Lambeau at MIT when both were students way back in the day.

Using scenes of Will and Sean’s meetings, Damon’s character’s greatest flaws become apparent: Will Hunting is scared of the world; the only things he’s ever known in Southie are brotherhood, poverty, blue-collar work and abusive foster families. But because of his natural intelligence, he feels as if it’s his duty to stay with his family (his brothers) and serve as they’re protector. He’s aware how poor, white Irish kids from Southie are viewed in one of the smartest cities in the world; to cope with this, Will tries to hide his intelligence (how he’s different from Chucky), only showing-off when he needs to help a friend.

Will, until his conversation in the yard with Chucky, doesn’t seem to realize that by sticking around Southie, drinkin’ with the bros, and working construction is not honorable; it’s an insult to his friends, who, Chucky explains, would bail on his ass in a heartbeat, if that meant escaping their current lives.

Before that point in the yard, Will only puts his smarts to use as a weapon — as a way to impress people he seems to feel look down on him out of principle.

In their sessions, Sean Maguire’s message to Will remains constant: “It’s not [Will’s] fault”; Will’s dickishness is a defense mechanism; Will is book smart but emotionally constipated; Will can do anything he wants, he doesn’t have to work for the NSA and club baby seals, and he’s lucky enough to have found a compatible soulmate in Skylar (Minnie Driver), aka the girl at the end of the bah.

What’s holding Will back is fear of being alone — taking a chance, leaving Southie for a girl, and following her to the West Coast; he doesn’t want to leave Ben, Casey and Ranga behind, because their love is all he’s known. In the end, of course, he finally does it.

Now, finna’go Tarantino on your azz

Good Will Hunting, was produced to be an inspirational, Indie tear-jerker about love and coming-of-age. But the film’s script, originally concocted by Damon and Affleck while the two of them were living in Somerville, MA, went through extensive changes, tweaks and re-imaginings, before the film hit the big screen in 1997. Damon and Affleck became legends, taking home an Oscar for best original screenplay; the late Robin Williams solidified himself as one of the best actors in the biz, earning a Best Supporting Oscar for his role as Sean Maguire; and Gus Van Sant enjoyed watching his film earn 5 total nominations.

And it’s Van Sant’s skill that I owe this analysis to. His directing brought out the heart-wrenching underbelly of what was a promising, but not quite ready for primetime, script. Without his emotional sense of storytelling, GWH, I realized, could’ve been a brilliant work of satire.

Will Hunting is an inconspicuous mathematical savant, who likes getting in to fights, drinking at little league games, and showing-up authority figures — like Gerald Lambeau, Boston police, and Ivy League students. He tells Sean that he lays brick and worked as a MIT janitor because “there’s honor in that.” Sean, seeing right through that, mocks Will’s assertion. The implication here seems to be that Will, despite trying his very best to fit in as a poor Southie Irish kid, is simply afraid to be alone; to compensate for his insecurities, Will takes low-paying jobs — that he could take anywhere else — with Chucky and at MIT because he A) wants to show his loyalty; and B) wants to put himself (subconsciously, perhaps) in situations where he can prove himself anonymously.

Will’s a masochist in this sense: he likes proving people wrong. Van Sant’s film, however, is a takedown of how we seem to romanticize martyrdom. In other words: “Wake the fck, up, Will! If you hate Southie so much, you can leave — literally whenever you want. Chucky, Sean and Lambeau will get it.”

If that message was driven home from the start of the film, GWH would, I think, have amounted to nothing more than a MEH? movie. Van Sant does this by intentionally not explaining Will’s background. The audience sees him flipping through a book a hyper-speed, solving impossible mathematical problems, and spitting from memory entire passages from history books. The audience is supposed to see Will’s genius as something that simply is, as well as a cursed gift that he feels compelled to hide.

Again, that is all implied — not explained — in the film as it was produced. This is why I, prior to forcing myself to watch the movie as more of a cynical bastard, was and still am obsessed with it. But, upon further review, I’ve realized:

Will Hunting is actually just the sad kid who can’t come to terms with the fact that his three best buds are idiots; they could very well me as smart as Will, but less motivated to be great at something.
Will isn’t really a genius; he knows how to read, make a little money, manipulate friendships, embarrass people, check-out library books and make people laugh — even if it’s at someone else’s expense.
Will is just a pissed-off Southie kid, who likes fuckin’round and showing up authority. For all the audience knows, will isn’t solving Lambeau’s proof on that chalkboard. A cynic’s eye will see that seen as Lambeau sees Will: Why is that dirty janitor drawing all over a mathematical proof he would never be able to solve, destroying someone else’s work?
Well, that’s because Will, I’ve realized, is actually a pretty big dick, who takes out his feelings on people he assumes will belittle him out of their own preconceived notions of class, intelligence, and education.
Will knows how to connect the dots — literally. But he has no idea what he’s connecting, why it matters or why “the smartest minds in the world” at MIT struggle so much with drawing straight lines between two points on a plain.

6. Will discovers love through his meetings with Sean. Professor Lambeau’s fascination with Will, teaches him that construction and custodial work isn’t the only thing Will is qualified to do.

7. Sean and Lambeau are both graduates from MIT. While Sean chose love and a passion for teaching over more prestigious opportunities afforded to MIT grads, Lambeau is a lonely, self-obsessed creep, trying to ride the coattails of someone’s skills to feed his own ego.

Will is a doer. He does things because that’s all he knows. He’s smarter than everyone because he wants to prove to everyone he’s not dumb; he’s living in poverty in Southie day-drinking with the boys because he wants to fit in; and he suffers in silence because he fears rejection.

Later in life, he’ll realize, despite all the feelings he made everyone feel, his complaining was so completely unnecessary.

Hollywood, you guys. It’s a motherfucker.

…Will eventually went to Mars