The Unending Trauma of ‘The Place Beyond the Pines’ (Part 3)
Warning: Though I am not usually the type to care about spoilers, ‘The Place Beyond the Pines’ is a movie that is best watched without knowing anything. I recommend that you watch the film before reading the words below.
“Many mothers, fathers or other parent figures are mentally and emotionally impoverished. A likely reason is that their needs were not met as infants, children and/or adults. They are thus so in need that they tend to use others in an unhealthy and inappropriate way to get these needs met. Anyone in their immediate environment, anyone close to or near them, including infants and children, will be unconsciously used. In order to survive, the child who cannot develop a strong ‘True Self’ compensates by developing an exaggerated false or co-dependent self.” — The Child Within
Act 3
‘The Place Beyond the Pines’ does a stunning thing in its final act, jumping forward 15 years after we watch Avery make a handshake deal which is intended to launch his political career. We pick the story back up at a funeral, and find that Avery’s father has passed away. The newly-minted politician goes into a speech detailing his father’s character, and has this to say:
“When I was a kid I used to look at my dad dressed in judge’s robes, and I used to think that my father was a superhero — and I don’t think I was far off. He had that quality that judges have, where they have tremendous compassion, but they’re also ferocious at the same time. He wasn’t afraid of making enemies. I think that’s probably why he had so many friends.”
Looking at the speeches Avery gives in both acts shows the shift his character has undergone. As a ‘hero cop’ his speech is bold, rough, and honest. As a politician, his eulogy is carefully worded, guarded, and intended to pacity.
It’s interesting that Avery’s eulogy makes a point of talking about his father’s friends, because at this point the man himself has no friends at all. He’s separated from his wife, all of the former associates are now in jail, and his focus on campaigning gives little time for a private life.
It’s in this context that we meet A.J., Avery’s son. Harboring a look of dulled pain and bloodshot eyes, he is pushed back into Avery’s world by his ex-wife, who urges him to take his son in. A.J. moves to Schenectady and starts a new life, immediately targeting another teenager sitting in the school cafeteria named Jason who, in a twist of fate, is the son of Luke Glanton.
A.J. and Jason go on their own journeys, but I’m of the opinion that their stories actually matter very little. Their actions and behaviors are merely the symptoms of their family stories. Every detail, every nuance, every moment of heartbreak, can in a way be attributed to the fact that they are very much their father’s sons.
This is the unending trauma of ‘The Place Beyond the Pines’, and of family as a whole. We are so often doomed to either repeat the mistakes of those who’ve come before us, or in rejecting their actions bend to the other extreme entirely.
Luke never had a father, and he creates a world which repeats this traumatic upbringing for Jason.
Avery’s father was a politician with no time for his family, and he creates a world which repeats this traumatic upbringing for A.J.
The future is unclear for both of these descendants, although the film provides a glimmer of hope, ending with Jason riding off into an open road on a motorcycle, adventuring to California and attempting to escape his past.
Yet even this action, too, is just like his father. Some things we can never escape, because they are within.
