What does it mean to be alive?

Warm Bodies by Issac Marion

R. is a zombie. Blank faced emoting little, he wanders about in a lonely, detached existence. He lives in a community of zombies who live their eternal passive existence letting days crawl by in the airport they reside in. They have somber religious ceremonies, and collaborate for the hunt (when seeking human victims), but otherwise are mostly disconnected to one another. This said, R.’s insides are screaming with life. While he cannot manage a cohesive stringing of words , beneath his demure countenance, lies a thoughtful and sensitive individual who mourns his own sour, purposeless existence. 

As a zombie, he has no recollection of his previous life among the Living and now feels like a like a second-rate human. The first syllable of his past name, R., serves as the sole remnant of his past identity. With a resigned indifference, R. goes about his day. Yet, R. harbors an inherent longing for something greater, for some spark of meaning within his life. And soon, this yearning becomes satisfied by sassy, yet warm teenager by the name of Julie. (Unfortunately, R. ate her now ex-boyfriend.) But by the devouring of his brains,  R. is given access to their private memories together, ones of ups and downs, sorrow and joy, romance and heartbreak. It is these memories, and his relationship to Julie that invigorates the dead soul of R. R. fantasizes of Julie and all that she encompasses, meanwhile risking his well-being in his zombie community. Not without his reluctance, he vows to return Julie to her home in a barricaded stadium. But will he be able to let go of the new life that has been restored into his previously lifeless body?  Are these two "star-crossed lovers" doomed to a terrible fate? Such questions wait to be answered, and are questions I am eager to find the answers to.

 

Amidst a zombie-obsessed culture, it’s refreshing to see something with a little more substance. And by substance, I mean a more human element, which seems ironic regarding the subject matter. Anyway, what makes Warm Bodies particularly resonating is its strong characterization of R. He feels broken, as though his life is but a tedious cycle of pointless maneuvers. In addition, he lacks a voice to express his deepest thoughts and even an ear to confide in until he meets Julie. (This reminds me of a poem I wrote in relation to Survivor , HERE)

How many of us feel the same? How many of us also feel that we are lost in our abysmal lives? That we have reached a point at which we have become numb to emotion, that we can feel no more, because everything is utterly and entirely lacking. Alas, it is this wholly very human element that R. embraces that brings the story to life. (Once again, the irony!)

R. has a very real heart and soul, and a very relatable one at that. When life seems to be nothing but an endless plateau, our existence can become depressing. I am brought to think of The Stranger by Albert Camus, in which the protagonist Mersault exerts an indifference to the world, and in this is drawn to commit a truly senseless act of violence. Mersault in his passive existence is by every sense of the word a living zombie. He drifts through life valueless and objectiveless. His crime itself was beyond rational motive. But unlike R., Mersault does not become bewildered by his experience. And even when he reaches notice of his death sentence, he feels no pain, sorrow, and no longing. In The Stranger, Camus argues, the greater universe mirrors Mersault. All life is a meandering path toward death, and the circumstances in between are futile in their effect. As much as we may try and understand our significance if such exists, it is beyond our means of comprehension. We are victims to the great incomprehensible.

Mersault become easily aligned with such an uncaring universe, unlike R.and most of us. Human beings are naturally not programmed to function in such a superficial way. We have desires, and emotions that need to be accounted for. Mere existence is not enough. Though the breadth of R.’s emotions lay dormant, he longed for them to return. And it is this longing that certifies him as being human.

Camus may be right, the secrets of the world may be impenetrable. We can search and search and hope for greater answers, but our pursuit may likely be in vain. But in a universe of “gentle indifference” as Camus puts it, it is all the more important that we make our own sense of meaning. To do so, we must work with what we’ve got-what we know. And this is ourselves: our emotions and desires. These internal voices can empower us and create meaning. After all, an empty existence full of oppressed desires is unnatural and subhuman, as Marion points out through R.’s troubles as a zombie.

For more on Camus, his life, philosophy, and works, check here:  http://www.iep.utm.edu/camus/#SSH5c.i