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A friend of mine asked: "Doesn't one have to be pro-euthanasia in order to like this movie? Is it a mistake of the movie to infer most quadriplegics want to end their lives?" Interesting questions.
As far as I can see (correct me if I'm wrong), there is only one quadriplegic who wanted to end his life in The Sea Inside. Think Ramón Sampedro addressed this in the movie as well. It is he who wants to die. It is he who is fighting for his right to decide his death. He is speaking for himself and not other quadriplegics. Though his pioneering work, depending on one's perspective, may prove beneficial or damaging to quadriplegics down the road, his primary objective is a personal one. But one thing this movie does (my opinion anyway), is that it forces us the viewers to ask ourselves the inferring questions my friend so succinctly put forth.
After my first viewing of The Sea Inside, I walked home in a conflicted blur. I struggled to reconcile with this exasperating notion; why would Ramón want to die? Given the love, care and sacrifices so unconditionally showered on Ramón by the people surrounding him, why would he doggedly cling on to his hurtful decision? Then, on my second viewing, a shared thought between Ramón and the lawyer lady entered my consciousness. It threw up a telling observation: "...total dependency comes at the expense of intimacy." Most human beings crave for such an intimacy. Of course, how much we value such "needs", depends largely on the individual.
As a person with a familial-biased sensibility, I empathised strongly with the caregivers in this movie. Why can't Javier consider the sacrifice and the love from his family and friends? Is he blind to it all? I would think not. The miracle of The Sea Inside therefore, is its insightful depiction of a very humanistic tug of war. When we are faced with the guardianship of a sane but incapacitated loved one, whom has expressed a calm, conscious and rational intent to die, what then is the right thing to do? Is caring for and keeping this loved one alive, against his or her will, a pious gesture? Does it show up the worth of our love? Or does it merely soothe our "selfish" fears of irreplaceable loss? With so much understanding accorded to caregivers, wouldn't their invalid charges, by submitting themselves to the total dependency of others for survival, also be an overlooked act of sacrifice? Rhetorical or not, how much is "dignity" worth to an individual? Is living (or dying) with dignity a privilege or a right? If we really care and love a person, should we also respect their eventual decisions in life (as in death)? A torrent of questions the movie might have asked, answers to which, I'm in no position to provide.
In our eagerness to intellectually demarcate the merits of pro-life or pro-choice, we run the risk of ignoring a sea of grey that's engulfing the people most intimately affected, the caregivers and the ones they care for. The Sea Inside hence attempted to present the delicate yet complex relationship dynamics between them. Intuitively, this film understands one thing; that the nature of "sacrifice" is never one-sided. In this tug of war, we should endeavour not to win arguments, but to intently observe and hopefully determine, who is the "stronger" party to make that sacrifice.
The Sea Inside is a sobering film. It opened my eyes to things I don't wanna see. And for that, I am grateful.


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