This is the start of my journey to happiness.

I was injured at the age of 19 while at a party with several of the guys I was going to college with at the time. I ended up drinking too much and taking a deep dive into shallow water. It’s a story that’s sadly told by too many people that have suffered a fate similar to mine. Where my story differs slightly is that I don’t have any recollection of the first 45 days after my injury. I ended up becoming so critical in the days after my spinal cord injury that I was in and out of the operating room 11 times in the five weeks following my injury (actually being resuscitated on the table on three separate occasions). I don’t vividly remember my thoughts and emotions as I dealt with the initial shock of this diagnosis, but I certainly remember many of my thoughts and emotions as I dealt with its aftermath.

It isn’t until roughly the seventh week after my injury that memories start to solidify in my mind. And I can still remember how optimistic I was about my chances of recovery at that point. You see, when you’re given a diagnosis of paralysis, they’ll give it to you directly. They don’t want to tip toe around it or sugarcoat it in any way. You’re in a bad situation, and they need to drive the point home so you understand the full extent of your injury. But they’ll also discuss recovery as a possibility, albeit a small one, either by their own volition or by someone inevitably asking about the chances of recovery. They know you probably won’t recover, but some people do, so they’ll tell you it’s a possibility. And even knowing that my chances of recovery were slim, and all of my surgeries were further reducing those chances, I thought I was going to recover.

I remember lying in my hospital bed literally counting ceiling tiles and weighing all of the pros I had in my favor. I knew I was going to be one of the lucky few that fully recovered. I was going to walk out of the hospital – my “temporary” paralysis making for a wild story years down the road. I can even remember seeing my toes barely wiggle or feeling someone touching my hand – both of which only happened in my mind. But eventually, when you’re in this situation, it’ll become clear that you’re not going to recover, and that’s when reality’s cruel, unwavering hand can strangle every ounce of optimism right out of you.

And this brings me to the part of this tale I can’t explain: I didn’t get angry or depressed. I had a lot of reasons to simply resign to my undesirable fate and completely surrender to my injury, but, for reasons I’ve unsuccessfully tried to articulate in the past, I didn’t. Now, I didn’t know anyone with or anything about a SCI at the time. So, I couldn’t fathom how life would be without the use of my body. Or, to rephrase, I couldn’t fathom how I could live a life without the use of my body (rehab proved to be the place where I answered a lot of these questions, but that’s a story for a future installment). I was lucky to have tremendous support from my family – I’m still lucky – and I think they are what made all the difference. I didn’t walk out of that hospital, but I left with my life and a mostly positive outlook. And when you’re talking about emotionally dealing with an SCI early on, surviving and staying positive is 90% of the battle.

– King Cripple

Young. Wild. Hungry.

Director: Jorge Michael Grau
Writer: Jorge Michael Grau
Cast: Adrian Aguirre, Francisco Barreiro, Carmen Beato, Alan Chavez, Paulina Gaitan, Daniel Gimenez Cacho, Miguel Angel Hoppe, Raul Kennedy, Esteban Soberanes, Jorge Zarate
Studio: IFC Films
Special Features: Making of & Trailer

Times are tough – the toughest I’ve seen in my admittedly brief 28 years on this earth. The global economy’s in bad shape, and the consequences of that have trickled down into all of our homes. Many have lost jobs as companies downsize, and money is tight as a result. Some families hold it together by living paycheck to paycheck, but even those meager conditions prove to be too much for many. We Are What We Are is an interesting film for its inventive use of cannibalism as a means of creating a unique family drama and commentary on modern Mexico, but it’s inability to create any emotional investment in its characters ultimately renders it inconsequential.

A man stumbles and staggers his way throughout an outdoor shopping center. He soon collapses, vomits blood and quickly dies. His body is dragged away, and a mop cleans up his blood. Just like that he’s gone. But the man had a family, and it turns out all he’s left them with are his debts. He had a small watch repair stand, which was the primary source of income for the family, and much of its profits were spent on prostitutes. But more important than his financial obligations to the family is the fact he also brought home the food – a complicated task when your family eats human flesh.

Now, with their father dead, his survivors – a wife, two sons and a daughter – are sent reeling, as stress within the home, which has been festering for a while, increases under the strain of filling the vacancy left by the former patriarch. Someone must now assume leadership of the family and secure food for them – but who? Each of his survivors are flawed in their own way. And while they struggle to transition, some live and many die, as the horrible secret that binds them slowly tears them apart.

For a horror film about a family of cannibals, We Are What We Are doesn’t really concern itself with cannibalism all that much. The family never sits down to dine on anyone, the “ritual” they speak of is only seen in part, and there’s no explanation of where their practices come from or why they do what they do. Characters are basic, one-word summations (“hothead,” “resentful,” “manipulative,” etc.), yet there is clearly depth and motivation to each. But as the film’s title might suggest, perhaps this is the point: these people are what they are, and the audience is meant to witness their unique struggle. But this leaves social commentary and a dysfunctional family dynamic to carry the film.

Director Jorge Michael Grau takes shots at the ineptitude of the police with a subplot involving two detectives trying to identify the cannibals solely for the money and fame that will come with solving the case. He mixes a little black humor in with their investigation but never muddles the film’s tone. He also suggests cannibalism may be more widespread than just one family, as one of the detectives actually says, “So many people eat others in this city.” But his film is stylish with a grimy aesthetic that suits both the subject matter and the poverty-stricken family. An excellent sound design also also ratchets up the tension when the family’s large collection of clocks is left to soundtrack a climactic moment in the film.

But my problem with the film rests with its characters. While I want to somehow try to relate to or at least understand these people, they’re all unlikable. The family is extremely dysfunctional and members repeatedly treat each other like shit – the only people in the world they can trust enough to be themselves around – and it becomes hard to feel anything for them when things inevitably get bad. They’re in an “us against the world” situation, but there is no “us” to rally around for either the family or the audience. Only one character has any type of developmental arc, which seems a little out of place within the film, and I ultimately didn’t care all that much whether any of them were able to survive and carry out their mysterious ritual.

We Are What We Are is a beautifully shot film with an engaging premise but little follow-through.

When a person suffers a SCI, no matter how well they adjust to their circumstances, they’ll inevitably lose some friends over it. While I’ve grown considerably closer to some of my friends – one of my PCAs is a guy I’ve been friends with since second-grade – I’ve certainly lost others. And not only have I lost friends, but my parents have lost friends on account of my injury, too. This has made me reluctant to meet new people in person. I mean, how can I expect someone new to handle my injury when people I’ve known my whole life can’t handle it? And I’m not just talking about women. I reviewed the demo of a local band a few years ago, and I’ve managed to stay in touch with one of the members ever since. We have a lot in common, and he’s constantly asking to hang out sometime or swap a bunch of CDs one day, but I’m so worried he’ll flake out when he comes face-to-face with the totality of my injury that I’ll dodge him for weeks. Ultimately, if I’m going to meet someone, it has to be on my terms – only I don’t know what exactly my terms are.

I was talking to a devotee earlier this week, and she said something that perfectly articulated the awkwardness inherent to being a dev or a cripple. She had never talked to anyone off the boards, and when I asked her a question regarding devs, she weirded out on me a bit. She said, and I’m paraphrasing here, “It’s not a bad weird, it’s just a ‘you’re looking in my underwear drawer’-type weird.” And I knew how she felt in that moment, because I feel that way often. I think what most people fail to realize is that my injury is also my greatest insecurity. And it’s something I can’t conceal even in the slightest. It doesn’t matter how I dress, or how soft I keep the lighting, nor can I choose to only tell certain people about it – it’s all out there, all the time. Once I leave my home, or invite someone in, everything is right there on full display for everyone to “react” to. Therefore, the only way I can protect myself from embarrassment is by controlling who I let into my life – and I don’t let many in for better and for worse.

The Internet is great at enabling “safe” relationships. It strips away my appearance and doesn’t require that my personality shine through the prism of my disability. But they’re also somewhat like the junk food of relationships: they feel good in the moment, but they’re mostly empty. While they successfully keep everyone well-beyond arms distance, when I turn the computer off, I’m still watching Evil Dead II by myself for the 30th time. Can you have a satisfying relationship without physical contact? Well, that depends on what satisfies you. Can you have a meaningful relationship without physical contact? I don’t think so.

Also, while the dev/cripple relationship is a bit weird for all parties involved, it’s a symbiotic one – each participant provides the other with something hard to find elsewhere. One of the reasons I talk to devs isn’t to solicit sex (you should recognize by now that my life’s already full of enough futility and awkwardness that I see no need to introduce sex at this point), it’s to talk to people that don’t see my disability as a reason to be insecure. Whereas most people equate “disability” to “weakness,” I’ve spoken to several devs that acknowledge the strength a cripple must possess in order to be successful. Their questions aren’t malicious or meant to gawk at the weird guy in the wheelchair, they’re born out of genuine interest. And I can’t thank them all enough for it.

– King Cripple

Six years ago NASA discovered the possibility of alien life within our solar system. A probe was quickly sent out to collect samples, but it crashed upon re-entry in Central America. Soon after, new life forms began to appear. In an effort to limit the destruction that resulted from these creatures unexpected arrival, half of Mexico was quarentined as an “infected zone” where the creatures would be contained. The US and Mexican military now struggle to keep the massive creatures in the area.

With the creatures and the “infected zone” creating problems, Andrew (McNairy), a photographer, is sent to retrieve his boss’ daughter, Samantha (Able), who injured her arm while in Central America. Andrew resents being forced to “babysit” Sam as she tries to get home, but he does as he’s asked – everyone has to make a living. And it’s not as though it’s a difficult assignment: take a train to the coast and board a ferry home. But nothing is as easy as it should be in a world where enormous, alien creatures exist.

Monsters is Gareth Edwards’ film, as he’s both writer and director. While his script’s sufficient – it meanders a bit and never develops his characters – his direction is superb. He basically walked around Central America with his leads, who are pretty much the only “actors” in the film, capturing the scenery and culture, and asking people if they’d like to be in his film. While he creates a genuine world for his characters, he doesn’t lean much on science fiction. Yes, alien creatures have crashed on our planet, which is a concept that’s spun many a sci-fi yarn, but they’re presence is small and more metaphorical than anything else.

Edwards uses the creatures to make several social and political statements (immigration, foreign-policy, etc.). He’s occasionally heavy-handed with his comments, but he’s never preachy. The creatures are also mostly an omnipresent threat heard bellowing from within the dense jungle. They could’ve actually been replaced by any type of crisis (i.e. civil unrest, terrorist attack, natural disaster, etc.) that would’ve forced the protagonists together, as Monsters is more about their relationship than the creatures. This is a dramatic romance in disguise where the creatures provide the context for Andrew and Samantha to be together.

But the banality of the creatures existence works both for and against the film. The creatures roar from the jungle at all hours, the “infected zone” is a constant reminder, fences and walls are everywhere and the military’s presence is strong. Yet, people are surprisingly well adjusted to all of this. Life simply carries on like any other developing, war-torn area: poverty is widespread and life is hard. It’s a believable world for the creatures to exist. But the lack of creatures on-screen and the relative normalcy of the world grounds the majority of the film to a point where I felt like I was just watching a run-of-the-mill love story unfold. Credit Scoot McNairy’s and Whitney Able’s low-key performances, however, for keeping their oil-and-water characters from becoming full-blown clichés, but a little more depth to them could’ve made the film’s mid-section much more eventful.

It isn’t until the third act before Edwards finally allows his creatures and his characters to affect each other in a way entirely unique to his vision. Their interaction also offers insight into his ultimate intent with this project. This is a human drama, and even though the moment involves alien creatures, it’s a very human moment. I don’t want to spoil anything, but it’s a beautiful moment in a film where memorable moments are few and far between. I just felt it came a little too late.

Monsters is okay for what it is – a love story with incredibly mild sci-fi overtones – but a monster movie it is not.