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BY LAUREN RAMANATHAN

In print | Published September 18, 2008

In the Sept. 4th issue of The Phoenix, Joel Swanson wrote a column about how the film “The Graduate” was “misrepresentative of Swarthmore’s values.” He also wrote, “we as a community should be having a dialogue about what our values are and how our symbols represent those values.” This is what I will attempt to do in this week’s column. And unlike Mr. Swanson, I feel that the Simon and Garfunkel soundtrack is actually this movie’s weak point.

Mr. Swanson’s first objection is that “‘The Graduate’ does not represent any… positive notions of the sexual revolution.” But a film cannot be judged solely on whether its images are positive or negative. To portray only positive images of society (and those movements which run counter to society) would be escapist and unrealistic (not that “The Graduate” adheres to any strict notion of realism). It is precisely this film’s cynicism and ambiguity that make it so appealing. That being said, it is that very “pathology” that Mr. Swanson condemns that makes Benjamin (Dustin Hoffman) relatable. He is flawed in the most profound ways. He is not a reflection of our aspirations but rather a harrowing reminder of who we are: frightened, impulsive, and terribly alone.

Mr. Swanson’s column also omits the significance of the eponymous Mrs. Robinson. As played by Anne Bancroft (who is genius in this role), Mrs. Robinson appears coolly sensual, a woman in complete control. But beneath the bravado lies a desperation so piercing that the viewer isn’t really sure if her wide-eyed, schizoid reaction to Benjamin’s dating Elaine (Katherine Ross) is one of maternal concern or pure jealousy. It could even be argued that Mrs. Robinson is the protagonist of the first half of the film. The ’60s may have been a time of liberation, but for many women, that liberation came too late. Think of Mrs. Robinson as a sort of super posh ’60s everywoman. The product of a shotgun marriage, boredom, and alcoholism, her tragic yet controversial attempt to free herself from the chains of domesticity is allegorical for a larger social malaise that continues to this day. (“Desperate Housewives,” anyone?)

Formally, “The Graduate” has a lot more to offer visually than it does via the oh-so-lauded Simon and Garfunkel soundtrack. I mean really, how many times can one possibly listen to “Scarborough Fair?” Seriously… Perhaps it is Simon and Garfunkel’s “Sound of Silence” that draws the viewer into the film’s beginning, but it is the image chain that transports the viewer into the cold, apathetic world of “The Graduate.” As Benjamin moves through the airport, during an early sequence, a close tracking shot of his detached and weary face follows his every move in one long take. He glides through a labyrinth of moving walks and elevators, the camera glued to his lonely figure. Bodies whiz by in the background like phantoms navigating an unfriendly landscape.

The camera then cuts to Benjamin’s face, still in close-up, in front of an aquarium in a space assumed to be his room. His parents call him from off-screen to come downstairs for his coming home party. And in one of the most stunning yet simple scenes in the whole movie, Benjamin’s father walks into the room, the back of his head between Benjamin and the camera. This unconventional shot provides layers of depth, penetrating the flatness of the screen. It not only metaphorically represents the father’s dominance but places Benjamin in a solitary void, trapped between the shimmering and reflecting pallet of the fish tank and his father’s constantly moving, constantly talking head. But more importantly, the scene cuts the viewer off from the protagonist, a blatant denial of audience fulfillment, which not only alludes to the viewer’s own solitude but mirrors one of the major themes of the film: the elusive quest for satisfaction.

Much of “The Graduate” occupies a world of shadows and darkness. From Benjamin’s first bar-side encounter with Mrs. Robinson to his first liaison at the hotel, darkness provides a cover, a shield preventing any kind of genuine intimacy. Darkness with all its signifiers of sex, illicit activity, and escapism also symbolizes within “The Graduate” the silence and apathy of what is now referred to as “hook-up culture.” Much of this is made painfully obvious during Benjamin’s first and only attempted meaningful conversation with Mrs. Robinson. He wants to talk; she simply wants to get it on. And the light that Benjamin keeps flipping on to the dismay of his companion not only thwarts sex, but also exposes Mrs. Robinson’s vulnerability and discontent as she, rendered tightly in a close-up, unwittingly reveals her motivation for the affair.

Not only does “The Graduate” have “merit as a movie,” it presents in a compelling manner a nuanced and highly entertaining (if darkly so) portrait of the pitfalls of human interaction. Not that it is completely unproblematic. Mr. Swanson does bring up an interesting point: How can a movie portray negative behaviors (such as … um … stalking) without romanticizing them? I am not claiming that “The Graduate” even attempts to answer that question. I am simply suggesting that, when it comes to the cinema, things are not always as black and white as they may seem upon first glance.

Lauren is a sophomore. She can be reached at lramana1@swarthmore.edu.

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