The woodsman or the wolf

We all have, every one of us, dark places in our psyches - both conscious and sub-conscious thoughts and desires, conflicts and compulsions, dark places that we can leave unexplored, or we can choose to explore them privately as sexual fantasy, without ever sharing them with anyone else, or sometimes, when these desires are stronger and require outside attention, we can have another adult - another consenting adult - 'act out' this behavior with us in the form of 'sexplay'; this can be extremely cathartic if done with the proper partner. If, however, the compulsions involve children, they can never be acted upon overtly, for we have no right to rob a child of his or her innocence, in any way at any time for any reason.

In "The Woodsman" we are faced with a character who has acted overtly on these most darkest impulses, and it's cost him. He's spent time in jail for it, and even worse, once he's released back into society, he's constantly tormented by his own (very justifiable) fears that he will lose control yet again and give in to these overwhelming desires another time.

This character, Walter, is brought to life with extraordinarily deep humanity by Kevin Bacon, who allows himself to become this man from the inside out, giving us one of the most insightful and heartfelt depictions of a person possessed with reprehensible demons ever portrayed in an American motion picture.

For Walter, temptation is everywhere - we see him on the bus, going shopping, just walking outside his apartment, where he's constantly faced with beautiful under-age girls. It's not that difficult to imagine how a person such as this could find their innocence overwhelmingly attractive, but the key here of course is that this is a man who has ACTED upon these feelings - who, in the past, had allowed himself to indulge these compulsions overtly, who understands what he is capable of doing if the 'proper circumstances' merely present themselves.

There is a possible glimmer of hope for Walter, though, in the form of Kyra Sedgwick's Vickie, a co-worker at Walter's new jobsite. She immediately takes a shine to him, sensing there is something 'kindred' about him, and it is this relationship - quite probably the only 'normal' relationship either one of them has ever had - that allows Walter to experience anything remotely resembling being truly alive. Eventually we learn that Vickie herself is a survivor of abuse; this makes sense, because it explains why she is able to accept what he's done and offer him what he needs most desperately in his empty, tormented life - the redemptive quality of love.

It is this love, along with the words of Mos Def, a remarkably sensitive sergeant assigned to Walter's case, that provides the film with the goose-bump-inducing transcendence of the third act. The Red Riding Hood parable plants the idea in Walter's head that he might be able to actually rise above his basest instincts and be a protector of the innocent (the woodsman) rather than the predator (the wolf).

This idea gets acted upon brilliantly, in the film's most revelatory scene, the confrontation on the bench with Robin. This is the most profound scene in the movie for more than one reason: in it, we learn how Walter 'operates': he's not violent with her in the overt sense, but rather he cleverly and subtly insinuates himself into the girl's confidence by showing interest in her bird watching - he gains her trust on some level, and then when he so casually asks if she would like to sit on his lap, he is inviting her to 'willingly participate', so he can somehow make the act justifiable in his own mind. And of course there IS no such thing as 'consent' when a child is involved; a child is hardly equipped to make such decisions, and in this film, Robin's character is already a victim, we find out along with Walter, and it is this tragic information that pierces through him, jolting him out of predator mode and into something else instead - rage, his own rage at himself for having been weak enough to give in to his feelings in the past, and the rage at anyone else who would do this to an innocent child.

He gets to act on this rage, in the film's staggeringly effective final scenes, and we are left with the transcendent sense that there actually might be hope for this man, this pitifully lost man, who had virtually given up on any chance of a 'normal' life, where love is part of his existence.

Some of the images in the movie get a little heavy-handed (I'm thinking in particular of the "Save the Children" billboard near the end, and other things like that), but this is a magnificent handling of an excruciatingly difficult subject, and its essence applies to all of us who are here on this planet in human form: every minute of every day we make the choice between our baser instincts and our higher selves, every day we act out of fear and ego or out of compassion and love, in every situation, with everybody we come into contact with. The film is itself a parable, in this way. Walter will have to confront his impulses day by day, finding himself (hopefully) stronger each time to fight them down, since he now will be living with the knowledge that was able to show that strength once already.