Last week I went to The Man Who Wasn't There at the movie night Thursday. It was a very interesting movie. It's not necessarily a straight-up adaptation of The Stranger, but, having read The Stranger, you can definitely notice connections to the book while watching the movie. The Coen brothers definitely play with existentialism, while still adding lots of absurdity into the mix. For example, Ed, the main character, is a barber, and at one point he says something to the affect of, "Have you ever just thought about hair? It just keeps coming, and then we cut it," to his fellow barber, who just looks at him strangely. All of this is said in a very Meursault-esque monotone.
I'll try to avoid spoilers here, but the main murder in the movie is justified, though it is largely caused by events that Ed did have some play in. Someone else is accused of the murder, and Ed gets away scot-free. Later, however, just after a violent car accident, Ed is accused of a murder he didn't commit, and gets convicted after he has to switch lawyers because he can't keep paying his previous lawyer. The new lawyer pleads guilty (despite Ed having nothing to do with the murder) and Ed is given the electric chair, despite his lawyer's belief he will get away with a shorter sentence if he pleads guilty (this is eerily reminiscent of The Stranger). In prison, let's just say we see Ed accept his fate, and he is executed in front of a row of strangers scowling at Ed.
Recently, I've encountered a nonfiction author, Robert Greene, who's written books on power, seduction, war, fearlessness, and becoming a master in one's field. His books are certainly interesting, as he is a keen observer of social dynamics, even if you don't use them as a how-to guide. However, in writing on these topics, he has a complete lack of moral judgment of others. That is, when he writes historical accounts of strategies of war at play, for example, he will not judge these people (at least in his writing) based on moral characteristics, or what side they were on, but on how well they followed good practices and strategies of war. He also doesn't favor certain people: he'll write on Confederate battles and Union battles in the same chapter, praising or condemning them both for using good or poor strategy. He just puts the information out there; his books could be (and are, as they are very popular in certain circles) used for good or evil, but he just tells you, "if you want power, here's how to get it. This is what powerful people know." This last part seems very similar to Meursault in The Stranger, which we see in his attitudes to Raymond's poor behavior, where he says, "I didn't have any reason not to help him, and he was going to send the letter anyway. I just wrote a better letter in his name."
However, his writing style, as a result of this complete lack of moral judgment, has a very unsettling feel to it. On some level, we expect moral judgment of others, and seeing someone praise Mao for his military strategy, even (or perhaps especially) if he doesn't comment on other things Mao's done, is very strange to say the least. His pointing out all the nasty things others have done, and will do, to get what they want, and phrasing it in a way that says "if you want xxxx, you'd do this too," even if he explicitly says several times in every book that they can be uses purely as information into how xxxx works, and how to protect yourself against it, is very strange to say the least, if not slightly frightening. Perhaps this is part of why the jury sees Meursault as so frightening in The Stranger. He too has a very amoral (though not necessarily immoral) aspect to him that frightens us. Morality is so central to our society that the lack of moral judgment is at the very least alien to us.
I've also started watching Breaking Bad lately (no spoilers anyone!), and had similar observations. Walt keeps making decisions that on some level we understand (also like the scene where Meursault kills the Arab in The Stranger), yet if we distance ourselves from the action, we think, "what is going on?" We definitely know on some level that something's wrong, but at the same time, a part of us understands where he's coming from.
In the end, I'm just left with more questions than where I began. To what extent can we judge others? To what extent can we judge others? What should we put a premium on: actions or results? That is, if someone does something that we'd call "good," in a really slimy way, are they better than someone who does something we'd call "bad," in a way that follows all the rules? Is there something wrong with not judging others? How responsible are we if we don't condemn someone for doing something "wrong?"
