The end of the world, from the safety of an armchair

Hollywood is fascinated with the world’s end. In just the last two or three years alone I’ve seen no less than a dozen films that depict some form of global catastrophe or event that signals the end of civilization as we know it. We’ve had destruction by aliens, devastating wars, retaliation from nature itself and climate change driven weather systems that have wiped out millions before our screen goggling eyes. That romantic metropolis New York, seems perennially destined to bare the brunt of our visual entertainment destruction having suffered inundations, ice storms, monsters from the deep and above in almost monthly succession. This is not a recent trend either. As a child I remember a parade of disaster films from towering inferno’s to city crushing earthquakes and science gone wrong. And each time we’ve followed the lives of a set of people who somehow manage to survive against incredible odds to reform or restart life in the aftermath.

Recently my thoughts on this topic were provoked while watching the much awaited movie: 2012. The movie itself, like most in its genre, was entertaining enough. It followed the well loved formula that is built on the notion that factual probability and reality should never get in the way of a good story. Story? Did I say story? Well, at least facts and reality should never get in the way of good special effects even when a real storyline is less than evident.

There is however something powerfully attractive about cheering on ordinary folk depicted in the most impossible of situations. Our emotions are pulled into alignment with the characters, offering us a vicarious experience as we are moved to feel ourselves in their shoes, pinning our hopes on their survival (and therefore our own) against all odds. How elated we feel when they win through, remaining ordinary in their superhuman survival.

Have you ever noticed though, how we’re lured into imagining ourselves as those heroes rather than the untold multitudes who didn’t make it, perishing in their weakness or misfortune? Maybe this is because we all have an inbuilt belief that somehow we may beat the odds, that we’re different, more resilient than those around us and that we will survive beyond what is normal. Unfortunate as it may feel, the truth is that our world will end and our lives are finite. We probably won’t be around to witness the end of our planet (I certainly hope it doesn’t occur in my lifetime or the lifetime of those I love) but there will be a personal world ending of sorts as our life concludes.

It’s hard to imagine a world without us, to picture life beyond our own existence. But it will happen, as it has happened to every preceding generation. And eventually we’ll be forgotten, most likely within a few generations. I can’t for the life of me remember anything factual about my great-grandmother despite having vivid memories of her from 40 odd years ago. Research has shown that even our names will be forgotten within a few generations and that our great-grandchildren will have no idea of who we were or what we did – just as I have no idea of what my great-grandmother was called. Some have suggested this erasing of one’s existence may change with the amount of data we are leaving in our electronic trail; but I somehow doubt it. The question is this: why would anyone take the time to wade through countless data searches to view some old pics or scrawlings that we leave behind? Even if we achieve fame or fortune during our lifetime, those that follow will only be able to access information about us. The true essence of who we were, what we felt, our emotions, the depth of our love or pain will remain a mystery in many ways.

This shouldn’t be a depressing thought to us though. On the contrary it’s a comforting part of the normal pattern of life and is a process common to us all. And besides, we can always indulge ourselves in some way as we watch a glowing screen believing, even if just for a few moments, that it is possible at least in the dark, to beat the odds.