The General's Portrait ~

This piece is based on the movie, 'The Emperor.' Tommy Lee Jone's performance in last scene of the film inspired me deeply- I therefore wrote this piece called, 'The General's Portrait'' to honor it.

The General's Portrait ~

[This piece is based on the movie, 'The Emperor.' Tommy Lee Jone's performance in last scene of the film inspired me deeply, and I wished to examine it up close. I therefore wrote this piece called, 'The General's Portrait'' to enhance what I felt and saw during that moment. I can only hope that this will do his character justice. Note: The piece is told through the eyes of General Fellers, who is watching it unfold from his hidden place through the crack in the door.]

 

            The general, not one for understanding the delicate matters, placed his hands in the back of his pockets. As I watched, he paced the room and then he turned slowly- with a grace that I never would have fathomed he could emit- of a large truck, and he turned towards his visitor. In that moment, I vaguely thought that no one was able to express the gentle measure of his feelings so perfectly- even when it was inadvertent- as he was able to. Everything about him, including the way he walked, moved, and spoke, and listened, was filled with a dark power. Even his hands resembled large entities, which moved with a type of finality that I thought were stunning. They were sentient beings that had a life of their own- introspective thoughts poured through the veins, alive and with vital electricity.

            As I watched, the general's expression wavered slightly. He turned in his seat, never once breaking eye contact with the emperor. Tight-lipped, he continued to watch him for a few more moments. The face that the emperor now wore I could not have pinpointed what the emotion was, exactly, but I was able, somehow, to view its intensity. The Emperor stood up abruptly, and stood before the general. The latter watched him quietly. His posture completely erect, regal, still, and proud, the Emperor looked the general straight in the eye. His lips trembled only slightly when he stated,

            "I come here today to offer myself as recompense for Japan- so that-  my people do not pay for my sins." As he continued to speak in his broken English, I found that my breath was stolen. Without knowing what he was affecting, the Emperor was creating the portrait of a 2,000 year old dynasty, which was breaking on up from the base of its solid foundation. In the stroke of that single minute, an entire world was falling down. The room, in that single instant, was lost in the clutches of a mist-like presence, which, perhaps only the dead could be privy to. My eyes flitted unwittingly towards the general as the Emperor continued- the sentiment which his face now demonstrated was a slight surprise to me- the nervousness that it held had been replaced by  deep, wistful sadness. The Emperor rendered his thoughts complete, with-

            "I am here to deter any punishment that is directed towards my people, to invoke it upon myself." He stopped. The room became sheathed in a deadly quiet tone that was all-consuming. The Emperor waited. I watched as the General continued to observe him for several long minutes, that expression not lost- his hands were steeped beneath his chin in domed curve, and it was impossible for me to tell what he was thinking. When he finally spoke, his words were atypically insouciant.  

            "Please," he said finally, "have a seat." The Emperor quietly took his place next to him, seated himself once again.

            General MacArthur leaned forward, the tips of his hands still pressed together in that odd interpretation of a church dome. He moved in close towards the other, so that he and the Emperor were looking straight into each other's eyes- his eyes displayed small, lighted windows, somehow letting his visitor into his own soul. Conscious of the language barrier between him and that with whom he was speaking, the general spoke slowly, all the while, making sure that he never let the gaze of the Emperor fall.

            "This-is-not-about-punishment." The Japanese translator rendered the words fluently, so that his listener understood them at the exact moment at which they were said. Looking into his clear gaze, the latter could see a sincerity which demonstrated the dynamics, on various levels, of the general's character. This was, perhaps, I thought to myself, the general's true personality, unadulterated, clean, and wholesome. I swallowed a bit roughly.

            "This- " the general gestured,  "is about rebuilding. Now- " The general leaned back a little in his seat. "I need your help," he said, plaintively. "Let's see what we can do, Emperor- to get Japan- back on its feet." The surrounding note which finalized his words was one of the strongest that was ever born into existence. 

            It was the ending and the beginning of one of the grandest empires that had ever made its mark upon existence. The waves of the line swept into the throes of humanity, across lines of destruction, fate, and beauty. Without even knowing it, General MacArthur had just offered to Japan the peace offering of much more than just a way out of his situation- he had, in fact, offered him a solution. Against all odds, he had offered him his unadulterated empathy, free of consequence . . . the very breath of a 2,000 year old dynasty, and its entire fate seemed to be captured, in that single instant.

            Feeling that moment suspended  somehow carried inside of me, I finally turned away. For better or for worse, I knew that the stretch of time that awaited me was one that would live forever in our minds. Today was the day that Japan had risen from its gloomy depths- it was the day that it would burn eternally, or redeem itself fully- and rise to become the great beauty that it once was.

            I softly closed the door behind me. It's resounding 'click' closed upon the moment with a note of finality.