The Way

Ayer nos vemos no una, sino dos películas sobre el Camino de Santiago, probablemente un exceso. En la tele, echaban una alemana, Te acompañaré hasta el fin del mundo—sobre una mujer en una crisis matrimonial. Hará el camino de Santiago con su padre, y éste muere durante el camino. La hija lleva sus cenizas hasta Finisterre, y las esparce al viento.  Aunque su marido va a esperarla a Santiago, decide divorciarse a la vuelta, y reanudar su vida consigo misma, y sus hijos, en casa del padre.  En el camino se revive la vida, se repasa lo hecho, se cuestiona y se reelabora la identidad personal.

La otra película, The Way, de Emilio Estévez, la estrenaban esta semana. Muestra a un padre sesentón, Tom (Martin Sheen, padre del director—e hijo de gallego) saliendo de su rutina profesional, al decidir completar el camino de Santiago en lugar de su hijo (Estévez), que murió por accidente justo al empezarlo. Con el hijo no se llevaba, pero ahora lo entiende mejor y también reorienta su manera de vivir. El camino lo comparte con un grupo de peregrinos, a los que va revelando a regañadientes lo que está haciendo, a medida que se lo revela a sí mismo. Entre ellos, la mujer con la que no ligará—una canadiense, maltratada por su marido y divorciada ahora. Viene a dejar de fumar, dice, y también a expiar remordimientos por haber abortado a la hija que podía haber tenido. Cosas que le pasan a la gente, vamos. Llegan a Santiago, ven la catedral, en una escena entre la rutina cotidiana y lo trascendental. También van a Muxía (por consejo de un gitano), y allí echa Tom en la orilla las cenizas de su hijo que ha venido transportando. En cuanto a la canadiense, no dejará de fumar, pero algo hace, aparte de andar mucho. Tom también cambiará de vida—trabajará menos y viajará por el mundo. La película tiene un toque de promoción turística para americanos, pero también es iniciática, retrospectiva y epifánica.

Ninguna de las dos películas es específicamente católica ni cristiana—y es que el simbolismo de la vida como camino trasciende a las religiones. Es una manera de enfrentarse a la vida, y a la muerte simbólica como llegada. Supongo que antes de que hubiese Santiago, ni Prisciliano, hubo quien siguió el sol no hasta Santiago, sino hasta Muxía o hasta Finisterre, y vio allí el fin del mundo, y volvió para contarlo. Y también hay quien tiene literalmente que echar a andar para salir de una situación de bloqueo emocional. Si quieres pensar algo dos veces, reconsiderarlo, da un paso atrás—con los pies, digo. Y si quieres salir de la situación en la que estás, echa a andar. Al parecer funciona.

Como reseña de las películas sobre el camino, podría servir este trocito de Pilgrim's Progress,  de John Bunyan, del episodio "Christian and Hopeful in Doubting Castle", cuando a los protagonistas prisioneros los tienta el gigante Desesperación con el suicidio, como única salida de la prisión en que los tiene atrapados.

Now, night being come again and the giant and his wife being in bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his counsel: to which he replied, They are sturdy rogues; they choose rather to bear all hardships than to make away with themselves. Then said she, Take them into the castle yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already dispatched, and make them believe, ere a week comes to end, thou wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them.
     So when the morning was come, the giant goes to them again, and takes them into the castle yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him. These, said he, were pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed on my grounds, as you have done; and, when I thought fit, I tore them in pieces; and so within ten days I will do you. Go, get you down to your den again. And with that he beat them all the way thither. They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable state, as before. Now, when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence, and her husband the giant, was got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners; and, withal, the old giant wondered that he could neither by his blows nor counsel bring them to an end. And with that his wife replied, I fear, said she, that they live in hopes that some will come to relieve them; or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my dear? said the giant. I will therefore search them in the morning.
     Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in prayer till almost break of day.
     Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, brake out into this passionate speech: What a fool, quoth he, am I thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle. Then said Hopeful, That is good news: good brother, pluck it out of thy bosom, and try.
     Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the dungeon door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outward door that leads into the castle yard, and with his key opened that door also. After that he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too; but that lock went desperately hard, yet the key did open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed: but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking that it waked Giant Despair, who, hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail; for his fits took him again, so that he could by no means go after them. Then they went on, and came to the King's highway, and so were safe, because they were out of his jurisdiction.

Still Walking