The Measure of a Man (or a Woman)

There is a movie that I love despite the fact that it has very little of good quality to offer. The movie is called Hero, and despite a brilliantly comical performance by Dustin Hoffman, its only gift to its audience is the central premise, which is so intriguing that I can't help but watch this movie over and over.

The two stars are Hoffman and Andy Garcia, who both play characters who are best described as "down on their luck." Hoffman is Bernie LaPlante, a sleazy small-time hood who earns his meager living by selling stolen credit cards and welching on his bills. He's cynical, dishonest, unreliable, and generally unpleasant. He is not evil, but he is far from good.

Garcia plays his moral opposite, homeless man John Bubber, who lives out of his car and earns his even more meager living by recycling cans. Bubber is charming, friendly, gentle, and, in Bernie's words, "a goddamn saint." He lives by a moral code fueled by an optimism and love for humanity.

The movie tells the story of how Bernie risks his life to save dozens of strangers by pulling them from a crashed and burning airplane, leaves before anyone can figure out who he is, and then watches helplessly as Bubber takes the credit for his heroism when a TV station offers a large cash reward for the Hero to reveal his identity. Bubber feels guilty about this miscarriage of justice, despite the fact that he uses his new-found fame to inspire hope and goodwill in the community, and his money mostly for charity. By contrast, even Bernie admits that if he were able to claim the reward, he'd spend it on personal debt and probably end up blowing the rest.

What we have here is a flawlessly virtuous man performing a selfish, vile deed, and a thoroughly despicable character acting heroically and selflessly. Neither personality, at their core, is changed by the events of the film. The movie itself is more interested in exploring the "comical" results of the mix-up, but there is a fundamentally astounding question that the movie asks, implicitly but unavoidably: How do you measure a man, by his everyday life choices, or by his major actions that more directly affect others?

This question is more than a purely intellectual exercise, it is relevant in our everyday lives. I, for one, have known people who have been kind and good to me, only to betray and disappoint me when I most needed them -- but conversely, I have known some real jerks who, when the chips were down, pulled through and proved their secret kind-heartedness in ways I never could have predicted. How can I feel about these people? How should I feel about these people? It's a question that deserves much thought despite its lack of a clear answer.