"My Sister's Keeper," much-loved novelist Jodi Picoult's first book-into-movie, is about death and familial love. It looks death straight in the eye and comes up blank. As it should. The film's conclusion is that we don't know much about death or the afterlife, but we do know about love.
A very determined mother is impregnated with a daughter who is specifically designed by medical science to be compatible "spare parts" for her sick older daughter (leukemia). At eleven years old, the younger daughter sues for control over her own body. Sound like creepy sci-fi? It's not at all portrayed that way. As these technologies become commonplace (think: Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick's twins, recently carried and birthed by a surrogate mother; Octomom; the widespread use of IVF; sperm and egg "donation"; frozen embryos; etc.), emotional, home-y narratives will accompany these decisions/choices/actions, and thus, these stories will become just "normal." As is well known, the Catholic Church sees the above-mentioned "solutions" as disrespectful of human dignity. Anything that treats human beings as objects, things, products, tools, "rights," possessions, etc., is not in keeping with that dignity. (Certain technologies to aid fertility ARE approved, as long as it's within the context of the nuptial act, aiding the natural process. Contrary to popular belief, the Church wants you to have sex, and is very back-to-nature, crunchy granola.) "My Sister's Keeper" is really a bio-ethical drama, but I've never heard anyone put it in that context which is kind of scary in itself. It's also a legal drama—what are the little girl's rights, if any? While watching the film, one is acutely aware that this is simply the state of the question/problem FOR NOW. Things are only going to get weirder.
The conclusion-twist, although altogether a probability, clever, generous and heroic, felt like a bit of a cop-out (like the miscarriage in "Citizen Ruth"). Why NOT follow the real question through to the end? Actually, we know such cases have already happened (families having a child for the therapeutic purpose of healing another child). What ARE the rights of these too-young-to-speak-for-themselves-de-facto donors? Should this ever be done? (Starting from babyhood, Anna has been through many painful procedures with side effects that compromise and jeopardize her health.) This film is quite well done (director Nick Cassavetes, "The Notebook"), and only treads the edge, but never falls into the chasm of sentimentality. This is not to say that you won't be sniffling.
In the courtroom, Anna's lawyer comes close to asking: "Where does our 'culture of absolute choice' end?" We pretend it ends when my rights crash into yours, but that happens early on in many cases, and I'm afraid we've learned to deny, justify or just force our way.
A very determined mother is impregnated with a daughter who is specifically designed by medical science to be compatible "spare parts" for her sick older daughter (leukemia). At eleven years old, the younger daughter sues for control over her own body. Sound like creepy sci-fi? It's not at all portrayed that way. As these technologies become commonplace (think: Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick's twins, recently carried and birthed by a surrogate mother; Octomom; the widespread use of IVF; sperm and egg "donation"; frozen embryos; etc.), emotional, home-y narratives will accompany these decisions/choices/actions, and thus, these stories will become just "normal." As is well known, the Catholic Church sees the above-mentioned "solutions" as disrespectful of human dignity. Anything that treats human beings as objects, things, products, tools, "rights," possessions, etc., is not in keeping with that dignity. (Certain technologies to aid fertility ARE approved, as long as it's within the context of the nuptial act, aiding the natural process. Contrary to popular belief, the Church wants you to have sex, and is very back-to-nature, crunchy granola.) "My Sister's Keeper" is really a bio-ethical drama, but I've never heard anyone put it in that context which is kind of scary in itself. It's also a legal drama—what are the little girl's rights, if any? While watching the film, one is acutely aware that this is simply the state of the question/problem FOR NOW. Things are only going to get weirder.
The conclusion-twist, although altogether a probability, clever, generous and heroic, felt like a bit of a cop-out (like the miscarriage in "Citizen Ruth"). Why NOT follow the real question through to the end? Actually, we know such cases have already happened (families having a child for the therapeutic purpose of healing another child). What ARE the rights of these too-young-to-speak-for-themselves-de-facto donors? Should this ever be done? (Starting from babyhood, Anna has been through many painful procedures with side effects that compromise and jeopardize her health.) This film is quite well done (director Nick Cassavetes, "The Notebook"), and only treads the edge, but never falls into the chasm of sentimentality. This is not to say that you won't be sniffling.
In the courtroom, Anna's lawyer comes close to asking: "Where does our 'culture of absolute choice' end?" We pretend it ends when my rights crash into yours, but that happens early on in many cases, and I'm afraid we've learned to deny, justify or just force our way.