Moonrise Morals

"It's been proven by history: all mankind makes mistakes."
 - Captain Sharp, Moonrise Kingdom


My favorite director is Wes Anderson. The more I watch his films, the more I adore them. "Moonrise Kingdom" was one of the first I saw. Initially, I liked it very much. By about the 7th time I saw it (recently, and having by then seen all his other feature-length films), I loved it so much it made me cry. Between laughing at the ridiculous hilarity of most of the characters and marveling over the beautifully detailed scenery and costumes, I was once again invested in the plight of two misunderstood children and the adults who champion for them in the end.


I believe that as a child, much of the world is a bit frightening in it's enormous reality and permanence. There is make-believe, and then there's the real thing; consequences coming one after another like a long string of dominoes. Adults learn to be chess players, anticipating results of actions. Children roll the dice, or have it rolled for them, and hope for the best.

There's a scene in "Moonrise" where the protagonists, Sam and Suzy, wish to get married before running away together. They are only twelve years old, but they love each other with all their childhood hearts and they wish to escape the confines of a dysfunctional family and impending orphanage. During their planning, they meet a camp counselor who states that he is able to perform a marriage ceremony, upon hearing Sam say, "She's my wife. Well, actually, we're not married yet." Instead of dismissing the runaways, the counselor tells them that though the ceremony won't actually carry any legal weight anywhere, it will carry 'a moral weight within yourselves', and subsequently instructs them to deeply consider their decision before proceeding. The two children talk it over and agree; they wish to be married, if for nothing more than the promise to each other of faithfulness as they begin a new life together.

I remember playing marriage as a child. My siblings and friends and I would go through the whole thing: dating, proposal, wedding. It all had a certain sacred feeling to it. It wasn't real in that moment, but was a rehearsal for the future. It is so terribly disheartening as a child to have any type of imaginings crushed. To be told, "That's not real. Do you know how that actually works? You're too young to understand," hurt with a deep-seated ache. Instead of feeling like you have more of a grasp on the world, you feel tiny and unimportant.

The counselor in "Moonrise" was comically over the top. Yet - in taking the children seriously, he gave them dignity. Les then, were they an orphan running away because his scout troop disliked him (and unbeknownst to him, that no foster family wanted him) and a girl who discovered that her parents though of her as a troubled child. They were instead husband and wife; a title solely symbolic, more than they could truly understand, yet which gave confidence and meaning to two overlooked children as they continued forward.

Quickly after the ceremony, the runaways were once again chased by parents and authorities, until the scout master and sheriff, who had become allies of the children in need, stepped in to protect them from any forces which could cause them harm.
"He's not going to juvenile refuge!" they insist to the coldly factual woman known only as Social Services. That is when I cried.
"He is not getting electroshock therapy," the sheriff declared, referring to a possible plan mentioned offhandedly by Social Services as a way to treat a troubled orphan. (Far from troubled, the character of Sam is endearingly earnest). Gathered in a church while a storm raged outside and the two runaways clambered to the roof to escape, the sheriff and scout master stood up for the children, championing them. Because of the two men, Suzy's parents rallied, giving their support as lawyers when the sheriff offers to adopt Sam. Believed and aided at last, the children turned to the adults with hope. Not knowing just what the future holds, Sam tells Suzy with heart-wrenching sincerity, "I just want to say: Thank you for marrying me. I'm glad I got to know you, Suzy." In the end, Suzy is back with her family and Sam is the Sheriff's son. Finally he was in a stable home and able to see the girl he cared about, each of them able to grow up and figure out life with the support and dignity of the adults surrounding them.


It's a theme I've seen many times while working in childcare: children simply want to be believed and not dismissed. They want to grasp and understand the world around them and play a part in it. For me, "Moonrise Kingdom" is meaningful (as well as hilarious and colorful) because of the people with power who took two children seriously. Not only the adults: Sam ran away from the camp to find Suzy because the other boys strongly disliked him, yet eventually those same boys had a change of heart and banded together to help Sam and Suzy. They had the power to continue to dislike Sam and dismiss Suzy, so when they chose to acknowledge that they were in the wrong and make amends, they further empowered the runaways to not give up hope. As wonderfully ridiculous as the story is, I love it completely because of the themes of trust, hope, love, and belief, all coming together to change the lives of two children and everyone around them.