‘I couldn’t have moved if I had wanted to. Her eyes werent brown but a dark, dusty black, the kind of velvet you see backgrounding jewelrey displays. […] What I was seeing was some sort of gift, something given with a carelessness that was appalling’
This Post was written by Niamh Robinson
*includes spoilers for the film Stand By Me
Follow Niamh on Instagram @niamhsjournall
Stand by me will probably forever be one of my favourite films. I don’t even have that much to say about it- my mum put it on for me when I was about thirteen and it was one of those that I watched over and over again, I didn’t even really know why I loved it so much. Now that I’m older than the characters- they’re trapped in the tv as awkward early teens and they no longer seem soo grown up to me, I love it even more. I can watch it with nostalgia, of course. When my now ex boyfriend found Stephen King’s Different Seasons at the back of an Oxfam for my birthday, it became my favourite book, or short story, too. Fall from innocence, The body.
Let’s talk about the deer.
The deer is so important to me. I would say I see myself in Gordie, the narrator, the most, and I remember being a little confused feeling represented by a boy, ew, when I first saw the film. Gordie is sensitive, he’s observant and you’d almost think he maybe didn’t fit in with the other three boys of his gang. The truth is that he does, very much so, if you look at it from the point of view that the reason they are friends is because they all need something from one and other. Boyhood is represented so beautifully in this story, I could cry- and it’s not like I’ll ever understand it fully because I’m not a guy, but still, it’s gorgeous. And that’s the point I think, when Gordie mentions in retrospect to his account that he never had friends like the ones he had when he was twelve, really does prove that it’s sacred. They learn so much in less than a couple of days, and it’s really like nothing else exists for that time.
Gordie, at least in my understanding, prefers to take the fly on the wall role. He’s a writer, and, (not to take away from the other boys’ struggles), has faced huge tragedy in his very early life. We don’t know to what extent that his brother dying changed his personality, but in my imagination, he was always quiet and introspective even before. Even before the journey the boys take in regards to Ray Browers’ death, Gordie is already surrounded by it. Death. Feeling unsafe. I see myself in how he lets the neglect of his parents wash over him, instead of fighting for their attention, as to not disrupt their own consumption of grief, the same way I suppose many of us would rather drift into the realms of reclusivity as a replacement (or protection) for any kind of conflict ever.
I see myself in how he reacts to the deer. Gordie wakes before the others and climbs up to the railroad tracks to watch the sunrise. There, completely alone, he sees a doe standing on the tracks. The deer looks at him calmly for a moment, then begins grazing. When a train approaches, it silently bounds away back into the forest. Gordie never tells his friends about it. In fact, he keeps the memory to himself for years, the first time that he mentions it again is in his account, the book, years later. That’s the basis of what happens. In the book, in the film, the only way I can describe how it feels is silent. Its not like the rest of the scenes and passages are action packed- infact there’s a lot of conversation and nothingness and quiet moments- maybe its the fact that its a deer that makes it so sacred. Have you ever seen a deer in the woods? Did you hear it first? Probably not? Maybe you heard it run away. They’re so silent, and at least in my experience if I ever come across one it kind of makes me freeze. Universally, the deer symbolises grace, intuition, spiritual renewal, and gentleness. Then looking back to Celtic and indigenous traditions, they’re otherworldly guides, and a representation of harmony with the natural world. She feels like soft reassurance. She’s beautiful, she’s minding her own business even after looking right at Gordie. There’s no way in the world you could analyse even an ounce of anger or violence or angst from this interaction, and I think that was really pivotal for Gordie. Its a subtle tell that there are instances and whole worlds that exist beyond the human world of ambition and fear and greed and tragedy. She doesn’t know gordie, she doesn’t know that his brother dies or that he’s looking for a body with his friends or about his relationship with his parents, his future, himself. She just exists.
Now I don’t know if Gordie recognises this at the time. He’s twelve, for god’s sake. But he goes on to say that he keeps that moment to himself, and in multiple instances in his life he comes back to it. When I was in intense therapy for all my issues and anxieties and eating disorders, one of the main things they would try and get me to do was create a “safe space”. I wasn’t on board, let me tell you, but it does kind of make sense now. The idea is that even when your physical body is somewhere else and you feel that gut wrenching beginning of a panic attack, or something similar, you get to take your mind somewhere else, so much so that it doesn’t matter where you physically are. Mine was always my grandparents’ garden. But it could have been anything, not even a “space” per se, which is why I think this transpires to the deer becoming Gordies safe space, a private refuge. I guess there’s something in the fact that the encounter remains untouched; as is life, he drifts away from his friends, Chris dies young, things change and adulthood is always going to be complicted no matter how you look at it. There’s a point where the innocence from certain moments- summers, conversations, moments before life demands explanation- can’t be recovered. The deer is unchanged though. Untainted. I like to think it became somewhat of a safe space for Gordie as he navigated his way through the rest of his life. In my experience, people rarely seek comfort by reliving the biggest moments of their lives. Instead, they hold onto small, almost accidental experiences that carry an emotional truth larger than themselves. For Gordie, the deer becomes that. A place in his mind where the world briefly felt gentle- a quiet clearing.
It’s funny how in the story, Gordie thinks of the deer often, and in my actual real life, I do too. I just think it’s really nice. Quick note to say of you haven’t seen the film, I’d really recommend it. Or read the story.
