Dialogue with Nature, Bonds of Family

Asahi Shimbun Morning Edition – May 15, 1999

At the confluence of a small river in Missoula, Montana, two young brothers learn the art of fly fishing from their father, a Presbyterian minister, amidst a landscape of crystal-clear beauty.

Robert Redford’s film A River Runs Through It (1992) is an adaptation of Norman Maclean’s memoir, considered a classic in the world of fly fishing.

In the spring of 1926, the older brother, played by Craig Sheffer, returns home for the first time in six years after graduating from Dartmouth. His younger brother, portrayed by Brad Pitt, has become a local journalist writing about fishing.

The older brother urges him to pursue a career at a major newspaper in Chicago, where he himself is preparing for a teaching position. But the younger brother refuses, saying, “I will live in Montana for the rest of my life.” He drinks heavily, accumulates gambling debts, and his life begins to fall apart. The older brother tries to save him, but when he sees his younger brother casting a fly, he realizes that he has become so deeply attuned to nature that he can “hear the words beneath the rocks in the current.” Resigned, he lets go.

In his final sermon at church, their father speaks about the younger son: “Even if we cannot fully understand someone, we can fully love them.” That is what family is.

Even those who have never been interested in fly fishing will likely feel the urge to cast a line after watching this film. The love of family, the flowing river, and the rolling hills leave a deep impression. Together with The Horse Whisperer, Redford proves that he is more than just a handsome and sophisticated actor—he is a great filmmaker.

A man who visits my clinic once a month for insomnia lost his wife ten years ago and now lives with his son’s family. He used to love golf, but as his drives lost distance, he lost interest. The dog that had been his companion for ten years passed away, leaving him lonely.

Not wanting to endure another painful farewell, he has recently taken to talking to plants. “I share my heart with the trees and grass,” he says with quiet sincerity. Seeing him, I feel as though I have caught a glimpse of the wisdom and serenity that come with old age.