Great Character: Ben Sanderson (“Leaving Las Vegas”)
This month’s theme: Addiction. Today’s guest post by Jason Cuthbert features Ben Sanderson from the 1995 movies Leaving Las Vegas, screenplay by Mike Figgis, based on a novel by John O’Brien.
What could be more morbidly foreboding about the eerie destiny of an alcoholic protagonist than calling a movie about him relocating to Las Vegas — Leaving Las Vegas? Nicolas Cage won his first, and currently only, Oscar for his intense portrayal of Ben Sanderson, a Hollywood screenwriter on the outs with his movie studio, his wife, his associates and his life. His obsession for raw bottles of alcohol is the culprit and the only one left listening to his aching inebriated ramblings. The suddenly, Ben’s anti-sober solitude gets a Godsend interruption from a heart-broken whore named Sera. But, Ben didn’t come to Las Vegas to win like every other gambling tourist — he came to lose, and lose big:
BEN SANDERSON: I came here to drink myself to death.
Leaving Las Vegas plot summary from IMDB:
Ben Sanderson, an alcoholic Hollywood screenwriter who lost everything because of his drinking, arrives in Las Vegas to drink himself to death. There, he meets and forms an uneasy friendship and non-interference pact with prostitute Sera.
Mike Figgis (Timecode, One Night Stand) wrote and directed this 1995 emotionally harsh reality check of a romantic drama, adapted from a novel by John O’Brien. Figgis was nominated for an Academy Award in both of these categories, along with Elisabeth Shue’s highly worthy nomination for Best Actress in a Leading Role for her transformation into the soiled recesses of Sera.
The toughest aspect of witnessing Ben Sanderson’s alcohol addiction unfold is the complete futility of his disease. He has totally succumbed to the melancholy concept that his Grim Reaper is going to greet him in the form of an 80 proof Vodka bottle. Ben is cryptically satisfied by this preconceived conclusion to his life, as if he believes he has earned this demise, without a minute to waste on redemption.
As a screenwriter, watching another screenwriter burn his own screenplays into barbecued scene descriptions is the equivalent of suicide…of the higher self. Ben may still be breathing, but that creative spark that pops him out of bed when an alarm clock can’t do the trick is now vacant. And like a vacant hotel room, he is defeating his own purpose by evicting his favorite customer — the passion for life. As Ben Sanderson continues to trade in his past tense lows for a liquor store’s present day highs, we sense that he hasn’t sunk low enough below the limbo stick of fate.
The “chemical im-balancing act” that Ben is physically and emotionally teetering from is a visceral sickness that has evolved beyond the desire to drink. His body is now literally beating itself up until it is “medicated” by booze.
BEN SANDERSON: I don’t know if my wife left me because of my drinking or I started drinking ’cause my wife left me.
Ben has wiped out so many dismal brain cells that he is apparently operating purely off of primal urges — straight out of the animal kingdom. Mental reasoning and self-esteem checked out of his dieing liver about 1000 cocktails ago.
BEN SANDERSON: Sera… what you don’t understand is — no, see, no. You can never, never ask me to stop drinking. Do you understand?
The guiding light that sparkles among the blinding neon flashes of the Las Vegas strip in Leaving Las Vegas is Ben Sanderson and Sera’s delicate yet absolutely necessary relationship. These two NEED — in all capitals and italics — each other. Sera’s loneliness needs Ben to take care of, to be considered necessary and to feel cleansed of her crotch garage sales. Ben needs Sera to feel like a man, the man he once was when his wife was still with him. What is the likelihood that a woman as attractive as Sera would still love him with the caveat that she will always be Number 2 to his drinking habit? Ben feels, at least for the rest of his self-destructive ride, that he has hit the social jackpot. He has landed an unconditionally supportive passenger in his drunk driving Hangover From Hell.
The power that ignites Ben’s connection with Sera is that no one is hiding their demons here. In an interesting and utterly rare turn of events, Ben and Sera actually have the balls and the bush bold enough to introduce each other to their demons on their first date, and own them like a new pair of killer pit bulls from a dark alley. This relentless honesty that continues to prevail offers us that itsy bitsy spider of hope, that maybe they will get bit in the neck by love, and fall into cupid’s web. Well, hope can get you to fight another day, but not if the soldier doesn’t want to win the war.
For his external emotional purging, his openness to share his weaknesses and his fearless venture into the unknown — Ben Sanderson is a painfully GREAT CHARACTER.
This is a fascinating movie. It is a Hero’s Journey turned on its head. Ben leaves the Old World (Los Angeles), a place where he was living a lie, to the New World (Las Vegas), a place where he chooses to live — and die — per the truth.
It’s not a happy ending. And Sera is a temptress — in more ways than one — to divert Ben from his own inner truth. But his destiny is a tragic one. And he persists in his vision. Death = Freedom. Hence the double meaning of the movie’s title: Leaving Las Vegas.
I am left to ponder Sera. How does she react to Ben’s death? I would hope in her life after FADE OUT is inspired by Ben’s commitment to his inner truth and she gets out of the whole prostitute trade.
Thanks to Jason for yet another Great Character post. Join us in comments for a discussion of Ben Sanderson and other notable movie characters dealing with addiction.
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