Seconds

“If there is not a new man, how can the new clothes be made to fit?” —Henry David Thoreau

Opening credits sequence for the books. Horror territory or Twilight Zone? Destabilizing, disconcerting. Arthur Hamilton, middle-aged banker. Indiscernible in a crowd. Steady job, nice house, faithful wife. Stuck in a fog. Moves through routine like a zombie. What gives? So this is what happens to the dreams of youth.

Phone rings. Unusual proposition. Seeks the answer out of uneasy curiosity versus intrigue. What if you could be reborn? They say, it’s easier to go forward when you know you can’t go back. Something frightening and sinister envelops the exchange. You’re not happy anyway. What have you got to lose? 

Seconds externalizes existential crisis, meshing elements of The Swimmer, Shock Corridor, and Invasion of the Body Snatchers. “What makes you you?” is the tertiary query, but I think Frankenheimer is probing deeper than identity. “What makes you feel worthwhile?” Now, there’s a question.

Seconds strips off sentiment & cuts to the bone. Gives our lost protagonist a revolutionary pretense, hoping he’s not one of those unfortunate failures. You were my best work, Mr. Wilson. Trouble is, contentment cannot arise from false living. Suburbia doesn’t fit, but neither does Bohemia. Because Arthur Hamilton is still Arthur Hamilton. Joel still loves Clementine. To inject Emerson: My giant goes with me wherever I go. People can’t escape themselves. The option, then, is growth or decay. The weary doctor laments his doomed dream. He just wanted to offer the masses a little less misery. 

Let’s try again, pleads Mr. Wilson. Just one more time. It’ll be different now. I’ll be in charge. Poor Arthur. If only he’d known that he lost his second chance the moment he left his real life. 

“If there is not a new man, how can the new clothes be made to fit? If you have any enterprise before you, try it in your old clothes. All men want, not something to do with, but something to do, or rather something to be.”