It's been incredibly humid here. I didn't sleep well last night. I don't know if it was entirely the humidity, or if it was that I would up watching part of "Paradise Road." (I KNOW, the Mythbusters "top 25" special was on, but I watched some of it and you know, those compilation-type shows just don't do it for me).

Paradise Road is a good movie, but it's very sad, and also the kind of movie that makes you wonder at the level of brutality some humans are capable of. In short, it's the story of a group of women - taken prisoner by the Japanese on Sumatra during WWII. In order to try to keep themselves sane and human, they form a sort of choir - I think they called it a "vocal orchestra" and performed classical instrumental pieces (like, for example, an arrangement of the Largo from Dvorak's New World Symphony.

But at the same time, their captors...I know there are probably Conventions against such treatment of prisoners now, but one scene in particular, where a woman was caught speaking out of turn (the women were forced to bow each morning, kowtowing to the Japanese flag and the Emperor. Some few would mutter "bugger the Emperor" which - if you know anything of British slang and attitudes, was really pretty much the strongest rudest thing you could say against him.) Anyway, she got caught, and was forced to kneel out in the hot sun, surrounded by sharpened spikes, so if she fainted, she would die. And another woman, trying to carry water out to her, was turned back (somewhat gently, but still turned back) by the posted guard.

And then the women were moved to a more remote (and worse) camp, I suppose as the Allied forces advanced. One of the women - "Margaret" (her real name was Daisy but she said she hated it and always wanted to be called Margaret) - who had been the one who wrote the arrangements - was dying, and she called Adrienne over to her, asking for a prayer. And Adrienne started reciting the 23rd Psalm.

I don't know many of the Psalms off by heart, but I know that one. And darn it, but I was enough involved in the movie that I sat there, reciting it along with her, tears streaming down my face. (I find myself tearing up a bit now thinking of it).

I suppose a person could look at it not just from the frame of "how brutal people can be to one another" (the captors' treatment of the captives) but also "how kind and loving people can be in the worst of situations" - granted, some of the women (the "doctor" in particular) seemed more interested in doling out tough love and speaking straight, and there were times when people argued - but for the women who survived...I don't know. It's one of those things where you wonder, "How would I fare were I in that situation?" Would I be the one trying to write musical arrangements and form the group into a choir, so we could do something beautiful and purposeful? Or would I be the one pining for what was left behind? Or the one complaining? I don't know.

I guess I spent some time thinking about that. And at the same time, realizing how incredibly grateful I should be that I had a solid roof over my head, and a bed with actual sheets, and I didn't have to worry about things like scorpions and snakes where I was sleeping, and I even had air conditioning.