“I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?”
But is that really true? To what extent does Renton actually choose anything? Or anyone, for that matter? How free are we really in our choices? How much is determined by where and when you were born? Who your parents were? What kind of upbringing you had? So if you’re born in a poor neighborhood in Scotland, there’s no work, no prospects, everything’s gray and grim, your parents are, well… your parents, and there are huge amounts of cheap drugs around—are you then destined to become an addict?
And once you do fall, as people like to say, to the bottom of society, standing at that edge, and you think, ‘You know what? Fuck this. If there’s no hope for anything better, I might as well go all in, no? Hell yeah! Bring me that needle!’—is that fatalism? Yes, it is. But is that a bad thing? Doesn’t fatalism also mean total freedom? ‘I live my life the way I want. And if that means I want to use massive amounts of drugs until I fucking die, then that’s exactly what I’ll do. Fuck off, world.’ Yeah, man… Renton, Begbie, Spud, and Sick Boy, they don’t make excuses. They don’t whine about their poor old childhood traumas. No, man. They go all in. May the chips fall where they may. And the fish, too…
So, Trainspotting! The film follows a group of young men living in Edinburgh in the 1990s, mostly drifting through life while heavily addicted to heroin and just about anything else they could get their hands on. Mark Renton (Ewan McGregor) is the narrator and central figure, trying to navigate the chaos around him while occasionally attempting to kick the habit. His friends—violent and unpredictable Begbie (Robert Carlyle), sweet but hapless Spud (Ewan Bremner), and the scheming, smooth-talking Sick Boy (Jonny Lee Miller) —each have their own ways of coping with addiction and life’s bleakness. The story jumps between their petty schemes, drug-fueled escapades, moments of friendship, betrayals, and the grim realities of addiction, all painted against the gray, rain-soaked streets of Edinburgh.
Now, part of the fun of writing reviews, is that one has to imagine, for the sake of that review, that there are still two or three people left on this planet who did NOT see this movie, and it just so happens that one of them, right now, thinks, ‘Hey, you know what, let’s see what that crazy Dutchman thinks of this…’ And THAT is awesome, because that means I can now tell you about all the nice and lovely things in this movie! Yay!
Because there are very many! Does a dead baby crawl along the ceiling, you ask, and then, when it’s directly above you, turn its little zombie head around, like that chick from the Exorcist movie, and does it then drop from that ceiling, right onto your screaming face? Yes, sir, it does! Do you get to take a dive, a literal, actual DIVE into the worst toilet in Scotland (nay, the world, nay, the freaking Universe!) only to retrieve a suppository painkiller you just shat out because your colon suddenly and violently released all its blocked-up poo at once? Yes, you do! Isn’t that great?
How about shooting a pitbull in its ass with a BB gun and then having yourself some fun while watching it maul its owner? Sure! We’ll throw that in there! What? Want more? Fine! How about just watching the movie? Not to your taste? Alright, try this: what about drinking to the point where, instead of having some fun with your girl, you pass out on the bed? Then, in the middle of the night, your innards empty spontaneously. Again. You only notice this the next morning, when you stick your hand between your legs because you’re wondering what that warm, moist feeling is down there. You then clean yourself up somewhat, gather the stained sheets, and try to sneak them past your girlfriend’s parents, who are sitting at the breakfast table. Want me to go on? Really? Trust me, you don’t. Choose life!
I could go on, of course. Happily ever after, for all I care. But the gist of it may be clear by now, I think: addiction makes you do horrible, horrible things.
When it hit screens in 1996, Trainspotting caused a proper ruckus. Danny Boyle’s direction was kinetic, brash, and full of style, perfectly capturing the chaos and despair of Edinburgh’s drug scene. The film put Boyle firmly on the map, and it did the same for its cast: Ewan McGregor became an international star, while Jonny Lee Miller, Ewen Bremner, Robert Carlyle, and Kevin McKidd all got major boosts to their careers. Oh, and this. Who could forget this…
Having said all that, let me tell you this, from my own personal experience: when you are standing on that edge, of society, of the world, of everything, like Spud and Renton, Begbie, and all the others, you have one of the very best views possible. Real freedom only comes when there’s nothing left to lose.
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