The sense of existential dread, loneliness, and alienation is palpable in Double Indemnity. Part of its power is the near-universality of this experience among humans. We are all sensitive to being on the fringe of our community, and feeling like an outsider — loneliness and isolation are deeply painful experiences. Walter also has this quality about him, but he has created an artificial sense of control and meaning in his life through his job. It is not until he meets Phyllis that something appears to have been awoken in him — his realization that he is not happy, he wants so much more than what he has — and it is just out of his reach.

Walter’s desperate attempts to circumvent his fate only brought him closer to the inevitable conclusion—by killing Phyllis, he finally realizes that what he wanted all along was never there. The tragic irony in Double Indemnity suggests that when we reach too far beyond our means, we are put back in our place. As Keyes puts it so eloquently: “And those papers are not just forms and statistics and claims for compensation, they’re alive, they’re packed with drama, with twisted hopes and crooked dreams…” The Dietrichson case is no different — the claim for double indemnity on the accident policy represented Phyllis’ and Walter’s “twisted hopes and crooked dreams.”

As Walter explains in his confession to Keyes, “I did it for money, and for a woman.” At the surface, Walter seems to want money. He is one of the top salesman at the insurance company for which he works, so he is good at what he does. As Keyes points out, however, a salesman’s job is pushing doorbells. Keyes describes the job as a claims man as comparable to being a surgeon, a lawyer, and he sees significant meaning in the work that he does. Walter is resistant to this, as he was just awarded with top salesman, and then Keyes asks him to take a $50 cut in pay, but with the promise of doing great work. This bothers Walter (“I’m a salesman!.. It’d bother anybody.”) Walter has control over his own fate by being a salesman, since his pay is based on how well he does his job and how aggressive he is. And yet, he still strikes a match and lights Keyes’ cigar at a moments notice, alluding that his sense of control in his career and life is an illusion. When Keyes asks him to be his assistant, this represents a loss of control for Walter over his money, therefore his life, and ultimately his fate. Walter is driven by money and success—although there is a woman (Margie) referenced that suggests he may have a girlfriend or love interest, she never appears in the film, and he has an apartment where he lives alone. Walter Neff appears to live an isolated and small existence—this is reinforced by his first meeting with Phyllis, as he gazes hungrily up at her from the foyer. His mind becomes intoxicated by the image of “the anklet” — the anklet potentially represents those things that Walter desires but cannot have for himself. Walter feels that he can “save” her and that he will be able to give her everything that she desires. Yet Walter still views Phyllis as “Baby” — he says he cares about her, but he loves her the same way that a codependent loves – “I love you because I need you.” Phyllis is his ticket out of mediocrity, his chance to become the man that he wants to be. Keyes refers back to Margie a few times while with Neff, stating repeatedly that he believes “she drinks from the bottle.” This is a stark contrast to Phyllis, who is sultry and feminine. We know so little about Margie, but it is clear that she does not play a huge role in Neff’s life, and she may not fit into the same neat boxes that Phyllis, femme fatale, or Lola, “pure innocent virginal” girl do. Ultimately, Walter seems to desire things that he simply cannot achieve in the world that he lives — one without thanks, comfort, freedom, safety, or a happy ending.

In Double Indemnity, we see how marriage, viewed as an organizing and protective institution in society, actually leads to alienation and destruction — Phyllis hates her husband so much she has decided she’d like him dead. She thought she would find safety, be taken care financially and have someone to be nice to her, and yet her attempts to create these things for herself backfired, and she was met again with a situation where the only exit she could see was through death. This could be viewed through a nihilist lens, as Phyllis’ defied tradition as well as societal and moral convention in a desperate effort to take control over her own life, and it led ultimately to the destruction (death) of herself and Walter. She was driven by feeling and instinct, rather than appealing to morality. She attempted to gain control and power in her life through murder and manipulating men including Walter Neff and Nino Zachetti. Phyllis represents the femme fatale archetype, as she appears as a sultry seductress capable of breaking down men’s moral framework, with none of her own — her character is a sharp contrast to more traditional views of femininity in which the ideal woman was a demur, pious and mild-mannered housewife and meant to support the male head of the household. Although the femme fatale archetype is quite far from a feminist icon, I feel that Phyllis’ character echoes the desperate loneliness, longing, and isolation that was so omnipresent for many women who lived with the demands to be pleasant and dutiful housewives during this time period in America and much earlier in history. “My husband never tells me anything,” she tells Walter when they first meet, “I just sit here and knit.” The femme fatale archetype remains problematic, but it does capture how few avenues women have historically had for taking their power in a society that grants them little. Phyllis’ attempts to take control via her sexuality and reach beyond what she had been allotted in her life were essentially futile — thus the conclusion of Double Indemnity weighs heavy. With authority and the same tragic irony that lent certainty to Phyllis’ and Walter Neff’s fate, we are left with no comfort, or a sense that it was all for a greater purpose. Perhaps made to feel how Phyllis and Walter did, Double Indemnity does not lend a sliver of comfort, nor any sense that it was all for a greater purpose. No single caveat, except maybe that Lola and Nino can be together. As Walter states early in his confession to Keyes, “I did it for money and a woman. I didn’t get the money, and I didn’t get the woman.” This is how I interpret a nihilistic, or “godless” and meaningless world. I feel that in this way there are nihilistic qualities to Double Indemnity, because Phyllis and Walter are both attempting to stretch beyond their reach towards greater power, and in turn live a better life. Double Indemnity’s conclusion could perhaps be rather crudely distilled down to “Nice try, guy.”

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• “It is not that discovering the absurd leads necessarily to happiness, but rather acknowledging the absurd means also accepting human frailty, an awareness of our limitations, and the fact that we cannot help wishing to go beyond what is possible. These are all tokens of being fully alive.”

In the Myth of Sisyphus, Camus writes that, “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” I don’t know that I agree that he is happy, because I don’t think that what he has achieved is happiness, I think it is more like acceptance. Camus suggests that in accepting the meaninglessness and absurdity of life, we may find happiness. By becoming conscious we open ourselves up to the pain and struggle of the human experience. However, in accepting the absurd we take ownership over our own fate, and in doing so we invite in happiness, joy, and the pleasurable experiences that go along with being alive. “This is the price that must be paid for the passions of this earth,” Camus writes. When we fully embrace life, we take on the burden of that experience as human beings. When one accepts their fate they can be free to find meaning in what remains.

For Sisyphus, Camus argues “The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.” In being entirely consumed by his task of pushing the rock up the hill, Camus views Sisyphus as happy. I feel that Camus is right that we must acknowledge that we endure an absurd struggle by simply living our life. It’s important that we have an understanding of why we are living—otherwise we too strongly resemble Sisyphus straining up the hill with his rock, with none of the satisfaction that Camus suggests. We must remember that we are living for ourselves. Camus argues that our lives should be lived for ourselves, and not for a higher power, as he believes that there is none to “appeal to.” He views life as meaningless and that we must conquer absurdity by “living fully and with vitality” without trying to understand a deeper meaning, as there is none to be found. However, I feel that humans have the intrinsic ability to create meaning where it appears there isn’t any—that is why we have spirituality, culture and creative expression of all kinds. It is our nature to want to understand and express ourselves as well as others and seek meaning in our existence. Even if there isn’t an afterlife, our experience as humans is so powerful and intense, and we have such an ability to live within the moment—so is our physical and emotional state so meaningless in the grand scheme of things when it is of such great importance to us during our lifetime? A day, an hour, or even a few minutes can feel like an eternity if you are that desperate for the time to pass.

I agree with Camus that “If this myth is tragic, that is because its hero is conscious… The workman of today works everyday in his life at the same tasks, and his fate is no less absurd. But it is tragic only at the rare moments when it becomes conscious.” As Camus points out, the Myth of Sisyphus is tragic if indeed Sisyphus feels tragically about his situation — as he strains to push the boulder up the mountain, or during his descent, if his thoughts echoed the apparent mediocrity and futility of his task, it would no doubt lead to significantly more suffering. I am reminded of the fundamental principle in Buddhism that “life is suffering” — as part of being human, we experience physical and emotional pain that is a necessary accompaniment to happiness, love, and pleasure. As Camus writes, “…his passions for life won him that unspeakable penalty in which the whole being is exerted toward accomplishing nothing.” So we inevitability experience the difficult parts of being a human when we wish to live happily and fully. When we fight and resist feeling or experiencing these things, we create significantly more pain for ourselves.

• “What is then Camus’s reply to his question about whether or not to commit suicide? Full consciousness, avoiding false solutions such as religion, refusing to submit, and carrying on with vitality and intensity: these are Camus’s answers. This is how a life without ultimate meaning can be made worth living.”

Suicide is not an option because you wouldn’t be around anymore, you’d be dead.
If, as Camus believes, there is no afterlife then suicide is pointless. I feel that in dealing with absurdity, suicide is not an option. But there are perhaps very extreme cases where it would be understandable. I think that people do have limits in what they can take, and that there are perhaps limits on our spirits in the same way that there are limits on our physical bodies. Chronic illness, severe trauma, and other conditions are perhaps beyond the scope of our ability as humans to endure. Suicide may not be an option except in very rare cases. The alternative that Camus offers involves “Full consciousness, avoiding false solutions such as religion, refusing to submit, and carrying on with vitality and intensity…” I disagree with Camus that religion is false solution. If it helps one to battle suicidal ideation or urges in the face of absurdity, is that not an avenue with which to live ones life fully and with vigor?

• “That hour like a breathing-space which returns as surely as his suffering, that is the hour of consciousness. At each of those moments when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate. He is stronger than his rock.”

The image of Sisyphus straining with the entirety of his might to push his rock up the hill resonates with me deeply. I feel that this is an excellent representation of how mental illness as well as trauma can impact one’s life and ability to cope with the absurdity of life. I feel that for many years I have been attempting to work through what feels like the same struggle. I feel that when my PTSD is triggered I feel as though nothing has changed, as though I am looping back around to the same point in time (“One always finds one’s burden again.”). I find that this is the nature of coping with anxiety, depression, and trauma—we often have to revisit places in our hearts and minds that we feel we have been a thousand times over already. Depression makes me feel like I am finally seeing things clearly, that life is unfair and pointless and “Oh why even bother anyway?” It might could be viewed as an objective truth, that life is unfair. But even if that were true, is one better off for living by that truth, as Camus seems to believe, or would it be better to be ignorant if it meant you could create meaning in a meaningless existence? I find that the struggle itself is nowhere near enough for me—when I am so immersed in my struggle, it feels entirely self-defeating. At times I feel like my rock has slipped from my grasp and rolled right over me back down the hill. At other times, though, I feel that my rock is an incredible gift, and I value all that it has taught me and brought into my life, and I take pride in straining to keep it moving. As Camus writes, “If the descent is sometimes performed in sorrow, it can also take place in joy.” It seems laughable that joy could rise out of endless struggle and absurdity—however, I feel that based on my own experience, when I embrace the struggle and open myself to acceptance I allow happiness, enjoyment, and joy to meet futility, frustration, and loneliness. Camus highlights the duality that is present in life—”There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night.” Embracing the absurd and the entirety of the human experience is like opening all the windows in our mental house and clearing out the stuffy air—it is like a cleansing and releasing of the cognitive dissonance that arises when one keeps asking “Why?” Camus tosses that question out the window entirely, and suggests that we turn our attention to what is here and accessible to us on Earth. Camus states, “Where would his torture be, indeed, if at every step the hope of succeeding upheld him?” Hope and faith are powerful forces, and help to alleviate some of the pain that exists in the here and now. Although Camus believes that the struggle fills one’s heart, in my experience it is my mind that is filled. What fills my heart is moving beyond my struggle and looking towards the other—someone or something beyond myself. Community significantly, if not entirely alleviates the sense of absurdity and endless repetition that so insidiously creeps in to my psyche.

Word Count: 1500