There are films you see with your eyes, but they live on in your heart. Soul is one of those. It speaks to us about the meaning of life, the fear of not fulfilling a «mission,» the vertigo that comes with thinking we came into the world for something… and that we haven’t even done it yet. What if it turns out life wasn’t a destination, but a journey?
Joe Gardner, the protagonist, is a frustrated jazz musician who, like so many adults (and many teenagers too), has internalized the idea that his life only has value if he manages to fulfill his «purpose.» In other words, he believes his identity is defined by his vocation. This is a widespread notion in our culture and one that psychology—from Viktor Frankl to Erikson—has problematized: what happens when our identity is tied to a single function? What if we don’t fulfill it? What if we do… but don’t feel anything?
Joe lives in the stage that Erikson called generativity versus stagnation, typical of middle adulthood: an internal struggle between leaving a mark on the world or feeling like one is just surviving. Joe wants to transcend, but in that quest, he forgets how to live. The film literally confronts him with death to force him to see his life from the outside.
And here appears the soul 22. A being who doesn’t want to be born, who sees no meaning in human existence. And, although it may seem strange, it represents many children and adolescents who don’t fit in, who aren’t «passionate about anything,» who fear living because they feel they have no «spark.» But the film takes a brilliant turn: that spark isn’t a purpose, but a willingness to live. You don’t have to be born knowing why you came. You just have to want to try.
Based on Lev Vygotsky’s theory, we could say that 22 needs emotional scaffolding to encourage him to live. Joe, unknowingly, provides that support: it allows him to explore, feel, and test the world with curiosity. At first, 22 refuses to come down to Earth because she believes she doesn’t have what it takes. But, in reality, the problem isn’t her: it’s the system that has made her believe she has to shine from day one.
One of the most beautiful moments is when Joe, after achieving «her big dream» (playing with Dorothea Williams), realizes that she doesn’t feel any different. That the moment she’d been looking forward to didn’t change her soul. It was just… a moment. And that’s where Soul gives us its strongest lesson: it’s not about one great achievement, but about the sum of small experiences. It’s not the night of the concert, it’s the ray of sunshine on her face, the falling leaf, the taste of a pizza, the shared laughter.
The film also touches, albeit subtly, on imposter syndrome, the fear of failure, and anxiety about the future: very common phenomena in young people today. Joe fears not being good enough. 22 fears being «too much of nothing.» And in the midst of this, they both discover that the important thing isn’t being exceptional, but being present.
Soul is, at its core, a film about the here and now. It reminds us that living isn’t about achieving, but about feeling. That meaning isn’t found in a distant goal, but in the full awareness of the moment. As Jon Kabat-Zinn would say, using mindfulness as a way of thinking: «While you’re alive, there are more things right with you than wrong with you.»
123 por mi 