Identity Crisis:
Six Degrees of Separation

ENG 2500
Spring 2001

What makes a movie a good movie? What about a play? A book? What makes the time spent watching or reading it worthwhile? Is it the plot? That is certainly a part of it, for if the plot of a particular film did not sound enticing to audiences, then most probably would not go to see it or buy it in a bookstore. Or is it the thought-provoking questions brought up in the piece that make it worthwhile, moral questions about right and wrong, good and bad, rich and poor? Those things certainly do appeal to readers and viewers, making the film, play, book more relevant to both parties. Or is it the characters? Yes, it is definitely the characters. A movie or a novel can have a perfectly written plot, and can address important societal issues in an enlightened manner, but without the right characters, none of that matters. The “right” characters are ones that are complex, three-dimensional, multifaceted creations. What would be the fun in watching a movie or reading a book in which the characters are two-dimensional and predictable?

A good example of one such three-dimensional character is Paul, the young pretender from both the play and movie entitled Six Degrees of Separation. Paul is perhaps the least likeable, but most complex, of the entire complement of characters in Six Degrees. At first, Paul appears to be nothing but a con artist, using people for his own personal gain. As the movie progresses, however, one can see that he is, in a way, a type of artist. Paul’s motives are not purely monetary in nature, as with most con artists. Instead, he strives to be someone he is not so that he may – using his talents of manipulation – gain entry into the world of the rich. His motivating goal is to gain a sense of belonging in a place where he has never belonged.

Immediately apparent is Paul’s near-desperation in his pursuit of this elusive sense of belonging. Unfortunately, it is also apparent that he seems not to care about the consequences of his detrimental actions. Paul tells one consecutive lie after another, lies as intricate and mesmerizing as any Rembrandt, Picasso, or other famous work of art. Paul weaves for them – Ouisa and Flan, Kitty and Larkin, Elizabeth and Rick, and Dr. Fine Paul – such compelling stories about his association with their children; about his past; about his supposed father, Sydney Poitier; about his supposedly horrid father, Flan Kittredge; about everything. He rudely interrupts the lives of the Kittredges et al, in the case of Elizabeth and Rick, with tragic results.

Time and again, Paul follows the same routine with several different people – in which he claims to have been mugged in order to gain sympathy – but Paul seems especially enamored with the Kittredges. He spends an evening at home with them, cooks dinner for them, enthralls them with a dialogue about Catcher in the Rye. For that one evening, he is the center of attention; he is welcome in their posh apartment. Perhaps that is why Paul is so taken with them. The other people with whom he had stayed – Kitty and Larkin, Dr. Fine – graciously took him in as a friend of their children, but they also left him alone, didn’t stay with him, or hardly even talked with him.

Just as Paul has an enormous impact on the Kittredges – most especially Ouisa – the Kittredges have an impact on him as well. Flan and Ouisa are a pleasant couple that clearly enjoyed their evening with him. Paul knows that they did, and this means a lot to him. It makes him feel special, loved, a feeling that he obviously is unfamiliar with but desperately wants to capture and preserve.

In addition to this desire for love and affection, Paul himself holds a certain amount of affection for the Kittredges. He likes and even trusts them. This is evident in the phone call that Paul places to Ouisa. This scene is perhaps the only time that we actually see the real Paul and not the goon-natured, good-mannered, confident son of Sydney Poitier that he previously professed to be: his temper, his frustration, his hope, his eagerness. The phone call is oddly touching; Paul is reaching out, in his own way, to this couple that he admires, that he wants to emulate. His hope is almost tangible when he asks Ouisa if she would help him become, in a sense, a better person.

Yet, his answer to Ouisa’s question pertaining to his real last name is actually quite disturbing: “It’s Paul Poitier-Kittredge.” There are many possible interpretations. One could be that Paul is simply mocking Ouisa, in which case it seems counterproductive to actually obtaining Ouisa’s help. Another reason could be that he actually believes that his name is Poitier-Kittredge, which is unlikely but still possible and unerring. A third possible interpretation of Paul’s response is that he is saying that he is nobody. He has no identity; he pretends to be someone he is not. He has no last name. He has no family. Paul wants Ouisa and Flan to be his family. That is also somewhat unnerving, because Paul has previously shown that he has little to no consideration for other people’s feelings. He wants Ouisa and Flan to help him become a part of high society, wants them to help him find a place of his own and furnish it, wants them to help him find a life, wants, wants, wants. Yet, he seemingly shows no real feeling towards Ouisa and Flan, or consideration for what they want. And that is not what real family is about.

In conclusion, Paul is no ordinary con artist. He is an extraordinary one, to the extent that he could easily be considered an actual artist. He successfully cons Ouisa and Flan, Kitty and Larkin, Dr. Fine, Elizabeth and Rick, and who knows how many others into letting him into their homes and their lives. His main purpose for conning them is not for money, although he does not refuse it when they gave it to him, for he has plenty of opportunity to steal something quite expensive and disappear. No, Paul’s misguided actions are born out of hope that he will one day have a better life, that he will one day become one of the people whose lives he has invaded, living in a lush Fifth Avenue high rise overlooking Central Park