Guilt trips and stolen thunder

I saw an amazing movie last weekend. While that itself is quite a rare occurence, Reservation Road was truly something different. It actually made me think (beyond the Intermission food choices, post-movie options and other 'loo'ming decisions).

This is the story in short. Ethan and Emma are doting parents to Grace and Josh. Dwight is a single dad with visitation rights to his son Lucas. One fateful night, driving back from a game with his son, Dwight runs over Josh, killing him instantly. Dwight hesitates for a mere second, before leaving the bereaved father weeping over his son's body. What follows is a completely natural unfolding of events, with some unwavering and true-to-life portrayals from each cast member.

Dwight suffers in guilt and Ethan in silence, as the Police drag on the case with almost no leads and barely any clues. The lack of response eats into Ethan who grows away from his family and hires a lawyer to follow up on the case. The lawyer is, of course, Dwight. I'm not going to reveal what happens because I wouldn't want to take away from you this brilliant piece of performance.

Frankly, if I were in Dwight's position I would surely have considered, at least for a whole hour, the option of hiding the whole thing away. Of acting like it never happened and then beginning to believe in it. After all, it is the option of free life over no life. If only you can ignore the guilt. If only.

Of course, here we all empathise for poor Dwight. After all, even a slight blot on his record could snatch away any access to his son. But if he was single would things be any different? What about the rest of us? How much guilt can we all handle? How small should a sin be to not require you to own up to it?