Just like the entire planet, I’ve been following the Depp-Heard trial, following every twist and turn of the courtroom drama with bated breath. After trying to ignore it the first couple of days, it just drew me in. Before I knew it, I was knee-deep in YouTube videos and fully invested. It had all the makings of a brilliantly written story, didn’t it? Anti-hero against antagonist, each locked into a battle where their very reputations hung in the balance.
Even most TV series these days struggle to evoke the same emotional response from me, and I suspect I’m not alone in that sentiment. So, why do we care so much about these trials and tribulations of the rich and famous? I once heard a theory that it’s deeply rooted in our ancestral past when we lived in relatively small tribes of a few dozen to a few hundred people, at most. Imagine, there were few punishments harsher than being cast out from your own tribe, which in a way is what happened to Depp.
Getting kicked out of the tribe meant you’d find yourself utterly alone, forced to fend for yourself. It was, in a way, a prehistoric form of cancel culture, if you will. It makes perfect sense that this dynamic has evolved over tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of years. It’s no wonder that the fear of ostracization still resonates so profoundly with us on an emotional level, and that our sense of justice is so deeply stirred when someone is unjustly cast out from the group.
By the way, you’ve likely noticed that many writers skillfully weave this theme into their stories, where the hero is betrayed and cast aside, only to embark on a journey of redemption. Once you start looking for it, it’s everywhere. Think about the Mission Impossible films, with Ethan Hunt constantly suspected of betrayal, having to prove his innocence time and again. Or “The Count of Monte Cristo,” a timeless tale that’s remained popular for years. I recently saw a question on Twitter asking about everyone’s favorite book, and “Monte Cristo” didn’t fare too badly.
That’s no coincidence. The themes it delves into are timeless. We all start as naive teenagers and twenty-somethings, and sooner or later, we all feel the sting of betrayal from friends and colleagues we once held in high regard. We all go through a period of growth and patiently await our moment to shine. None of this is new. I once stumbled upon this comment about The Count of Monte Cristo: “Ending up in prison was the best thing that could have happened to Edmond Dantes.” Indeed, sometimes adversity leads to the most profound transformations.
When you first experience “The Count of Monte Cristo,” you can’t help but feel deeply for Edmond Dantes, the central character, who’s unjustly stripped of everything and imprisoned in the infamous Chateau d’If, cut off from the world for years. His transformation from a naive sailor into the formidable Count is nothing short of epic, and it could never have happened without that monumental setback. It’s a profound evolution, one that, paradoxically, emerges from adversity. “The Practicing Stoic” beautifully underscores this point:
“Like the man who threw a stone at his dog but missed and hit his stepmother. ‘Not so bad!’ he said. For it is possible to change what we get out of things that do not go as we wish. Diogenes was driven into exile: ‘Not so bad!’ – for it was after his banishment that he took up philosophy.”
We all wish for a life devoid of setbacks, but the truth is, no matter how catastrophic a setback may appear in the moment, with patience, it often reveals a silver lining. Johnny Depp, despite his stint in his own version of Chateau d’If, seems poised for an upswing. I’ve noticed that in recent years, perhaps partly propelled by this scandal, he’s been focusing more on his music, a path that might not have been as easily pursued under normal circumstances. Who knows, this setback might have supplied him with the inspiration and energy to showcase his creativity even more in the coming decade than he might have otherwise.
Here’s to hoping that we, too, can confront our setbacks and transform them into something positive, so that we can stoically proclaim, “Not so bad.”
Kind regards
Vincent J. Dancet