Thanatos

I watched The Sixth Sense for the fifth or sixth time yesterday. I love this movie. I don't like spooky movies as a general rule, but this one rocks my world. And oh, the Phuludulfian accents! Music to my ears. I have no desire to put down my roots where I was born, but the accents are like home, yo. I swear, what little accent I have has gotten stronger since I moved to California.

So I'm watching this glorious movie, letting the accents (or damn good imitations thereof) wash over me like the wudder of the Dullaware, and I realize that there's something very off about the very beginning of this movie.

See, when Bruce Willis gets shot in the beginning, it's cold enough that he and Olivia Williams have the fireplace going. Then we fade to the THE NEXT FALL, and the leaves look quite perfect for early October. It's usually too warm by April for a fire back East, so at least six months must have passed since the dropping of Donnie Wahlberg's trou.

And Bruce Willis is thinking he's got an appointment with Haley Joel Osment that very day.

I mean, I know I should suspend disbelief. It's M. Night Shyamalan, you know? I can suspend disbelief where M. Night Shyamalan is concerned. M. Night Shyamalan decided that my little hometown needed diagonal parking spots with parking meters for the filming of Signs, which was pretty ridiculous given the actual width of State Street. But the Book and Record Exchange got a complete facelift out of the deal, Mom's Bake-at-Home Pizza (which doesn't serve or bake, only assembles) got a table and a placque that says "Mel Gibson Sat Here and Pretended to Eat" or some such, and the Advance of Bucks County got to publish photos and tidbits about Mel and company for weeks. And this was all great and fun and put Newtown on the map for something other than the Law School Admission Council, whose mail once came to my mom's office by mistake and they all but scanned her retinas when she tried to redeliver it herself.

So anyway, Bruce Willis tells Haley Joel Osment that they were supposed to have had a session that day. Haley Joel Osment does not seem bothered by his apparent no-show. And I started thinking, you know, if Bruce Willis really were Phuludulfia's son, this eminent child psychologist at this famous clinic, the clinic must have a receptionist. And since Bruce Willis couldn't exactly call in dead himself, the receptionist would have canceled all of his appointments.

But even if he didn't have a receptionist, at least six months have passed since he became dead and didn't know it. Psychologists who do weekly therapy aren't known for scheduling intakes six months (or more) in advance. Plus, Bruce Willis appears to have written some notes already, in September. (I love the pause button.) But he and Haley Joel Osment don't actually meet for the first time until this scene.

So the question is: Who referred this kid to a very dead psychologist, and provided enough information in the referral that said very dead psychologist could formulate an initial diagnostic workup?

I can only suspend disbelief for so long. There's got to be something in HIPAA (which came out four years later, but whatever) about your personal health information seeing dead people.