‘Harrison Bergeron’: An Eerily Prescient Dystopia

Actor Sean Astin presents an award during the 9th Annual Screen Actors Guild Awards at the Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles on March 9, 2003. Kevin Winter/Getty Images

Commentary

“The year was 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren’t only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else.”

So begins Kurt Vonnegut Jr.’s 1961 short story “Harrison Bergeron.” At only 2,158 words long, this is microfiction at its finest. In so few words, Vonnegut couldn’t present a complex storyline or a detailed description of its setting, like George Orwell’s “1984.” Instead, he painted a picture of dystopia, brief and startling, that leaves you wondering what you just read.

The 1995 TV movie of the same name tells the tale of a young man who learns the truth behind his egalitarian society and tries to take down its government from the inside. It bears almost no resemblance to its source material beyond the title and core concept. However, both are moving works, perhaps even more so today than when first released. Now, only a few decades before the tales’ futuristic settings, our culture shows an unsettling trend toward the radical equality of “Harrison Bergeron.”

The Stories

Vonnegut’s short story presents a snippet of life in the year 2081. George and Hazel Bergeron are watching a ballet performance on television. The dancers are masked and weighed down with bags of birdshot to keep less beautiful and graceful viewers from feeling inferior. Due to her “perfectly average” intelligence, Hazel can’t think about anything too deeply. George’s exceptional intelligence is limited by his “handicap,” a government-mandated earpiece which interrupts his thoughts with intrusive noises every 20 seconds. Their 14-year-old son, Harrison, a seven-foot-tall athlete and genius, is in jail “on suspicion of plotting to overthrow the government.”

The ballet is suddenly interrupted by news that Harrison has escaped prison. A picture is shown of the boy, who looks like “a walking junkyard” due to his overwhelming handicaps. Suddenly, he bursts into the television studio. He rips off his handicaps, proclaims himself emperor, and says the first woman to rise will be his empress. A ballerina bravely joins him, and he removes her mask and weights, revealing a “blindingly beautiful” woman. Likewise freeing the musicians and commanding them to play their best, Harrison and his empress begin a gravity-defying dance. At last, they kiss, suspended in the air, just before the Handicapper General arrives and shoots them dead. Hazel is crying but can’t remember why. “Something sad on television,” she tells her husband.

The movie takes place in the year 2053, after the Second American Revolution. Society has been equalized through mind-numbing television, computer-arranged marriages, and electronic headbands which regulate brain activity to a “perfect” 100. Harrison Bergeron (Sean Astin) has been held back four grades and continually has his headband strengthened because he keeps getting A’s in school. After the latest adjustment, he meets his computer-chosen bride, a dimwitted girl with whom he has nothing in common, and becomes dissatisfied with his life. When Harrison’s brain overrides the band yet again, Dr. Eisenstock (Nigel Bennett) determines that it doesn’t work on him, so he must have “corrective brain surgery” to permanently stunt his intelligence. Eisenstock privately suggests that Harrison utilize his final night at full capacity to visit a “head house,” an illegal establishment where men can discuss philosophical subjects with intelligent women. There, Harrison plays chess with Philippa (Miranda de Pencier) before being arrested during a raid.

Harrison wakes up inside the secret government organization behind societal equalization. The director, John Klaxon (Christopher Plummer), offers him a job instead of brain surgery, which he accepts. Harrison and Philippa begin a relationship, and she is soon expecting his child. To avoid the required abortion, she tries to escape but is caught and given brain surgery before being sent away. Furious and unable to keep ignoring the hypocrisy, Harrison locks himself in a TV studio and begins a broadcast, encouraging viewers to remove their bands as he plays wonderful entertainment.

A promo shot of actor Christopher Plummer. MovieStillsDB

After Harrison is stopped, Klaxon tells him people barely knew the difference and went back to their normal lives after the broadcast. He pressures him into going on TV again to claim it was a fictional stunt. Harrison obeys but then commits suicide on the air. His parents are watching the program but fail to digest what has happened. Years later, two boys watch part of Harrison’s broadcast without their bands. Downstairs, a woman looks toward the music with faint recollection. It is Philippa.

A Snapshot or a Story

Kurt Vonnegut’s short story gives the audience a snippet of life from a dystopian future. It’s more a snapshot than a story, and every word is important. There’s no room in a work of this length for extraneous prose or detailed backstories. It’s a graphic illustration of the writing concept “show, don’t tell.” The author merely presents a series of events, including only minimal insight from his characters, and lets the reader draw his own conclusions. It’s a brilliant, striking work but scarcely enough story material for a feature-length film.

The movie tells a very different tale. Rather than the source material’s grotesquely visual physical handicaps of masks, weights, rubber noses, and earpieces with thought-disrupting noises, the oppression is pared down to a thin metal headband which limits brain activity through electrical intrusions. Some credit could be given to technological advancements which took place between the 1960s and 90s. The movie’s headbands are far more sophisticated than the short story’s clownish handicaps, but they render 2053’s egalitarianism incomplete, since nothing is done to equalize people’s appearances. However, these clever electrical devices are very similar to modern-day gadgets and therefore more frightening.

Sadly, the 1995 movie is R-rated, due to profanity and an intimate scene between Harrison and Philippa. In another scene, Klaxon shows Harrison a reel of violent footage from history to convince him that inequality causes unrest, and the new system is the only answer. This, plus two violent onscreen deaths, doubtless contributed to the harsh rating, too. For decades, filmmakers have felt compelled to include objectionable content so their films will be considered mature enough for adult audiences. It’s a shame, since this would have been an excellent, thought-provoking piece for all audiences without these inappropriate inclusions.

Too Close to Home

Both adaptations of “Harrison Bergeron” hit very close to home now, as our society draws ever nearer to extreme egalitarianism. Schools have relaxed their standards, leading to generally low intelligence, and entertainment is growing increasingly mindless. The average television show or movie, rather than being either thought-provoking or good, clean fun, appeals only to the basest human instincts. Studies have found that the mind is more active when asleep than when watching TV. From extremely young ages, children are glued to devices, wearing earbuds, and otherwise plugged into something. If that isn’t akin to the mind-limiting headbands of 2053, I don’t know what is.

With the blurring of lines in fashion and social settings, it’s getting harder and harder to determine people’s sexes, leading to visual equalization like in the short story. Being different is only encouraged if it plays into the agenda of “finding your own truth.” That is a clever phrase disguising the real sentiment: spreading the “popular” or “accepted” beliefs of modern society. As Harrison says in one of the film’s most poignant lines, “You haven’t made everybody equal; you’ve made them the same, and there’s a big difference.”

If your truth is old-fashioned values, strong religious faith, or a desire to do great things, you are shunned. If you have a different way of looking at things or even trouble focusing due to unusual intelligence, you are labeled neurodivergent. In a culture like that, doesn’t it seem like the oppression in “Harrison Bergeron” could easily be forced onto the world?

Actor Sean Astin poses for a portrait at the 2004 Producers Guild Awards Nominations in Los Angeles on Jan. 5, 2004. Carlo Allegri/Getty Images

A Glimmer of Hope

The short story ends very hopelessly: Harrison and his empress die on television, and even his own parents don’t realize what has happened. Life goes on under the oppressive regime. The film, however, gives the faintest glimmer of hope. The next generation knows about Harrison. His son, although unaware of his parentage, enjoys what Harrison shared with the world; he and his friend even remove their bands while watching it. Despite her brain surgery, Philippa has a faint memory of Harrison. The sound of his music stirs something in the back of her mind. This hints at hope for the future. Maybe those two boys will one day succeed where Harrison failed.

We must see a similar glimmer in our own society. Especially since the pandemic, there has been a shift in the world. People are waking up to the corruption and deception of politicians in both major U.S. parties, and many ideas which were previously considered “conspiracy theories” are no longer considered so far-fetched. Citizens are standing firm in defense of the truth, beauty, and integrity. If we remember the values for which our country stands, we will never get to the point of Vonnegut’s society. We need more Harrison Bergerons now, to counter the trend toward further oppression. Fight back against the Handicapper Generals of our own time by watching a great old movie, listening to some wonderful music, or even unplugging completely to commune with nature.