As a general rule, this Bostonist doesn't much like war, nor does she have a particular affinity for old people. So put them together, and you should have something bordering on abhorrent, no? Yet somehow The Way We Get By, the tale of some Maine Troop Greeters who greet U.S. troops coming through Bangor, Maine, on the way to and from Iraq, was absolutely captivating. The film is the first installment in the Coolidge Corner Theater's new Rough Cut Film Series. Co-sponsored by Women in Film and Video New England and the New England Institute of Art (and tonight featuring a representative from Super Indie Films), the series is designed to help independent films gain greater recognition and distribution.

The Way We Get By is certainly worthy of both. The film could have been a trite look at an adorable group of old folks shaking hands with heroic troops--yellow ribbons for everyone. But by delving deep into the lives of three troop greeters, filmmakers Aron Gaudet and Gita Pullapilly create a moving analysis of aging in America. From Jerry's dog Mr. Flanagan (curiously also the name of our high school U.S. History teacher) to Joan's snowman decorations to Bill's 25 vacuums to the faces of the subjects themselves, the film uses a score of powerful images to reinforce its subjects' surprisingly candid reflections on family, war, and life in general.

More on the movie after the jump.

Bangor has moved more than 700,000 Iraq troops through its airport since 2003. Jerry, Joan, and Bill, the subjects of The Way We Get By, have been welcoming them since early on. They're part of a phone tree, calling each other to provide updates on troop flights, but also part of a community, rallying around the cause. Jerry (who wears a bright red "Not as Lean, Not as Mean, Still a Marine" sweatshirt) and Bill are both veterans; many of Joan's family members have seen battle. All three see welcoming the troops as a crucial, even "addicting," part of their existence: it makes them feel useful, important, and alive again. Joan relates that her children were shocked to call her home late at night and find that she wasn't there; she says, somewhat proudly, "I can be out after dark" to greet the troops. All three subjects continually emphasize that they'd love to see all the troops come home tomorrow, yet each feels a little lost at the idea of no longer having anyone to greet.

Jerry and Joan describe greeting as addicting; each independently describes the feeling of "withdrawal" they experience after leaving the airport. The addiction to greeting underscores the loneliness and uselessness all three subjects seem to feel. Bill in particular is keenly aware of these factors. In a particularly touching scene, Bill reflects on his life, asserting "I've outlived my usefulness" and that helping others is all he can do to matter anymore. Bill also describes having an interesting experience during the day and going home to tell your spouse. When you're alone, he asks (his wife died five years before filming began), "Who do you tell about it?"

The film's gentle touch and deference to its subjects' stories shows how little we listen to older people sometimes, writing them off as living in the past and not appreciating the present. Bill, Jeff, and Joan are all extremely aware of their age and health problems, and are frustrated by the limitations they present. Bill acknowledges that he is old and stuck in his ways, but says it's difficult to change your habits when you've been doing the same thing for so long. The film reasserts that true honesty is often found only in age or youth. This is reflected in Joan's granddaughter, Amy, who remains distant from the camera even when discussing her impending deployment to Iraq. She repeats that "This is not my day" is the mantra of her squad, and she seems relatively convinced she'll come home safe. Still, there's a spot of fear in her eyes that she's not acknowledging. The great thing about Joan, Jerry, and Bill is that they acknowledge it all--good, bad, and ugly.

The focus of the film is on the greeters, not the soldiers. Still, there are memorable moments involving the troops as well. The return of the 300,000th soldier greeted in Bangor is celebrated; the soldier looks incredibly surprised, but takes the honor with grace. Most soldiers stress their indebtedness to veterans like Bill and Jerry, saying that they don't feel they're doing near as much as those who've fought in previous wars. A soldier finds himself wondering, "What am I supposed to feel?" upon returning home, and being gratified to have the greeters' guidance: "it makes a soldier happy" to see that people care. A greeter brings a dog to the airport; it may seem like an odd thing to do, but the soldiers make a beeline for the pup, scratching his ears and rubbing his belly. One veteran says, almost tearfully, "I haven't pet a dog in two years." There is a wall containing pictures and names of fallen soldiers that all troops end up heading toward, highlighting the gravity of combat and the luckiness of those who return. In winter, some troops run outside to do snow angels; one soldier has never seen snow before.

It's the little things that say a lot in this movie, as in life. The camera follows Jerry down the grocery aisle as he buys candy and cookies for the troops: Atomic Fire Balls, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Hershey's Kisses. He says the troops heading out to Iraq always take a pocketful of Fire Balls. When not greeting troops with sweet treats, Jerry spends a lot of time sitting in his truck near the airport, watching the planes go by. When he reads the paper, he checks the obituaries--"to see if I'm in there"--and help wanted sections first. Joan counts out the pills she takes on a daily basis: 10 in the morning, 7 each night. Seventeen pills a day just to stay alive? It seems being a greeter might have greater benefit than all those drugs.

There are also some wise words offered on Iraq. Joan reveals that she sometimes reflects on how it might feel if the situation in Iraq were reversed, asking, "Would we want someone coming in and telling us how to live?" And although it comes indirectly/accidentally, Jerry offers perhaps the most sensible perspective on the situation. When he's in the hospital for heart trouble and the doctors want to engage in incessant testing, Jerry says, as angry as he gets in the film, "Fix it or leave me the hell alone." His words are more than a little reminiscent of the situation in Iraq--we should fix something or get the hell out.

The Way We Get By demonstrates that different generations have different takes on America. Despite their misgivings about Iraq, veterans Jerry and Bill remain extremely patriotic, raising an American flag daily and attending patriotic parades. Those of us who've grown up under Bush regimes and wars in the Middle East may have a slightly more cynical view of our country and its role in the world. Still, there's a lot we can learn from those who came before us, and The Way We Get By is a remarkable reminder of just how much we have to learn from our elders. In an internet-focused world, where if you can't Twitter you might be forgotten, it's worth sometimes slowing down and talking to people from a different time.

If The Way We Get By sounds appealing, or if you saw the film, you can help the filmmakers get showings throughout the states. Support independent film with a strong message.

Update: we've been informed that the Maine Troop Greeters were founded as "Support the Troops" in late 2002 by Harry F. Rideout and Richard Campbell. Rideout and his wife Sharon received the Zachary and Elizabeth Fisher Civilian and Humanitarian Award in 2006 for their work with the troops.

Images from Maine Troop Greeters