Descended from the Elephants?

We all know (or at least we all think)that elephants, very social animals, know when they are about to die and, for whatever reason, wander off by themselves to die alone, away from their mates and friends. For humans, this has never been a normal course of action. The perfect death, in fact, is generally idealized as one where you die peacefully and painlessly in your bed surrounded by family.

How to explain, then, the fact that three of the six movies we saw at the DC International Film Festival had its central characters take on the habits of elephants?

First, take "The Education of Fairies", where the Argentinean filmmaker had the mother/wife tell her husband that, for reasons she could not explain, their seemingly perfect marriage was over and that she would have to leave? In fact, we learned at the end of the movie that she had been diagnosed as having a vascular brain disease (a la Senator Tim Johnson) and could die at any minute, or be paralyzed, and she could not inflict that sorrow or responsibility on her husband and (seven or eight year old) son. In fact, she does not leave, either because she is convinced not to, changes her own mind, or does not have the internal strength to carry out her plans. But this is the central dynamic of this excellent movie, around which all other plots and subplots turn.

Then, there was "Le Voyage en Armenie", where the elderly and stubborn Armenian emigrant in Marseilles, in order in part to avoid the surgery that his no longer that young and stubborn cardiologist daughter has arranged form him, and in part to re-unite with his girl friend of 50 (?) years earlier, sneaks out of Marseilles to return to his homeland. He did not tell his daughter or son-in-law, but apparently told his teenage granddaughter who was sworn to secrecy. Now, going to Armenia is not exactly wandering off into the jungle, particularly when there is an old flame waiting for you (and of course we have no idea where our "Fairies" heroine would have gone), but it is abandoning the comfortable if not perfect (in "Fairies" it was both comfortable and perfect) life you have known, to undertake a final journey into terra not quite cognita.

Finally, "My Mexican Shiva". Here, Moises dies in the first scene, but his death is the core of the entire film. He had run off, at an advanced age, with a "shicksa" (perhaps when his wife was still alive; this is what killed her, according to their daughter). But three months before his death, he leaves his new love without saying good-bye or leaving a forwarding address. She believes he has found someone still newer; in fact, he has learned he had a coronary condition, and he simply checked into a hotel. What he did during his last three months is not clear, but he seemed to have avoided his girl friend and his family, although he died dancing at a reunion of his Yiddish Theatre troupe of many years past.

So what is it that sent all three filmmakers in the same direction? It seems to me that running away at this time to face death alone is so counter-instinctual.

I can't imagine that this is to be a trend in film or literature, but I'll keep my eyes open.