Will Hunting believes he is complex and special, which he is. But when facing up against his humanity, the film shines with an unguarded honesty that makes it easy to understand and relate to the modern and violent Einstein.

A boy sits opposite his therapist. The room is silent as the pair stare at each other, each refusing to be the first to speak. This could be a scene from a myriad of films, or more specifically, a myriad of coming-of-age films. But it isn’t. Good Will Hunting is more than just the off-the-shelf drama/comedy going through the worn-out motions that plague the introspective genre. It is a relationship between Will and the world, between us and ourselves as we make a similar journey.

Will Hunting (Matt Damon) is a twenty-something genius janitor at MIT. When he isn’t getting into drunken fights and arguing himself out of court, he uploads entire libraries and subjects into his photographic memory, all for the price of a public library card. After renowned Professor Lambeau (Stellen Skarsgård) leaves mathematical problems on the hallway chalkboard to be solved, Will anonymously answers and, after being arrested, Will is forced to spend time with the professor with the sole condition he attends therapy. Reluctantly.

Street-minded with an atmospheric IQ, Will is a drama protagonist poster boy. He is clearly confused and misunderstood, but co-writers Damon and Ben Affleck (who also plays Will’s best friend, Chuckie) are cagey. It is clear that Will’s mental state is going to be called into question more than once, but the film starts with an underline under genius. Will is cold and impersonal as he shows off his honest but ego-filling gift, and what we get is all that Will gives. He is rarely emotionally introspective which can, understandably, alienate those around him (including ourselves) but that frustration, the melancholic fact that he is different, is what draws me in. How long can he last without letting his complex drawbridge down?

When Will starts seeing the unconventional Dr. Sean Maguire (Robin Williams), he refuses to change. He uses his intelligence to control the situation, never letting his guard down, and it is beautiful. It can be awkward, but it quickly becomes an emotional dance between the pair, Dr. Maguire offering a challenge that not even Will can photographically fix. It is hard to paint that relationship; a space where intimacy and vulnerability leave people feeling raw, pained by the emotions in the room. And as I watch Dr. Maguire’s eyes, piercing, I can feel the honesty; I can feel the tension as the two men push each other with the anger that only comes from tender care.

Onto the truthful matter of wisdom… Robin Williams and Matt Damon. Photo: Miramax Films.

Needless to say, Robin Williams steals the show, especially once Will’s intellectual prowess takes a backseat to his empathetic emotional ineptness. That is what makes Good Will Hunting timeless, the ability to take such an unrelatable core trait and turn it into an algebraic x, a replaceable factor that can be interpreted as any self-isolating feature that we pressure ourselves into believing, thus becoming relatable.

No matter how palpable the animosity was, or how much it hurt to watch as a young man throws away his miraculous opportunities (as is his freedom), nothing can be changed. Good Will Hunting is a therapy session: it can be painful, elating, comforting, self-loathing, and predictable to a ‘happy’ ending but no matter how tough it is, I don’t regret a second of it. After all, what is beauty if not flecked with dirty memories?