Last night the Feminist Film Night, hosted by our student association with a terribly long acronym, screened and discussed The Help. We chose the film because of its popularity, both at the Box Office and with the Academy, and because it generated such a surge of self-proclaimed anti-racist activism from many positions on the social justice advocacy spectrum. Activists fighting activists? Couldn't wait to sink my teeth in.
The production itself was, true to Disney, big-budget and expertly crafted. Nice lighting, pretty costumes, flawless sets, etc. Suspending of disbelief... check. But the film was horrendous. I went in with low expectations and they were met.
To summarize for any under-rock-dwellers who haven't seen or read this thing, the story is set in Jackson, Mississippi at the dawn of civil rights murmurings. It loosely tells of segregation by following a young white woman, who is outcast from her group of socialite wives because she has an education and career ambition, and her taboo encounters with "the help:" poor black women forced into the domestic work of white families. I won't spoil the finale, but suffice it, this is a Disney tale to the end.
Conversations following the film's release can be grossly simplified thusly:
"The Help is so great because it depicts how racist was the South and how far we've come with civil rights and how being nice to each other is good. We should keep being nice to each other."
vs.
"The Help is a horribly racist misrepresentation of the violence of the segregated South that individualizes and masks systemic racism and sexual violence and serves only to make nice white people feel good about themselves for no longer segregating blacks as overtly."
...or something like that. Bias, explicated.
Our post-viewing debate was similarly polarized last night, though complicated a bit by our similar training in feminist critique and disparate training in theories of representation and art. One interesting question came from a literature student, who asked if the work of fiction has the responsibility to be historically accurate or ethical. Hmm. Upon hearing the film problematized by others in a compelling way, I asked if there is anything to be salvaged from the obviously flawed production. What do we do with works of fiction like this? Are they useful at all?
While utility and art slide into terrain unfamiliar to me, I ask this in the context of Hollywood films being produced for a particular kind of consumption. My question grew out of a creepy feeling that this film is going to be played in hundreds of high school classrooms across this continent. It's feel-good, not violent, loosely historical, and moral. Perfect for stimulating some conversation among students while not upsetting the parents.
I can hear some of my friends' voices now: "Stop being so critical, Amanda. It's a nice film about racism is bad." As one club attendee spoke up, maybe simply getting people talking about how racism is bad is good enough. Arguing against this view, other students urged that if the film is so clearly inaccurate, it does far more harm than good. I tend to side with the latter, since most of us have been exposed to "racism is bad" our whole lives, and instead require a better understanding of how systemic is the problem.
I guess the answer is reorienting humans to low budget films about real issues, created by and with the voices of folks who experience the impacts of issues. Sounds simple enough.
As an under-rock-dweller, I was not aware of this film, so your description is helpful.
ReplyDeleteMy admittedly scattered two cents:
the lit kid's point is perhaps valid, but irrelevant. A creative work does not, of course, have any responsibility to be historically accurate (and whether or not it should be "ethical"--whatever that is supposed to mean!--is neither here nor there; "ethical" and "moral" have always been words used by those who would rather condemn art than understand it).
A creative work does, however, have the responsibility to be GOOD.
Of course, how to distinguish good art from bad art is a big, fun topic, but this much is clear:
no bad art is bad on account of its divergence from historical fact;
bad art is bad (primarily) on account of its divergence from truth.
When it comes to Hollywood (and, sadly, much international cinema that imitates it--have you see any German romantic comedies? Don't.),
this divergence from truth is usually characterized by (to give but a few examples):
oversimplification of events, whether historical or contemporary (or of the future!),
which in reality are extremely complex happenings, always difficult for anybody to make any sense of;
oversimplification of character motivations, desires, and emotional responses;
prevalence of non-diagetic music, which is so presumptuous as to tell the audience how WE ought to be responding to the on-screen action;
and, as you've pointed out, the typical Hollywood narrative arc, complete with cathartic ending.
The thread running through these features is obvious: oversimplifcation,
a denial of the complexities of life--of human existence, pscyhology, behavior. Denial of truth.
Misrepresentation of socio-historical realities is only one of many symptoms of ths denial--
in itself it is neither good nor bad.
It is important to note that The Help is not only bad art, but it is WILFULL bad art--
it makes zero effort to be good art, and this utter disregrard for truth makes it all the more offensive to discerning minds.
Bad art, wilfull mediocrity, is not innocuous.
You are right to feel uneasy about its mass consumption,
for bad art is harmless only to people (like you) who are intelligent enough
to recognize its dishonesty and its stupidity
and to critique it as harshly as it deserves.
Never, ever let anyone tell you that you are being too critical (or let them, but ignore them).
"It's a nice film about bad racism" suggests the same simplemindedness that racism thrives on.
So, no, such works of fiction are not useful at all.
(The "it, um, at least sparks discussion..." defence is so feeble, I don't even think it believes in itself;
its next sentence would be "Okay, I'll shut up now")
But, you ask, what to do with works of fiction like this?
One of two things: if changing the world doesn't interest you, or if you believe that to "be the change you want to see in the world"
is sufficient, then simply ignore bad art, don't support it, don't discuss it, don't even validate its existence with your attention;
if, however, you do want to change the world but lack Gandhi's patience, then all you can do is denounce such works for what they are:
lazy, unimaginative, stupid, untruthful piles of garbage, produced for no other reason than to appease the masses,
keep them dumb and content--read: harmless--and to make money.
Either way, the outlook is bleak. So it goes.
Be MORE critical. Continue to be a good academic, but, for gods' sakes, Amanda, don't be TOO good an academic! Your intelligence is unquestionable, your instincts spot-on
(your grammar impeccable!)--I am not convinced that you are so on-the-fence, so "maybe this, but that too is valid" as many of your posts would suggest.
You've learned to play the game of academia, and you are quickly mastering it, but don't let its rules limit, compromise, or in any way stifle what you have to offer.
Apologies for spelling errors and the formatting.
ReplyDeleteHoly crap, thanks for the comment. All extremely thought provoking.
ReplyDeleteAfter reading this, what bothers me the most about Hollywood films is their willful departure from truth. If the purpose of the filmmaker is to profit, is art made? In academia, if the purpose is to publish, is the writing of any value? My academic writing is poor because I write into the machine so directly. I'm more honest when writing journalistically, even if for profit.
I have no interest in trying to solve the questions, and I think you're right that more criticism is needed. I feel compelled to take you up on that, so thank you for the bluntness. My shyness comes out of wanting to be liked, but also wanting to convince people who might become defensive against a less apologetic style of point-making. Sad, but true. My style is truly feminized, and I'm working on it (just now, I deleted "I think" from the start of this sentence).
I was out with some friends last night (who liked The Help) and we engaged in discussion, likely because of how I framed a series of critiques about the film as removed from myself. I got the sense that if I said, "it's simply horrible and this is why...", a) I would've been judged as a cow (poor me) and, worse, b) the conversation would've ended. Instead we talked a bit about what was going on in Mississippi in the 50s and 60s and systemic versus individualized racism. Small success? Manipulative tactic, I know...
Thanks for reading and posting so thoughtfully. I'll bring this to further film discussion tonight.