7-24-2008
How do you make a movie that relies entirely on America’s sordid racial history, without ever talking about race? Ask the makers of Hancock, they seem to have it down pat.
John Hancock [Will Smith] is a superhero that protects Los Angeles, begrudgingly. Drunk, foul mouthed, bedraggled, sexist, homophobic and ethnically insensitive, he’s about as far from a Superman as you’re ever going to get. But we find out that all Hancock needs is a little TLC.
A blow to the head 80 years ago erased his memory, so he lives in isolation from society, saving it without being of it. But all that changes when he meets Ray Embrey [Jason Bateman], a public relations man down on his luck who decides to help Hancock clean up his image. Oh, and we find out that Bateman’s domestic dream of a wife Mary [Charlize Theron] is really a superhero too, and did I mention that she was married to Will Smith for 3,000 years?
Let the games begin.
This is a movie about a black superhero that has nothing to do with a black superhero. Though Will Smith is obviously black, the film studiously avoids any exploration of what that means. Hancock has no cultural context. Throughout the film, he has no connection to a community, to a family, to a culture, to an identity, to anyone who looks like him. He is completely alone. A metaphor for the state of Black America? Try it on.
That is not to say that there aren’t other people of color, and even other black folks in the film. They’re all over. They’re the Indian store clerk, the Asian gangsters with automatic weapons, the black and Latino men who populate the jail Hancock goes to (oh yes, they send him to the slammer) – in fact, there is not a single black man in the film, other than Hancock, who is not shown as a dangerous criminal (and he’s kinda iffy). With that kind of PR, we can see why Hancock ain’t trying to claim his people too quick.
As much as this movie and Hancock lack a cultural connection, it is not a role created for a white hero. This film would never have been read the same way, and the way I think the creators intended, if it had been Brad Pitt in that role. The entire film relies on racialization of our unconscious minds to fill in the gaps of discussion, without anyone saying “race” or “black.”
We would know Hancock is a black superhero even if we never saw his face. The music in the film is almost nothing but hip hop, some dub reggae. The opening song played the first time we do see Hancock? Ludacris’ “Move Bitch (Get Out the Way).” Only a black superhero could have been portrayed as the antithesis of a hero, as someone who has to be scolded by the white PR guy about his behavior, who gets cleaned up like a child to be presentable to the larger society. Would they have punked Batman like that? The Hulk? C’mon now!
This film plays with a racially explosive history like a stick of dynamite, without every acknowledging the potentially destructive force. The relationship between Hancock and Mary is charged throughout the film with sexual tension. We find out that they were in fact made for each other, a race of ancient superbeings, that died out, except for the two of them. And when they’re in each other’s proximity, they lose their special powers, become mortals. Mary runs her hands over the scars on Hancock’s, otherwise impervious body, “Sumeria 4 BC. They came after you with swords…” 1850, he supposedly pulled her out of a fire set by a mob. And lastly, 80 years before he was attacked and his head split open, causing his amnesia. “They wouldn’t let me ride in the ambulance with you,” she says tearfully.
1850? 80 years ago, so the 1920s? Theron with her blonde hair and blue eyes, and Will Smith? The “they” is left ambiguous, and I suppose some people could have read it that the mobs attacked because they were superheroes. But if we think of 1850, when slavery was still legal in this country, when black people had to prove they weren’t property, and where interracial marriage would still be illegal for decades, you get a much clearer vision of the racialized history this film is dancing around but never steps up to claim, perhaps afraid that a frank discussion of race and power would ruin a fun Saturday night out at the movies.
In the end, Hancock is an acceptable black hero because he accepts his appropriate role in society: alone, isolated, there to save white people (we never see him save a person of color in the movie, because, again, all he people of color we see are criminals), in a silly outfit, smiling and saying thank you to police officers, far away from the white woman.
The ultimate lesson to this movie? Same as it was in 1850 and 1920: Black men, stay as far away from white women as possible, if you want to live.
(Image gratefully borrowed from Stinkie Pinkie's photostream from flickr.com/creativecommons.)
Black Superheroes Wanted
Batman: Hoping for a Dark Knight
7-19-2008
You will undoubtedly read and/or hear about the latest Batman film, The Dark Knight, in some form or another sometime in the next few weeks. Critics will rave about it, fans will recommend it, and kids will demand that parents take them to it. These are the ways things work in the film industry.
According to an article in the International Herald Tribune, The Dark Knight, which was released just yesterday, set a box office record for its midnight debut. Box office totals from the 3,040 theaters that showed the film are said to be at $18.5 million. This figure does not even include the ticket sales from 3:00 am and 6:00 am viewings.
What’s more is that the film hasn’t even seen its full release yet. The Dark Knight, yet to be released in some countries, is officially scheduled to show in 4,366 theaters – the largest number of theaters ever to show a film.
What is really interesting about the Batman series is that each film has made more money in the United States than around the rest of the world. This isn’t typical for most films Hollywood has made, or otherwise. Most films (with a few notable exceptions) make most of their money from global distribution.
So the fact that the latest Batman film, The Dark Knight, is selling in droves in the United States didn’t surprise me. But what did surprise me are the numerous reasons why people are attending the film. While there are several different reasons why people are flocking to the film in record numbers, I would like to concentrate on one factor that you most certainly will not read in a critic’s review. That factor is a collective desire for hope in America today.
In the beginning of the film, the citizens of Gotham City (the fictional, yet reminiscent of reality, city in the Batman series) are in distress. They do not know whether they are safe from Batman, the mob or alternative villains. When District Attorney Harvey Dent comes around, the citizens project their hopes and desires for Gotham onto the man, even referring to him as the White Knight. But what they don’t know is that Batman is really making things happen. He is the Dark Knight that is making Gotham a safer city. The hope that Gotham’s citizens express for Harvey Dent is not unlike the hope many American citizens have felt, and continue to feel, about the current race for presidency.
Hope was the key word for a while in the presidential primary race and will most likely continue to be big in the race for the presidency. Hope has been used by Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, and John McCain to entice and invigorate Americans to have faith in the future of America once again.
We, Americans, want to believe that we can get behind one person who will lead us to a better, less fear driven world. And this is exactly what the citizens of Gotham City want Batman to do for them. But they are skeptical. They think that Batman could be doing more harm than good, seeing as how innocent people are still dying while Batman is trying to save the day.
This is because Batman isn’t superhuman. He can never fulfill all of the hopes and desires that Gotham’s citizens have for him. But this does not mean he isn’t working for a better day when Gotham’s citizens can feel safe and trust their city is going in the right direction again.
But this desire for hope may not be the number one reason why people are flocking to The Dark Knight this summer. But I think that the welcoming reception that the film has received has something to do with our hope for an ordinary citizen who can lead us to better understand ourselves and the world around us.
Pop-Culture: The Monsters are Coming!
By Sarah Viets
Don’t forget, it’s a conspiracy! While our national leaders repeatedly speak of red and orange terrorist alerts, while they warn us of “illegal” invaders, our American leaders inspire fear.
Or do they?
Why am I so jittery? Do I subconsciously mistrust what’s unknowingly familiar? And if so, what am I so uncertain about?
Do we crave fear, or do politicians campaign on behalf of trepidation?
Science fiction and horror movie reels are no longer a past-time fave. They’re here and each show is filled with wide-eyed anxious moviegoers: But why?
Recently a friend of mine urged me to see what the fuss was all about.
My nerves were loose and as we waited for the film to begin, I filled the empty silence with my latest personal dramatic episode. It was my night off. It was time well deserved to escape the inevitable realities of my everyday life. And the evening’s selection was Cloverfield.
The beginning of the film starts off with a bang. Cloverfield intensifies my emotions by shooting the film documentary style for ninety minutes, the entire length of the film. The lens shakes. It quickly jolts back and forth without any precise course. I struggle to follow each scene. It’s as if I’m chasing the lens without any clear direction. (In fact, if you get car sick, I highly recommend waiting for the DVD. I was nauseas the entire time and some people left about thirty minutes into the film. With that said, I’m not completely confident why.)
As the film progresses shots switch from previous footage to present day events. The home video records over a perfect memorable day between two young sweethearts in exchange for an evening covered in death, stress, and terror.
But in the mix of mayhem, tranquil footage flashes between unpredictable events. Family members are lost, smoke, rubble, and fresh blood fill the streets, military tanks explode, and no matter where the lens turns human life clings on the edge of extinction. An unstable chaotic state transpires from the screen. Uncontrollable events morph anxiety with fear. There’s nowhere to turn. The city is under siege and no one is safe.
The enemy is unknown. Or as one of the main actors terrifyingly says, “I don’t know. It’s something awful. It’s a terrible, terrible thing.”
An hour and a half later, my nerves tightened. I felt anxious, intense, a little distorted but clear and purposeful at the same time. But what was my direction? (I looked over at my friend anxiously confused, while he sat and looked at me with his, “I told ya so” gaze.)
I was unsure, but I was confident of a few things: the only people I trusted were my blood and inner circle of friends. I examined anything outside of what was familiar with doubt and uncertainty. Unfamiliar faiths, distant lands, and different shades of skin were subconsciously categorized as unidentifiable cultures, the “unknown,” a perceived difference.
I know there’s an enemy, but who is it? I can feel it in my gut. Something isn’t right. But what is it?
I have two choices:
If I choose to live in fear, if I prefer isolation, I shout, “Shut down the borders! Build a 2000 mile fence. Rip children from their mothers and fathers. Invade Iran, Pakistan, and every other Muslim country for that matter. Cut all ties with “foreign” countries labeled “good and evil.” Liberate myself through hibernation. And take a firm stance against crime.
Or, I choose something different. I choose the “unknown.” Instead of allowing fear to control me, I choose to challenge how I feel and think of something new.
Just because I can’t see a viable solution doesn’t mean a visible alternative doesn’t exist.
Why? Because maybe my gut is wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe my anxiety and fear isn’t really here. Or maybe it is, but mistakenly directed.
So who is it? Is it the chicken or the egg? Do national leaders perpetuate fear or is fear enmeshed within our American culture?
Our culture creates our American leaders. At the same, the books we read (or don’t), the films we watch, the sub-cultures we attach ourselves to like hip-hop, punk rock, the indie-rock and country scene, or any other subculture I’ve mistakenly forgotten, and our personal experiences informs and defines who we are. Moreover, they influence how we see the world.
Politicians may come and go, but the ideas that create them seem to stay intact.
Who You Calling Illegal, Pilgrim: Children of Men review
By Walidah Imarisha
“As a struggle for the rights of immigrants and against discrimination emerged, Haitians and Dominicans began to coalesce, but the Irish were a bit stand-offish. Immigrant rights activists were at first perplexed until they uncovered that the Irish were being encouraged by Irish American politicians to keep themselves separate from other immigrant groups because it was likely that a 'special' deal could be cut for them. To put it another way, the Irish were being trained to become and accept becoming white,” Bill Fletcher, a civil rights and labor activist, said in “Another Side to Race and Immigration,” in ZNet’s July 30, 2007 issue.
Shot: Pan across a cage full of people, being watched over by military personnel and police with machine guns and dogs. They’re all refugees/immigrants, called “fugees” in this context. We see a tall black man, then right next to him a very small old white woman. The white woman is speaking German, and if you understand German, you know she’s complaining about being put next to a “schwartze” (German for black). The depth of this scene, that a white woman fugee is more worried about being next to a black man fugee than the fact that the military and police are going to put a bullet in her head. This is a powerful statement about the dialogue about immigration today, that it can never be severed from a discussion of race. And if you don’t understand German, you would have missed it.
That is the only mention of race at all in Alfonso Cuaron’s 2006 science fiction/dystopic release Children of Men. And again, if you don’t speak German, you didn’t get it. The film, set in London in 2027, looks to a future where humans aren’t reproducing: the last baby was popped out 18 years before. The world is falling to pieces, the economy is at an all time low.
An innovative, daring but ultimately disappointing exploration of and reflection on immigration policies as they stand today, Children of Men runs screaming from having any dialogue where it links race and immigration. Without the discussion of race, we end up with this film, which has so many gaping holes we could drive a mack truck through them.
It is never explained why so many fugees are coming to England. There is no discussion of the world outside of England, except for this ad shown on the subway: “The world has collapsed; Only Britain soldiers on.” Soldiering on means lining up fugees and shooting them in the street. Because the film refuses to discuss race overtly, we’re left to fill in why so many people are trying to get into England: that in a global economic collapse, the third world would be the hardest hit, and would flock to the centers of capital, i.e., countries that have benefited from white supremacist patriarchal capitalism. But to say that clearly would mean acknowledging the exploitation of the third world by world superpowers. It would mean talking about race, and as important, power.
“Recognizing the racialization of immigration should help one understand that much of what we’re witnessing is a scapegoating of Latinos for much larger forces and factors that are underway in US society… the restructuring of capitalism that has been underway and that immigrants are the victims rather than the source,” says Bill Fletcher.
In the end, this story in the film is not, and can not, be the story of fugees and their struggle to get free and have self-determination, because to tell their story would be to tell the story of racism. The fugees, pretty much throughout the film, regardless of the country they originated from, are faceless, nameless, powerless, voiceless and usually grotesque stereotypes, like the Middle Eastern fugees riding horses screaming “AllahuAkbar.”
It is not even the story of Kee [Clare-Hope Ashitey], an underage black fugee prostitute who gives birth to the first baby born in almost two decades, and is trying to escape both government repression and the exploitation of her baby as a symbol by the “revolutionary” pro-Fugee organization called the Fishes. The reality is that for any young black immigrant sista to stay alive on the mean streets of London as a sex worker, she’s gotta have some pretty baaaad survival instincts and intuition of her own. But if they showed that, they’d have to talk about why young immigrant women of color are so disproportionately forced into sex work, and a whole lotta other subjects Cuaron was clearly not willing to touch. So she becomes a mindless automaton, being told by someone else what to do.
And that someone else is, predictably, the male hero, and predictably a white man: Theo, [Clive Owen], a white former radical on his journey to find something to believe in again, and finds it through helping Kee reach the Human Project, a group of scientists who will supposedly take care of her and also help the world repopulate. This film is told through Theo’s eyes, and the movie ends, not when Kee reaches the Human Project. We don’t even know what happens to Kee at the end of the movie. The movie ends when Theo dies, because the film was about Theo’s journey, and when that journey is over, the credits start to roll.
That is because ultimately Children of Men replicates the same conversation that this nation and the world are having about immigration. Regardless of whether it’s the left or the right, we are listening to u.s. born white men’s voices, interpretations and perceptions about immigration. The voices, power and self-determination of people of color, are lost in the sauce, and instead wer’re left simply waiting for a great white savior to come tell us what to do. The true failing of Children of Men is that it was an opportunity to reframe the debate, and truly put immigrant populations and people of color at the center of the discussion, and finally allow those voices to be not only heard, but respected.
Audio: 2050 Inaugural Blogcast!
Posted by: Noah Chandler
Yes, the Imagine 2050 blogcast is here! It's a simple beginning for a wonderful project. I invite you to send in your ideas and input to 2050audio(at)gmail.com. This week we hear the opinions of some people "on the street" about this projected 2050 demographic shift and how that might impact our identity as Americans.
If you are reading this post through blogger.com and don't see the audio player, you may download this weeks program by here.
