Untitled

[margonozako]

Beans Critical Analysis

Beans (2020), directed and co-written by Tracey Deer, is a semi-autobiographical film that follows Tekahentahkhwa (“Beans”) during the Oka Crisis (July through September of 1990). This violent conflict between a group of Mohawk people and the town of Oka in Quebec, Canada, in a way, began centuries before when the Mohawk (the most easterly section of the Iroquois Confederacy, located in southeast Canada and northern New York state) first settled in the area in the late 1660s1. However, this specific event arose because “The Pines” (indigenous land) and a nearby Mohawk cemetery were to be cleared to expand a golf course and build new condos. While not all residents of Oka supported the plan, the mayor refused to discuss and hear from the people. By the end, the crisis was successful in halting the development, but resulted in two killed and over one hundred wounded.

Tracey Deer, who was born and raised in Kahnawake (one of the Mohawk communities in the region of Oka), was 12 when she lived through this crisis. In the grand scheme of things, there are very few who could be entrusted to create a film on this specific event, and luckily, Deer is one of those. This won’t be a tale of the white savior entirely misunderstanding and misrepresenting colonization conflict! A nice change of pace.

Critical Race Theory

Critical Race Theory is at the heart of this film. It’s centered around an undeniably racialized conflict: First-Nations (and their supporters) vs. Colonizers. But, as mentioned previously, this is co-written and directed by a Mohawk woman who grew up in this community and experienced this conflict first-hand (the other writer is Meredith Vuchnich and it seems as though she is not indigenous). As we all know, relations between indigenous populations and settlers around the world are violent and oppressive, to say the least. Speaking for myself, I am most familiar with the North American history and from what I know, it is relatively representative of global indigenous genocide. So, what is so special about this film is that it is a coming of age story that takes place during a widely unrelatable historic moment and proves that the fight for sovereignty is not over. We’ve all been Beans: should she go to the private school she was accepted to? Are her new friends good for her? But also will her community succeed in the protection of their land? Deer sets the story during a somewhat recent conflict, proving the battle for sovereignty is not over as some might like to believe. In their article “Colonialism, Racism, and Representation: An Introduction,” Stam and Spence write that “[a]n ethnocentric vision rooted in North American cultural patterns can lead, similarly, to the ‘racialising’, or the introjection of racial themes into, filmic situations”2. I would argue that Beans is a functional execution of this idea: Tekahentahkhwa is just a pre-teen coming into a difficult world as she witnesses Canadians and their government fight against her existence and right to save her land. Stam and Spence also write specifically about indigenous populations, arguing that the “attitude toward the Indian is premised on exteriority”2 and the “besieged wagon train or fort is the focus of our attention and sympathy, and from this center our familiars sally out against unknown attackers characterized by inexplicable customs and irrational hostility”2 (2009, 759). While this is true in wider film history, I would argue that it is only partially true in Beans because Deer brings us onto the reservation and into Beans’ family. We’re not viewing the Mohawk community from the outside and watch them be victimized by white Candians. The viewer does not pity them and is more familiar with the attackers. However, it is clear that the hostility of the Canadians is irrational and wildly disproportionate (considering there should not have been a conflict in the first place because they were proposing to steal even more Mohawk land). Deer deftly navigates a relatable coming of age 90s story and the experience of indigenous women and populations in modern history. 

Montage Theory

Another theoretical approach that this film utilizes is the montage. I love a good montage, especially if it makes use of archival footage of historical events, and Deer does this flawlessly in Beans. She intercuts the narrative with footage of the actual protests to provide context and transition during the film. If we follow Sergei Ėjzenštejn’s Soviet Montage Theory, I would argue that Deer employs a metric overtonal, not just tonal, montage, because “movement is perceived in a wider sense”3 and it’s “based on the characteristic emotional sound of the piece,”3 but “it is distinguishable from tonal montage by the collective calculation of all the piece’s appeals”3. Furthermore, these archival montages are “capable of impelling the spectator to reproduce the perceived action, outwardly,”3 meaning Deer is looking to evoke an emotional reaction as the viewer is confronted with undeniable, clear evidence of the vitriol and hatred of the white Canadians. Through it direct confrontation, Deer sets a emotional tone, lest the viewers forget that Beans is not simply a coming of age film: Tekahentahkhwa and her family are battling a centuries-long genocide, something that most pre-teens are unfamiliar with. The structuring and score of almost every single montage is identical, creating an overarching tone conveyed by her. Many of these montages are accompanied by the newscasters’ voiceovers and a tight, quick, string-heavy score, almost reminiscent of a horror film, which I believe sets the consummate haunting tone and reveals the “psychological turmoil of [the] characters”4.

Beans is an amazing movie about an event that I, hate to admit it, had never heard of. I loved how Deer balanced a coming of age story with a violent crisis that is simply one event in a long history of colonial oppression by white settlers. Viewing this film through the lenses of Critical Race theory and Soviet Montage theory enhances her storytelling abilities and allows the viewer to melt into Beans’ world.

Sources:

Ėjzenštejn, Sergei. “Methods of Montage.” In The Film Form: Essays in Film Theory, translated by Jay Leyda, 72-83. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1949.

Melinda, Meng. “Bloody Blockades: The Legacy of the Oka Crisis.” Harvard International Review, 30 June 2020. https://hir.harvard.edu/bloody-blockades-the-legacy-of-the-oka-crisis/.

Pudovkin, Vsevolod. “From Film Technique [On Editing].” In Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings, edited by Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen, 7-12. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009.

Stam, Robert, and Louise Spence. “Colonialism, Racism, and Representation: An Introduction.” In Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings, edited by Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen, 751–66. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009. 

[aditipurandare]

I love how you mentioned that Beans was told through the lens of the Mohawk, because I think so many pieces of media that try to be good representation are still told through white colonialist perspectives. Mixing in real footage from the protests in the film seems like another way Deer was able to tell a more authentic and accurate story. 

[im-miss-world3]

Go Fish: Stereotypes and Portrayal of Identity

Access Google Drive with a Google account (for personal use) or Google Workspace account (for business use).

Lesbianism and Gender Presentation in Go Fish

Media representation plays a large role in how society views lesbian identity. Lesbians threaten the survival of the patriarchy by decentering the desire of men, ensuing degrees of stigma and stereotypes related to their physical gender presentation and sexual preferences that is recreated and enforced in popular media (Halberstam). Queer theorist Jack Halberstam identifies in “Looking Butch” that the most present stereotype of lesbians is the butch lesbian, who through her hypermasculinity is able to make lesbianism more understandable to a straight audience. Representations of butch lesbians have been identified as negative stereotypes, as it assumes that because a woman is attracted to other women she must be masculine (Halberstam 176). Halberstam complicates this notion by arguing that stereotypes are another way for heterosexual society to define identity in excess (Halberstam 176). I believe that stereotypes can be both right and wrong at the same time, as they are one representation of a broader identity that can not accurately be reflected within one character. The butch lesbian stereotype is accurate in its representation of one subculture, yet when applied as the most valid form of gay identification it becomes reductive. Sexual labels and gendered behavior are used to distinguish the queer community, based in the assumption that to be queer is to be different. The film Go Fish, created during the new queer cinema of the early 90s, was made by lesbians Troche and Turner. This film was not created to make a direct political statement about lesbian identities, but to show a relatable representation of lesbian life. Characters in Go Fish decenter the male gaze, making it easier to divert normative feminine expectations, yet they can not escape the stereotypes of sexuality, as they are enforced in association to gender presentation and enforcement of labels.

As female queerness breaks social expectations of femininity, masculinity becomes the idealized form of lesbian presentation in Go Fish, recreating the butch lesbian stereotype Halberstam called attention to. Max, the main character of Go Fish, attempts to present masculine to feel more visible in her lesbian identity, enforcing the relation between gender nonconformity and queer sexuality. This depiction of lesbianism is intrinsically based within gendered roles and expectations, as society assumes one to be heterosexual until labeling and presenting otherwise (Gaines, 1986). Max, along with other characters, adopt masculine traits and names to attract the female gaze. The cutting of Ely’s hair is used to signal to others that she is a lesbian, showing the physical inscription of gender non-conformity as a signal of queerness. This representation idealizes the masculine lesbian as the most valid in their expression of their sexuality, as they are conforming to expectations of sexuality in opposition with gender expression to distinguish themselves from the heterosexual other. Halberstam describes the social validity of the butch lesbian as a way to make “lesbianism readable in the register of masculinity, and it actually collaborates with the mainstream notion that lesbians cannot be feminine” (177). Sexual orientation is not something that has to be physically obvious, yet stereotypes of what an ideal lesbian should look like highlight the significance placed on visibility of sexuality, delineated through gender nonconformity. These stereotypes, although frequently accurate, reduce lesbian identity to ability to be physically discernible to the heterosexual eye. 

The stereotype of the butch lesbian shows how lesbianism is viewed as negating gender norms, conditioning butch characters to obey the social expectations of masculinity. Throughout Go Fish , there is an assumption of masculine and feminine lesbians as being more naturally compatible. When Ely and Max first meet, they both fall somewhere in between this gender dichotomy. While they both voice being interested in each other, neither of them initiates any romance. It is only once Ely cuts her hair into a boyish buzz and Max takes off her baseball cap to let her hair down that they truly get together, showing how gender roles and presentation impact lesbian courtship. When they both dressed in between masculine and feminine, they did not know what their relationship would look like, as they had less social scripts to go off of. Halberstam directly comments on how the couples in Go Fish are “coded as butch and femme role models, and throughout the film, serious butch-femme clothing codes are in effect” (Halberstam, 224). It is important to interject the stereotype that butch and femme couples are the most suitable, as these labels in the lesbian community are another way of recreating heterosexual assumptions within gay relationships. Even the categorization of butch and femme lesbians works to serve heteronormative ideals of the masculine and feminine as opposites that are attracted. 

The butch lesbian exists within the cultural imagination serving as an antithesis to how straight women should act (Halberstam, 1998). The butch lesbian identifying character Daria challenges who can be labeled as a lesbian through having sex with a man, resulting in outrage from the lesbian community. The scene starts in a dreamlike manner with quick shots of Daria being kidnapped off the street, blurring the line between the reality of the film and the imaginary that Troche and Turner have created. The lighting is harsh, casting the shadow of the group of angry lesbians against Daria, who stands alone against a white wall. The camera flips quickly between her and the women, creating a scene of immediate interrogation. The other lesbians act as social enforcers of the rules of sexuality, evoking a sense that they represent broader societies expectations of lesbians. This scene stands out from the rest; it is a direct argument between lesbians about who gets to identify as a lesbian, showing how important sexual labels are. Labels, represented as being verified by one's physical presentation, define how society views one's sexuality (Grosz, 1994). Troche and Turner chose to have Daria, the most traditionally butch of the group, sleep with a man, challenging conceptions of the label of lesbian. Daria is a masculine presenting woman, making it easy for characters and spectators to understand her lesbian identification. Yet when Daria engages in behavior that is not associated with her sexual and gender expression, her whole identity comes into question. Daria feels confident enough in her gender and sexuality expression that she feels who she has sex with does not have to define her, yet this scene shows how significant sexual labeling is socially.  Halberstam argues that to remedy queer stereotypes, “What we should be attacking in stereotypes is the attempt of heterosexual society to define us for ourselves, in terms that inevitably fall short of the ‘ideal’ of heterosexuality” (Halberstam, 180). The stereotypes that result from typical butch representation is that of a boyish, man-like, lesbian. Yet, Go Fish  negates this limiting representation of a label through Darias unrestricted sexuality, showing how butches are not only masculine women but real people with expansive expressions and desires. Sexual labels are a way for heterosexual society to categorize gay identities, yet they are also important queer community identifiers, making stereotypical representations both important for visibility and reductive of queer identity. 

         As a lesbian, I appreciated the way Go Fish was able to represent the broader social pressures behind stereotypes of lesbians. This film explicitly discusses how stereotypes of butch lesbians have impacted the ways lesbians represent and see their identities. The butch is not necessarily a reductive representation, yet when butch characters are limited to masculinity in order to be seen as valid in their identity, as seen in Daria, we verge into a simplifying stereotype. Not all lesbians identify with masculinity, and not all masculine lesbians identify as butch. Ultimately, lesbians do not need to be visible through gender non-conformity to be valid in their identity, yet expectations of gender in relation to sexuality impose a stereotype that discredits the feminine lesbian. I disagree with Halberstam that Go Fish is a negatively stereotypical “butch-femme narrative of desire”, as the film continuously recognizes the impact that gender expectations have on sexuality, resulting in this stereotype being accurate for many (Halberstam, 224). "Go Fish" is significant for its portrayal of lesbian characters and their everyday lives, offering a more authentic representation of lesbian relationships than what was often seen in mainstream media at the time. Creating a lesbian character is a way for viewers to vicariously experience a relationship, creating a more conscious acceptance, even when it materializes from a stereotyped script. Go Fish may help viewers understand the gender expectations within lesbianism, showing how butch stereotypes can be oppressive and also accurate. 

Works Cited

Gains, Jane. “Looking Relations: Race and Gender in Feminist Film Theory.” Cultural Critique, no. 4, 1986, p. 59., https://doi.org/10.2307/1354334. 

Grosz, Elizabeth. “The Body as Inscriptive Surface.” Volatile Bodies, 2020, pp. 138–159., https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003118381-9. 

Halberstam, Jack. "Looking Butch: A Rough Guide to Butches on Film." Female Masculinity. Durham [N.C.] :Duke University Press, 1998.

[aditipurandare]

I loved your analysis of the film and how you highlighted the way sexuality was inextricably linked to gender expression, especially the idea of the ideal lesbian. Even within lesbian relationships, there is expected to be someone that takes on the role of the masculine, in order to replicate heterosexual gender roles. 

[femalefilmmakersmac]

Pariah - Dee Rees (2011)

Engaging with film and media gives the public an opportunity to get to know people, places, and identities that they wouldn’t necessarily encounter in their own lives. Because of this, there are great steaks in the way that we represent people, particularly those who have been oversimplified, minimized or left out of stories completely. There are hugely necessary conversations happening about representation in film, the goal being to humanize people and refrain from perpetuating negative stereotypes that hold back representational progress. But what do we mean when we say “positive representation” and “positive imagery”? Do stereotypes always equate to negative representation? Dee Lee’s 2011 film Pariah breaks down some of the rules we have created about representation and shows us characters that expand stereotypes rather than rejecting them completely. 

Pariah tells the story of 17 year old Alike coming to terms with her lesbian identity, navigating her queerness in the world of high school dating as well as in her religious and homophobic household. Alike’s best friend Laura – butch, sexy, confident, and much more romantically and sexually experienced than Alike – is attempting to help Alike break out of her shell and meet someone. Laura has not spoken to her mother in months and is living with her sister, working to support them, and attempting to get her GED so she can take on more responsibility. I find Laura’s story and her friendship with Alike to be really compelling and significant surrounding conversations of queer representation. Laura and Alike’s friendship is perfectly balanced with tenderness and tough love. When Alike decides that getting a strap-on would benefit her “image”, she goes to Laura and asks her to get one for her. Laura lovingly laughs at Alike and without question agrees to help. They stand together in the mirror as Alike reluctantly tries it on, Laura cheering her on and reassuring her that she looks good. There is something that is very sweet about this moment, evoking the innocence of a coming-of-age friendship, awkwardly helping each other navigate the constant newness and uncharted territory of their teenage lives. We continue to see moments like this where Laura and Alike, who are both forced to harden themselves to manage the intensity of their family lives, soften up with each other. When Alike starts having a romantic relationship with Bina, a neighborhood girl who her mom forces her to start hanging out with to keep her from Laura, Laura comes to Alike with concern about drifting apart. She tells Alike, “I just want to get this off my chest. I’m glad she makes you happy. I’m happy for you. Cause I love you.” You can tell on Alike’s face that she is shocked to hear this. You can see on Laura’s face that this kind of expression is difficult for her. The real turning point in our understanding of Laura is the first time we meet her mom. Laura comes to see her and nervously attempts to get everything out. She tells her she got her GED and that her and her sister are working hard and making her proud. Her mother says nothing before shutting the door and going back inside. This is a really significant moment for Laura because up until this point she has never seemed to care what anyone thought of her. We realize here that there is one person who she will always be trying to impress. She stands outside her mothers door panicked and in tears. All she wanted was her recognition and approval. 

I think a lot of concerns around queer representation frame the existence of stereotypes as inherently negative, fighting for queer characters who are doing something different. In his book, Female Masculinity, Jack Halberstam questions what we really want out of queer characters and what gets to be positive representation. “Positive images, we may note, too often depend on thoroughly ideological conceptions of positive (white, middle-class, clean, law-abiding, monogamous, coupled, etc.)” Laura’s character rejects the idea that positive representation of queerness has to be those things; representation of Black female masculinity is such an important subversion from the power and respect that is glued to images of white male masculinity. She holds with power and strength her identity as butch lesbian of color: she is tough, self-assured, popular with femmes, and uninterested in what anyone thinks about her. She is also not diminished to those qualities alone. She is sensitive, intelligent, complicated, she takes her life seriously and has a thoroughly explored, trusting and deep friendship with Alike.Without the moments of vulnerability and openness I described, Laura may have been passed off as a side character, and therefore reduced to some of her more surface level qualities. The times in which stereotypes are negative are when they are diminishing and when characters are not allowed real depth and character development. Halberstam explores the most common queer media stereotypes, “the butch” and “the queen,” pushing back on the assumption that when we encounter butches and queens we are encountering a homophobic narrative. “It is important to judge the work that the stereotype performs within any given visual context-accordingly, if the queen or the butch is used only as a sign of that character's failure to assimilate, then obviously the stereotype props up a dominant system of gender and sexuality. But often the butch or the queen exceeds the limits of representation imposed by the law of the stereotype and disrupts the dominant systems of representation that depend on negative queer images." Butchness, framed simply as a stereotype, denies it any validity as a true and authentic identity. 

Laura’s character is a strong example of positive queer representation because she owns her identity and breaks down walls that are so often formed around characters like her. Her character owns a stereotype without presenting it as a failure to be more. The problem with representation in film is that certain characters are not afforded the opportunity to display their “more”. Framing stereotypes as a form of negative representation can be a dangerous narrative. Leaving butchness out of queer stories to avoid stereotypicality depends on butch identity as a negative queer image. Instead of rejecting stereotypes wholly, we should be doing work to make sure we give our minority characters the opportunity to be known fully, to have flaws, and to still be cared about.

Works Cited:

Halberstam, Jack. Female masculinity. Durham (Grande-Bretagne): Duke University Press, 2018.

@theuncannyprofessoro

[aditipurandare]

I loved your analysis on what good queer representation really looks like. Bringing depth and humanity to existing stereotypes is a form of representation more powerful than disregarding them altogether. 

[aditipurandare]

Critical Film Analysis: Middle of Nowhere(2012)

Ava DuVernay’s second film, Middle of Nowhere, follows Ruby, who puts her life on hold as her husband Derek is incarcerated. She is seemingly friendless, living alone in a dimly lit apartment with occasional visits from her mother, sister, and nephew. She has single-mindedly dedicated herself to her husband for four years of his eight year sentence, while unintentionally abandoning herself. She gives up her dreams of going to medical school, and works the most unpleasant shifts as a nurse to balance seeing him. When Derek is up for parole at the midway point of his sentence, Ruby learns of his infidelity and the violent encounter that caused his parole to be denied. She realizes then that she has to navigate the fine line between loyalty and self sacrifice, wondering at what point maintaining her marriage might just be foolish. When her bus driver, Brian, begins to show interest in her, she is further swayed towards creating a new life for herself. 

The film explores the past, present, and future identities of Ruby through the critical theoretical approach of gender and sexuality. All of the film’s main characters are Black, with a Black woman being the protagonist. Perhaps as a result of being directed by a Black woman, the film overtly challenges stereotypical depictions of Black women. In her essay, “Oppositional Gaze: Black Female Spectators”, bell hooks argues that the oppositional gaze is a critical framework through which Black women resist the dominant, often negative, images of themselves perpetuated by mainstream media.The essay emphasizes the importance of Black female spectators actively interpreting and critiquing media representations, highlighting how the oppositional gaze could be used to reclaim agency and subvert stereotypes– the act of looking itself can become a site of resistance. hooks writes, “We do more than resist. We create alternative texts that are not solely reactions. As critical spectators, black women participate in a broad range of looking relations, contest, resist, revision, interrogate, and invent on multiple levels”. Middle of Nowhere creates a story centering a Black woman’s life through the oppositional gaze. It is not a reaction to other bodies of work, rather an independent look into the life of an individual Black woman without relying on stereotypes or preexisting narratives to further the story. Although Derek is the driving force behind the plot, the audience knows little of his background or the reason he is in prison. The film isn’t about him; rather, it shows how his sentence infiltrates every aspect of Ruby’s present and future as a catalyst for her growth and change. 

The film not only focuses on romantic relationships, but also delves into familial connections. Ruby’s mother, Ruth, is particularly distressed by her daughter’s choices, believing that Ruby is holding onto a failing marriage at the expense of her future. During a family dinner with Ruby, her sister, nephew, and Ruth, Ruth yells at Ruby to speak up for herself, repeating the phrase, “just say something”. The film emphasizes the impact of incarceration on the partners and relatives of prisoners, illustrating how they too can feel imprisoned. Ruby intensifies this sentiment by dismissing any suggestion that Derek might face a prolonged sentence as a result of his own actions, and that he may not be advocating for himself effectively. She adamantly rejects any indication from her sister, mother, and even herself that suggest that she might need something beyond waiting indefinitely for Derek, even if it involves abandoning other paths forward or opportunities for fuller self-realization.

The film has no definite ending, but does display Ruby’s transformation from a passive character to an active participant in her life. In her essay, “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema”, Laura Mulvey introduces the idea of the "male gaze," suggesting that both the camera and the narrative reinforce a voyeuristic and fetishistic perspective that objectifies female characters. Mulvey examines how women are often positioned as passive objects of desire, reinforcing traditional gender roles. She writes that “The image of woman as (passive) raw material for the (active) gaze of man takes the argument a step further into the structure of representation”. Ruby is not  portrayed as a sexualized object of desire by the camera or in the context of her relationships; her agency is the very thing that drives the narrative. DuVernay takes what could be a more classic love triangle and turns it into an exploration of Ruby’s inner turmoil. Neither men are actually important to the film. Ruby’s beginning as a devoted housewife is her doing what she believes is “right”. However when she begins to see Brian, her view of right and wrong is fundamentally changed. The film neither condones nor condemns Ruby’s infidelity, instead using it merely as another avenue for Ruby to explore other paths forward. The film ends intentionally ambiguous; Ruby does not choose Derek, Brian, or her career. There is no “right” choice, only a different one. 

Some critics argue that the film perpetuates stereotypes by depicting an African American woman whose life is defined by her husband's incarceration. It is essential to recognize that the film intentionally chooses to explore the impact of the criminal justice system on families, particularly within communities of color. Incarceration disproportionately affects Black and Brown communities, and by honing in on Ruby's experience, the film sheds light on the prison industrial complex without stereotyping. It can also be argued that because the film is told entirely through Ruby’s perspective, often through montages and flashbacks of her life, it isn’t a reliable way to perceive the events of the story or extract anything meaningful from it. However, this subjective lens adds more emotional depth to the story, and allows the viewers to have a more intimate view into Ruby’s internal conflict. There is no definitive solution or right answer to her path forward; instead, the film underscores Ruby’s proactive decision to instigate change in her life.

At first glance it may feel as though Ruby is caught between choosing her husband or Brian. However, throughout the film, she is instead caught between the expectations of all of those around and discovering what it is she wants for her life. Derek expects her to be by his side and wait, Brian expects for her to accept his interest and create something new, and her family expects her to go after her career and start all over. Through Ruby’s final monologue, it’s clear that she doesn’t know what she wants and is content in that uncertainty. She says, “We are long lost, we are long awaited. The past has disappeared, and the future doesn’t exist until we get there”. She is going to figure it out, and that journey is just as important as if she already knew her destination. 

¹ hooks, bell. "Oppositional Gaze: Black Female Spectators." In Black Looks: Race and Representation, 317. Boston: South End Press, 1992.

² Mulvey, Laura. "Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema." In Movies and Methods: An Anthology, edited by Bill Nichols, 721. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976.

[aditipurandare]

Alien Nation (1988): Roundtable #2

In Graham Baker’s Alien Nation, extraterrestrial beings (“Newcomers”) land on Earth as refugees. The aliens, who are mostly human in appearance, are survivors of a slave ship that crash-landed on Earth, and began to integrate into human society after 3 years of quarantine. One of the Newcomers, Sam, begins working as a detective, and is paired up with human Matthew Sykes to investigate a series of murders. Sykes is openly bigoted towards the Newcomers, potentially because his old partner was killed by a Newcomer. However, they learn to work together, and end up uncovering a dangerous underworld involving a potent drug called "Jabroka”, which was used to pacify Newcomers when they were slaves. The drug is highly sought after by both humans and Newcomers, leading to corruption and crime in both communities. The investigation reveals that the drug is produced using Newcomer physiology, specifically their sweat, making them unwittingly involved; they are exploited by the human criminals responsible for the drug trade. 

The film serve as an allegory for racism and immigration, with the Newcomers being marginalized in human society. They are portrayed as physically different from humans, having distinct features such a bald heads and spotted skin; these physical differences contribute to their de-individualization, as they are seen as one homogenous group rather than individuals. This physical distinctiveness is analogous to the way racial features have been historically used to justify discrimination. 

The Newcomers face social isolation and discrimination from humans, similar to the experiences of marginalized groups in real life. They live in segregated areas known as “Slagtowns”, and the practice of creating these areas and allocating resources to them is reminiscent of redlining. This segregation reinforces the idea of "us versus them”; by depicting the aliens as a separate and potentially threatening group, the film reflects the historical and systemic discrimination faced by various communities. The Newcomers also face discrimination in the workplace, being relegated to low-status jobs and often being exploited for their abilities. 

Although the movie does make a statement about the way immigrants and other marginalized people are treated, I found it ironic that the first character to die was the only Black character (Sykes old partner) in an all white cast. The film also emphasized the Newcomer’s  “violent nature”, a phrase reminiscent of the rhetoric used to keep marginalized people oppressed today. 

[brookea21]

LIONHEART

Lionheart is a film directed and written by Genevieve Nnaji, who also stars as the main protagonist, Adaeze Obiagu. Adaeze is the logistic director of a family-run company, but when her father suffers a heart attack, he hands the company to her brother Godswill instead of her, whom he often praises. This causes tension between her and her brother, though they make a good team and can work together to save the company from debt. Jane Bryce's "Signs of Femininity and Symptoms of Malaise: Contextualizing Figurations of 'Woman' in Nollywood" discusses and contradicts Bisi Adeleye-Fayemi's ideology of Nollywood films, which discusses the idea that most films follow the 'mirror image paradigm,' a way in which woman in Nollywood are always portrayed as either powerful and dangerous, or as though they are suffering, exhibiting and amplifying how this culture and society perceives them and alternatively also showcases what society expects of women (72). However, Bryce offers an alternative approach to this statement; she expresses that not all Nollywood films engage in this, and some films within the Nollywood sector challenge how we perceive gender roles and femininity. I believe Lionheart is an example of this as main protagonist Adaeze is neither power hungry, as she can work alongside her brother, nor a figure who is suffering; she is a very successful character, and finally, she is a character who contradicts Adeleye-Fayemi's point that ".. theater and television genres in Nigeria have been shaped by male-defined values" (71), as she is not a woman who is defined by male-defined values, or the 'mirror image paradigm.' 

@theuncannyprofessoro

[aditipurandare]

I agree, Adaeze is portrayed as extremely well rounded and balanced; she is ambitious but not in a malicious way, and kind but not submissive. She is defined by her own actions, not her relationship to her father, uncle, or any other man in the film.

[elianajof]

Lionheart

Lionheart is a Nollywood film that goes against all of what is expected in a typical Nollywood representation of women. Lionheart centers a successful woman who works in a top position at a transportation company. She is self-assured, confident, and independent. In Jane Bryce's article "Signs of Femininity, Symptoms of Malaise: Contextualizing Figurations of 'Woman' in Nollywood," she writes of patterns of women being overly sexualized or placed in a phallo-centric gaze in typical Nigerian cinema. Lionheart subverts these expectations by focusing on the principal character's success and fight to keep her family's business afloat. When a man makes sexual advances towards her, it is quickly dismissed. In the end of the film, the happy ending is not her flourishing love life but the success of her goals.

@theuncannyprofessoro

[aditipurandare]

I really like how to pointed out that her "happy ending" did not involve a man (despite the subplot of her and Hamza), but rather her success in keeping the family business. They could have very easily ended the movie on a romantic note, but chose not to.

[aditipurandare]

Lionheart: Viewing Response #14

Genevive Nnaji’s Nollywood film, Lionheart, follows Adaeze Obiagu’s journey to run their family’s transportation company after her father suffers a heart attack. When her uncle, Godswill, is appointment managing director instead of her, Adaeze is determined to prove herself and subvert traditional gender roles in this male-dominated industry.  In her essay, “Signs of Femininity, Symptoms of Malaise: Contextualizing Figurations of “Woman” in Nollywood”, Jane Bryce writes of how Nollywood either portrays  women as hyper feminine and submissive, of malicious and dangerous. She writes that Nollywood should “seek ways of telling more empowering and inspiring stores about African women, to enable them to showcase their talents effectively and serve as positive role models”. Lionheart does exactly this, by showing Adaeze as complex and multifaceted; she is both ambitious in her career and empathetic. The movie centers around Adaeze’s fight to keep “Lionheart” in her family’s business, and the story is driven by her success, not the men in her life. 

[im-miss-world3]

Sweet Bean

Sweet Bean, by Kawase, portrays an intergenerational friendship between Sentaro, the dorayaki shop owner, and Tokue, an elderly woman. Despite his initial reluctance to hire Tokue due to societal stereotypes about the elderly, Sentaro comes to appreciate her unique skills and wisdom. The film highlights the importance of learning from other generations through a mutual exchange of knowledge. All the main characters, though different ages, are experiences the struggles of lonliness. The process of making dorayaki becomes a communal activity that brings them all together. Making the sweet bean paste symbolizes the importance of preserving and passing down culinary traditions as a way of connecting with one's cultural heritage. The process of creating the perfect dorayaki is a metaphor for transformation and connection. Through this connection to food and each other, the characters are able to set on a journey of emotional healing. Carew writes that "Kawase seeks to show characters reconnecting with the natural world", which I see as a symbol for learning to enjoy the little things in life that bring us pleasure, such as sweet bean. Throughout the film, we see the seasons change, portraying the impact nature has on the characters and the environment. They can not simply ignore this change, as it impacts their ingrediants available, showing how making dorayaki connects them with the cyclical nature of time.

[aditipurandare]

I love that Tokue, Sentaro, and Wakana each came with the perspective, knowledge, and struggles of their own generation. Passing down the tradition of making An was their way of connecting both with each other and their culture. 

[femalefilmmakersmac]

Sweet Bean Viewing Response

Sweet Bean tells the story of powerful intergenerational connection and the unlikely finding of chosen family. Tokue, Sentaro, and Wakana find each other through their shared love of dorayaki. They don't all necessarily get to know each other very well, but they each form individual connections with each other through small acts of love and service that speak loudly. Sentaro gives Wakana a bag of his mess up pancakes each day, Tokue offers to take care of Wakana's bird if she has to get rid of it, obviously Sentaro hires Tokue and gives her great worth in her ability to make bean paste, and Tokue keeps the shop open herself to give Sentaro time to rest. I think that they all see a sense of loneliness in each other that draws them want to support one another, whether they are aware of that desire and care or not. Amongst the noise in their respective lives they need what they get from one another. Carew says, “three lonely characters have come together and formed an ad hoc family unit.” They find peace and safety in each others company. Ultimately, when Tokue passes away, Sentaro and Wakana are able to grieve that loss together and use it as an opportunity to get to know Tokue and her story in ways they didn't get to when she was there. 

@theuncannyprofessoro

[aditipurandare]

 I really like that you highlighted how their love was shown through their small acts of service. Tokue, Sentaro, and Wakana formed their own little intergenerational family, each with their own perspective and struggles. They found each other and stayed with each other. 

[brookea21]

WHALE RIDER

Niki Caro’s Whale Rider explores the life of a Māori girl, Paikea Apirana seeks to become chief of her tribe, a title she is entitled to; however, her grandfather Koro is reluctant, as although he loves her dearly, he believes that the chief of their tribe should not be a girl Pai’s grandmother Nanny believes in her, and at the end of the film Koro realizes his mistake after believing that he lost Pai, and asks for her forgiveness, and declares her chief. “Anthropocene terror in two girl-centered narratives: The leitmotifs of mythological time, colonization, and monstrosity in the films Whale Rider and Moana,” written by Du Plooy, explores themes in Whale Rider and discusses the depiction of female leads in traditionally heroic roles reserved generally for male protagonists. Du Plooy writes that; “Paikea and Moana are both closely associated with the sea and its inhabitants, with tribal ancestors and gods, and a wisdom that can generate a reconciliation between the sexes, between generations, and between humanity and the earth.” (5). In a sequence where Pai dives into the water declaring she will find the Rei Puta that Koro threw into the ocean that the boys failed to find, a task that would help determine who could be chief, the colors under the sea are vibrant and inviting, and it seems silent and peaceful, in contrast to the world above the sea. The beauty and calm nature of the sea settles the conflicts above. The relationship between Pai and the sea is essential, as the ocean provides Pai with a crucial artifact, the Rei Puta, which will result in an eventual reconciliation between the sexes, and Koro admitting that she should and will be chief, despite her gender.

@theuncannyprofessoro

[aditipurandare]

I think it was so interesting that the movie highlighting this innate connection between women and the natural world. Pai’s relationship with the sea is effortless. 

[im-miss-world3]

Whale Rider

The film Whale Rider, by Niki Caro, explores the theme of tradition clashing with modernity through the experience of Paikea, a young Maori girl. Paikea is eager to learn Maori tradition yet is left out of a large part of it because she is a girl. Her innate curiosity to enact tradition is a disgrace to tradition itself according to her grandfather Koro. Despite her love and respect for him, Paikea struggles against his rigid adherence to tradition and his reluctance to recognize her potential simply becuase of her gender. The film highlights the evolving dynamics of the family structure as it grapples with generational differences and the desire for continuity. The conflicts in the film arise becuase of certain gender expectations being placed on each of the characters that they fail to meet. "Whale Rider" suggests that while tradition is essential for cultural identity and continuity, there is room for evolution and adaptation. It celebrates the idea that qualities of leadership and strength can be found in unexpected places, transcending gender norms and challenging established traditions. The movie encourages a more inclusive and open-minded approach to tradition that can involve every generation, preserving cultural heratige while also adapting and evolving.

[aditipurandare]

I love that you highlighted how both generations had the same end goal despite the conflict. Tradition and modernity aren’t mutually exclusive, they can coexist and work together for cultural continuation. 

[aditipurandare]

Whale Rider: Viewing Response #12

Niki Caro’s New Zealand film, Whale Rider, follows a  Paikea Apirana, a Maori girl who is the sole survivor of her family after her mother and brother die during childbirth. She is meant to become to leader of her tribe, but her grandfather is insistent on a male successor. As Paikea grows up, her natural affinity for the the customs and connections of her tribe grow increasingly evident, as shown through her connection with the whale Whaka. She continues to try to prove her potential to her grandfather, and the climax of the film occurs when Whaka and other whales are stranded on the beach; nobody, not even a tractor, is able to help them back into the ocean. Pai, however, gets on Whaka’s back and coaxes him to go back, nearly drowning in the process. In her essay, “Anthropocene terror in two girl-centered narratives”, Belinda du Plooy writes, “In marking out a space that is both future and the past, Paikea may be said to represented a disruption of time — she is a new time, an interstitial time, both past and future”.  Paikea connects with her ancestors and embodies tradition in order to coax the whales back into the ocean, yet this moment symbolizes a new future for her tribe as a woman is naturally stepping into the leadership role. 

[aditipurandare]

Sweet Bean: Viewing Response #11

Naomi Kawase’s film, “Sweet Bean”, follows Sentaro, a middle-aged man who runs a dorayaki shop frequented by the neighborhood, especially Wakana, a local schoolgirl.  When he puts up a “Help Wanted” sign, he meets an elderly woman, Tokue, who makes red bean paste much better than anything he had ever eaten.  Although business thrives with Tokue, word that she has leprosy spreads, and Sentaro is forced to let her go. She passes away a few months later, leaving Sentaro his own bean paste making equipment and a cassette recording, emphasizing that the joy in being and experiencing everything the world has to offer is more important that one’s career. In his essay, “Art with the Right Ingredients: An and the Films of Naomi Kawase”, Anthony Carew writes that An is “essentially a shrine to slow food, to time-won wisdoms, and to the traditions being lost to today’s hyper-capitalist, factory-model food industry”. The three generations represented in the movie through Tokue, Sentaro, and Wakana show the tradition of making bean paste reemerge and be passed down through their makeshift family; An was made lovingly, intentionally, and slowly, the way it was meant to be. 

[aditipurandare]

Hitch (2005): Roundtable Presentation

“Hitch” is a romantic comedy that follows Alex Hitchens or “Hitch” (played by Will Smith), a professional “date doctor” that helps socially awkward men men win over and have genuine long term relationships with women. He is known for his successful methods, but none of them work when he falls for gossip columnist Sarah. The main plot unfolds when Hitch meets Albert, an accountant who seeks his help to win over a wealthy heiress, Allegra. Sara becomes suspicious of Hitch’s intentions and starts investigating his background, suspecting him to be involved in some sort of scandal. The movie reaches a climax when Hitch’s true identity as the anonymous date doctor is revealed, and the characters must confront their insecurities and misconceptions about love and relationships. 

“Hitch” subverts gender roles by showing Hitch as vulnerable, and Eva as extremely career driven. The advice Hitch gives to men is also more sensitive than one would expect; he emphasizes being confident, respecting boundaries, being authentic, and overcoming fear of rejection. 

Kaklamanidou’s essay delves into Will Smith’s onscreen persona, describing how it is more palatable to mainstream white audiences since his construct image does not signify “otherness”. She describes how “these images are structured in such a way that individual cultural characteristics of each thespian are gradually more less neutralized and the actor’s racial/ethnic heritage is not taken into consideration in the narratives they appear in or general media discussion”. She further describes how Smith has been able to make aspects and black identity and culture “comfortably appealing” to white audiences. 

Although both of the leads, Will Smith and Eva Mendez, are people of color, their respective races are never mentioned in the movie. The only time the movie comes close to addressing race is on Will and Sara’s first date, when he takes her on a private tour of a museum on Ellis Island. Sara talks about how she had a relative come through Ellis Island to immigrate in, and gets emotional seeing her great great grandfather’s signature. The film brushes over this moment, never revisiting her ethnic heritage. 

Will Smith himself commented on the filmmakers casting decisions, noting how they avoided casting a black woman as the movie’s female lead in fear of it being less profitable, and also avoided casting a white woman because they feared this coupling would offend audiences in the United States. Casting a Latina woman was the “safest” option. The sheer amount of planning that went behind featuring people of color as the leads in “Hitch” is astounding—the films casting choices were centered around what would be most palatable to white heteronormative audiences. 

[mikkadc]

Viewing Response 10: 35 Shots of Rum and Kwaku Ananse

“35 Shots of Rum” and “Kwaku Ananse” both examine the father/daughter relationship, and the roles that fathers play in the lives of their daughters. In “35 Shots of Rum”, Lionel has cared for Josephine all his life and is coming to terms with the fact that they will begin to lead separate lives. In “Kwaku Ananse”, Nyan seeks out her father in the spirit world to get answers. What stands out to me in both of these films is the symbolic moments of “handing off” that occur within both narratives. In “35 Shots of Rum”, this is when Lionel is dancing with Josephine and lets Noé step in to dance with her. In “Kwaku Ananse”, this is when Nyan’s father hands her the gourd, and the identity of Ananse. In both cases, Nyan and Josephine’s father are handed this chance to make their own decision and firmly establish their autonomy, with how “Lionel does not tell his daughter what to do, or allow anyone else to arrange her affairs” (Williams, 47) and how Nyan’s father allows her to go forward on her own with the gourd. In this way, both narratives display a crucial turning point in many family dynamics, where daughter and father separate and begin to lead their own lives.

[aditipurandare]

Both movies definitely had an overarching theme of changing father/daughter dynamics. The daughters are tied to their fathers until they are “handed off” by their fathers. Neither of these movies really had a central maternal figure, which made this act of “handing off” solely the father’s job. 

[elianajof]

35 shots of rum analysis

Something I really loved about "35 Shots of Rum" was the use of transportation throughout the film. Lionel is a train conductor so we see him in scenes in the tracks or on the train a lot of the time, but also the use of seeing all the characters in buses and cars. While transportation moves people from one place to another, it is clear that a lot of these characters feel stuck. In James S. Williams' "Romancing the Father in Claire Denis's 35 Shots of Rum", he writes about "the poetic images of passage and transience." I think this is clear in the scene where Lionel and Rene are sitting on the bus after Rene's retirement party. Rene is very depressed and says that he can't believe he still has so much life to live. It is clear that he feels stuck. But, he is on the bus, surrounded by people from his now former job, on the way home. It is a powerful juxtaposition to feel stuck when on a bus and also when you were once a train conductor - one could argue you could go anywhere. But, the use of the public transportation in this film is not to show how characters could go anywhere, but how even with accessibility to the outside world, they choose to stay where they are, comfortable. This is also portrayed when the four characters start driving and the storm starts: when they try to break out of that comfort, they are faced with the reality that they are meant to stay stagnant.

@theuncannyprofessoro

[aditipurandare]

I didn’t even register this when watching this, but I totally agree that transportation was an overarching theme to show the changes happening in Lionel’s life. He was a train director so he could technically go anywhere, but he wanted his life to stand still.