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[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. 

[supergoodfilmanalysis]

I'm really interested in your point about the use of archival footage in montage as a "metric overtonal" element of the film--the way it disrupts the audience's comfort and reminds them that this is not merely a fictional account of Tekahentahkhwa and her family but a very politically grounded representation of a real genocide. Montage can be so powerful visually as a tool to evoke emotion in viewers and provide them with a lot of visual information in a short amount of time to elicit feelings and tell a whole story in a short amount of time.

[femalefilmmakersmac]

I like your point about the uniqueness of this film and the experience that it portrays. There is something really special about a story that could not have been told by anyone else. The depth and sensitivity of the film is really evident in your analysis and it made me really want to watch this movie!

[elianajof]

Critical Film Analysis: Past Lives

“Past Lives” is a romance/drama released in June 2023, written and directed by Celine Song. The film follows the trajectory of two people’s lives who were each other’s first love as children. Nora, played by Greta Lee, moves with her family as a kid from South Korea to Canada. Before moving, she struck up a romantic relationship with Hae Sung, played by Teo Yoo. The film is divided into three parts: both the characters’ childhood, young adult, and adult lives. Following this narrative structure shows how these two characters grew apart and together in different ways throughout their lives, their upbringings in different countries affecting their goals and realities. “Past Lives” is an easy-to-follow narrative: the audience can see how choices in the beginning of the character’s life led to where they are now. For example, Nora’s character is immediately shown as intelligent and headstrong, and someone who wants to be famous and successful. Hae Sung is shy but still very smart - he and Nora compete for the top grade in their class. When Nora is in New York as a young adult, it’s clear she is working towards being a playwright. 

At the end of the film, when the two characters reunite after not seeing each other since they were children, they are having their “what if” conversation. 

In Christian Metz’s essay “Semiotics of the Cinema” he writes about the relationship between the sign and the signifier; that cinema is a “system of signs” and understanding the signs in a film is crucial to understanding its story. In “Past Lives” the signs of the cultural differences of Nora and Hae Sun immediately tell the audience of their inevitable different fates. Even though there are signs of them being in love with each other through the cinematic language – the steady gazes, body language, the dream-like intimate feel – the audience understands they will not end up together. 

That is one of the masterful parts of Song’s filmmaking: she creates undeniable chemistry but these characters have an unavoidable conflict separating them. 

Metz also touches on narrative structure as a way for audiences to have an understanding of film. By following the characters through critical moments in their lives, audiences have a deeper understanding and empathy for them. Since we saw Nora and Hae Sun together as children, we obviously want them to be back together when they reunite as adults. But, they are different people now. It’s clear that they can not be together and the audience knows that too. This dynamic adds to the theme of the film - the pain and struggle of not knowing if the path you are taking is necessarily the right one, but having to trust your instincts and respect all the hard work it took you to get there. Nora is a playwright who, by the third act of the film, has a husband and an established life in New York. It is clear that she has doubts but knows that she has worked too hard to establish this life to give it up for her first love. Hae Sun followed a traditional Korean route: he went into the military and lives with his family. He did not move on from his love of Nora and it is clear he feels lost and is going along with the flow of what has been laid out for him. 

In the two following clips, we can see the relationship between Nora and Hae Sun very clearly. The first clip is an interaction between the two characters after reuniting. The second clip will be a clip from an interview explaining the difference between the Western and Eastern cultural ideas of love and how that is portrayed in Nora’s relationship with her husband versus Hae Sun. 

Director Celine Song was also the screenwriter for the film, a feat that she has received a lot of recognition for. Even though they were raised in different worlds, Nora and Hae Sun are very relatable characters. The film forces its audience to think back on different choices they made in their lives and reflect. This coincides with Metz’s “Identification and mirror stage” in narrative film, which is a psychoanalytic concept, particularly Jacques Lacan's mirror stage, to discuss how viewers identify with characters on screen. He suggests that the cinematic experience involves a form of identification with the characters, and this identification is crucial for emotional engagement. 

Maybe some could relate to having to balance two cultures – whether that be Eastern and Western or something else – and realizing the difference between how you act with different people in your life. 

The emotional engagement from the audience is clear - the film has been widely received as intimate, relatable, smart, and one of the best films of 2023. In a review from the New York Times, film critic Manohla Dargis wrote: “The movie’s modesty — its intimacy, human scale, humble locations and lack of visual oomph — is one of its strengths. The characters live in homes that are pleasant yet ordinary, the kind that you can imagine hanging out in, the kind you want to hang out in.” (Dargis 2023)

The audience’s desire to be close with Song’s characters coincides with Metz’s theory on the viewer’s role in a film. Metz emphasizes the active role of the viewer in interpreting the signs presented in a film. He suggests that viewers engage in a process of decoding and making meaning, and this process is influenced by cultural and contextual factors. Every audience member could take away something different from “Past Lives,” as each audience member would resonate with something different in its story – for example: the immigration story, cross-culturalism, thinking about one’s life and wondering what would have happened if other choices were made, reflecting on past life experiences or past loved ones, etc. 

“Past Lives” is definitely a special film. The performances were impeccable, the story was simple yet its characters and environment make everything complex, and its direction and screenwriting were extremely memorable. It’s clear that Song had a specific directorial and writing vision that came through as a beautiful story thanks to the structuralism in the film explained through Metz’s essay. 

Citations: 

Metz, Christian. 2009. Semiotics of the Cinema. Film Language. 7th ed. New York. Oxford. OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS. 

Dargis, Manohla. 2023. ‘Past Lives’ Review: Longing for a Future. New York, New York. The New York Times.

@theuncannyprofessoro

[femalefilmmakersmac]

I really appreciated your analysis of Past Lives! I loved this movie and thought it discussed racial identity and diaspora in a really interesting and sensitive way, particularly through Arthur and Nora's relationship and how they discuss the ways in which they can't understand each other.

[supergoodfilmanalysis]

The Watermelon Woman: Queer representational strategies as possibility

Cheryl Dunye’s The Watermelon Woman (1996) made history as the first feature film written and directed by a Black lesbian–but the film knows this and extensively explores its appellation as the “first of its kind,” a title Dunye simultaneously treats with frustration and reverence. It’s strikingly self-aware, funny, and inventive, a semi-autobiographical story about Cheryl, a video store clerk and chronically single filmmaker who decides to make a documentary on a mysterious Black actress from the 1930s pigeonholed into playing “mammy” roles who appears in the credits of a film called Plantation Memories simply as “The Watermelon Woman.” It’s a movie about movies! “I am a Black lesbian filmmaker who's just beginning,” Cheryl says, and here the thesis of the movie exhumes itself. The text demonstrates a preoccupation with the power of identity as a representational strategy through imagery and insists on its existence, the Black lesbian gaze resisting hiddenness behind the camera and crafting a visible narrative powered by the excavation of archival memory, the straddling of truth and representations of truth, of real and imagined. Dunye’s filmmaking mirrors her own life while the fictionalized version of herself seeks her own image in the black-and-white static of footage nearly lost to history. The Watermelon Woman chronicles the myriad of interconnected dynamics between art and real life–its awareness of the ways it is speaking about and to itself is demonstratively pointed, with Cheryl often speaking directly to the camera about her project and desire to tell Fae’s story.

Fae Richards, the eponymous Watermelon Woman, symbolizes the Black queer archive that future generations of Black queer filmmakers like Cheryl strive to hold within their canon, and as Cheryl interviews subjects for her documentary on Fae and digs through archives she finds proof not only of Fae’s existence but of her queerness¹. She discovers that Martha Page, the white director of Plantation Memories, and Fae were in a relationship, all the while navigating her own dating life, getting entangled with a white video store patron named Diana, much to her best friend Tamara’s dismay. The ways Cheryl’s relationship with Diana parallels Fae and Martha’s excavates the possibilities and challenges of “race relations” within queerness and the ways white lesbianism often possesses an objectifying curiosity with Blackness. The film’s theoretical standpoint as a piece of media that presents a representational theory of Black queerness pointing out gaping holes in the so-called canon is made imminent by some of its casting choices–cultural critic and infamous haver of weird opinions Camille Paglia appears as a parody of herself and a mouthpiece for white feminist film theory offering a misguided take on the “mammy” sterotype, and love interest Diana is played by Guinevere Turner, cowriter and star of the 1994 lesbian film Go Fish. The Watermelon Woman theorizes that sexuality and race are mutually constitutive and through the production and reception of representational imagery this interrelation is complicated by the relationship between the creator and the recipient of an image–Cheryl is a lover of film as much as she is a filmmaker and a large portion of her desire to tell stories about the complexity of being a Black woman who is many things at once comes from her desire to consume these stories.

Jack Halberstam’s “Looking Butch: A Rough Guide to Butches on Film” bifurcates queer imagery into “positive” and “negative,” necessarily locating “butch” as a visual identity located in media representations in one of two pathologies². Butchness in film is often leveraged to be emblematic of non-normative female sexuality in a way that is easily visually understood, and as a result, butch lesbians in film have more often than not functioned to be objects rather than subjects of inquiry. Halberstam posits that the debate around positive and negative images often returns to early feminist film criticism calling for “positive representations,” categorically rejecting depictions that could be received in their full complexity as anything other than “good.” Halberstam complicates the idea of a positive image by postulating that this desire for queer imagery imbedded with messaging that campaigns for itself places “the onus of queering cinema squarely on the production rather than the reception of images.” The Watermelon Woman explores how cinema is queered both through the production and reception of images; Cheryl watches Plantation Memories for the first time, she reads the queerness in it and it becomes a queer text because of her viewing, then when it is revealed that The Watermelon Woman and the film’s white director were in a relationship, her read is validated. Cheryl’s onscreen presence as a butch lesbian is overtly queer and her and Tamara’s open discussion of lesbianism as well as an intimate sex scene between Cheryl and Diana underscore this film’s goal of moving beyond the implicit in representation, further informing the lesbian lens with with Cheryl uses to analyze and interpret films like Plantation Memories.

Plantation Memories is not a real film, but it might as well be as it represents the startling politics of race films of its time where the white Scarlet O’Hara-type starlet weeps in the arms of the nurturing Black woman with such vigor that it’s hard not to believe in its existence. The consequence of the effects films like it produced continue to be felt in strategies of representation and Fae Richards does not represent an easily “positive” image of queerness–instead occupying a space in the troubling tradition of the racialized dominant images of Black women in film–yet Cheryl recognizes herself in Fae’s performance partially because it is so fraught. She identifies in her relationship with Diana a similar dynamic to Fae Richards and Martha Page, who only cast her lover in highly stereotyped and racially singular roles, where her lesbianism and Blackness are at slight odds with one another when in a relationship with a white lesbian who can relate to her based on only one of those central tenets and displays a voyeuristic and ultimately isolating interest in the other one. The Watermelon Woman argues for complexity beyond “positive” and “negative” imagery and constructs a Foucauldian reverse discourse where negative imagery can be positively productive when viewed critically and rethought. The film invests in the prospect that art can be a two-way conversation and that by beholding representational images, we project our possibilities onto it. The image on the screen dims and the reflection of the audience is left peering back at itself--Dunye holds onto this moment and treats it with tenderness, imbuing this empty space with hope.

@theuncannyprofessoro

Ratnarajah, Anoushka. “Indisputably Real: Cheryl Dunye’s the Watermelon Woman.” Out On Screen, August 6, 2021. https://outonscreen.com/blog/2020/news/indisputably-real-cheryl-dunyes-the-watermelon-woman/.

Halberstam, Jack. Looking Butch: A Rough Guide to Butches on Film" In Female Masculinity, 175-230. New York, USA: Duke University Press, 1998. https://doi.org/10.1515/9780822378112-008

[jonahdeforest]

Hi Bea! I loved your video essay. The Watermelon Woman is one of my favorite movies, so I'm glad to see it get some shine. You make such an interesting point about the film's focus on who is "the producer and consumer of media." Minority groups often have to contextualize themselves through the media that has been provided to them. Though this can be limiting, it is also a means of excavating self, and more broadly, history, from unchecked places. Given that film is interested in 20th century Hollywood, the speculative is used as a creative jumping off points to create new modes of representation. Dunye's ultimate act of resistance is one of autonomy, making her own art in response to the media that she has consumed.

@theuncannyprofessoro

[femalefilmmakersmac]

Hi Bea, I really loved your video essay! I appreciated your thoughts about minority representation and people see themselves reflected in media. I am curious what you think about how the use of narrative documentary footage in The Watermelon Women advances its point about representation and who is producing art and media? Xo

[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

[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.

[femalefilmmakersmac]

I agree with you about her happy ending being focused on her work and her success, but I'm curious what you think about the moment with her and Hamza. It felt kind of unnecessary to me! It was at the very end and didn't contribute to the greater narrative, it just felt like it was stuck in there to check off the love-interest-story-line box.

[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.

[femalefilmmakersmac]

I agree! Lionheart was a refreshing representation of female drive and professionalism that felt balanced and complex. She rejects being defined by her male counterparts and defines her own self and relationship to the work.

[femalefilmmakersmac]

Lionheart Viewing Response

Lionheart (2018) follows Adaeze's journey to prove herself and take over her fathers company after he develops some detrimental health problems that force him to take a step down. Lionheart represents a professional, driven, intelligent and capable Nigerian woman, which is a step forward for positive representation. Adaeze is capable and deserving of the role she she plays in a very male-dominated world and industry. In her piece, "Signs of Femininity, Symptoms of Malaise: Contextualizing Figurations of ''Woman'' in Nollywood," Jane Bryce quotes Adeleye-Fayemi. She states that "film and television are ruled by the "mirror-image paradigm," which dictates that, in order for audience expectations to be fulfilled, women are portrayed as either "powerful and dangerous" or "long-suffering" and "in this 'either/or' way of portraying women, women are shown not just as society perceives them, but as society expects them to be"." I think Adaeze is portrayed as a person to take seriously and a force to be reckoned with, while also holding complexity and lightheartedness. We see different sides of her in her relationship to her family and her relationship to her work. She is not an overly serious figure. She is scheming with her uncle and having ridiculous, comedic interactions while also holding her own and ultimately leading the company to success.

@theuncannyprofessoro

[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. 

[femalefilmmakersmac]

I like your point about tradition being essential for cultural identity, I think this is true and there is value to tradition when it leaves room for necessary change. It is people like Pai who will embrace culture with an understanding that there is room for growth.

[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. 

[femalefilmmakersmac]

I also think Pai's connection to the natural world is really special. It is the natural world that accepts her and does not choose based on gender! There is nothing innate about the gender dynamics engrained in the community. Nature is where Pai is able to feel safe, valued, and usefull.

[femalefilmmakersmac]

Whale Rider Viewing Response

In Whale Rider (2002), Paikea is a young Maori girl who has to fight to prove her ability when her twin brother, who has been selected to be the next chief of their New Zealand tribe, dies at birth. Paikea is a self-assured, confident, wise young girl who is determined to convince her grandfather to open his mind to the rigid, sexist customs he abides by. As Belinda du Plooy writes in her piece, "Anthropocene terror in two girl-centred narratives: The leitmotifs of mythological time, colonisation and monstrosity in the films Whale Rider and Moana," Paikea's gender and age place her as a symbol of hope and change in the film. Du Plooy describes film as a medium for "speaking and listening to the stories of others as part of both an ethical response to the narratives of the past and a moral responsibility to engage the present." I think more than ever, we see children as a necessary piece of the discourse surrounding the past and how we should be evolving and changing. They "embody the projected dreams, desires and commitment of a society's obligations to the future." I think that an important piece of Paikea's character, identity, and activism is her age. If her brother had been born, he would have been assumed as the next chief and he, nor anyone else, would have to question that. Because Paikea is a girl, she is forced to think about and challenge these things as a child. This is representative of how necessary it is that we listen to and take seriously the children who are going to break the boundaries of where they are traditionally and systematically placed in society, because they have no other choice but to resist. Paikea represents hope and demands she be listened to because if she doesn't, how is anyone to move forward?

@theuncannyprofessoro

[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.

[mikkadc]

I like how you tied the narrative to the seasons changing within the film. Just like the cyclical nature of the seasons, people come and people go. People come into your life at the right season and go when the time has come. Some people aren't meant to stay together forever, and I think the relationships between Tokue, Sentaro, and Wakana are examples of people coming into your life at just the right time because they all needed one another.

[femalefilmmakersmac]

I totally agree with this! I think that Tokue's love for and connection with things like her bean paste or the cherry blossoms definitely forced Sentaro to appreciate the little things around him and take in the beauty. I think Tokue opened Sentaro and Wakana up to a different way to approach life and the natural world.

[margonozako]

Sweet Bean? More like Sweetie Pie

I watched Sweet Bean for the first time a few years ago and thought I didn’t like it, but boy was I mistaken!! Something I was really taken aback by during this screening was the lighting – every scene was beautifully lit and perfectly set the tone. In particular, the scene where Tokue makes an in the shop for the first time. In his article “Art with the Right Ingredients: An and the Films of Naomi Kawase,” Anthony Carew writes that “the preparation of the red bean paste is lovingly shot, and given mythical credence,” which is emphasized by the lighting (50). As a borderline religious experience, when Tokue peeks into the pot or as Sentaro looks on, both are darkly lit for similar reasons: Tokue is communicating with the family of azuki beans while Sentaro is seeing Tokue in her mysterious, magical element of making perfect an. I believe that this scene is the beginning of bridging the generational gap that has been insurmountable for so many people in Tokue’s life. In a dark, private, beautifully revealing moment.

@theuncannyprofessoro

[mikkadc]

I really like the way you analyzed this scene. The perfect an takes time and effort, just as the friendship between Tokue and Sentaro does. By both of them actively choosing to put in the time and effort to create the perfect an, they also symbolically actively put in the time and effort necessary to cultivate a deeper emotional connection.

[femalefilmmakersmac]

I totally agree. I think it is clear that there was so much time, love and care put into the way that these scenes were shot because it is capturing so much love and care. Tokue is not just making bean paste she is treating each bean as a person who needs to be attended to.

[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

[supergoodfilmanalysis]

35 Shots of Rum and the little things

Claire Denis' 35 Shots of Rum (2008), set in contemporary France, paints a sedate picture of human relationships and the way their minutia means the world. Lionel and Josephine are father and daughter and Lionel's devotion to fatherhood causes Josephine to put herself aside sometimes to protect his feelings. He needs her to need him, and when she begins to express interest in Noé, he must come to terms with this. Denis is keenly invested in the small things: a covert glance, a cup of coffee placed on a saucer. Gabrielle, a cab driver who lives in the same building as Lionel and Josephine, shows interest in Lionel, who seems uninterested in anything beyond casual acquaintanceship with anyone except his daughter. The film takes its time and Agnès Godard's moody cinematography helps the audience live in its world--these characters are interconnected and long for more, sure, but they're in no rush to name or finalize these connections. Gabrielle clearly imagines a possibility of herself fitting into Lionel and Josephine's domesticity, but she doesn't hurry to facilitate this and instead lets it be what it is. Denis' storytelling allows these people to drift towards one another, struggling with the ebbs and flows of the limits of their own comfort, instead of pushing them towards one another. Lionel views Rene, his depressed retiring coworker, as a looming specter of what he could be if he fails to have a purpose and upon finding him at his demise, this warning seems final. Denis' narrative structure requires you to pay rapt attention for the way that, at first glance, not much seems to be happening. The lived-in character of the film demonstrates faith in its audience to project their own feelings of the beauty in letting relationships crash on the shore onto the story.

@theuncannyprofessoro

[femalefilmmakersmac]

I totally agree that the lack of action and noise allows the characters and relationships to speak louder. It's in the subtlety that we only have the space to pay attention to because of the deployment of the simple and mundane as the main events.

[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

[supergoodfilmanalysis]

This is such an interesting and smart observation! I couldn't agree more that the omnipresence of transportation in this movie suggests the possibility for movement toward the unknown, but the characters instead choose to stay in place. Your point that the scene where they get caught in the rain and have to stop their journey is a fantastic connection to this theme and one I hadn't thought about.

[femalefilmmakersmac]

I really appreciate this response! The setting of transportation is really interesting given the fact that a lot of the characters are in a position where they are feeling stuck. There is a lot of collective movement but ultimately everyone ends up where they started.

[femalefilmmakersmac]

Roundtable Presentation: Set It Up (2018)

“Set it Up” is a 2018 romantic comedy directed by Claire Scanlon and written by Katie Silberman. The film follows two tired assistants, Harper and Charlie, who cross paths and decide that they must team together to set up their bosses, Kirsten and Rick. The film was released on Netflix and was received and reviewed relatively well. 

This is definitely a feel good film. It is lighthearted and funny and for the most part you are set up to ultimately be rooting for all the characters. There is not much head on acknowledgement or exploration of racial dynamics within the diverse group of central characters. The non-white stars are definitely positioned in ways that transcend patterns of representation in films like this. Kirsten and Rick are both successful and highly respected people of color. The white characters are working for them and within their respective relationships hold very little power. There is also some subversion from stereotypical gender roles in that Kirsten is a woman who is powerful in the sports world. 

Although we can look at the character descriptions and congratulate the diversity and representation of powerful people of color with white assistants, the actual story hands the white characters and their storyline and relationship much more depth. As the set up progresses, so does Harper and Charlie's relationship. They spend lots of time together and claim they are just friends but have undeniable chemistry and comfort with each other. Kirsten and Rick's relationship is Harper and Charlie's little game. Harper says, "We did it, we made two miserable people happy. I'm proud of us." As Kirsten and Rick's relationship begins to go south, Charlie and Harper's stays strong. When Charlie and Harper finally kiss, it holds so much weight as we have watched the tension build up and wondered if it will ever happen. It feels evident that the relationship we are set up to care about on a deeper level is Harper and Charlie's.

If you look up images from the film, not a single one is of Kirsten and Rick. The poster shows Harper and Charlie each with their bosses and then at the center, the two of them together. When you search clips from the film on YouTube, all you see is edits of Charlie and Harper and things like Glenn Powell and Zoey Deutch "Funny Moments" or "Blooper Real". The story is about Harper and Charlie setting up Kirsten and Rick, but does Kirsten and Rick's story exist just to serve the development of Harper and Charlie's?

@theuncannyprofessoro

[femalefilmmakersmac]

"35 Shots of Rum" Viewing Response

"35 Shots of Rum" tells the intimate story of a father-daughter relationship strained by the daughters romantic involvement with a neighbor. The film's slow pacing and subtle drama creates an uncomfortable realness in the tension between characters. In "Romancing the Father in Claire Denis's 35 Shots of Rum" James T. Williams highlights the speed and swiftness with which the film moves through death, grief, change, and anger. The characters speak softly to one another, Lionel and Josephine, whose relationship is central to the narrative, often say nothing to each other at all. Their relationship is mostly narrated through their expressions, physical contact with one another, and their coexistence in mundane activities like cooking. As Josephine forms her relationship with Noé and decides that she wants to be with him, the space that her and her father occupy together changes. Although there is very little outright conflict or drama, we feel the weight of the shift in their relationship.

@theuncannyprofessoro