An RCE Exclusive
By Byron Lee
Warning: This article spoils major plot points in the movies discussed.
Representations of our people in entertainment have always been both a gift and a curse, in that we see people who look like us being in such a powerful medium and that some of these depictions will be met with intense scrutiny due to both our past and present plight.
This holiday season, two weighty celluloid packages have landed in our collective lap, both of which deal with struggling black youth: Precious and The Blind Side. For this edition of the RCE, we will examine these movies to find out what messages they may hold and what those messages mean for the film's respective audiences.
Precious, based on the novel Push by Sapphire, was first known as the new project by producer/director Lee Daniels. Daniels infamously provided the backdrop for Halle Berry's Oscar-winning role in Monster's Ball and, in his first hyphenate feature, oversaw the creation of the off-the-wall Cuba Gooding Jr./Helen Mirren crime thriller Shadowboxer. After festival screenings, though, Precious was standing on its own.
This development was largely due to the type of person the film has as its protagonist: an obese, poor, black teenage mother with a special needs child and another baby on the way, both the product of incest. Adding to the girl's struggle is the fact that she lives with her verbally and physically abusive mother to fatten her mother's welfare check.
When news of the main character's circumstances hit the black mainstream, reaction was mostly negative, with some commentators decrying the film, sight unseen. (Of the critical black writers who had seen the film, Armond White (of the New York Press) had his screed against it linked on various blogs.
A few weeks ago, I went to see Precious, expecting the worse. Afterwards, I had a viewpoint more in line with that expressed by syndicated columnist Leonard Pitts, Jr, that being that those who focus solely on the ugliness are missing the point.
Make no mistake, Precious is a gritty and, at times, ugly movie. Mary, Precious's mother (played in a revelatory performance from Comedian Mo'Nique) delivers a lengthy tirade against her daughter at the beginning of the film, and Precious's escape from Mary's wrath (with her newborn child) from the apartment they share together is one of the movie's more harrowing and off-putting scenes. Furthermore, a much-maligned scene finds Precious stealing (and quickly eating) an entire bucket of fried chicken.
Yet, in this film you will also find portraits of everyday people going the extra mile for Precious (Gabourey Sidibe, in a heartfelt debut) strictly to help someone in need. Precious's principal recommends her for an alternative school, where she meets teacher Ms. Rain (a radiant Paula Patton),a compassionate but demanding teacher who pushes Precious to write during classroom, even after Precious has received some deviating news. Also, Nurse John (Lenny Kravitz) who helps Precious's second child, advises her on her eating habits and gives her money for her graduation from a program. Finally, social worker Ms. Weiss (an effectively de-glamorized Mariah Carey) pushes Precious to share more about her home life with Mary en route to setting up the climatic meeting between Precious, Mary & Ms. Weiss.
This meeting provides the key to understanding the method behind the film's madness. In the scene, Mary delivers a passionate account of the first time her boyfriend assaulted Precious. In the monologue, Mary reveals herself as someone who internalized the rejection of a sick person and, with that person no longer around (her boyfriend abandons the family), projected that anger onto her offspring, while giving up on herself, in the process. One can find a lineage between Mary's ways of coping with her personal disappointment and her daughter's frequent escapes into fantasy worlds, where she images having a "lightskinned boyfriend" and "being in one of those BET videos," (the latter of which were elegant and culture-affirming, back in the 80s, when the movie is set.) This stated longing is especially poignant when Precious looks into a mirror and sees her "idealized" self (slender, white, blond). In this light, the aforementioned fried chicken scene makes sense: the theft occurs because Precious is figuratively consumed with instantly feeling better about her situation, to the point where, in a devastating touch, she doesn't even think to wipe her mouth, after the binge (which is followed, soon after, by vomiting).
(Also noteworthy are the film's undercutting of dramatic weight with dark humor, exhibited by a fantasy sequence that imagines Mary and Precious's life as an Italian soap opera, Mary's abrupt change in demeanor for a Social Services visit, and Precious's reaction to her father's death.)
Perhaps it is because of all of this pathos that some have found the ending of the film, where Precious, with her reading level on a steady incline, turns her back on her mother for good and takes full custody of her two children, not to be "happy" enough. I find it to be a realistic depiction of someone taking a major step towards taking control of her life, not experiencing a dramatic makeover in order to send people out the theater with smiles on their faces. (In speaking of Precious's triumph, it's worth noting that there has been controversy regarding the fact that all of the saviors in the film are light-skinned. While the observation is valid, it can be said that the ultimate savior {Precious, who saves herself} is dark-skinned.)
It is the idea of realism that, among other attributes, dogs The Blind Side a film, ironically, based on a true story of Michael Oher, who, with the help of a well-to-do white family, overcame both an impoverished background and scholastic underperformance to attend Ole Miss and be drafted by the Baltimore Ravens, with whom he is currently playing his rookie season.
I have no doubt that most blacks, when seeing the film, will immediately notice how Michael, as played by Quinton Aaron, carries himself. Even accounting for someone who has presumably gone through childhood trauma and has just been placed in a totally different environment would, most likely, not be as quiet and awkward--dare I say it--childlike as Michael is. This portrayal is the central problem (or, depending on your viewpoint, selling point) of the movie. In an attempt to avoid a Precious-like wallow in Michael's problems, and the mass exodus from theaters that would most likely ensue, the filmmakers have limited his past struggles to split-second cutaways and made his countenance that of a wounded puppy. Film critic Scott Tobias notes, in his review of the film for the Onion AV Club, that the Tuohys pick Michael "up from the streets during a rainstorm, like a stray. All thatıs missing are the children pleading, ³Mom, can we keep him?²
The filmmakers then, by default, put a white family (especially matriarch Leigh Anne, played with a finely-tuned feistiness by Sandra Bullock) at the center of a black man's story. The Tuohys, unlike the benefactors in Precious, are not everyday people, at least not financially (Sean, the father, {Tim McGraw, utilizing every wattage of his charisma to bring humor to an underwritten role} is a successful owner of many Taco Bell franchises.), yet Leigh Anne's southern spunk and hospitality are clearly meant to make her easier for a mainstream audience to identify with/root for. (There's a ridiculous, much-talked about scene where Leigh Anne walks onto the practice field and cures Michael's difficulty with learning the game of football {a difficulty the real Oher denies he ever had} by explaining to him that he should protect the follow members of his team like he protects his family. This immediate transformation is explained in the film by the discovery that Michael had a high "protective instinct" score on an 8th grade aptitude test. ) Also troubling is a scene where Sean J., the Tuohys' prepubescent son (Jae Head), puts Michael through a training regimen to get him ready for football practice. The training montage, which the filmmaker may have intended to be endearing, is not unlike a the kind of commercial Visa runs, ironically, during NFL broadcasts, but one cannot shake the feeling of a white child being the mental superior of a black male on the cusp of manhood. (Tellingly, Sean J. becomes Michael's mouthpiece during his talks with prospective college coaches, often times speaking purely out of his {Sean J's} own interest.) At times like these, the Tuohys seem to be not only Michael's benefactors, but his brains, as well. (A scene where Michael successfully writes the essay needed to make him eligible to play college football is much-needed, but does little to negate what came before.)
Furthermore, Michael shows "Magic Negro" tendencies, i.e., healing aspects of white charactersı lives, sometimes to the point of putting their lives above his own. During his first dinner with the family, Michael sits alone in another room. The family then brings the entire dinner to Michael and says grace before they eat. Later on, Michael uses his right arm to shield Sean J. from severe injury during a car accident. Afterwards, even though Michael's arm is badly cut, his only concern is for Sean J.
The film never does anything to knock the halos off of the Tuohys' heads, a fact which is troubling, when one considers some of the other black characters in the movie: Michael's mother {a recovering drug addict (played by Adriane Lenox) who doesn't want to see Michael, is said to have at least 12 children and who calls Leigh Anne a "good Christian woman"; an investigator (Sharon Morris) who straddles the line between assertive and bullying in questioning Michael with regard to his views on the Tuohys' possible ulterior motive for helping him (Both Sean and Leigh Anne went to Ole Miss, and some people believe to this day that the Tuohys' served as de facto recruiter on behalf of their alma mater. (The film transparently neutralizes this accusation by including a scene in which the Tuohys themselves challenge their own motives.)}; and a crass criminal from Michael's old neighborhood who uses the n-word in conversation, leers at Leigh Anne, speaks about "mother-daughter action" in reference to Michael's new family and calls Leigh Anne a bitch, the latter act resulting in a crowd-pleasing, right-wind leaning tongue lashing from Leigh Anne). It could validly be construed that these characterizations are meant to separate Michael from the other (read: bad) blacks, in an effort to get the audience even more behind him.
Also noteworthy is the how the film deals with black male-white female coupling. The film deals with the elephant in the room of having black boy and a white girl {the Tuohys' teenage daughter, Connie (Lily Collins) under the same roof by having Leigh Anne shame her circle of friends for bringing up the topic, then addressing whatever concerns Connie may have, one-on-one. Of course, Connie has no problem with Michael being in the home (and, of course, there will be no romance between them). (There is one-on-one interaction between Michael and Connie, but it takes place in a library, and it's as simple as Connie leaving a table where her friends (who are all staring cautiously at Michael) are sitting and sitting at a table where only Michael is sitting. Tellingly, Connie calls Michael out for his discomfort ("Don't look at me like that. We study together at home.").}
This treatment of this issue is representative of the film as a whole: complex issues are filtered through simple situations where one-dimensional characters do exactly what the target audience expects them to do, both due to the racial politics at play and the formula of the "underdog triumphs over all" film. (In that vein, New York Times film critic A.O. Scott seems right on the money when he refers to The Blind Side as "a live action version of a Disney film." The approach taken by the filmmakers is working. Two weeks ago, The Blind Side overtook New Moon, the second chapter in the Twilight series (a tween juggernaut) to become the number one film in the country, reportedly through word-of-mouth spread through social networking sites. As of publication, the film has grossed 150 million.)
Perhaps anticipating criticism, the filmmakers end the film with a voice over from Leigh Anne, where the audience is shown a news clipping telling of the murder of one of Michael's childhood friends (one who dropped out of junior college, just as the Tuohys' feared that Michael would do, if he weren't placed in a four-year college), used both as a framing device (The film begins with Leigh Anne's voice explaining how Lawrence Taylor's hit on Joe Theismann led to the increase in the demand for good offensive left tackles to protect "The Blind Side" of right-handed quarterbacks.) and, I believe, as a statement to critics of the film, particularly in the black community, that, even if you don't like Leigh Anne, or the movie, you should respect what the Tuohys did for Michael Oher.
It's hard to argue with that logic, but The Blind Side left a bad taste in my mouth.
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It is the idea of realism that, among other attributes, dogs The Blind Side a film, ironically, based on a true story of Michael Oher, who, with the help of a well-to-do white family, overcame both an impoverished background and scholastic underperformance to attend Ole Miss and be drafted by the Baltimore Ravens, with whom he is currently playing his rookie season.
I have no doubt that most blacks, when seeing the film, will immediately notice how Michael, as played by Quinton Aaron, carries himself. Even accounting for someone who has presumably gone through childhood trauma and has just been placed in a totally different environment would, most likely, not be as quiet and awkward--dare I say it--childlike as Michael is. This portrayal is the central problem (or, depending on your viewpoint, selling point) of the movie. In an attempt to avoid a Precious-like wallow in Michael's problems, and the mass exodus from theaters that would most likely ensue, the filmmakers have limited his past struggles to split-second cutaways and made his countenance that of a wounded puppy. Film critic Scott Tobias notes, in his review of the film for the Onion AV Club, that the Tuohys pick Michael "up from the streets during a rainstorm, like a stray. All thatıs missing are the children pleading, ³Mom, can we keep him?²
The filmmakers then, by default, put a white family (especially matriarch Leigh Anne, played with a finely-tuned feistiness by Sandra Bullock) at the center of a black man's story. The Tuohys, unlike the benefactors in Precious, are not everyday people, at least not financially (Sean, the father, {Tim McGraw, utilizing every wattage of his charisma to bring humor to an underwritten role} is a successful owner of many Taco Bell franchises.), yet Leigh Anne's southern spunk and hospitality are clearly meant to make her easier for a mainstream audience to identify with/root for. (There's a ridiculous, much-talked about scene where Leigh Anne walks onto the practice field and cures Michael's difficulty with learning the game of football {a difficulty the real Oher denies he ever had} by explaining to him that he should protect the follow members of his team like he protects his family. This immediate transformation is explained in the film by the discovery that Michael had a high "protective instinct" score on an 8th grade aptitude test. ) Also troubling is a scene where Sean J., the Tuohys' prepubescent son (Jae Head), puts Michael through a training regimen to get him ready for football practice. The training montage, which the filmmaker may have intended to be endearing, is not unlike a the kind of commercial Visa runs, ironically, during NFL broadcasts, but one cannot shake the feeling of a white child being the mental superior of a black male on the cusp of manhood. (Tellingly, Sean J. becomes Michael's mouthpiece during his talks with prospective college coaches, often times speaking purely out of his {Sean J's} own interest.) At times like these, the Tuohys seem to be not only Michael's benefactors, but his brains, as well. (A scene where Michael successfully writes the essay needed to make him eligible to play college football is much-needed, but does little to negate what came before.)
Furthermore, Michael shows "Magic Negro" tendencies, i.e., healing aspects of white charactersı lives, sometimes to the point of putting their lives above his own. During his first dinner with the family, Michael sits alone in another room. The family then brings the entire dinner to Michael and says grace before they eat. Later on, Michael uses his right arm to shield Sean J. from severe injury during a car accident. Afterwards, even though Michael's arm is badly cut, his only concern is for Sean J.
The film never does anything to knock the halos off of the Tuohys' heads, a fact which is troubling, when one considers some of the other black characters in the movie: Michael's mother {a recovering drug addict (played by Adriane Lenox) who doesn't want to see Michael, is said to have at least 12 children and who calls Leigh Anne a "good Christian woman"; an investigator (Sharon Morris) who straddles the line between assertive and bullying in questioning Michael with regard to his views on the Tuohys' possible ulterior motive for helping him (Both Sean and Leigh Anne went to Ole Miss, and some people believe to this day that the Tuohys' served as de facto recruiter on behalf of their alma mater. (The film transparently neutralizes this accusation by including a scene in which the Tuohys themselves challenge their own motives.)}; and a crass criminal from Michael's old neighborhood who uses the n-word in conversation, leers at Leigh Anne, speaks about "mother-daughter action" in reference to Michael's new family and calls Leigh Anne a bitch, the latter act resulting in a crowd-pleasing, right-wind leaning tongue lashing from Leigh Anne). It could validly be construed that these characterizations are meant to separate Michael from the other (read: bad) blacks, in an effort to get the audience even more behind him.
Also noteworthy is the how the film deals with black male-white female coupling. The film deals with the elephant in the room of having black boy and a white girl {the Tuohys' teenage daughter, Connie (Lily Collins) under the same roof by having Leigh Anne shame her circle of friends for bringing up the topic, then addressing whatever concerns Connie may have, one-on-one. Of course, Connie has no problem with Michael being in the home (and, of course, there will be no romance between them). (There is one-on-one interaction between Michael and Connie, but it takes place in a library, and it's as simple as Connie leaving a table where her friends (who are all staring cautiously at Michael) are sitting and sitting at a table where only Michael is sitting. Tellingly, Connie calls Michael out for his discomfort ("Don't look at me like that. We study together at home.").}
This treatment of this issue is representative of the film as a whole: complex issues are filtered through simple situations where one-dimensional characters do exactly what the target audience expects them to do, both due to the racial politics at play and the formula of the "underdog triumphs over all" film. (In that vein, New York Times film critic A.O. Scott seems right on the money when he refers to The Blind Side as "a live action version of a Disney film." The approach taken by the filmmakers is working. Two weeks ago, The Blind Side overtook New Moon, the second chapter in the Twilight series (a tween juggernaut) to become the number one film in the country, reportedly through word-of-mouth spread through social networking sites. As of publication, the film has grossed 150 million.)
Perhaps anticipating criticism, the filmmakers end the film with a voice over from Leigh Anne, where the audience is shown a news clipping telling of the murder of one of Michael's childhood friends (one who dropped out of junior college, just as the Tuohys' feared that Michael would do, if he weren't placed in a four-year college), used both as a framing device (The film begins with Leigh Anne's voice explaining how Lawrence Taylor's hit on Joe Theismann led to the increase in the demand for good offensive left tackles to protect "The Blind Side" of right-handed quarterbacks.) and, I believe, as a statement to critics of the film, particularly in the black community, that, even if you don't like Leigh Anne, or the movie, you should respect what the Tuohys did for Michael Oher.
It's hard to argue with that logic, but The Blind Side left a bad taste in my mouth.
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