Hairspray (2007)

                The 2007 remake of the 1988 film Hairspray shares many things in common with the original such as characters and basic plot and ideology.  Everything that happens in the film is much the same, and even the idea behind the film maintains its motifs of gender and race.  The way in which it explains these issues, however, is somewhat different.  This film is also just as campy as its predecessor, but not exactly in the same way.  The new Hairspray analyzes its central issues of gender and racism by utilizing the exaggerated and unnatural style that is camp.

                There are certainly many aspects of this film which concern gender, except, unlike in the earlier version, this film contains a more highly sexualized view of femininity.  Of course, appearances are everything as evidenced by the ratted, hairspray-stiffened hair of many of the characters.  Even the idea of hairspray, though, becomes a part of an innuendo when there is an advertisement on the Corny Collins Show and Corny says, “hey baby, you look like you could use a stiff one,” adding a level of sexuality that was not present before concerning hairspray—the product or the film.  The character of Velma Von Tussle, while certainly important in the first film, takes on an even more powerful and ominous role.  Michelle Pfeiffer’s character is meant to be both conniving and alluring even more so than before.  She expects her daughter to be the best dancer and win the Miss Hairspray title in order that she might vicariously relive her own glory days.  Early on in the film, she reveals her true character, singing “I screwed the judges,” proving that she will go to any length in order to get what she wants.  This later proves true when she attempts to seduce Mr. Turnblad, causing he and his wife to get in a fight and almost succeeding in removing Tracy from the Corny Collins Show.  Despite her own promiscuous nature, Velma is unwilling to allow any such behavior on the show.  One of the council members takes a leave of absence for “just nine months” and Velma states that she will not allow hip thrusting or anything of the like.  It seemed interesting, then, that there are some on the show who dress in a way that appears to be much more immodest than anything she would ever allow for.

                There was a great contrast between the two versions of the song “New Girl in Town”.  The initial version played on a regular episode of the show, and the white girls singing it wore modest dresses with high necklines and skirts that went below the knees, while when it was sung on Negro Day, the black girls wore tight, low cut, cleavage-revealing, slit-up-the-thigh dresses which portrayed them in a much more sexual light.  In this way, the audience sees them in a negative light compared to the nice, clean-cut white girls who reveal very little skin.   This very same idea is shown to the audience when Corny sings that the show has “nice white kids who like to lead the way, and once a month we have our Negro Day”.  Velma proves important in demonstrating the issue of racism in the film as well.  She is extremely upset that the same number was performed on Negro Day as before when the “white kids” sang it.  Motormouth Maybelle attempts to defend this decision; the teenagers performing for Negro Day were, after all, the ones to write the song.  This makes no difference to Velma, however, who insists on defending “the white way”.

                The portrayal of racism in the film aligns closely with its campiness.  Tracy exuberantly proclaims “I wish every day were Negro Day!” and later tells her mother, “it’s changing out there—people who are different—their time is coming!”  While these are both certainly encouraging and inspirational statements, they are excessively energetic and unrealistic, albeit sincere.  Penny, too, makes such a statement, telling Seaweed, “I was afraid the colors of our skin would keep us apart”.  Even the fact that Little Inez is voted to be Miss Hairspray at the end of the film is again extremely positive, but also extremely unlikely and almost an overstatement of the film’s purpose.  This aspect was very similar to the original film, as well as the overall idea of camp.

                The film’s focus was the Corny Collins Show which automatically alerts viewers that they are about to see camp.  “He’s Corny!” tells us much more than the name of the show’s host, but also characterizes its content.  In many ways, the campy aspects of the film overshadowed the serious themes such as gender and racism.  As Bayer states in his review, “The film worked at its best when it delved into the subversive humor of the racial idiocy of the 60’s…Unfortunately, there was so much of that, I found it difficult to take the serious parts…well, serious.”  This is well put, especially considering lines such as Travolta’s “knights in armor don’t come any shinier than you” when addressing Walken.  Bayer agrees that parts such as this are funny, but states that the film is “still just an over-the-top comedy which tries to pull off a little too much”.  While the film does address the same issues as the original, it takes camp to a whole new level and detracts from its themes, certainly making it entertaining, but weakening its overall message.

Hairspray (1988)

                John Waters’ 1988 film Hairspray is certainly an amusing and “bouncy” film, portraying the purported favorite pastime of Baltimore teens in the early 1960’s.  The mostly lighthearted film does contain some messages concerning social issues, though, despite its seeming lack of substance.  In the New York Times review of Hairspray, Maslin first criticizes the teenagers in the film, saying that the initial montage portrays them spraying hairspray onto their “teased, empty heads”.  While this certainly may be true (the hairspray appears to serve as an intoxicating social staple, some of the teens appearing to derive pleasure from its use), the main character, Tracy Turnblad, denies the air-headedness that Maslin claims goes hand-in-hand with the hairspray that Tracy utilizes in her rise to fame.  There are set ideas concerning gender and race, both of which Tracy ignores and works against with her self-confidence and certainty in her beliefs which she is able to make public because of her acceptance onto the council of the Corny Collins Show.

                The initial montage of the film shows the members of the show preparing to shoot.  All of these teenagers seem to be self-absorbed and primarily concerned with the superficial.  They are dressed in what I would guess was the height of fashion in the early 60’s (this is an assumption, as I have no way of knowing exactly what styles were truly like at that time).  As is now familiar with the mass media’s current portrayal of the beautiful woman, the viewer notes that it is ideal for women to be skinny and well endowed.  A part of this montage portrays a girl stuffing her bra, and later, another is accused of doing the same thing when one of the show’s employees holds up a sign reading “falsies”.  While it promiscuity is discouraged (Amber Von Tussle spreads rumors that Tracy is “a whore”), young women are still clearly told that they need to be attractive and appealing to the other sex.  While Tracy certainly desires to be this, she rejects the idea that she must be thin in order to achieve it.  Seemingly unhurt by taunts such as “fatso”, Tracy proclaims to her mother that she is “big, blonde, and beautiful” and is proud that all of Baltimore knows it.  This seems to be one particular message that she wishes to convey to the public, and the other is one concerning race.

                The Corny Collins Show has “Negro day” every last Thursday of the month.  While Corny and certain other proponents of the show—especially the “Negro day” dancers—believe that the show should be integrated, the station’s producers and several other characters are against it.  Tracy, a self-proclaimed “integrationalist,” makes it one of her particular goals to end the show’s segregation and works towards doing so by making friends with “Motormouth Maybelle”, her son “Seaweed” and daughter “Little Inez”.  This brave step towards integration is certainly beneficial in the eventual de-segregation of the show, but even the portrayal of such characters has a fault.  Maybelle in particular conforms much too closely with the “mammy” stereotype to be a simple convention.  At first it seems that this is just a part of her personality on the television show, but as the movie goes on, it is clear that this mother figure always acts in the same manner, even rhyming everything she says, making her character a sort of joke.  One final character who forces the audience to take a closer look at the issue of race is Penny’s mother, Mrs. Pingleton.  This woman’s preposterous fear of black people is showcased in her  behavior when she searches for her daughter in a black neighborhood when she behaves as if every person is a criminal, and screams when she sees a black police officer.  In addition to this, Penny’s mother hires a psychiatrist to “cure” Penny of her attraction to Seaweed and threatens the use of shock therapy, barring her bedroom as if she requires legitimate psychiatric treatment.

                While Hairspray is meant to be entertaining and pleasant, Maslin exaggerates in her statement that “assiduously doing the Mashed Potato is these kids’ most thoughtful endeavor”.  Tracy Turnblad proves this wrong in her defiance of prevailing social norms concerning gender and race.  Her positive body image and drive for the de-segregation of the Corny Collins Show, along with the rest of Baltimore show that her head is full of more than hair product.  The message that this film conveys is one that is useful in all times, and is able to effectively reach even more audiences because of its simplicity.  Maslin is correct in her assertion that “the actors are best when they avoid exaggeration and remain weirdly sincere”, but it is this sincerity which lends the film a sense of credibility which it might not otherwise have.  Despite its simple and often “corny” nature, Hairspray is a film that makes a powerful social critique, and does so in a positive way without excessive violence or conflict.

Do the Right Thing

                Spike Lee’s film Do the Right Thing is an examination of race, a dominant theme in his films.  This movie does not take sides; it provides an objective view of a black Brooklyn neighborhood and the goings-on of a hot, summer day.  This is not to say that there are no sides taken within the film.  As Roger Ebert notes in his review, “some of the characters are sympathetic and others are hateful,” and he goes on to rightly validate this characteristic, asking the reader, “Isn’t that the way it is in America today?”  Lee’s characters are realistic and have their own ideologies, but his film remains objective overall, simply allowing the viewer to watch as events unfold and as characters’ biases and conflicts cause tensions to build, leading to the final, striking event that Ebert says, “had a shattering effect precisely because I was not expecting it”.  Lee uses several different methods in order to portray different ideologies concerning race.  He is able to do this through dialogue, camera shots, allusions relating to recent events of the time, and his use of music.

                One of the earlier discussions concerning race in the film takes place between Mookie and Pino, the racist son of Sal, an Italian-American pizzeria owner.  Mookie asks Pino who some of his favorite celebrities are, and Pino responds with Magic Johnson, Eddie Murphy, and Prince.  When Mookie tells Pino that he thinks he secretly wants to be black, Pino denies it, saying that they’re not black, they’re “more than black,” lamely attempting to make a distinction in order to justify his own opinions concerning race.  Another local minority has a different view concerning race distinctions.  When confronted by the riot who has just burned down Sal’s Famous Pizzeria at the end of the film, the Korean shopkeeper protests, “I black...we same,”  making a distinction between whites and blacks, but blurring the racial border between himself and his African-American neighbors.

                Lee expertly uses different shots to catch the viewer’s attention and bring to mind certain different ideas.  He uses the idea of foreground and background when Sal and Buggin Out are fighting about the “Italian-Americans Only” Wall of Fame in the pizzeria.  The fight is the focus, but the shot also shows Smiley in the background holding up his pictures of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X up to the window, reminding the viewer that the issue at hand is most certainly that of racism.  At one point during the middle of the film, there are several consecutive shots of characters staring straight into the camera each angrily uttering a string of racial slurs.  This particular sequence is another reminder of the film’s theme, but also brings the viewer into the film.  It feels as if each character is staring at the audience, directing all of their aggression and hatred towards the unsuspecting viewers.  This is perhaps one of the most effective filming techniques in the film, because as Ebert says of the film, it “requires you to decide what you think about it”.  A final type of shot that I found very interesting was used at the beginning of the final conflict.  Buggin Out and Radio Raheem come into the pizzeria and start a fight with Sal and during the fight, the camera is never straight, but is tilted to the side, creating a chaotic and unsettled feel which complements the fight.

Another method that Lee uses to address issues of racism is through allusions to recent events at the time the film was released.  References to such difficult and tragic events that were still quite fresh in the viewers’ minds must have been especially poignant, further adding to the film’s power.  At one point in the film, Mookie asks to speak with Sal and they go outside of the pizzeria, in front of a brick wall with some graffiti on it.  Mookie asks Sal to leave his sister, Jade, alone, because he does not appreciate the way that he looks at her and talks to her.  After the argument is over, both men leave, but the camera is still focused on the wall and the viewer is now able to see the graffiti that reads “Tawana told the truth,” a chilling reminder to the audience of the Tawana Brown rape trial as well as a justification for Mookie’s fears about his sister.  One of the final scenes, the climax of the film, contains two such allusions.  When police officers approach the crowd, the rioters chant “Howard Beach,” suggesting that they are displacing the murderous acts of Italian-Americans onto their local Italian-American restaurant owner in order to take revenge.  Soon after this chant, the police, who are unable to convince the mob to disperse, say that they will have to take more dire measures.  The firefighters who are working to put out the fire in the pizzeria, abandon this task to help the police, turning their hoses on the rioters.  One of the men shouts something about “Birmingham,” confirming in the viewer’s mind that Lee intended for this act to serve as a reminder of the viewer of identical crowd control tactics used by police previously, during the civil rights movement.

A final tactic that Lee uses is sound.  Throughout the entire movie, the audience hears Public Enemy’s “Fight the Power” played in various situations.  At the very beginning, Tina dances angrily and somewhat provocatively to the song, immediately calling our attention to its message.  Later, Radio Raheem gets in a more or less nonverbal argument with local Hispanic neighbors through music when each takes turns turning up their music louder and louder as if to assert their dominance.  Radio Raheem listens to nothing but Public Enemy because, as he says, that is all he likes.  The importance of black artists in music is brought to light as well when Mr. Señor Lovedaddy lists a number of black musical artists and thanks them “for making our lives just a little blacker”.  Lee clearly wants the viewer to know that the assertion of the black voice is important in the film.  After the mob has burned down the pizzeria, the camera pans through the ruin on the inside and, for a moment, focuses on Radio Raheem’s broken and charred boom box.  At this very moment, “Fight the Power” begins to play yet again, as if from the radio, but at this point it is extra-diegetic instead and reminds us that in a way, Radio Raheem’s voice can still be heard although he is now dead.  The camera then moves over to focus on Smiley, who tacks one of his pictures of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X to the destroyed Wall of Fame, asserting that their voices, too, can still be heard although they have both been assassinated.

Lee brings to light the issue of racism through his expert cinematography and relation to the audience in the time which the movie was made.  The film calls the audience to think about its message, and hopefully understand better the problem with racism.  This film makes it easier for more viewers to identify with because everyone in the film whether white, black, Hispanic, or Asian, experiences negative racist sentiments.  Lee does not tell the audience what to think, but rather asks that they simply do think.  Ebert states beautifully, “anyone who leaves the movie with more intolerance than they walked in with wasn’t paying attention”.  Lee calls viewers to mindfulness and consideration in recognition that racism is an ongoing social issue which calls for the attention of all.

Shaft (2000)

                Anyone familiar with the original 1971 Shaft would immediately recognize the soundtrack behind the opening credits and bring certain expectations to their viewing experience of the film.  For those who are looking for the same, streetwise, no-nonsense detective, the movie is satisfying.  As Jeffry Anderson says in his review, “This is the movie where Shaft (Jackson) is a bad mutha (hush your mouth!!!) and can kick any butt in the room”.  However, for those expecting another film critiquing racism, this film came up short.

                While it is certainly true that racism is central to the film because the crime in question was committed by an angry bigot in retaliation for a black man embarrassing him in front of his friends, there are far less subtle hints that I noticed which commented on racism, such as the taxi example in the earlier Shaft.  Singleton certainly had the opportunity to go even further in his film’s comment on racism in that this film not only placed blacks in the role of minority, but Hispanics as well, creating what seemed to be a minority majority in the racial makeup of characters.  One would think that this would allow for an even more complex discourse on race, but unfortunately Singleton decide not to take advantage of it.  This is not to say that there is absolutely no comment on racism, but that after the initial scenes concerning the hate crime, it is not as heavily disputed as it may have been.  There was one other moment which stood out to me concerning a comment on the difference in socio-economic status between whites and the minorities in the film.  This moment takes place when Peoples, a Hispanic drug dealer and gangster, asks that Wade pay him back for his services by gaining him upscale customers.  The viewers are well aware of Wade’s wealth, as well as his strong racist sentiments, which confirm that Peoples wamts wealthy white customers to expand his business.  This desire was striking because of its great importance to him.

                Aside from the film’s somewhat unsatisfactory dealings with racism, it was extremely satisfactory as an action film.  I would have to agree with Anderson’s assertion that Jackson’s Shaft exceeds Roundtree’s in his ability to kick butt.  Roundtree’s character is a good shot, but he also takes a bullet himself, whereas Jackson’s character kills many more people, rarely missing his mark, and never receives blows himself.  Concerning the sexual prowess of the two characters, Jackson immediately appears to exhibit this; the opening credits show a kind of sex scene juxtaposed with images of guns, bullets, police badges, and of course, Shaft, decked out in sunglasses and a well-fitting leather jacket.  He is also directly solicited by a friend of his after a surprise party held in his honor.  Roundtree’s Shaft is even more of a womanizer, as solidified by the fact that his character in the remake goes home with not only one, but two women after the party.

                There are many subtle differences between the two films.  The opening scenes and credits certainly are one of these.  As I said, the second film begins with the juxtaposition of several different images as opposed to the beginning of the first Shaft which shows him walking through the streets of New York, confident and cool.  This scene is mirrored at two other points during the remake.  After punching Wade and leaving the crime scene near the beginning of the film, Shaft walks the wrong way down the middle of a two-lane, one-way street, showing both his self-assurance, and his willingness to break the rules.  Also, at the very end of the film (which, like the beginning, prominently utilizes the original theme music), the camera follows the car that Shaft is in through the city which is an interesting parallel to the 1971 film’s first scene.

                One final difference which incorporates both the racial issues and action in the film is the fact that this new Shaft is initially a police officer, working directly with the law, before he decides to follow in his uncle’s footsteps as a private investigator.  After he quits his job, Jackson’s Shaft ruefully tells Roundtree’s that he is “too black for the uniform, too blue for the brothers.”  He knows how to work with people of both races, but still feels the difficulty of his own place in society  because of this understanding.  While I found this line to be especially powerful, I think it is very important to consider Anderson’s statement: “While it's refreshing to see a film openly discuss race, I wonder if an action film is the place to do it?”  Shaft does provoke one to consider racism, but the viewer is distracted from this theme by the sex, action, and violence onscreen.  Perhaps it would be best for directors to choose between moral messages and intense action.

Shaft (1971)

                “Who’s the black private dick who’s a sex machine to all the chicks?...Shaft!”  The opening lyric of Gordon Parks’ Shaft certainly sets the viewer up with high expectations for the film’s hero.  This film, the second in a string of popular blaxploitation films from the early 70’s, allowed African Americans of the time to see themselves in a new light.  Prior to the release of Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song, it was rare for one to see a black actor in a prominent role.  As Apollo Movie Guide’s review states, it was “an era when portrayals of blacks regularly consisted of servants and sidekicks”, adhering to the “mammy”, “coon and “Uncle Tom” stereotypes that been prevalent in the past.  Shaft, then, is revolutionary, not only for film itself, but also among its blaxploitative peers.  Blaxploitation places blacks in the primary roles of a film, if not the majority of roles, but it still generally provides a negative portrayal of its protagonists.  In most such films, the protagonists are drug dealers, gang bangers, and pimps.  While Shaft also has such a portrayal in Bumpy Jonas, the gangster who hires Private Investigator John Shaft to retrieve his kidnapped daughter, Shaft is the main character and is notably on the right side of the law, among his many other attributes.

                One of the first things that the viewer learns about Shaft is that he is savvy in almost every sense of the word.  Not only does he dress sharply (or what I would assume to be sharply from my limited knowledge of 70’s fashion), but he is friendly with people throughout the city including a man at the newspaper stand, one in the shoe shine parlor, and even a police lieutenant who gets in contact with him in order to ask for help.  His connections and obvious knowledge of his surroundings help the viewer to realize exactly what kind of man he is.  Shortly after the opening scenes, Shaft meets with gangster Bumpy Jonas to discuss a job.  The fact that a person in a position of so much power comes specifically to Shaft further alerts us of his reputation.  Bumpy makes a point of choosing Shaft, and mentions the fact that he is black as a particular qualification.  This again brings to mind one of the themes of the film.  The genre of blaxploitation itself, of course addresses racism, and elements such as this remind the viewer of its prevalence and importance, especially at the time the films were made.  Another such moment in Shaft, as addressed by Baadasssss Cinema, occurs when Shaft attempts to hail a taxi.  The cab stops for him, but pulls forward to accept a white fare instead, leaving Shaft to wait for the next taxi to come by.  According to an interviewee in Baadasssss Cinema, this moment is one which truly helps black audience members to identify with Shaft because they, too, have experienced such discrimination.

                In addition to Shaft’s many professional attributes, he is also an enviable person.  His apparent good looks earn him one bedmate (and probably many more) in addition to the woman who appears to be his steady girlfriend.  His self-exalted sexual prowess further contributes to the interesting character.  In fact, the name “Shaft” itself certainly seems to refer to this.  In addition to this aspect of his machismo, Shaft is tough.  After he is shot in his right shoulder and sprains his wrist on the same side, Shaft continues to use the hand, dialing and using a phone, as if nothing had happened.  The average person, of course, would completely avoid the movement of their arm if that had happened to them, and whether it was an oversight on the part of the film’s staff or not, Shaft pulls through his pain and immediately leaves to continue work on his assignment.  Despite the highly admirable portrayal of Shaft, Elspeth Haughton comments in her review that “Although Parks dispels film conventions of blacks as miscreants, he simultaneously underlines other stereotypes like the sanctimonious cop, flamboyant queer bartender, and stolid suit-wearing Italians.  While Parks was most likely focused on the portrayal of blacks in the film, it is important to recognize that he may have overlooked his own portrayals.  Whether Parks intended to stereotype others in order to further exalt Shaft or not, he somewhat hypocritically succeeds in upholding stereotypes for other minority groups.

                One other possible criticism in Shaft that was noted in the review was the pace.  It seems that Parks spent a bit more time on his initial portrayal of the protagonist than on the development of the plotline.  The beginning of the film moves slowly; the audience is unaware of who exactly the bad guy is for quite some time.  Unlike Sergio Leone’s use of this tactic in Once Upon a Time in the West, Parks is unsuccessful in drawing the viewer into the film by suspense.  It is not until the montage sequence of Shaft’s inquiries into the whereabouts of Ben Buford that the viewer engages in the film.  Once the audience has trudged through all of the introductions, though, the film is action-packed.  From Shaft’s initial meeting with Buford straight through to the end, the film draws the viewer in, keeping them on the edges of their seats, waiting to see what Shaft will do next.  Perhaps the most effective filming technique that Parks uses is his expert utilization of parallel editing at the very end.  The camera cuts back and forth between Shaft, members of Buford’s gang, and the Italian mobsters.  This alerts the audience of what is taking place, as well as making their hearts race with the sheer speed and suspense of the scene.

                “Who’s the cat that won’t cop out when there’s danger all about?”  By the end of the film, if any member of the audience had any doubts, they know without question that the answer to this is Shaft.  There is no doubt at all that Shaft is to be looked up to and respected, making this film perhaps the best blaxploitation film for its extremely positive portrayal.  He defies stereotypes and should be looked up to.  Parks brings something new to the theater for black audiences to enjoy and aspire to, something that they never had before this genre came to be.

Faat Kine

            I have to start with a confession.  When I first learned that we would be watching a Senegalese film, I was happy with the prospect of learning something about another culture, but truly had no idea where in the world Senegal was.  Granted, I wouldn’t say I have the best knowledge of geography, but I didn’t even know that the small country was in Africa, let alone one that had been colonized by the French and liberated fifty years ago.  All of these facts are important to know when considering the film Faat Kine.  My confession continues.  After learning that Senegal is, in fact, in Africa, and reading “Technological Paternalism”, I expected this film to be, well, primitive.  That is not to say that I expected something uncivilized or unsophisticated, but I did not count on methods of storytelling and filmmaking conventions that are similar to what I am accustomed to.  I am sorry to say that I am guilty of having a narrow perception, a “single story”—exactly that which Chimamanda Adichie cautions against. 

Since I have now viewed the film, I understand that while certain things may be a bit different (such as the pace and method of showing flashbacks), the film was not much different than many other films which I have become used to.  In fact, while the pace was certainly somewhat slow, it was not much different in this respect than some older American films (i.e. North by Northwest and Once Upon a Time in the West).  In addition, the views represented are not quite as traditional as I would have expected.  Although such themes are prevalent in many mainstream films, I was a bit surprised by the conversations between early-middle-aged women concerning casual sex, and Kine’s consistent vulgar speech which was pointed out on multiple occasions by other characters.  It is most likely a continuation of my “single story” of Africa, but I was expecting something more along the lines of Kine’s father’s opinion concerning such topics.  While the storyline itself is not exactly riveting, director Ousmane Sembène effectively presents the message and representations of characters in respect to Senegalese history.

According to the Associated Content review of Faat Kine, “Sembène has mentioned himself that ‘Africa can’t develop without the participation of her women.’”  Kine serves as a powerful representation of a strong African woman in the film.  She has been impregnated and abandoned by two different men, and subsequently is forced to make her way in the world alone and raise her two children single-handedly.  Her power is exhibited through her management position at the Total gas station and also her dominant role in her own home.  I disagree with the idea that, as stated in the New York Times review, her children “get the better of her at home” and that “she lives in such fear of her mother”.  These individuals are certainly both influences and challenges, but her financial responsibility for them signifies their dependency on her for protection and leadership.

One of the prevailing themes in the film is the cultural differences of religion, age, and politics.  The opposition between Muslims and Catholics is very important because it is the initial problem preventing Kine and Jean from marrying.  Sembène also shows this when a Muslim customer asks for a place to pray at the gas station and gives a disparaging glance to the crucifix around the neck of the gas station attendant who assists him.  The issue of age and values ties into the political one; colonial Africa prescribes to the values held by the older generation of Kine’s parents (especially her father) and post-colonial Africa is more influenced by its past colonizers ideologically than physically, and affects the younger generation of her children.  Kine, who was born in the year that Senegal gained independence from France, belongs to a sort of middle-generation which holds onto some colonial understandings of social oppression, but also has begun to embrace the international influences of neo-colonialism; Kine has somewhat loose morals which cause problems with her parents, but is unwilling to accept foreign money at her gas station, representing Senegal’s old mistrust for its European oppressors.  One of the final scenes in the film demonstrates Kine’s influences on her children as a powerful female figure as well as the sentiments of the new generation.  When Kine’s son Djib confronts his and his sister Aby’s fathers, he denies the power of the paternalistic Africa of old, and embraces the matriarchy that has produced him, the society of women that will help to develop the new Africa.

The Searchers

            John Ford’s The Searchers is an engaging, action-packed film which the New York Times review calls “a rip-snorting Western, as brashly entertaining as they come”.  I would have to agree with this assessment.  Ford’s use of the typical Western-style narrative coupled with Indian battle scenes and beautiful scenery make for a riveting experience of Hollywood’s old west.  The on-site shots of Monument Valley were not only realistic what with dust flying and establishing shots showing large expanses of hills and desert, but also gave the viewer a sense of the experiences of the characters who took it upon themselves to travel across these expanses in order to achieve their respective goals of revenge (for John Wayne’s character Ethan Edwards) and finding Debbie (for Jeffrey Hunter’s character Martin Pawley).  The one unfortunate aspect of shooting was obviously fake scenery, as noted by the New York Times as well.  I found this to be most noticeable in the backdrop of the campfire scene when Ethan kills Mr. Futterman.  In-studio shooting not only detracted visually, but aurally as well.  I cannot be entirely sure, but at some points when the shooting was clearly in-studio, there was an unfitting echoing quality to the sound.  This may have been due to the use of synchronous sound when shooting and the lack of technology available for audio recordings (as well as the creation of realistic set) in the early 1950’s.  Aside from these faults, the other technical aspects of the film appear to have been good, or at least adequate for the time.

            John Wayne’s portrayal of the brusque Ethan Edwards fits well into the typical persona of the leading character of a Western.  His go-it-alone attitude and persistence in his goals certainly make him an admirable character, while his insistence on seeking out revenge for the kidnapping of his nieces and the murder of his brother’s family present a character flaw which presents some difficulties in his interactions with other characters throughout the film.  At the beginning of the film, Ethan returns home after many years’ absence.  He does not seem to have a complete understanding of himself; he denies the surrender of the Confederate Army by refusing to ever surrender himself.  His anger and blood thirst for his nieces’ captors leaves him with very little true care for the welfare of himself or others, rather he is focused on his sole goal of revenge which is most likely a manifestation of his racist sentiments and loss of himself.  Debbie is the only blood relative that he has left after Chief Scar’s tribe kills the rest of the Edwards family.  Because he has lost himself, he needs to find Debbie in order to find a missing piece of himself, perhaps one that even he is unaware of.  When he eventually does find Debbie, and (to the surprise of Martin and the audience), takes her into his arms rather than killing her, he embraces not only his niece but a lost piece of himself, one that was buried deep under his many years of warring and revenge-seeking.

            In addition to Ethan’s need to find himself and his desire for vengeance, his blood thirst for the Indians stems from strong racist sentiments.  For much of the film, Native Americans are portrayed as the subhuman, bloodthirsty savages that one might expect in a Western film.  This is closely paralleled with Ethan’s understanding of them.  We see his hatred most clearly in two specific instances.  We learn early on that Martin is part Cherokee and although Ethan was the one who discovered him as a child, and Martin was raised by Ethan’s brother, Ethan seems to despise Martin and attempts to disconnect himself from him in all ways possible, refusing to allow Martin to call him “uncle”.  The second instance is that of Debbie.  On multiple occasions, Ethan proposes that they invade the Indian camp and simply massacre it, ignoring the fact that it is likely Debbie would be killed.  He believes that since she has become one of the Commanches, she is more likely better dead than living as an Indian.  Although certainly prevalent in the film, there is some sympathy shown, such as when Martin questions the morality of the killing of Native Americans, wondering why the cavalry needed to kill Look when she had done nothing wrong.  This pro-Indian moment in the film was intriguing because it goes against the typical portrayal of such issues.

            The New York Times review states that there is another fault in addition to that of in-studio shots.  It states that, “Episode is piled upon episode, climax upon climax and corpse upon corpse until the whole thing appears to be taking a couple of turns around the course”.  It is true that this can become tiring, but when one considers that this is the mark of an epic journey (for me, The Odyssey came to mind when I read this criticism), rather than the tireless repetition of bloody battle sequences, the story’s continuation is more a strength in relation to Ethan’s persistence than a weakness.

            Finally, I want to make note of something interesting that I learned after viewing the movie.  At the end of the film, I particularly noticed that John Wayne is framed in the doorway of the house, the viewer looking out at him standing on the porch, seemingly reluctant to enter.  This is a further representation of his character, and especially of the typical protagonist in a Western.  Apparently, this shot represents Ethan as an individualist, still rebelling against the constraints of society as a loner, while those inside of the house are collectivists, valuing community and interdependence (I wish I could claim credit for this, but my friend mentioned it to me when we were talking about the film, and I thought it was noteworthy).  I think that it is interesting that the sense of community is returned to the collectivists by the efforts of the individualist, and also Ford’s suggestion that we, too, are collectivists because of our placement looking from the inside out.