James L. Brooks "As Good As it Gets" stars Jack Nicholson as the obsessive-compulsive anti-social misanthrope, Helen Hunt as the single mother he falls in love with, and Greg Kinnear as his homosexual neighbor. The film uses clever and realistic dialogue to explore the boundaries of the changing relationships between these three characters. It is a dynamic look at our feelings about mental illness and relationships.
The film presents a interesting challenge for observation in terms of gender and sexuality, hence why we're looking at it here. First off, it has a gay character, something that in and of itself is unusual (although, perhaps it ought not to be, but that's a discussion for another time.) It is a love story, yes, but certainly a non-traditional one. The externalities of the characters make this true.
Let's look at the gay character, Simon, first. The film does certain disservices here. First, the character has effeminate qualities that we traditionally associate with gays. The film fails to break these stereotypes. The character is an artist, and there is a certain expectation culturally for gay individuals to hold more creative jobs. He is also afraid of confrontation and very sensitive, other traits commonly associated with gay males.
There are some positives to how his character is portrayed, however. We learn through the course of the film that his homosexuality has caused rifts between him and his parents, something that many if not most members of the gay community can relate to. Some of the character's submissive traits come into better light here; an audience can implicate the fractured relationship with his father instead of his sexuality. Also, apart from the familial problems that are a fallout from this, he is arguably the most mentally stable character of the group. He doesn't have any of Melvin's (Nicholson) anti social traits, or his obsessive-compulsiveness. Nor does he really have Carol's incessant desire to define herself in terms of others, from her son to the (non-existent) boyfriend.
The character arc of Simon is a complex and dynamic one. He comes to terms with many of his familial issues, and the assault that leaves him undesirous in artistic endeavor is largely resolved. Perhaps the greatest struggle that a heterosexual majority has in understanding a homosexual minority is that they aren't a monolithic entity; a gay individual has thoughts, feelings, desires, etc. just like a straight person. Hence, the more film can display gay characters as real thinking, feeling, complex human beings, the more relevant it becomes to societal relationships. The homosexual aspect of Simon's character isn't dismissed, rather, it is shown as part of who he is. But it is also just part, he is many other things, and there are many events that shape this. The film does well in portraying this, making it an overall positive for how gays are depicted in film.
The gender roles that individuals play in the film deserve perhaps a harsher tone. Out of the main characters, only one is female, and her role is in many ways the typical damsel in distress. Because of her financial situation and her son who has huge medical needs, she is floundering. Through a magnanimous grant, she is given healthcare for her son. This is the impetus for much of the relationship between her and Jack Nicholson's character, Melvin. It is through this that he pursues a relationship.
But even this is more complex than a first glance gives it. She doesn't accept it and then fall for him, rather, she is conflicted about the gift, ultimately deciding to accept it but with huge reservations. She is still repulsed by Melvin, and here we see something that many films lack: complex female characters who aren't simply waiting for men to solve their problems.
Female sexuality plays a role here too: her relationship is pursued partially under protest. Her sexuality isn't merely given as a reward to Melvin for his benevolent gestures, as so often happens in film. Instead, a relationship is slowly pursued as she begins to see him as more human. It grows little by little, rather than the sort of hokey "love at first sight" that typifies most relationships in film. The audience is given, over time, reasons to believe that she would be attracted to him. Granted, not all of these are what we would call good reasons, but they interplay in her character in a believable way. One of the reasons she pursues the relationship, or rather, allows herself to be pursued (a problem in and of itself which we'll address in a moment) is that she has a strong desire simply to be with someone, anyone. While we cluck our tongues at this poor decision, we as an audience nonetheless sympathize, or perhaps even empathize, with the decision. It is something common in relationships, and because it adequately reflects reality, even this is a net positive for the film's depictions of gender and relationships.
Melvin's character is perhaps the most complex. Although he is seemingly our protagonist, and is definitely the character that has the most screen time, he is a deeply flawed individual. I don't doubt that many watchers of this film will actually hate his character. He isn't the prototypical hero of the story; rather, he is a flawed character who has some redeeming qualities who struggles and muddles through the conflicts of the film. Here, too, we see positives for gender portrayal: no longer do we have a powerful male character who succeeds because of his great capability, while the woman is powerless. No, he must be helped into every accomplishment by others, requiring advice and assistance from those around him for every inch that he gets. Here too is a more relatable male character. Males are not simply powerful heroes who struggle through conflict but ultimately succeed in every aspect, rather, they, as is true of everyone, are complex and non-monolithic, with individual thoughts, feelings, and capabilities.
Perhaps the biggest failing of the film in terms of gender and sexuality is how it portrays the arc of the relationship between Melvin and Carol. Melvin is the pursuer, and Carol is the pursued. Although it is done in many non-traditional ways, the end result is the Hollywood ending: guy gets girl. Never is Carol the pursuer, always the pursued. And Melvin, for all his failings and caustic personality traits, nonetheless gets the object of his desire. Sure, this isn't an unequivocal victory: he has to change some of his personality traits, and it is suggested that this will continue even after the film's end. But the guy does get the girl. Carol, for all her complexity, manages to fall for him (although with reservations.)
Although this is the Hollywood ending, it has more believability than most. First, the changing arcs of Carol and Melvin's characters have believable intersections. In many ways, they are "right for each other." And we can see their individual perspectives about relationships come into play. Melvin has the narcissistic belief in the accuracy of his own choices, hence, if he is attracted to Carol, he believes that he ought to be in a relationship with her. For Carol's part, her need to be part of a relationship causes her to ignore many warning signs and pursue the only relationship option that is viable for her.
Simon, however, is paired with no one. The film fails to capitalize on the opportunity to show a complex homosexual relationship, one that has all the trappings and failings of a heterosexual one. This demonstrates that while American audiences are ready for homosexual characters, a homosexual relationship that is complex and complicated is still more difficult to swallow.
Nevertheless, for all its complexity and nuance, and despite its many failings, As Good As it Gets becomes a net positive in terms of gender portrayal and sexuality.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Real Men Club
David Fincher's "Fight Club" is a post-modern envisioning of economic and cultural ennui, first and foremost. It delves deeply into the psyche of its protagonist, adeptly demonstrating his neuroses driven by a loss of purpose and identity.
Identity is where the purpose of this blog comes in. After all, as we previously discussed, the topics of this blog are all about a search for identity, in terms of external labeling and in terms of self-identification.
The film is a multi-layered process of identification, and to understand how these layers interact and create what is, in fact, an American identity crisis, we have to peel them away, one by one.
The film is quit obviously a critique of consumerism. Our narrator identifies himself in terms of what he buys; he is addicted to the IKEA catalog and buying things that, according to his interpretation, fit his personality. What sort of end table am I? He wonders. While doing this, though, he simultaneously despises the motivations that bring him there. He is doing a job that he hates in order to afford these things. What comes as a sort of psychotic break for him attracts many to him who are also discontent. To quote Emerson, "things are in the saddle, and ride mankind." (Emphasis mine.)
These malcontents seem to come from the economic service class; they are waiters, policemen, security guards, bartenders, chauffers, delivery men, etc. They too are caught in a cycle of identifying themselves in terms of their economic power, and hence are forced to consider themselves lesser. Here the film makes a strong argument against typical class distinctions; these individuals are in no way lesser; they are capable and strong, merely lost in an economic shuffle that has dealt them a poor hand. In searching for a fight against the system, they are searching in fact, not for combat, but for a sense of identity and purpose other than the one they have been given.
It seems salient here to mention that the resonance of the film here is particularly a lower class one. Part of the film's power comes in that appeal to the lower class, and bucks the traditional assumption (and what has been a part of western culture for centuries) that people are satisfied with their economic stations in life. However, it does this in a less than conventional way. They aren't seeking wealth or things, rather, they are eschewing the traditional (or at least, since the 1950's) American perspective that the things we own define us. They are opting out of the consumerist system, and searching for a different identifier.
In so doing, we as an audience to understand the film must peel back another layer of identification and film analysis, and that is the role that gender plays into this identity. In one particularly iconic scene, a male underwear model is depicted in an advertisement. The model is nearly nude, his long taut muscles taking up the height of the picture. His face bears a vacant and listless expression, one that avoids looking at the camera. The narrator asks Tyler Durden "Is that what men are supposed to look like?" The jab is obviously at a key factor of the consumerist culture: it gives a sense of identity by depicting unrealistic (and highly transigent) senses of self.
After all, the consumerist culture has to persuade purchasers by some form or another. Here, the technique demonstrated is a common one (although, due to the influx of feminism in the past few decades, we are much more aware of it when used towards women.) The idea is to give the viewer some sense of inadequacy in his or her sense of identity. A theoretical rich, straight male might see an advertisement and subconsciously say, "I am not rich enough! I need to look more rich! I am not straight enough! I need to appear more straight! I am not male enough! I must appear more male!" The unspoken narrative might be characterized thus: buy X product and you will be a REAL (man, straight, rich, cool.)
Here the idea is to prey on a crisis of gender as sense of identity. Here, the violence of the characters is seen for what it really is: gender performance. Violence and combat are traditionally male characteristics, ones that display a sense of hyper-masculinity. So an individual turns from consumerism which is giving an unsatisfactory sense of maleness (after all, no matter what one buys, there will always be further products that decry your maleness, leaving one feeling eternally inadequately male) to the violence which will make him confident in his sense of male identity.
Ultimately here the film does a disservice: while adequately critiquing the problems with consumerism on identity, particularly in terms of gender, it replaces it with something equally inadequate, that is, using violence. Case in point: many "fight clubs" sprung up around the country in response to this film, easily demonstrating that its glorification of violence is alive and well in this culture. It perpetuates the idea that "maleness" can be had through combat and body image, a hostile message to say the least.
Here we can peel back another layer by asking the question, before the consumerist and hyper-violent culture, where did sense of gender identity come from? We can introspect our way back in time and realize without the deluge of advertisements and film that we are prey to now, our first example of gender comes from our parents. So there's a psychological element at play here: without parental guidance, we have a culture that will define self in terms of external definitions. Here, the film provides a subtle but nonetheless evocative critique: both the narrator and Tyler Durden define their fathers in harsh terms. Both are seen to inadequately give direction in terms of identity. This critique is germane to the purposes of this blog as the suggestion to escape the hostile consumerist and hyper-violent culture is in terms of family dynamics. An identity crisis can have its roots in incapable parental structures, ergo, a cultural identity crisis that the film analyzes can have its roots in cultural parental structures.
Finally, for our last layer, we go back to where we began: economics. The film is, as Marx might opine, a "history of class struggles." Without that, all other disservices disappear. There is no hyper violence, as the economic failures don't force us into that role. Family problems are less prevalent, since the sense of identity isn't in crisis from economic issues. Ultimately, the self-determinism that the protagonist desperately cries out for is an economic one: with sufficient economic capacity, and a flattening of the economic super-structure, his destiny becomes his own. There is no sense of powerlessness or gender crisis because the class crisis is non-existent. He is free to explore the other avenues, no longer a wage slave. He can determine from where he gets his sense of identity, no longer forced into an economic labyrinth of consume and regret.
The film's popularity comes largely from the fact that it tells a relevant story: that of search for gender and class identity. Although the answers it provides are largely lacking, it nonetheless performs a great good in bringing this issues to light.
Identity is where the purpose of this blog comes in. After all, as we previously discussed, the topics of this blog are all about a search for identity, in terms of external labeling and in terms of self-identification.
The film is a multi-layered process of identification, and to understand how these layers interact and create what is, in fact, an American identity crisis, we have to peel them away, one by one.
The film is quit obviously a critique of consumerism. Our narrator identifies himself in terms of what he buys; he is addicted to the IKEA catalog and buying things that, according to his interpretation, fit his personality. What sort of end table am I? He wonders. While doing this, though, he simultaneously despises the motivations that bring him there. He is doing a job that he hates in order to afford these things. What comes as a sort of psychotic break for him attracts many to him who are also discontent. To quote Emerson, "things are in the saddle, and ride mankind." (Emphasis mine.)
These malcontents seem to come from the economic service class; they are waiters, policemen, security guards, bartenders, chauffers, delivery men, etc. They too are caught in a cycle of identifying themselves in terms of their economic power, and hence are forced to consider themselves lesser. Here the film makes a strong argument against typical class distinctions; these individuals are in no way lesser; they are capable and strong, merely lost in an economic shuffle that has dealt them a poor hand. In searching for a fight against the system, they are searching in fact, not for combat, but for a sense of identity and purpose other than the one they have been given.
It seems salient here to mention that the resonance of the film here is particularly a lower class one. Part of the film's power comes in that appeal to the lower class, and bucks the traditional assumption (and what has been a part of western culture for centuries) that people are satisfied with their economic stations in life. However, it does this in a less than conventional way. They aren't seeking wealth or things, rather, they are eschewing the traditional (or at least, since the 1950's) American perspective that the things we own define us. They are opting out of the consumerist system, and searching for a different identifier.
In so doing, we as an audience to understand the film must peel back another layer of identification and film analysis, and that is the role that gender plays into this identity. In one particularly iconic scene, a male underwear model is depicted in an advertisement. The model is nearly nude, his long taut muscles taking up the height of the picture. His face bears a vacant and listless expression, one that avoids looking at the camera. The narrator asks Tyler Durden "Is that what men are supposed to look like?" The jab is obviously at a key factor of the consumerist culture: it gives a sense of identity by depicting unrealistic (and highly transigent) senses of self.
After all, the consumerist culture has to persuade purchasers by some form or another. Here, the technique demonstrated is a common one (although, due to the influx of feminism in the past few decades, we are much more aware of it when used towards women.) The idea is to give the viewer some sense of inadequacy in his or her sense of identity. A theoretical rich, straight male might see an advertisement and subconsciously say, "I am not rich enough! I need to look more rich! I am not straight enough! I need to appear more straight! I am not male enough! I must appear more male!" The unspoken narrative might be characterized thus: buy X product and you will be a REAL (man, straight, rich, cool.)
Here the idea is to prey on a crisis of gender as sense of identity. Here, the violence of the characters is seen for what it really is: gender performance. Violence and combat are traditionally male characteristics, ones that display a sense of hyper-masculinity. So an individual turns from consumerism which is giving an unsatisfactory sense of maleness (after all, no matter what one buys, there will always be further products that decry your maleness, leaving one feeling eternally inadequately male) to the violence which will make him confident in his sense of male identity.
Ultimately here the film does a disservice: while adequately critiquing the problems with consumerism on identity, particularly in terms of gender, it replaces it with something equally inadequate, that is, using violence. Case in point: many "fight clubs" sprung up around the country in response to this film, easily demonstrating that its glorification of violence is alive and well in this culture. It perpetuates the idea that "maleness" can be had through combat and body image, a hostile message to say the least.
Here we can peel back another layer by asking the question, before the consumerist and hyper-violent culture, where did sense of gender identity come from? We can introspect our way back in time and realize without the deluge of advertisements and film that we are prey to now, our first example of gender comes from our parents. So there's a psychological element at play here: without parental guidance, we have a culture that will define self in terms of external definitions. Here, the film provides a subtle but nonetheless evocative critique: both the narrator and Tyler Durden define their fathers in harsh terms. Both are seen to inadequately give direction in terms of identity. This critique is germane to the purposes of this blog as the suggestion to escape the hostile consumerist and hyper-violent culture is in terms of family dynamics. An identity crisis can have its roots in incapable parental structures, ergo, a cultural identity crisis that the film analyzes can have its roots in cultural parental structures.
Finally, for our last layer, we go back to where we began: economics. The film is, as Marx might opine, a "history of class struggles." Without that, all other disservices disappear. There is no hyper violence, as the economic failures don't force us into that role. Family problems are less prevalent, since the sense of identity isn't in crisis from economic issues. Ultimately, the self-determinism that the protagonist desperately cries out for is an economic one: with sufficient economic capacity, and a flattening of the economic super-structure, his destiny becomes his own. There is no sense of powerlessness or gender crisis because the class crisis is non-existent. He is free to explore the other avenues, no longer a wage slave. He can determine from where he gets his sense of identity, no longer forced into an economic labyrinth of consume and regret.
The film's popularity comes largely from the fact that it tells a relevant story: that of search for gender and class identity. Although the answers it provides are largely lacking, it nonetheless performs a great good in bringing this issues to light.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Why?
The label of this blog identifies it as about race, class, gender, and sexuality. This gives the reader at least a general idea of the content to be found herein. These things in and of themselves are also labels. When we attach specific ones to people, we hope to have some idea of the content to be found within them.
However, there is much more at play than this. This is because unlike the title of this blog, whatever specific label from the cornucopia one chooses to identify oneself, in doing so there is also a larger attachment to the community that chooses the same label. Black, rich, male, gay, all of these labels also describe many other people. Even taken altogether, one will inevitably find someone else who will unite under that banner.
It is also inevitable that others outside this chosen community will have ideas and predefined notions about that label. Think back to that list, and pick one of those labels that you yourself do not identify with. Now, go through in your mind the characteristics of that group. Undoubtedly you have some stereotypes about that given group, whether you consider them benevolent or benign or bad. And it is almost certain if you are reading this as someone living in the United States that many of those stereotypes have been drawn from American Cinema.
"So what?" you may ask. The problem is that these labels also represent a sense of identity, an identity probably isn't displayed by those stereotypes. I myself identify as a mixed race, middle class, straight male. Each of these lends itself to my identity, but only tells a partial story.
My father is white but my mother is Mexican. Both of those have markers in my appearance, my cultural traditions, and my world view. I speak Spanish and English. I know how to dance Merengue. I can cook a beef stew just as well as frijoles a la charra. When I enter the room of a family gathering on my mother's side, I hug and kiss everyone as I enter. On my father's side, this isn't necessary.
I am from what is now a middle class background, but in my more formative years it was impoverished. I remember being a family of eight in a two bedroom apartment, sleeping on a cot in my parent's bedroom at age 4. I remember when a rare treat for good grades was a Burger King dollar whopper for dinner. Yet now I sit and type this on a thousand dollar computer, looking at a 27" screen, sitting in a five thousand square foot home.
These things are not instantly apparent by the labels that I've chosen to describe myself. Nor do the tell the whole story of who I am. Yet it is likely that some individuals reading this may have seen things I have said and identified personally with them, thereby creating a sense of community from those labels.
These things also identify individuals by what they are not. I am not female, nor will I ever be. I can never experience first hand what that means. I rely on the narratives of others to tell me what that experience is like, so that I can understand what the attachment of that label means. Nor am I gay. Part of my understanding of that label depends on people who I have seen in cinema that have that label. I can observe uninterrupted and without judgment Simon Bishop (As Good As It Gets) and try to understand what being gay means.
This process happens whether we want it or not. If I had said I were Indian, there are many who would instantly think of Slumdog Millionaire and understood me through that lens. As it is, many who think of Mexicans might see it through the lens of something like The Three Amigos. As the films we view are then an inextricable part of us (whether we agree or disagree with the portrayals they depict) we cannot but help have them alter our perception of the world around us.
The rubber hits the road, so to speak, by the fact that in this country, we're all in it together. For each of those categories there are many different labels to choose from that can be found here, and that we will interact with on a daily basis. Because of this, these portrayals matter. In order to have healthy and productive relationships with those around us, we must understand how cinema affects the way we view one another, and the way we view ourselves.
However, there is much more at play than this. This is because unlike the title of this blog, whatever specific label from the cornucopia one chooses to identify oneself, in doing so there is also a larger attachment to the community that chooses the same label. Black, rich, male, gay, all of these labels also describe many other people. Even taken altogether, one will inevitably find someone else who will unite under that banner.
It is also inevitable that others outside this chosen community will have ideas and predefined notions about that label. Think back to that list, and pick one of those labels that you yourself do not identify with. Now, go through in your mind the characteristics of that group. Undoubtedly you have some stereotypes about that given group, whether you consider them benevolent or benign or bad. And it is almost certain if you are reading this as someone living in the United States that many of those stereotypes have been drawn from American Cinema.
"So what?" you may ask. The problem is that these labels also represent a sense of identity, an identity probably isn't displayed by those stereotypes. I myself identify as a mixed race, middle class, straight male. Each of these lends itself to my identity, but only tells a partial story.
My father is white but my mother is Mexican. Both of those have markers in my appearance, my cultural traditions, and my world view. I speak Spanish and English. I know how to dance Merengue. I can cook a beef stew just as well as frijoles a la charra. When I enter the room of a family gathering on my mother's side, I hug and kiss everyone as I enter. On my father's side, this isn't necessary.
I am from what is now a middle class background, but in my more formative years it was impoverished. I remember being a family of eight in a two bedroom apartment, sleeping on a cot in my parent's bedroom at age 4. I remember when a rare treat for good grades was a Burger King dollar whopper for dinner. Yet now I sit and type this on a thousand dollar computer, looking at a 27" screen, sitting in a five thousand square foot home.
These things are not instantly apparent by the labels that I've chosen to describe myself. Nor do the tell the whole story of who I am. Yet it is likely that some individuals reading this may have seen things I have said and identified personally with them, thereby creating a sense of community from those labels.
These things also identify individuals by what they are not. I am not female, nor will I ever be. I can never experience first hand what that means. I rely on the narratives of others to tell me what that experience is like, so that I can understand what the attachment of that label means. Nor am I gay. Part of my understanding of that label depends on people who I have seen in cinema that have that label. I can observe uninterrupted and without judgment Simon Bishop (As Good As It Gets) and try to understand what being gay means.
This process happens whether we want it or not. If I had said I were Indian, there are many who would instantly think of Slumdog Millionaire and understood me through that lens. As it is, many who think of Mexicans might see it through the lens of something like The Three Amigos. As the films we view are then an inextricable part of us (whether we agree or disagree with the portrayals they depict) we cannot but help have them alter our perception of the world around us.
The rubber hits the road, so to speak, by the fact that in this country, we're all in it together. For each of those categories there are many different labels to choose from that can be found here, and that we will interact with on a daily basis. Because of this, these portrayals matter. In order to have healthy and productive relationships with those around us, we must understand how cinema affects the way we view one another, and the way we view ourselves.
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