Hey Max, Let's dissect Beasts of the Southern Wild

My friend Jesse and I are big-time cinephiles. Sometimes we watch a film together and hash it out afterwards. This time, we saw Beasts of the Southern Wild separately and emailed back and forth about it. He moved away recently, so that might have to happen more often. Jesse tweets about movies here. Oh, and spoiler alert from here on out.

Jesse wrote:

So. Out of curiosity rising like the water in the bayou, I rented Beasts of the Southern Wild this morning. I anticipated hating it, based on the cacophony of aversion from the movie noggin crowd and from what little I knew about it already, but in a flip-floppy turvy-topsy what-in-the-bloody-fuck-is-happening-here twist, I wound up liking it quite a bit.

Now, while I understand some of the arguments against it, I feel that they're unfairly venomous and misdirected. I don't think Zeitlin intended to make anything but a fairy tale-type story--a female-centric Where the Wild Things Are--and perhaps impetuously decided to contextualize it in a setting that had sensitive connotations to just about anybody with a beating heart. Maybe he's a snot-nose. I don't know. I have some browser windows open right now of interviews with him and the cast that I have yet to read, but I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt. To me, he didn't set out to fetishize or even really dramatize this community of people and their lifestyle. Maybe he wanted to tell this coming-of-age allegory so badly that it blinded him to the possibility that his film would be viewed as anything but. Maybe. Maybe maybe maybe. All of this is maybe. I wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to be King Douche and felt it was his duty to give these people some acknowledgment. But just putting them on screen isn't enough, and if he really wanted to document this world, there would be more direct references exploring it. All of the speeches in the film aren't time or place specific. Maybe the accents and dialect are, but the gist is general "Be Good" rah-rah. It's a gentle, watered-down (sorry) version of this story. And I get that's part of why people are so perturbed by it, but I didn't even consider it as being an option. At some point during it, I thought, "Oh. This is just a movie." And while it has its flaws as a film, I enjoyed watching it and I thought it paid off extremely well. 

What Iiiiiiiiii liked about it WAS that gentleness, as well as Quvenzhané Wallis, its terrific score and most of all, Hushpuppy's face-off with the liberated ice cube creatures. All of that worked really well for me.

I replied:

I don't think Zeitlin's a bad guy. One quote I remember reading from him is that he fell in love with New Orleans and wanted to tell a story that captured the spirit of the people who live there. No harm in that, but my perception it is that he's super-naive, however well-intentioned, and comes from a relatively well-to-do, insulated perspective. Sure, he's a debut director and tackled something admirably ambitious, but I think the sociopolitical broad strokes in Beasts are writing checks his filmmaking (and the screenwriting) can't cash. I don't remember all of the details since I saw it months ago, but this reply will give you the basic overview of my beefs.

On one hand, Beasts can be taken as a fairy tale--just like you described with the Where the Wild Things Are comparison, which really fits. I think that's why most people who love it love it. On that level, it's harmless and sweet. Even heartwarming and restore-your-faith-in-humanity-ish.

On a purely nuts and bolts level, the handheld camerawork really distracted me and I didn't find the film beautiful to look at at all (outside of the brothel scene which had some really pretty shots). I didn't get why it'd had earned so many raves about its aesthetic appeal. So watching the film in the theater, my first reaction was just to be annoyed I had to sit through the wobbly ugliness while listening to these semi-poetic-but-kinda-pointless pronouncements from an undeniably cute little imp. I remember the plot feeling sloppy too. All that said, we're still in the relatively harmless range at this point. 

What really irked me personally about Beasts was the messy soup of sociopolitical ideas that I picked up on, whether intended or not (and I really think that the ideas were not thought through on any soul-searching level by Zeitlin or the other screenwriter). The plainest way I can say it is that it felt like poverty porn. It romanticized or glossed over alcoholism, child neglect, living in filth, refusing medical aid and destroying public property in the name of civil disobedience.

Self-reliance was a really big deal in this film. Great. But not to the point that providing medical assistance for a clearly sick father is seen as an evil plot. The escape from the hospital really rubbed me the wrong way because of that. In its aww-shucks way, the film celebrates isolationism and makes government seem nothing but fearsome. I'm surprised the Tea Party didn't endorse Beasts.

I was also troubled by some of the gender details. Being a "pussy" was the worst possible fate and it felt like a criticism of femininity vs. generic weakness. (I'm trying to remember now if the mom was a whore or just a cook at the whorehouse, but it seemed that womenfolk in the film were good for just those things. There was the one female teacher, but she talked like a crazy woman and hated "pussies" too.)

I don't think Beasts is racist, but it did remind me of The Help (which I also hated) in being a story about the lower-class being told by the upper-class in a sugar-coated, condescending-yet-affectionate, pat-on-the-head way. "Po' folk sure is sumthin'! Let's celebrate them in a self-congratulatory way, shall we?!" Both films creeped me out because of that.

Jesse replied:

See, I can completely understand you having those reactions and if I'd seen the film earlier on, I may have teetered over to your side. The sociopolitical soupiness struck me as secondary to the character-specific journey. None of it seemed worth taking seriously enough to get miffed about, whether he intended it that way or not, because here's the thing: It's not going to change the world, let alone someone's perception of those people and the way in which they live. Its sociopolitical impact is about as effective as a foam finger fwapping at the air above our behinds. Prior to the hospital/shelter scene, I'd given up on any scene in which the father was the centerpiece. That man has no business being on or off or near camera. An actual actor may have been able to communicate more or even just a smattering of motivation and emotion in that scene, but with this guy we get Fisher Price acting and therefore a Fisher Price scene. 

Now, I do agree with you about the handheld camera being too distracting (I tweeted about how, after his Oscar nom, here's hoping Zeitlin will now be able to afford a steadicam). I normally don't mind shaky since I grew up with a camcorder attached to my eye, but it was tough in Beasts to take in the scenery. The salient shots were effective--the running-with-sparklers, the ice cube creature stare-down, and the finale--but the glue holding them together was all kindsa drippy.

All the "pussy" talk didn't bother me, mainly because the intention behind it was to communicate to the girl that she had to be strong, which isn't a bad message. It felt authentic within the realm of this particular interpretation of this world. Also, all of those speeches were placed in the mouths of women. They weren't saying "You have to be manly." At this point, acting like a "pussy" isn't gender-specific. Uh... right?

Boiling it down, what little works in this film works really well. The rest is forgivable because it's completely ineffectual. There's no explicit statement being made, and if Zeitlin's trying to make one with this film, then he's proven himself incapable of articulating it. What's riling or inspiring people is more about what they're bringing to it than what's being communicated on screen.

P.S. Fuck The Help forever.

My turn:

I think you really got to the heart of the matter with this: "There's no explicit statement being made, and if Zeitlin's trying to make one with this film, then he's proven himself incapable of articulating it." I agree completely. "Inarticulate" is a perfect way to describe his filmmaking, at least as it applies to Beasts.

I know what you mean in that what each person brings to the film informs what they walk away with, but I'd say that applies to most divisive films. I think Zero Dark Thirty is an especially vivid example of that. I don't think Beasts is going to radicalize anyone, but I do think it may reconfirm in some viewers, however subconsciously, the idea that the impoverished are best left to their own solutions. Filmmakers have a right to convey any message they want in their work, but for a seemingly clueless lad to float a notion like that in a film that's so candy-coated and appealing to the masses is worrisome to me. Ineffectual and inarticulate people can do damage when they have a big enough platform (e.g., George W. Bush--I know, outlandish comparison, but you get what I mean).

Sexism-wise, I think it's even more subversive to put subtly anti-feminine sentiments in women's mouths, BUT I don't think Zeitlin earns the handle of "subversive" here either. I'd really need to watch it again to pinpoint the gender stuff I noticed, but I can't bear the thought of watching that movie ever, ever again. That said, it's reassuring to know a film that I couldn't stand could at least trigger an interesting conversation between us.

My Half-Time Top 5 Films of 2012

This post was originally written for Drew's blog:  svo1905

#1 
Thursday Till Sunday

The predawn light, tinted blue. A sensible car, hatchback agape. A sleep-heavy child, lugged from bed. These opening scene details in Chilean writer/director Dominga Sotomayor’s yet-unreleased feature film debut, Thursday Till Sunday, herald the arrival of one to watch. This is a young filmmaker with an uncannily precise sense of observation and an undeniably keen eye for composition.

That sensible car is soon toting a family of four on a long road trip that looks to be their last, as the parents are considering a separation. Somehow turning the claustrophobic setting of a mid-sized vehicle into one beautifully framed shot after another, Sotomayor elegantly delineates the great divide that separates the driver’s seat of adulthood from the dependents who are literally and figuratively taking the back seat in their parents’ personal crisis.

While stops along the road provide some expository elaborations, there is always an intoxicating artlessness afoot in the way the film looks, feels and sounds. In knowing exactly what to leave out, Sotomayor’s evocative minimalism feels like a curative. I can’t wait to see what she does next.

#2 
Moonrise Kingdom

I’ve been a Wes Anderson fan from the early days of his career and have consistently found whimsical magic in the intricate worlds he crafts. Exploring broken families, innocent love and true forgiveness,Moonrise Kingdom sustains thematic chords from Anderson’s oeuvre beautifully.

While winsome and witty, the film’s heart is shot through with melancholy, telling the tale of an orphaned boy scout and his star-crossed love—both of whom are only 12 years old.

Shot in 16mm and resembling the faded turquoise, orange and yellow of vintage Polaroid photos, the film perfectly evokes a very particular time and place: 1965 on an island off the coast of New England, to be exact. Unfortunately, but entertainingly, the adults roaming about in this nostalgic tale are stiffly sad, consistently uniformed and stubbornly determined to keep Suzy and Sam, the youthful love birds in question, from pursuing their romance.

In one of a trio of movingly frank scenes in the center of the film, Suzy’s mother and father talk in their darkened bedroom. The conversation is simply stated and quietly performed, but despite its unassuming air, it represents an emotional milestone in Anderson’s work. No punches are pulled. No winking punchlines are detonated. It’s just two seasoned actors (Bill Murray and Frances McDormand) speaking on behalf of filmmaking’s eternal boy scout, but this time by way of a newfound, profound maturity. Wonder badge earned, Mr. Anderson.

#3 
Damsels in Distress

Much has been made of writer/director Whit Stillman’s long absence from filmmaking. While Damsels in Distress arrived fashionably late, it’s a wry and pretty delight. As a comedy, it may seem prim at first, but it’s no goody-two-shoes. It aims and sinks its arrows neatly, making withering observations about society and human nature as it simultaneously charms.

Shining through in the majority of scenes, Greta Gerwig hits perfect notes as Violet, a college student who longs to make the world a better place, one person at a time. It’s her character who unexpectedly becomes the beating heart of Damsels in Distress, as she finds herself as lost and lonely as her protégés.

With his signature wit and empathetic warmth, Stillman has polished up a sweet little gem of a film that’s got much wisdom to share. Why, it even has a healthy dose of optimism, plus characters dancing at the drop of a hat and an irresistible soundtrack to match. Whit is it!

#4 
Miss Bala

Mexican writer/director Gerardo Naranjo wanted to test that the film he had in his head would work, especially since he was casting an inexperienced actress in the lead. So he test-shot the whole thing on video before he shot the actual film. The whole thing. It seems like an insanely demanding step to add to pre-pro, but Naranjo credits Miss Bala’s seamlessness to it.

Starring the very striking Stephanie Sigman as a poor young woman who dreams of beauty queen status, Miss Bala quickly raises the stakes by becoming enmeshed in the brutally violent world of drug cartels.

The spare sleekness of Miss Bala, and the sense that the filmmaker is observing more than editorializing, makes the indictment of systemic sickness something the audience can process on their own terms. The film itself moves like sliding pressure panels and is jarringly perforated by the pop-pop-pop of gunplay. As humble as it is mighty, Miss Balafeels like an indie movie in the best way possible: created on a shoestring, but as fierce as a locomotive.

#5 
Haywire

Inspired to build a movie around mixed martial artist Gina Carano, Soderbergh picked up the phone and told collaborator Lem Dobbs to write it. The result is a tidily constructed, tensely coiled, tight little action/thriller flick that tells the story of a black ops super soldier left to fend for herself when she’s betrayed.

Adding to the sparks are entertaining turns by Ewan McGregor, Michael Fassbender, Channing Tatum, Antonio Banderas and Michael Douglas as men who get in our heroine’s way, in one way or another. The jazz-infused soundtrack is as saucy as hell, setting a perfect rhythm for the hold-your-breath action.

While Carano’s acting chops are the only weak thing about her, she turns in a performance that serves its purpose sturdily. And after you’ve seen her mop the floor with an adversary, you won’t really care if a line reading isn’t perfect. She is an undeniable femme fatale and her star vehicle, HAYWIRE, packs a delicious punch. Please don’t retire, Stevie.