Blindsided
Jan. 28th, 2011 08:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jakebeThe husband and I saw The Blind Side over the weekend. We didn’t have much interest in seeing it, really, but there were three things that recommended it. Sandra Bullock won Best Actress last year for her role in that, it was based on the real-life story of Michael Oher, defensive tackle for the (best football team in the world!) Baltimore Ravens, and I was kind of hoping it would teach us a little about football through analogy and dramatic narrative, which everyone knows is the best way to learn something.
As you might have guessed, the movie turned out to be a disappointment. The plot was handled in the most pedestrian manner possible. The poor actors weren’t given much material to work with because of that. The father just got to look after his wife while she did something “amazing” and say “That’s my wife!” in an awed voice. The son got to be the Loveable Scamp. And the daughter got to do the whole ‘personal integrity is so much better than social acceptance’ arc with maybe two scenes and a dozen lines of dialogue.
There were only two actors who stood out. Sandra Bullock hammed it up as much as she possibly could in the role of Leigh Ann Touhy, and you have to admire the gleeful abandon with which she played a Southern spitfire. Still, she gives more a flashy performance than anything. Every time she’s on the screen, you’re well aware that she’s acting her *ass* off. As vibrant as it is, you can’t help but be taken out of the movie by the artificiality of it. So, as much as she tries, I can’t say that Bullock manages good acting here, so much as “hard” acting.
Quinton Aaron, though, is another matter entirely. There’s an earnestness and open pain on his face that looks entirely honest, and he gives the most subtle, effecting performance of the bunch. If he had better material I’d say this is an Oscar-worthy performance in itself, but every line he speaks seems to be engineered for optimal tear-jerker status. The impressive thing, though, is that he actually makes it work, and about a third of the way into the movie (when sad-sack Michael Oher says he’s never had a bed before) I felt a bit teary. It was really surprising, though, when Ryan started to openly mock the movie right around the same time.
We paused the movie and talked about it a bit. Ryan thought that it was racist, which caught me off guard. I thought I was watching a movie about good people doing a good thing for someone who hasn’t had that happen a lot for him. But where I was taking my cues about what we’re meant to see by watching the people, Ryan was taking his cues by watching the way the story unfolded -- particularly with the contrast between Oher’s neighborhood, and the community of his adopted family.
Sean Touhy, according to the movie, owns dozens of Taco Bell franchises, which allows him to live like a stereotypical rich Southerner -- gated mansion communities, fancy Christian private schools, country clubs, the works. Oher comes from the ‘wrong side’ of Memphis, though, with nothing but crumbling projects and weeds sprouting up through the sidewalks, trash and junkies lining the gutter, that sort of thing. Here’s where the writing gets laughable, by the way. It is very clear that the only contact with inner-city youth these people have had is through after-school specials and maybe seeing Boyz N The Hood by mistake late one night.
Ryan’s problem, I’m thinking, is that the broad strokes are so simplistic here that it portrays white people as happy, giving folks straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting, and most black people are stuck in this spiral of poverty, drugs and violence. The only black people besides Oher we see never smile without a sneer. Their life, by and large, is misery and struggle, whereas white people live easy, unburdened by the troubles of the world. His problem is that this presents a scenario in which the situation is static, and the lots of black people can only change if they escape somehow into the welcoming, Christian arms of white affluence.
But here’s where it gets a little sticky. While Ryan here has a pretty good point, I’m reluctant to ding the movie on this. Why? Because it feels very much like the route I took to get where I am today.
My situation wasn’t so extreme; I had a bed, and a family, before I left them behind in the inner city to move out to southern Maryland, and then northwest Arkansas, and then northern California. But there are also a lot of similarities there, too, if only in mindset. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think there are two kinds of people for inner-city youth. Those who look around, decide they don’t want to be there, and spend a significant amount of time and effort getting out, and those who stay, dealing with the reality of the situation in their own way.
If you look at other movies that at least touch on inner-city life, you’ll find the same narrative over and over again. Young black guys and girls just want to get out of the ghetto. Sometimes it’s to make a good ‘normal’ life, and sometimes it’s to be rich and/or famous. But the idea of getting out of the ghetto is almost always a driving force for the characters who find themselves there.
I think this points to an uncomfortable cultural mindset. We’ve gotten away from thinking that poor inner-city neighborhoods can be saved, and for about a generation now we’ve come to think of them as trials to be endured until we can escape them. When was the last time a story about a community coming together to kick out drug dealers or better its environment made the cultural consciousness? Most everything I see focuses on one person with the potential to get out, and the dramatic tension revolves around whether their better angels or...worse demons win out.
The worst sin of The Blind Side, then, is trying to present this conflict with unintentional tactlessness. Everything and everyone in the movie is painted with primary colors, without shading, so the contrast between the Touhys’ lives and Oher’s is pretty stark. I don’t think they’ve given us anything that we haven’t seen before, though. And maybe that’s the part that’s not OK.
The question becomes, though, what do we do about that? When I was growing up, most people who had embraced the inner-city lifestyle had developed a healthy distrust of anything outside that culture. Most people who indulge in the drugs and violence that plague those streets aren’t doing it because there are no other alternatives available; they’re doing it because it reinforces so many beliefs -- neither black or white, but American -- about what it takes to live the dream. It’s not hard work that does it, or persistence -- it’s about projecting this image of power. In my mind, the drug dealers are just playing the same game that Wall Street powerbrokers do. The rules are different, and the consequences are more immediate and violent, but the fundamentals are one.
So what can you do? Unfortunately, I don’t think the answer is as simple as having all the ‘good’ guys in the community band together and kick out those mean old drug dealers. Those dealers are my brothers and sisters, someone’s father or uncle. Black communities can’t remove an element that’s so connected to them. For better or worse, the problem is who we are in so many ways. And because of that I think it requires a fundamental shift in perspective. Getting rich and powerful has to be taken away as a priority; these guys need to develop a sense of responsibility and connection for the pain and suffering they cause. And I, for one, have no idea how to do that.
None of this is easy for me to say. I don’t like thinking that I’ve given up on the neighborhood in Baltimore where I grew up, that I think it’s some unsolvable problem. But I have. The problem is honestly beyond me, and rather than devote so much time swimming against the stream trying to solve it, I’d rather just leave it alone and focus on getting whatever happiness I can.
Michael Oher did the same thing, and became a left tackle for the Baltimore Ravens. I have no idea where he lives now, but I’m thinking that it’s nowhere near my family’s house.
As you might have guessed, the movie turned out to be a disappointment. The plot was handled in the most pedestrian manner possible. The poor actors weren’t given much material to work with because of that. The father just got to look after his wife while she did something “amazing” and say “That’s my wife!” in an awed voice. The son got to be the Loveable Scamp. And the daughter got to do the whole ‘personal integrity is so much better than social acceptance’ arc with maybe two scenes and a dozen lines of dialogue.
There were only two actors who stood out. Sandra Bullock hammed it up as much as she possibly could in the role of Leigh Ann Touhy, and you have to admire the gleeful abandon with which she played a Southern spitfire. Still, she gives more a flashy performance than anything. Every time she’s on the screen, you’re well aware that she’s acting her *ass* off. As vibrant as it is, you can’t help but be taken out of the movie by the artificiality of it. So, as much as she tries, I can’t say that Bullock manages good acting here, so much as “hard” acting.
Quinton Aaron, though, is another matter entirely. There’s an earnestness and open pain on his face that looks entirely honest, and he gives the most subtle, effecting performance of the bunch. If he had better material I’d say this is an Oscar-worthy performance in itself, but every line he speaks seems to be engineered for optimal tear-jerker status. The impressive thing, though, is that he actually makes it work, and about a third of the way into the movie (when sad-sack Michael Oher says he’s never had a bed before) I felt a bit teary. It was really surprising, though, when Ryan started to openly mock the movie right around the same time.
We paused the movie and talked about it a bit. Ryan thought that it was racist, which caught me off guard. I thought I was watching a movie about good people doing a good thing for someone who hasn’t had that happen a lot for him. But where I was taking my cues about what we’re meant to see by watching the people, Ryan was taking his cues by watching the way the story unfolded -- particularly with the contrast between Oher’s neighborhood, and the community of his adopted family.
Sean Touhy, according to the movie, owns dozens of Taco Bell franchises, which allows him to live like a stereotypical rich Southerner -- gated mansion communities, fancy Christian private schools, country clubs, the works. Oher comes from the ‘wrong side’ of Memphis, though, with nothing but crumbling projects and weeds sprouting up through the sidewalks, trash and junkies lining the gutter, that sort of thing. Here’s where the writing gets laughable, by the way. It is very clear that the only contact with inner-city youth these people have had is through after-school specials and maybe seeing Boyz N The Hood by mistake late one night.
Ryan’s problem, I’m thinking, is that the broad strokes are so simplistic here that it portrays white people as happy, giving folks straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting, and most black people are stuck in this spiral of poverty, drugs and violence. The only black people besides Oher we see never smile without a sneer. Their life, by and large, is misery and struggle, whereas white people live easy, unburdened by the troubles of the world. His problem is that this presents a scenario in which the situation is static, and the lots of black people can only change if they escape somehow into the welcoming, Christian arms of white affluence.
But here’s where it gets a little sticky. While Ryan here has a pretty good point, I’m reluctant to ding the movie on this. Why? Because it feels very much like the route I took to get where I am today.
My situation wasn’t so extreme; I had a bed, and a family, before I left them behind in the inner city to move out to southern Maryland, and then northwest Arkansas, and then northern California. But there are also a lot of similarities there, too, if only in mindset. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think there are two kinds of people for inner-city youth. Those who look around, decide they don’t want to be there, and spend a significant amount of time and effort getting out, and those who stay, dealing with the reality of the situation in their own way.
If you look at other movies that at least touch on inner-city life, you’ll find the same narrative over and over again. Young black guys and girls just want to get out of the ghetto. Sometimes it’s to make a good ‘normal’ life, and sometimes it’s to be rich and/or famous. But the idea of getting out of the ghetto is almost always a driving force for the characters who find themselves there.
I think this points to an uncomfortable cultural mindset. We’ve gotten away from thinking that poor inner-city neighborhoods can be saved, and for about a generation now we’ve come to think of them as trials to be endured until we can escape them. When was the last time a story about a community coming together to kick out drug dealers or better its environment made the cultural consciousness? Most everything I see focuses on one person with the potential to get out, and the dramatic tension revolves around whether their better angels or...worse demons win out.
The worst sin of The Blind Side, then, is trying to present this conflict with unintentional tactlessness. Everything and everyone in the movie is painted with primary colors, without shading, so the contrast between the Touhys’ lives and Oher’s is pretty stark. I don’t think they’ve given us anything that we haven’t seen before, though. And maybe that’s the part that’s not OK.
The question becomes, though, what do we do about that? When I was growing up, most people who had embraced the inner-city lifestyle had developed a healthy distrust of anything outside that culture. Most people who indulge in the drugs and violence that plague those streets aren’t doing it because there are no other alternatives available; they’re doing it because it reinforces so many beliefs -- neither black or white, but American -- about what it takes to live the dream. It’s not hard work that does it, or persistence -- it’s about projecting this image of power. In my mind, the drug dealers are just playing the same game that Wall Street powerbrokers do. The rules are different, and the consequences are more immediate and violent, but the fundamentals are one.
So what can you do? Unfortunately, I don’t think the answer is as simple as having all the ‘good’ guys in the community band together and kick out those mean old drug dealers. Those dealers are my brothers and sisters, someone’s father or uncle. Black communities can’t remove an element that’s so connected to them. For better or worse, the problem is who we are in so many ways. And because of that I think it requires a fundamental shift in perspective. Getting rich and powerful has to be taken away as a priority; these guys need to develop a sense of responsibility and connection for the pain and suffering they cause. And I, for one, have no idea how to do that.
None of this is easy for me to say. I don’t like thinking that I’ve given up on the neighborhood in Baltimore where I grew up, that I think it’s some unsolvable problem. But I have. The problem is honestly beyond me, and rather than devote so much time swimming against the stream trying to solve it, I’d rather just leave it alone and focus on getting whatever happiness I can.
Michael Oher did the same thing, and became a left tackle for the Baltimore Ravens. I have no idea where he lives now, but I’m thinking that it’s nowhere near my family’s house.
