“Dirty Pretty Things” presents a group of very different immigrant characters living in London.
Already, it is easy to deduce that organ trafficking (led by Señor Juan) is going to be a central part of the movie plot.
As such, I would like to focus my last blog post on the very antagonistic and intriguing character of the hotel manager.
From what we have watched, Señor Juan could be seen as a metaphor for a society that does not acknowledge the humanity of illegal immigrants/ illegal refugees and is capable of exploiting them at whim.
This can be clearly witnessed during the scene in which Okwe brings a human heart to Señor Juan so that he might speak to the authorities about it. However, the hotel manager instead ridicules Okwe and then taunts him with the phone, as the Nigerian man is unable to report his findings to the police out of fear he might be discovered as an illegal alien.
In a similar manner, it could be said that society ignores outsiders until a problem arises, at which point the isolated individuals might be blamed or manipulated, since they are powerless.
Yet another way in which Señor Juan could be perceived as more than a simple, cruel villain in the film is through his dialogue. He mentions that “when the hotel is dirty, we make it pretty again…” alluding to the fact that when there is something wrong within a community, people tend to hide to or address the issue superficially so that society’s perception of civility is not threatened.
NOTE:
Given the fact that we have only watched less than half the movie, I can only hope my thoughts on Señor Juan and his role in “Dirty Pretty Things” aren’t too mistaken.
Warning: This is a very emotional (and therefore not the best-argumented) blog-post.
Just in case I have not been vocal enough about my opinion on What We All Long For, I will, once more, make it clear.
The book makes me incredibly angry.
The novel had aimed to challenge ideas of “labeling” and “belonging”. It attempted to make readers question the validity of classifying people due to their skin color, their cultural background, their supposed heritage, or their looks.
However, in doing so, it portrayed rather stereotypical “immigrants”/ “first-generation” individuals, and showcased predictable characters.
Due to What We All Long For, many Canadians feeling uncomfortable about immigration might assume their views are being justified. “They’re a bunch of lazy, drug-using, good-for-nothing, money-leeching, ungrateful kids,” such readers might muse. “The author clearly agrees.” (And although this might be a misrepresentation of Brand’s goal, the truth is that her book presents her characters as such).
Furthermore, to me, each of the characters felt familiar in an unpleasant way. They could have been protagonists of a badly written fiction or a clunky young-adult novel.
Tuyen was the ever confused, suffering, rebel artist, that aimed to deal with her duality through transcendent art. Her family (although well-intentioned), obviously could not understand her complexity and depth. (Disney movies have been made which contain less clichés than her attitude and story.)
Carla was the girl with a lot of deep-seeded issues, which presented themselves in unhealthy habits and manic tendencies. (She could have used a visit to Dr. Phil and a can of pepper-spray to deal with Tuyen’s leers and constant, creepy sexual advances.)
Oku was the pinning poet who dropped out of school but still feared his dad’s disapproval. Please. (Also, would Brand really have us believe this man was going to get a Master’s degree in English when he couldn’t even communicate in a half-intelligent manner during most of her book?)
Quy, was the self-proclaimed bad guy who was thrust into the big, bad world and learned to deal. (Sadly, because he was written by Dionne Brand and she clearly hated him, his ending was anti-climatic, disappointing, angering, inconclusive and offensive.)
Jackie was the outspoken fashionista who used boys and was scared of letting anyone get too close to her heart. (But apparently, she had no issues letting mostly everyone get close to her vagina.)
Due to these two reasons in particular, I was unable to care for Dionne Brand’s message or opinion on what we all really long for. Thoughts on citizenship and migration took a backseat to the constant annoyance and ire-induced nausea I felt when reading.
Finally, had I not been a student asked to read deeper into Dionne Brand’s poetic prose, I might have assumed she was in fact presenting anti-immigration advocates with the perfect example of why immigration is bad for a country.
First impression of Three Day Road:
1. The novel Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden was a horrifying but engrossing book about friendship, addiction, identity, war, and death. With all of these themes, one would imagine the novel would be crowded, preachy and slow. However, it instead presents a fast-paced and realistic overview of a man of Cree heritage and the struggles he encountered before, during, and after World War I. Part of the reason, perhaps, that it is so successful it weaving so many “heavy” topics together is because Boyden uses each of the themes to enhance one another and does so in an engrossing and unpretentious manner.
Such was the case with Xavier and Elijah’s relationship, which was dominated by their distinct identities and acceptance of their roots, as well as their completely different reactions to war and death. It was enthralling to see their brother-like bond and the slow corruption it endured due to Elijah’s acceptance/submission to Western culture, as well as their involvement in the war. Watching each of the men slowly be drained away of their humanity was heart wrenching, and although Xavier’s ultimate choice was painful to see, it also felt inevitable.
How are symbols and images related to the novel’s themes? For instance, what is the significance of the morphine? The fire? The Windigo?
2. Symbols and images in the novel by Joseph Boyden serve to enhance and expand on several of the themes introduced throughout Three Day Road.
The Fire, for example, was meant to symbolize war and the destruction it left behind. The burnt trees were reminiscent of fallen soldiers. However, the regrowth of the foliage where the fire occurred left a positive message in the end, since it reminded readers that despite the desolation left behind by the war, life went on.
Morphine, for its part, seemed to represent utter and complete desolation, something akin to death. It allowed soldiers to escape the war and provided them with a way of numbing their pain. Just like death, it connected soldiers and allowed them to find refugee from the horrors of their life.
Finally, the Windigo portrayed total loss of humanity, ethics, values, and morals. In Elijah’s case, it showed that he had also lost connections to his heritage. Xavier’s ultimate act, however, served to reclaim his ancestry, since he, like other members of his family, continued with the tradition of killing Windigos.
* Following a bout of whimsical music, I was introduced to what, seemingly, was a very lovely and wonderful experience for aboriginal children. Residential schools.
Many people insist, rather passionately, that residential schools were bad. They mention physical and emotional abuse, loss of family ties, and the destruction of a culture. But, after seeing the joyous children jumping ropes and participating in the oh-so-Canadian act of playing hockey, I find these sort of insidious claims hard to believe.
Destruction of a culture? Ha! Whoever dared accuse the Canadian government of such atrocity did not understand that aboriginal children were taught “traditions such as the celebration of St. Valentine’s Day.” Their young, impressionable minds were being molded and absorbing relevant, vital knowledge. After all, what human being is capable of living a fulfilling life without participating in rituals that involve chocolate exchanges and badly written poetry?
Furthermore, people, principal Eric was dispensing first aid to his students. Not one of my principals ever expressed any sort of great concert for my health and well-being. (In fact, I am sure more than one of them wished me bodily harm at one or another point in my academic career, but I digress.)
It is also notable that the kids in the video were allowed to wear crowns whilst acquiring “a mastery of words that would open to them a range of the ordinary Canadian curriculum.” This led me to conclude that Eric (and as an extension, all residential schools) really understood the art of holistic learning. In fact, perhaps a few public schools today should take note on their advanced methods, which so clearly respected and deeply cared for their charges.
Observing the attentiveness, patience, and well-roundedness of the youth’s experiences, I felt a pang of pride for society. “Instead of the isolation and neglect of the past, a free and equal chance” was being provided. As I watched the ringing bell, I imagined a thousand juvenile voices rising up in harmony, and thanking residential schools for the superb experiences they provided.
Having been exposed to the marvels of residential schools for a whole two minutes and thirty-eight seconds has made damning claims against the system hard for me to believe. In fact, it has instilled in me a great respect for the methodology used by Canada to not assimilate, but generously give opportunities of growth to First Nations.
* Disclaimer: This is sarcasm. In truth, the video was repulsive and eerily reminiscent of propaganda used by Nazis, which promoted concentration camps. (As can bee seen in this 15-min long video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9UDicS0zme8)
Reading The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood, I was particularly stricken by the eerie similarities existing between the narrator and her Commander.
Firstly, we begin with their situation. The Commander’s passive role and acceptance (even enjoyment) of Gilead’s society casts him as “villainous” in the novel. However, Offred admits to playing a similar role before, even hinting to the fact that she enjoyed the freedom her apathy and inaction gave her.
(“We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print. It gave us more freedom. We lived in the gaps between the stories.”)
Secondly, their respective relationships with power. In Atwood’s work, the Commander’s most notable interactions with Offred demonstrate that he enjoys showing her kindness. He patronizes her, provides her with reading materials, and eventually parades her around Jezebel, because, as Moira notes, he enjoys it. However, Offred similarly enjoys wielding her own power over both the Commander and other men in the story. One of the passages that most clearly demonstrates this is when she muses, “I move my hips a little, feeling the full red skirt sway around me. It’s like thumbing your nose from behind a fence or teasing a dog with a bone held out of reach. . . . I’m ashamed of myself for doing it. . . .Then I find I’m not ashamed after all. I enjoy the power; power of a dog bone, passive but there.”
Yet another similarity found between both characters is their craving for a taboo relationship in Gilead. Both the Commander and Offred yearn for the transcendent sort of companionship that has been outlawed by the state. In the Commander’s case, he searches for understanding and a physical/emotional connection with his handmaids. Offred, for her part, finds herself drawn to Nick. She even appears to be content in the society once they begin sleeping together.
Lastly, the man and woman shared illicit relationships outside of marriage. The Commander claims that since Serena Joy cannot understand him nor fulfill his need for an intelligent emotional connection, he is forced to search for it in his handmaids. Offred criticizes this condescendingly, despite the fact that she, too, took part on an affair with Luke.
Having pointed these resemblances out, I must now address the issue of why the author might have created her characters in such a way. I believe Atwood meant to show that circumstances determine how we act, and that people who might at first appear “villainous” or “evil” are in fact not as different from those who seem to be “victims.”
I feel like I should start this particular post by saying that I love English. Yes, I’m one of those kids. I enjoy reading, analyzing some cryptic messages supposedly-left-behind by an author, and writing essays.
Perhaps that is the reason why I cannot stand improper grammar. Sure, I get that some words are hard to spell, and maybe I can understand that certain confusion might arise from utilizing commas to correct run-on sentences, but is it really that hard to differentiate between a possessive noun and a contraction?
I don’t think so.
As I have mentioned above, I do not believe that one or two mistakes make anyone a moron. As a student whose first language is definitely not English, I can admit to having made a heap of heinous errors when writing. But, I don’t think this is an excuse for repeating easily-corrigible oversights.
Which leads me to the main idea of this post:
If anyone continues to butcher the English language repeatedly, without any attempt at improving, then I feel entitled and inclined to silently (or maybe not so silently) judge them. I will gloat, make assumptions on their intelligence (or lack thereof), and smirk in contempt.
Such a statement is particularly true if the offending grammar-murder is a native English speaker.
I understand that in ASTU, we have been told to rid ourselves from such misconceptions. Language shouldn’t be used to rank people, or make assumptions on their level of education. We should not think that writing “grammer” means your IQ is probably on the single-digit scale. Legitimacy should stem from an argument, not from the way the argument is presented.
Yet, it is so hard for me to change my (as the internet crudely refers to them) “Grammar Nazi” ways.
Ironically, I am quite sure there will be mistakes on this post. But I want them to be pointed out, so I can work on improving. Unlike the masses of infidels who still refute Grammar and English as their saviors in this communication-challenged world, I can only hope to learn from my mistypes in order to one day join the enlightened few who make no mistakes when writing.
While the first half of the film District 9 was slow (but engaging), slightly grotesque (I still shudder at the image of Wikus’ falling nails), and highly thought provoking (the director crammed in so much symbolism that it sometimes felt slightly overpowering), the second part of the movie transformed into a chaotic mass of too many special effects and not enough plot development.
It felt as if Blomkamp realized, halfway through shooting, that he had a lot of leftover money and decided to splurge on unnecessary explosions.
Sadly, although it did have the entertaining effect he had probably hoped for, the director sacrificed further development on the political agenda of District 9 in order to turn this movie into a blockbuster.
Instead of focusing on the problem first presented in his plotline (xenophobia, mistreatment of extraterrestrials, and the many injustices suffered by the Prawns at the hands of humans), Blomkamp awkwardly transitioned into overtly used clichés that turned District 9 into a rather predictable and disappointing movie. Alienation of…well….aliens, was overshadowed by MNU’s (unsurprising) villainy and their attempts to control weapons. The to-be-powerful statements about injustice were easy to forget when contrasted with the large amount of gunshots, fire, and the promise of a sequel. The meaningful metamorphosis that Wikus’ character underwent was not sufficiently explored, en lieu of adding violent contrivances that left the above-mentioned, provoked thoughts raging for some sort of closure.
This does not mean that District 9 was a bad movie, however. It simply means that Blompkamp was willing to sacrifice some of the movie’s power to make a statement for the sake of commerciality. Perhaps, this meant that it would be more accessible and a wider range of audiences would be exposed to his ideas on alienation, or maybe it simply meant that he would get more money. (I’m voting on the latter).
But, in the end, the only questions that need be taken into account when considering whether or not to watch District 9 are:
Was the movie boring? No. Disappointing, slightly, but that does not mean it was not enthralling.
Was the movie effective in conveying its ideas? Partly. As has been previously explained, it would have been much more successful had it been a) less pretentious or b) more focused.
Is it worth watching? Definitely. (Because, really, who would want to miss a movie that portrays giant, prawn-like creature named Chrisopher?)
Supposedly, Obasan led to a cultural change. It asked hard questions, such as “what makes an individual Canadian?” and talked about difficult themes, like ‘”identity and belonging.”
(Political Sciences, anyone?)
Kogawa’s historical fiction made citizens realize the damaging effects discrimination had, particularly when the above-mentioned segregation occurred at an institutional level in which the government sanctioned it.
The ripples the novel caused eventually triggered a new tolerance, acceptance, as well as, allowed Canadian culture to cherish multiculturalism in a way that would have been unimaginable otherwise….
Right?
Wrong.
Although Obasan is a beautifully written book, its “accomplishments” are empty.
The government apology served no purpose, except that of appeasing Canadians who were either shocked at the injustice or ashamed of having an ugly part of their past recorded in a novel.
This way of seeing things might appear cynical, but we must realize that a speech and $21,000 dollars could never make up for the disruption and despair caused by internment. How could a government ever cover the cost of emotional damages? How could they ever give a child their innocence back? Or, how could a measly apology ever provide solace after the loss of a home?
It is simply impossible.
Furthermore, let us think of the steps towards greater tolerance and cultural acceptance.
Canadians pride themselves in being welcoming towards immigrants and knowledgeable of other cultures. The word ‘racism’ rolls like a curse off their tongues.
But still, Canadians are no more accepting or welcoming or knowledgeable than most other first-world countries.
I can provide countless personal examples, such as one individual’s great surprise when I told him that Mexicans don’t really wear sombreros all the time (he looked crestfallen), or the innumerable questions I have been asked about my first language, ‘Mexican’. (There. Is. No. Such. Thing. People from Mexico speak Spanish.)
Or I can also give much more broad examples that demonstrate Canada’s racist tendencies. Finding a job if you’re an immigrant, for one, is an almost-impossible feat. Conversations are often started with the question “where are you from?”, particularly if you are not white. Stereotypes are used as naturally in conversation as adjectives. (Who isn’t familiar with “Chinese can’t drive?”)
In the great scheme of things, there has been no change. Canada remains a racist country that must portray an idea of tolerance because it is largely made up of immigrants. Discrimination has not disappeared, it has simply become subtler. And no matter how many apologies or redresses the government makes, or how many books with themes similar to those in Obasan are written, discrimination will never disappear. Not in Canada, and not anywhere in the world.
Edit: I would like to include this brief article about the ties between economy and racism (in USA), since I feel like it is somehow related to my posting.
http://www.bet.com/news/national/2013/02/05/american-money-the-economic-origins-of-racism.html
I have been thinking quite a lot about literature lately. After having read Nussbaum’s article, I have developed a much better understanding of its importance, as well as the essentialness of reading and analyzing texts.
As Nussbaum claims, arts are vital in developing civic values. She states that the power of written works, specifically, can expand an individual’s mind.
Although I sincerely agree with this idea of the formative aspects of a good read, I am uncomfortable with the thought of all novels and books influencing our worldview.
Because, can we truly compare the powerful statements made by George Orwell’s “1984” with the overtly-popular (and in my opinion sickening) narration of ‘books’ such as “Fifty Shades of Gray”? (I am sure Orwell is retching in his grave at the mere suggestion of this.)
If, as Nussbaum reiterates over and over again throughout “Literature, imagination and Democratic Citizenship”, readers are consciously or unconsciously changed by the things they read, what will the next few generations amount to?
With novels such as “Twilight” polluting a fourteen-year-old girl’s mind and educating her on the finer points of teen-pregnancy, unhealthy relationships, and unhappiness-unless-you-have-a-boyfriend, I shudder to think of her future.
Or, let us go back to the fine example of the series “Fifty Shades”, in which the protagonist stays with an abusive man. (I read the books. The guy seemed to operate on a logic of ‘no’ means ‘yes’, ‘yes’ means ‘bring the cable ties, please’). What does that mean for us, readers?
If literature can instill civic values, is there a darker side to it? Does literature also help cement negative aspects in our society? The answer is, sadly, yes. In my examples, I talk about current books, of course. But novels and books have been utilized to brainwash individuals before. ( Think “Mein Kampf”)
With this in mind, should we not be much more careful of what we allow to be published? Even if authors nowadays are not aware of the atrocious effects their work might have, readers are still unknowing victims to the perpetuation of negative ideas.
Furthermore, should we be better at educating readers so that they can be much more intelligent and discriminating of the materials they are supposed to read?
Or, maybe I’ve been thinking a tad too much about the power of literature, when I should be immersing myself in mid-term studies.
Note: If anybody has no idea of what Mein Kampf is, here I present an interesting article explaining it, as well as its effects on history: http://www.livescience.com/2821-mein-kampf-changed-world.html
The UDHR is supposed to be a document that elicits positive feelings. After all, the articles outline the human freedoms that all citizens of the world should be granted. However, when I think of the Declaration, all I can muster is a mild sense of amusement at its futility.
Why?
Well…in answer to this question, I present the 5 reasons why I don’t believe in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights:
1. This document has no legal standing. A compilation of thoughts on what a civilized society should act as cannot be taken seriously.
2. “Everyone is entitled to all the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration without distinction of any kind….” That is a lovely sounding article. However, countries that signed this declaration have, time after time, denied basic rights and freedoms to citizens who did not, for one reason or the other, fit into their communities. Homosexual people, for example, have struggled with continuous segregation and ostracizing. Minorities have been oppressed and denied education; they have been prosecuted, singled-out and…well, the list goes on.
3. This document has been used to begin wars and justify massacres. “Oh, human rights are being violated! Let’s go and violate some human rights and war treaties, as well as undermine the autonomy of a country in order to prevent more human right violations.” Admittedly, there is a much more coherent way to make the previous statement, but reality remains the same. Having the UDHR facilitates the process of manipulating a country into war for the interests of a few who seek to profit.
4. [People] should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.” This is, certainly, the most laughable demand the Universal Declaration of Human Rights makes. Is it not in human nature to compete and create conflict, fight, etc.?
Is this document actually asking us to go against our most basic instincts?
5. Expanding on point number 4, most of the other rights outlined by each of the articles are unattainable. For example, how can we ask a third world country to provide basic education to all of its citizens when many of them are starving? Most malnourished children are not really pondering on the answer to the fundamental question of “what is 2 + 2?”
In conclusion, although it would be utopic to be able to inhabit a world in which our fundamental rights are respected, especially without the need of a declaration to be drafted, the truth is that we don’t. And although the intentions behind the Declaration might have been noble (at least, I hope so), the end result was disappointing.
