Month: March 2014

“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.