Review of "The Help" (film)

Having read one scathing review and having watched an interview with Tate Taylor, who wrote the screenplay and directed the film, in which he defends his soft-pedal approach to the rampant racism of 1960s U.S., I was certain that I would not be contributing my hard-earned dollars to the makers of the movie, "The Help." Then Cindy called. She had read about the movie and, knowing of my interest in racism in general and the negative stereotyping of African American women in particular, she invited to me to go see it with her. Now I had a dilemma: an incredibly rare night out with a woman whom I respect and admire or sticking to my principles.

Initially, I warned Cindy of my skepticism regarding how black women would be portrayed, based on what I had read and seen to date. (For a thorough but concise background on persistent stereotypes of African American women, see Mammy, Jezebel, Sapphire and their Sisters, by Yarbrough and Bennett.) She assured me that, after the film, she would be open to any venting I needed to do. So I reluctantly agreed. As days passed and the night out approached, I read more reviews - a couple of them positive - and spent some prayer time on whether I should go to the movie or back out. This prayer also included a request to help me reconcile my budget (or lack thereof) with the cost of a movie and after-movie drink. The place I came to was, it was not fair for me to judge a movie based on reviews which agreed with my bias that Hollywood rarely portrays African American women as anything but Mammy, Jezebel or Sapphire (aka, the Angry Black Woman). Further, even if the critics were right, how could I educate those who buy into the stereotypes unless I, too, had seen the film and could give specific examples of how those stereotypes had been reinforced? And so it was that I entered the theater with my cynic's hat and a (relatively) clear conscience.

In the first few scenes, I cringed. There was Mammy and Aunt Jemima, in all of their glory, caring for the white family - especially the white children - at the expense of their own families. There were the servants in the kitchen, cracking wise about their employers with stereotypically colorful dialects and jokes. Around this point, Cindy leaned over and told me that, if I needed to leave the theater because the movie was too offensive, she would get up and leave with me. (I am blessed to have Cindy in my life!) But I had decided; I would stick through whatever caricaturizations I encountered, for the sake of educating others who had seen the film through culturally racist eyes. 

Soon, however, the tone shifted and the truth was revealed. Most of the white characters in the film indeed viewed the maids through a Mammy lens. And the maids were keenly, painfully, aware of this perception. But the maids also had families to support, children to feed and clothe, rent to pay. So they played the role which socioeconomics forced on them. And the hurt they felt at their circumstances came through beautifully. Kudos to Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer for the powerful subtleties they brought to their roles.

I cannot recall a single Jezebel in the film, and I was looking for her. Sapphire never made an appearance, either, even though Spencer's character Minny lived with an abusive husband. Did the black women ever get angry? Absolutely. But their anger was appropriate and directed at the sources of their mistreatment, not the loud, mindless venom and man-bashing associated with the Angry Black Woman stereotype.

I had only two issues with this movie. First, men are not generally painted in a favorable light. However, men play an incredibly small role in this film. It is, first and foremost, about the experiences of Aibileen (Davis), Minny, and Skeeter (played by Emma Stone). Men are but a tertiary influence on the story. The other maids and the other white women provide most of the interaction and influence on the plot. My second problem is  subjective; I do not care for happily-ever-after endings and this one had a few too many for me. Again, though, a self-check brought the realization that not all of the sub-stories had positive conclusions and, frankly, I was upset that the side story I cared about the most was not one of them.

As for the suggestion that Taylor played down the violence of the times, I have two thoughts. First, if he wants to influence those who do buy into the negative stereotypes, aggression is not a productive approach. Secondly, most of us are at least somewhat familiar with the events of the Civil Rights movement and the horrors committed in the name of white supremacy. What Taylor does in this film is to bring it home, into our living rooms and day-to-day activities. It's not about lynchings or sit-ins. It's about Aibileen, and Minny, and Yule Mae, and Skeeter, and Celia, and Charlotte. If you are tempted to think that the overtly bigoted characters are one-dimensional and overdone, I suggest that you've never sat in a social gathering of middle- to upper-middle class women - and I don't just mean in 1963, either. Both Cindy and I have had relatively recent experiences to which we could relate the gossip and mean-spirited comments which surround the bridge parties in the film, not to mention the peer pressure to conform, even when one is aware of the harm she is causing others.

Overall, I would rate this movie 4.7 out of 5 stars. It wasn't perfect, but it was darned good. Also, Cindy is minoring in Theater Arts at Portland State University and so has an eye for details such as settings and cinematography. She pointed out several incredible shots which Taylor captured. So here's my final recommendation: Don't wait for it to come out on DVD; go to the theater and see it now. Even if you don't have an interest in issues surrounding race, you will find this film to be well worth the price.

Can I do this?

After years of circling around what I want to be when I grow up, I read Rob Corcoran's "Trustbuilding" and felt I had found my calling. I had been a psych major and sociology minor in pursuit of a career in cross-cultural psychology. I immediately shifted my college focus to mental health counseling (already a passion and a way to pay the bills) and race relations in the U.S. (a heretofore solitary endeavor). While this did not call for a change in my major, it meant dropping my minor in favor of classes in peace studies and learning more about people of different ethnicities right here at home. Further, I joined an intergroup dialogue, sponsored by the City of Portland, between people of color and white people.

This has been a very emotionally draining experience. The dialogue takes place in six weekly four-hour sessions. Yesterday was the third. We watched the first part of "The Color of Fear," the recording of a dialogue between eight U.S. men: two African-American, two Hispanic, two Asian-American, two white. What a difficult film to watch! It brought up all kinds of issues for me in terms of how I unwittingly express my own racism, how difficult it is to reach other white people concerning race relations, and the responsibility I have not to give up.

I left the session more emotionally-drained than usual (it's never an easy four hours). Then I came home to people who absolutely do not understand what the group is, why it is painful for me, or why it is necessary. No support, no constructive debriefing. I even showed them a clip from the film, in hopes they might understand a little. I must have chosen a poor clip. My son's response sounded more like the most vocal of the white men than it did a person of color. (My son is of mixed heritage, but identifies as a black man.)

Now, after a decent night's sleep, I still feel drained. The other ongoing discussions in my life - which take place online - only added to my distress. When checking my e-mail this morning, I was greeted with a video of Islamophobic and racial epithets being hurled at a peaceful gathering of Muslims and a video interview of a young man who identifies as both black and white discussing the challenges he's faced. My heart is hurting so badly right now.

Do I have the mental/emotional strength to do the work I so deeply desire to do? Will I ever reach a point where I can take in all of the ignorance and hatred without letting it depress me AND without getting jaded? I have asked myself these and related questions several times during the past 15 hours. The answer which I keep coming back to is "Yes, Dana. You can." Not only that, but "Dana, you must."

So I will endure the pain. I will learn to accept that most people will not understand my passion and my need to make a difference, no matter how slight. And I will find a way to do the work without becoming an emotional basket case. Because I must. Because I can.

For more on the dialogue in which I'm participating, go to http://www.portlandonline.com/humanrelations/index.cfm?c=54183. For a peek at the film, "The Color of Fear," check out the trailer.