Ten Questions To Ask About A Story: #2

As I watched CAMP ROCK, Disney Channel's smash hit made-for-television movie, I found myself asking Question Number Two in my on-going series of ten questions. (Note to first time Fire Escape visitors: these relate to stuff I notice about a story, whether it comes via screen or in print, because of the strange between-cultures lenses I can't seem to take off.)

Question Two: Is ethnicity used to cue either a “good” or “bad” character trait?

Today's storytellers are spearheading a strange stage in the history of American culture. It strikes me as a correction to the historical overlooking of non-white people in books and movies. What's happening now is that if you're lazy with story, you'll use race, ethnicity, or class to inform a young audience how to feel about your characters. We're trying to train a whole generation to equate WHITE/RICH with BAD, and BROWN/BLACK/POOR with good -- although I'm not sure they're buying it. The problem is that as a storytelling mechanism, this new trick is as simple and stupid as the old one.

In CAMP ROCK, one can feel the careful casting and the intentionality of each actor's race. The villain is blonde (Meaghan Jette Martin) and the hero Latina (Demi Lovato). The antagonist's allies are an African-American girl who chooses emancipation to win the singing contest (Jasmine Richards) and a mixed-race ditzy chick (Anna Maria Perez de Tagle) who also ends up renouncing oppression and stepping out on her own.

Oh, quit whining, you might be thinking, at least they're including heroes who aren't white. That's good, right?

Yes, I'm glad Disney's come a long way from the days of African-American voices cast as human-wannabe monkeys or jobless crows. And peering over my between-cultures bifocals, CAMP ROCK was lively, good-hearted, and entertaining.

Still, I don't like it when storytellers are lazy. The filmmakers give us nothing related to character when it comes to rooting for the hero, Mitchie Torres. She starts her journey without any hint of inner strength and depth, or even of being mixed-up -- all we know before she's in the middle of her self-induced conflict is that (a) she's musical, (b) her family doesn't have money to send her to camp, and (c) that she's Latina thanks to her last name.

Is that enough to get us to root for her? Apparently so, according to Disney and many other storytellers -- including some of us in the book world.

Ten Questions To Ask About A Story: #1

I'm presenting "BOOKS BETWEEN CULTURES" to the Waltham librarians today, and as I looked over my notes, I thought my Fire Escape visitors might appreciate knowing the ten questions I encourage readers or filmgoers to ask when they're consuming a story. (I'll post one at a time randomly through the summer, so check for the label/tag "Ten Critical Questions.")

With my strange between-cultures lenses in place, here's a question that pops into my head while I'm reading a story or watching a flick:

Question One: Are the multicultural characters in the story one-dimensional (ie., only allowed to be noble, good, wise, etc.)?

Outsourced: The Movie

Thanks to a tip from Little Willow, I'm hoping to see this film, which might serve as an antidote to the Love Guru:

I wrote to ask if I could help bring Outsourced to Boston, and of course I'll let you know if they respond.

What Makes Ethnic Humor Funny?

Try, if you can, to see this movie trailer of Mike Myers' forthcoming flick The Love Guru through the eyes of an Indian-American teen with Hindu parents:



I'm a bit befuddled by my own responses to ethnic humor. Why does the Love Guru trailer strike me as not-so-funny and racially offensive, while bits of this trailer (warning: iffy content) of Harold and Kumar at Guantanamo Bay made me smile (although I'm pretty sure I'd find a lot in this flick offensive for other reasons)?

Disney's Big Mistakes

Ben Joseph over at Cracked makes me feel better about my recent Enchanted rant, providing clips and commentary on nine racist Disney characters. We are not alone.

Source: Cartoon Brew

Disney's Enchanted: Hey, I'm BA-A-A-A-D!

It's not that I didn't enjoy this sweet film. It's not that the characters, music, and script didn't captivate me.  It's just that I can't leave my bleeping between cultures bifocals at home. 

So when the Bad Guy Brit (standard Disney choice played by Timothy Spall) offered Princess Giselle poison apples, it didn't surprise me that he disguised himself as three different kinds of first generation American: creepy hawker with generic Eastern European accent, Italian waiter, and (I knew it was coming) Sikh taxi cab driver. Thankfully he was reforming by the time he was costumed as an Indian immigrant, so we didn't have to endure a fake South Asian lilt. 

Throughout the movie, two Manhattans were evident: rich, white people with doormen and dry cleaning and working class immigrants, of whom all children should beware. On a good note, the film didn't vilify the High-Powered Jewish Princess (Idina Menzel), although she was dumped (after FIVE years of patient dating) in favor of the WASP Domestic Princess (Amy Adams) who cooked, sewed, and cleaned.

But the worst part for me was when the Real Bad Babe, played by a gorgeously middle-aged Susan Sarandon (in black with black hair ... yet again), became a downright crone before she convinced Princess to eat said apple. You know what that means, don't you? In a few years I get to be perceived as a double villain: a zero-generation immigrant AND an old woman. Let's terrify some kids during my author visits, shall we? 

Sigh. I feel kind of witchy already, smearing a good flick with my hyper-critical take. Too bad I can't just go to the movies and be swept away by the magic of a well-made tale. Can you?

Photo Via Creative Commons.

No Namesake For Us

My sister and I visited our parents this past weekend in California. One of our goals was to convince them to experience Mira Nair's film cross-generationally — an experience highly recommended by several South Asian friends.

The challenge was that my parents never go to the movie theater. After we'd wheedled and begged for a while, they finally agreed to go this time because (a) our beloved city of Kolkata appears in The Namesake and (b) Bangla, our language, also co-stars, since Jhumpa Lahiri, the novel's author, is Bengali.

But this once-in-a-lifetime event was not to be. We'd just settled ourselves in our seats when an usher announced that the projector's bulb had suddenly burned out with no chance of a fix. I exchanged a look of disgust with my sister.

Ma and Baba could tell we were disappointed. "We'll go to the cinema the next time you come," Baba promised.

"But The Namesake won't be around then," my sister said.

"And you guys won't ever go to a movie theater again, I just know it," I added skeptically.

"Oh, yes we will," Ma said. "And soon, too."

"When? When will we ever hear Bangla in an American feature movie again? Or see scenes from Bengal on the big screen?"

"When they make a film out of one of your books," Ma answered, her voice ringing with the delusional maternal conviction that demolishes rational argument. "Now let's go home and relax."

And that's exactly what we did.

The Voice Of Disney's New Black Princess

By now (via Wonderland or Fuse) you've probably heard about the new animated movie coming from Disney in 2009 featuring Maddy, an African-American princess. I'm curious to see how they cast the film, and especially how they decide to voice this character. Will she sound Southern since the setting is New Orleans? Will she have an "articulate" voice? (If you're wondering why I put the word in quotes, read this wonderful article by Lynette Clemson in the February 4, 2007 issue of the New York Times called The Racial Politics of Speaking Well.)

Accents in animated films have always fascinated me. In Disney's Lion King, for example, while the child actor who portrayed Nala (Niketa Calame) and the singing voice of Simba (Jason Weaver) had African-American voices, the speaking Simba (Jonathan Taylor Thomas) and the adult versions were white (Matthew Broderick and Moira Kelly, respectively). Anyone else think it strange that a black lioness grows up to be white, and that when the cub sings he switches races?

The Namesake For Teens

I'm posting from KnowFat! restaurant in Bedford, Massachusetts, where I stopped on the way back from an author appearance in Carlisle. (I'm doing a flurry of school visits -- Wednesday, Wickford, RI, Friday, Andover, MA, etcetera -- don't panic, editors, if you're checking in, I'm still carving out time to write.)

On another note, here's a great review for teens of the movie Namesake from Word, the official blog of Weekly Reader's Writing Magazine, written by Sandhya Nankani. And check out this touching account of Ms. Lahiri's parents seeing the film.

Trivia: Did you know that Jhumpa Lahiri officially uses her nickname because a kindergarten teacher opted not to call her "Neelanjana" or "Sudeshna," which were her two legal names? After this discussion, though, I've decided to veer away from a recent surge of cynicism and give people the benefit of the doubt, so perhaps the teacher was trying to ease the to-school transition by using the at-home pet name. And then it stuck.

The Nam-a-Sake Opens on Friday

Check out this hilarious interview conducted by Jorma Taccone and SNL's Andy Samberg with actor Kal Penn, who plays Gogol in the adaptation of Jhumpa Lahiri's novel, The Namesake, opening this Friday. (Blogger Literary Safari previewed the film and provides a more accurate review.)

(Source: Sepia Mutiny, of course.)

Padre Nuestro: Show Me The YA Novelization

While we're chatting about books made into films, you publisher-slash-editor types out there should take note of Christopher Zallas' Sundance-winning movie Padre Nuestro:

Fleeing a pack of henchman on the Mexican side of the border, Juan hops a truck transporting illegals from Mexico to New York City. En route he befriends Pedro, an innocent from central Mexico who is headed to New York to seek his rich restaurateur father, Diego. Pedro shows Juan a sealed letter that his mother, now dead, has given him--an introduction to the father he never knew. When the truck pulls into New York City, Pedro wakes to find both his belongings and his new friend gone without a trace. He is cast onto the street and stumbles around, lost in an unknown city. Juan, meanwhile, shows up at Diego's door with the letter, claiming to be his long-lost son, Pedro.

Sounds like a gripping YA read or graphic novel to me, but perhaps the contracts have been signed months ago and I'm behind the times. Here's a clip, if you're interested.

Crash, Rooftop, and Other Convergences

Finally saw Crash last night. The entire time my stomach was clenched like a fist. My take? The movie had enough deus ex machina to remind me of a Grimm's Fairy Tale, except that the hero was the villain was the victim was my prince. You couldn't really blame anyone, and you sorrowed over the plight of everyone. I found it interesting which characters were left with hope, and which were left devastated. With hope (after suffering): new Americans ... Persians, Mexicans, Chinese, and Cambodians. Without hope (still in the midst of suffering): African-American men and working class white people.

I'm also reading Rooftop by Paul Volponi aloud to my sons (a gripping, wonderful story), and recommend the combination of Crash with this novel to spur discussion about how racism is changing in America. (Warning: the movie's rated R for some graphic scenes, and Volponi uses street vernacular with skill.)

Speaking of changing times, who could have predicted a decade ago that a South Asian literary magazine for kids would win a prestigious award for publishing? Well, dreams do come true. Kahani magazine was honored this weekend with a Distinguished Achievement Award by the Association of Educational Publishers, and we're all going a little wild.

Bollywood, Bhangra, and Books

While I was presenting my "Books Between Cultures" seminar at the Public Library Assocation's National Convention last March, I had only one regret: I was missing a concurrent session called "Bollywood, Bhangra, and Books," offered by Gail Mueller Schultz and Jeffrey Gegner of Hennepin County Library in Minnetonka, Minnesota. But now these India-savvy folks have posted their fabulous handout, complete with links and recommendations on books, movies, music, and dance. Follow the link, scroll down, download the .pdf file, and enjoy!

Hollybay Movies

In my younger days, I traveled through remote parts of rural China with a group of buddies. Villagers everwhere asked my Mandarin-speaking traveling companions a favor: "Kindly ask the Indian girl to sing and dance for us immediately." The motivation behind their invitation was common to scores of people outside America -- an addiction to movies exported from India. Bombay makes 1,200 movies a year; Hollywood only produces 450. A great article by Joanna Connors, film critic for The Plain Dealer of Cleveland, sums up why even Americans are choosing to watch films that are Bollywood-esque in character:

These days, the (Hollywood) film industry wants us to go out on a Saturday night date, have a nice dinner and then settle back to ponder the grave and depressing issues of modern life. If we all go home with suicidal impulses, they figure their job is done. While Hollywood was taking care of that task, however, it appears that one more all-American enterprise was quietly outsourced to India: over-the-top, pure escapist entertainment. Or, if you prefer, Bollywood movies.

After mentioning Bend It Like Beckham, Bride and Prejudice, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and Vanity Fair, Connor ends the article by describing one of my all-time favorite flicks, Monsoon Wedding, produced in 2001 by filmmaker Mira Nair:

The romantic comedy bubbles and overflows with characters and plotlines like a towering champagne fountain at a wedding reception. The movie takes place during the four days leading up to a huge Punjabi wedding, and Nair plunges the audience into the thick of things, where we can observe the swirl of secrets and complications that inevitably ensue when families reunite. Nair uses nearly all of the Bollywood conventions in the movie, not least the monsoon rains of the title. But rain is not the only element drenching the proceedings. Joy saturates the movie, too, in abundance. So does color. And music. And dancing. And romance. Sounds more inviting than racism, corruption, terrorism and censorship, no?

I think so. And apparently, so do most people on the planet. Wake up, Hollywood!

Films Between Cultures Win Awards

Got back from the annual Kindling Words Retreat last night with a horrible cold, but with four solid days of writing behind me. Checked in with the news to discover that two films about immigrants won the top four awards at the Sundance film festival. From an article in the Guardian:

Quinceañera, which examines Hispanic family culture through the eyes of teenagers living in Los Angeles, won the jury and audience prizes in the drama section, while God Grew Tired of Us took the equivalent awards in the documentary category at Utah's annual celebration of independent film-making. The latter, which took director Christopher Quinn four years to make, chronicles the lives of three Sudanese refugees after they emigrate to the US. Festival director Geoffrey Gilmore said: "This year we've seen a number of films that deal sensitively with the timely and complex issues of cultural assimilation and community. Clearly, these compelling stories along with the quality of film-making have resonated with audiences and jury members alike."

The Horror Of A Repeat Dress

At my senior prom, I turned up wearing the same dress as another girl (who looked better in it than me, unfortunately). I spent the entire night avoiding this stranger, my cheeks burning with humiliation. I remembered the intensity of my misery when I read about Reese Witherspoon accidentally wearing the same Chanel dress that Kirsten Dunst wore three years ago. Witherspoon's choice of dress has been described as a "debacle" and a "fashion faux pas." Here are my theories about why being seen in the same dress as another person is such a cultural fiasco for a young woman:

Theory No. 1: Maintaining your cool factor means you must be perceived as trend-setting and unique. Imitating another girl's style exactly is a sign that you're losing your edge. That's why Dunst was probably tickled by what was deemed a disaster for Witherspoon — Kirsten wore it first.

Theory No. 2: A girl's dress-up clothes make a statement about her inner self, and especially about her sexuality. What does she value? What is her relationship with her body? So when she shows up at an event wearing the same outfit as someone else, she's immediately linked with this stranger, a person with whom she might not have chosen to connect. Her response, then, can either be hiding and avoiding (like I did when I was 17) — or celebrating the connection and sharing a laugh.

For example, this is how Witherspoon's publicity people responded to the "crisis":

Although it was disappointing that the dress had already been worn, Reese looked beautiful and the bigger deal is Reese won the Golden Globe for her work in 'Walk the Line.' I still love Chanel, my clients still love Chanel, and we are still working with them.

If I worked for Witherspoon, I'd have come up with this instead:

Reese was delighted to discover that she'd chosen the same Chanel dress once worn by the lovely and tasteful Kirsten Dunst. "Kirsten and I must have more in common than winning a Golden Globe award,' she announced. "I'm definitely taking that girl to the mall."

Stuff Disney Added That I Actually Liked

The Narnia film added a few nice layers to the book — yes, you read that right. An anti-adaptations curmudgeon can surprise you every now and then with unusual open-mindedness. I enjoyed:

• Peter's coming-of-age as he accepts the call to protect and reconcile his family.
• The nuances of relationship between the siblings (except for the scene where Peter and Edumund apologize to Lucy and she retorts with sarcasm instead of grace — an update for this generation of viewers that was definitely not in the book).
  
• The first scenes of bombing in London and mothers sending their children to the countryside (communicating the stress of C.S. Lewis' England in wartime).
• The timing and development of Edmund's role in betraying his siblings, handing over important information to the Witch, and gradual repentance.
  

Anybody want to add to the list?

Scary, Small Indian Sidekicks

Saw Narnia yesterday. More later on that, but first I can't get over the choice to cast actor Kiran Shah as the white witch's dwarf sidekick. The heavy Indian accent, the fawning at a British Queen's feet, the sword shaped like a Kirpan at the neck of a white child, the cheers of the audience as Susan's arrow fells him (which is not in the book, by the way) ... I'm still processing Deep Roy's role as all of the oompah-loompahs in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: What's with the inclusion of diminutive Indian people as creepy child-molesting-ish characters in recent Hollywood fantasy blockbusters? On the record: it makes me uncomfortable. Maybe I should be glad that Indian actors are getting any roles at all?

Puh-leeze! Don't Squeeze MY Narnia

I don't trust movie adaptations of beloved books for three reasons. First, when journeying to a place via film, I lose three of my senses — I can't smell or taste or touch the way my imagination enables me to when I'm reading. Second, scenes communicating nuances of character are cut lest what delights the reader becomes excruciating for the viewer. And finally, movies don’t give the reader or the plot freedom to slow down.

Case in point: the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Reading the book, I finger the thick, green vines in Fangorn Forest, smell the evil reek in the valley of Mordor, and taste the hearty flavor of simmering mushrooms – thanks to the dialectic between Tolkien's words and my imagination.

One of my favorite scenes is when Aragorn’s self-denial extinguishes the simmering bitterness between Legolas and Gimli. This pivotal, revelatory interaction between three major characters doesn't appear in the movie. There’s simply no room for it.

As reader, I journey with Frodo and Sam through arduous, frightening passages, knowing that we will rest in places like Tom Bombadil's candle-lit dining hall. We will feast, bathe, sleep, and steel ourselves for the next episode of fear or battle. In the movie, I'm rushed with the characters from one adrenaline-inducing scene to the next. No time for reflection or recovery in a screen hero's journey.

Don't get me wrong. I love the dimming of lights, the big music, the rustle of popcorn — these cues herald the relaxing experience of expert entertainers drawing me into their stories. Just don't commandeer one of my beloved books and claim you’ve successfully squeezed it into the tight space of a film. Movie adaptations should come with a warning: "The story could not be edited to fit your movie screen. Read the book FIRST." Let's hope the people at Disney and Walden will shock my curmudgeonly socks off when I see the movie.

King Kongism

Out here on the fire escape, I'm a bit worried about Peter Jackson's upcoming release of King Kong. Dark-skinned savages kidnapping a beautiful blonde? A huge black foreign ape destroyed by his love for that same blonde? David Rosen's essay, "King Kong," written in 1975, seems uncannily apropos after watching a trailer of Jackson's 2005 remake:

Kong is forcibly taken from his jungle home, brought in chains to the United States, where he is put on stage as a freak entertainment attraction. He breaks his chains and goes on a rampage in the metropolis, until finally he is felled by the forces of law and order ... The white woman comes along on the safari not only to provide romantic interest. She is usually a focus of tension between the white males and the “natives,” furnishing an opportunity for some of the former to display their virile heroism against the savages ... (At the time of the original release), the movement for "100 per cent Americanism" was directed against all those “alien elements” which were seen to threaten “American civilization.” Seen in this light, the choice of location for the finale of KING KONG is especially appropriate. What better monument to this “civilization” was there in 1933 than the then only recently completed Empire State Building?

And what about the portrayal of women? As a woman of color, even one with old-fashioned values, the thought of time-traveling back to the thirties gives me the creeps.