Black Book (2006)

Paul Verhoeven directs this WWII-era drama. It reminds me a lot of The Lives of Others, perhaps because it costars Sebastian Koch, who is in both films, and because both films deal with the Nazi Stasi.

It was a long film: 2 and a half hours. But there was a lot to be shown. I think what stands out to me most in this film is the depiction of the ravages of war and nationalism/patriotism on humanity. But let’s face it: we are all now used to seeing images of Nazi war crimes being played out for us on the screen. We are no strangers to the firing squad and the looting of Jewish riches by Nazi soldiers.  This is certainly at the heart of the Jewish distaste over any recreation of Holocaust imagery: to try to is, in itself, a blasphemy against the atrocities and suffering. But, Nazi-era films keep coming out. So there must be a Hitler or a budding SS in our midst that someone’s trying to allegorize for our collective subconscious to clue into.

Back to my point about depicting humanity’s deep plunge into the absurdly unethical in times of war: Though we are used to “seeing” the Nazi crimes, in this film we also are treated to what happens when the Nazis leave Holland, and the Dutch are left to punish their own traitors. They are just as brutal and inhumane to those who they feel betrayed Holland and sided with the Nazis. The point is that nationalism is nationalism is nationalism, and none of it works very well if you’re trying to maintain a sense of ethics and compassion for your fellow man.

Luckily, we have a few characters who are able to bridge the gap between all the patriotic-war-games-hoopla, and see each other for who they were: Rachel Stein and Muntze. Love, the great equalizer, made their relationship work, but it was also what ultimately brought them to suffer more. It’s amazing that in this film, Muntze, the highest-ranking Stasi, is able to fall in love with a woman he knows to be Jewish. Even more amazing is that Rachel is able to be honest with him, on quite a few occasions, when the viewer is thinking: don’t tell him that! But she is a symbol of purity and her character is the reason the film works: because without her as a gauge to show the atrocious behavior of the others, we might just have a lot of killing to watch.  And Muntze is the same: who would have expected a compassionate Stasi official?

I think films like these remind us that even in the midst of chaos, we can stay true to ourselves, to reason, to reasonableness, and to ethical behavior.

It is interesting that the film is framed around Rachel’s flashback of the events of her youth because later in life, it must have been in the 60s or so, she is in Israel on a Kibbutz, and as the film ends and she is walking back through the barbed wire with her husband and kids, there is another war going on around her. Clearly we know what war this is: between Jewish Israelis and Arab Palestinians. Clearly we know that we are supposed to make the connection between the Nazis in Holland and the final scene. This can be taken several ways. It’s hard to tell what Verhoeven was getting at. But like most films, we bring to the final meaning what we want to, and sometimes we want to leave it open because there are no simple explanations or solutions. But with a good film, a well made film, a smart film, we can go back through the film to fill in the blanks left open for us in the end.

Religulous (2008)

Just a few brief words about this film:

What I found throughout this film is a lack of support for a lot of Bill Maher’s “Biblical (or other religious textual) evidence.” There were countless scenes in which Maher was saying to people “such and such is in the Bible” and the people would say, “no, i believe it said this,” and he would say, “no, that’s not in there.”  But he didn’t carry a Bible or a Qu’ran or anything else with him to “show” anything. There were only a handful of times in which he actually provided quotes from religious texts in order to support his argument–he could have either shown the quotes to the people he was talking to, or presented them as titles for the viewer. Otherwise, his lack of consistently doing this severely affected his ethos in my opinion and it severely diminishes the overall quality of this film.

He attempts to make some good points in this film but I fail to see the point if you don’t do it right.

Kingdom of Crooked Mirrors (1963)

 

This Russian film was directed by Aleksandr Rou. And like all fairy tales, it has a moral.  And, like many Russian films, that moral tends toward glorifying the State.  And that’s okay.  I don’t mind.  I liked this film a lot.  I loved the colors and the characters with their backwards names, like “Dneirf,” which was translated in the subtitles as “Friend.” Or “Lesaew,” which was translated in the subtitles as “Weasel.”  Clever. 

The moral for children is to not only obey your elders, but  to also be able to see yourself through someone else’s eyes.  This is what gets Olya into trouble with Grandma, and ultimately she takes a trip into the Kingdom of Crooked Mirrors (where she meets her “crooked mirror image twin, Yalo,” and they have adventures to save Dneirf) , only to come out of that crazy, crooked world where people are manifestations of animals, understanding that she must watch her behavior.

The moral for adults is summed up nicely in the end when Olya, Yalo, and Dneirf sing a song praising the flag, after Olya and Yalo save Dneirf through a series of very treacherous adventures. 

The sets and backdrops were fabulous.  As I’ve said on this blog before, I really like the obvious fakeness of older films, and this one does not disappoint in that respect.  The acting was great, with a few standout characters:  the Parrot King and Minister Toad.  The Parrot King really did the parrot sounds and movements remarkably well, not to mention his costuming and hair.  And the Minister Toad character was very funny at the end as he was running up a hill and making frog-swimming motions, as if he were swimming through the air to get up the hill.  And Minister Toad was the most colorful of the characters;  also the most scary looking!  I think the acting was very well put together overall. 

What I notice, upon researching the names again is that there appears to be a difference between the subtitles from the version I watched and the names listed online.  And I don’t know Russian so I’m doing my best to describe the characters and associate with them the names I remember.  For instance, “Dneirf” in the film’s subtitles is called “Gurd/Drug” on Wikipedia, and probably in the original Russian in the film. There are other differences with other characters too, obviously. But, I’m not writing a dissertation about the film, only a brief entry here. 

These Russian fairy tales are fun to watch.  I’ve written about another one on this blog, Old Khottabych (1956).     Good stuff!  Ready for more!

The Kite Runner (2007)

Films that deal with rape, especially male-child rape, make me feel panic.  After watching Mysterious Skin(2004), I was left with an awful feeling and insomnia for a few days.  After that film, all I could think about was Samuel Delany’s novel, Hogg, and that made me feel even worse.  I emailed a former Professor from my alma mater about it and he suggested I read Susan Sontag’s Regarding the Pain of Others.  I did, but it didn’t help erase the images that were in my mind.  That was part of the problem:  that the images were there, that someone had helped create those images so they would form in my mind, and that ultimately, male-child rape had been commodified for my “innocent” voyeuristic displeasure.  Well, not quite innocent because at least with Hogg and The Kite Runner, I knew there would be child rape.  And I watched/read anyway.  (FYI: I haven’t read all of Hogg).  But, that was part of the shock of Mysterious Skin–I had no idea what I was getting myself into and it froze my brain in a particular mode of vulnerability, desperation, and panic, especially with regards to the pain of others.  What I learned from watching Mysterious Skin was something particular about the culture of gay sex presented in the film; it reinforced that I do not like seeing others suffer;and it pissed me off that, in general, such suffering was ultimately commodified.

So, what did I learn from The Kite Runner?  That issues in the present, if they are not addressed in the present, only worsen and repeat.  In other words, why put off to tomorrow what you can do today? 

I think we can all relate to the dilemma Amir was in when he witnessed Hassan’s rape: he didn’t know what to do, and he reacted in a way that projected his shame over his own cowardice onto Hassan.  The end result was that Hassan already felt “dirty” about what had happened, and just took the injustice dealt to him by Amir when he was accused of stealing.  One has to ask, however, what would have been the result if Amir had told his father of the assault?  Would it have brought public shame onto the house?  This reminds me of another film (I’m drawing a blank on the title but it’s contemporary Italian and deals with the results of exposing such shame on a wealthy family), in which a very elaborate scheme is concocted in order to protect one of the characters from the repercussions of her exposing that another character (a wealthy aristocrat’s son) had been raping children under his care. 

Needless to say, in a more conservative culture like Afghanistan (in all eras presented in the film), I doubt it would have turned out very well for Hassan had Amir exposed the crime.  But, the viewer is still left hoping that Amir will tell Hassan he knows and that he is sorry, or that he would have had the courage to stop the crime from happening at all.  But that never comes, and it is exactly that ethical malfeasance that turns into the guilt that can be felt by the viewer.  And it is exactly that ethical malfeasance that allows for the same atrocity to be perpetuated on Hassan’s own son, Sohrab.  It was gut-wrenching to learn that Sohrab was in the same situation as his father had been, by the same person–the ultimate irony–and while Amir did exact him from the situation, the question still remains as to whether he has atoned for the original sin?

The problem, I suppose, is with at least a few things:  reciprocation in friendship, courage, guilt, and ethics/compassion.  Amir lacked courage and he knew it, but it doesn’t seem like his father truly instilled any courage in him, only scolded him for being a disgrace.  Ethics and compassion are something you learn, and Baba seemed very selfish and self-centered with whatever politics he was involved in, so clearly he didn’t instill in Amir how to “do the right thing.”  This then affects the reciprocation in friendship–Hassan was clearly the better friend, and Amir showed emotional immaturity in the face of Hassan’s clear maturity.  Ironically, Amir knew right from wrong, or his guilt wouldn’t have been palpable by the viewer.  But his guilt never built up enough to open up the flood gates of compassion for his friend. I say this because while Amir saved Sohrab, he did not save Hassan, nor does he ever acknowledge Hassan’s “sacrifice” for him, based purely on principle.

I can’t help but think of the Dalai Lama’s text, Ethics for the New Millennium, where he says it’s not so much that you react perfectly compassionately to every situation, but rather that you practice having a compassionate response.  I suppose Amir gets better at having non-selfish responses to ethical dilemmas by the end when he rescues Sohrab in Afghanistan and when he finally stands up to his father-in-law back in California.  So I think the Dalai Lama would praise Amir for that.

In the film, Baba said that the ultimate crime was theft, that it was the crime that all other crimes are linked to, and yet it is the one that everyone is guilty of in this film, except Hassan (and his father): Baba, Amir, the Russians, the Taliban.   What do we do about all of this theft of innocence, dignity, compassion, and culture?  Because ultimately, all is stolen from everyone in this film, and ultimately the theft of the innocence of Afghanistan is the framing plot.  Why do we keep stealing when we should be getting better at having compassionate responses to others?  Why do we keep “raping” when our conscience tells us it’s wrong?  Why do we not heal the original wounds, and keep letting new and similar wounds develop?  No one with any “say” is learning anything and tomorrow we’ll be in the same predicament as today unless someone does something about it. 

But as the Dalai Lama says, compassion is something that occurs on an individual basis:  I must practice reacting compassionately every time .  I must “nip” my own festering sores in the “bud” and not let them metastacize into other cancers.  I suppose what I’ve learned from this film is that ethical dilemmas occur on the micro- and macro- levels.  Much like our good friend, Shakespeare, with his play-within-a-play, the micro- in this film sheds light on the macro-.  Despite that obviousness Mr. Bard, we’ll never learn, we’ll never learn!

The Dark Knight & the Autonomy of the Self

For my first post, I’d like to delve into my thoughts on The Dark Knight (2008).  Initially, I was reluctant to watch the film because of its reputation for violence.  I’m typically uninterested or unamused with gratuitous violence and sex in film.  Luckily, The Dark Knight lacked the gratuitous sex.  And, being well hardened to images of violence, I wasn’t altogether overwhelmed with what violence was present in the film.  I suppose I’ve transcended into a more profound state of ‘numb’ than I thought.

What I did come away from the film with was, however, a lesson about ethics and the autonomy of the self, especially in relation to our upcoming Presidential election. 

The Joker attempted to remove true ’choice’ from the people multiple times in the film.  Most notably on the two ferries by giving them the choice to either push the button to blow up ‘the other’ boat, or run the risk of having the other boat blow them up.  The dilemma was clear:  be selfish and save yourself, or be riteous and save someone else (or rather, a lot of someones).  Based on the Joker’s instructions, if they didn’t do the deed themselves, he’d intercede with his own detonation device and do it himself.  When the Joker’s deadline comes and goes, and neither boat has blown up the other, it becomes clear that the people on those boats decided on a somewhat silent choice:  to make a true choice for themselves rather than be forced to choose between the seemingly lesser of two evils.  Their choice was to not push the button ‘for’ killing the others, but to make the choice that they would not participate in the mass-killing of other human beings and therefore be blown up themselves.  Collectively, separately, they decided to not be forced into a moral-ethical dilemma, and to take the Joker’s consequences with a clear conscience. To die with a clean conscience is purportedly better than to die with a guilty conscience. 

At the heart of ethics is the treatment of others.  Treating others ethically entails allowing others to make choices and decisions for themselves, as well as not mistreating them.  If an individual is autonomous, he or she has the ability to make choices on his/her own.  That requires that the forces around the individual be conducive to the individual’s ability to make choices.  When ‘others’ act unethically, and attempt to remove one’s ability to choose for him or herself, the autonomy of the self is compromised.

When giving the contrived choice of kill them or yourself (or choose between the lesser of two evils: life or death) the Joker made a profound mistake in judgment.  He assumed the people would seek self-preservation over the moral-ethical ramifications of mass-murder.  He assumed the people would naturally choose to blow up the others: they die, we live.  While both ferries full of people initially struggled with the choices they had been given by the Joker, both eventually came to the same conclusion: that they wouldn’t pull the trigger on the others, no matter who they were or whether they would themselves be ultimately blown up by the Joker. 

It is better to make the choice for yourself than to be forced to pick between contrived choices, come what may.  In that case, the autonomy of the individuals on those two ferries was left intact because they made a choice for themselves, though the Joker attempted to usurp that right from them. (Luckily, Batman detained and overcame the Joker and he wasn’t able to fulfill his end of that wicked deal). 

Earlier in the film, the Joker said that people could deal with chaos and maniacal plots as long as they knew what the chain-of-events and the outcome(s) were; in other words, if they knew the outcome (that was to their own benefit), they’d do whatever it took to make sure it happened.  This scenario is played out relatively well when the Joker notifies everyone that the hospitals would be blown up unless someone murdered the Batman snitch.  The Joker blows up the hospital, as planned.  But in the meantime, it was a race for Bruce Wayne to save the snitch because when ‘forced’ to choose between the snitch and their own loved ones, a few individuals had taken the Joker’s bait (as he predicted).  This sets him up to think he can predict what the people on the ferries will do.

So the Joker was banking on the people on the ferries to do the same thing:  take the bait.  Choose the lesser of two evils: their own lives at the cost of their mortal souls.  The Joker monopolized on his belief that the people would do whatever they were told, no matter how insane, in order to live.

Where this is all going is this: When we, as individuals living in our own world, are ‘forced’ to make the contrived choice between the lesser of two evils, we are being just as unethically treated as the innocent citizens of Gotham were by the Joker.  We typically think of unethical treatment as being torture, racism, sexism, etc. We (read as: the general public) tend to not think of unethical treatment as the literal removal of our ability to choose for ourselves.  Yes, we may have two choices and we may legitimately decide between those two choices, but we have still been ‘given’ those choices and may not necessarily like what’s left over to choose from. 

It’s been this way with all of the Presidential elections I have been old enough to pay attention to.

If I’ve learned anything from The Dark Knight it’s that we shouldn’t be forced to choose between the lesser of two evils.  I acknowledge that to many, our choices now are perhaps a little less ‘evil’ than in times past.  However, like the convict on the ferry, stranded, I too want to toss the detonator out of the window and make a true choice for myself, and not jump on the bandwagon of propaganda and contrived consequences.