The titular orange billboards don’t leave the town of Ebbing, Missouri. The black lettering pleading “How come, Chief Willoughby?” against a piercing blue midwestern sky. It is a shout into America for justice.
In a shout for justice there is power. We’ve seen this especially throughout the course of 2017— the power of women flooding the National Mall after Trump’s inauguration, these same women leading the #MeToo movement and becoming Time magazine’s People of the Year: The Silence Breakers. The power of counter-protesters bombarding white supremacists in Charlottesville. The power of art itself calling attention to injustice in America (Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN. and Jordan Peele’s Get Out were the most buzzed-about pieces of music and film this year, respectively). We shout when we see injustice; Mildred (Frances McDormand), then, is shouting at a neglectful police force when she erects her first billboard in her small town of Ebbing, Missouri, to bring attention to the untouched abduction, rape, and murder case of her daughter. The billboard is solemn and damning: RAPED WHILE DYING. Three words on a billboard, this wooden staple of roadside Americana, punches in its brevity the state of our nation with as much breathless commentary as a tweet. Simple, enough, and seen by everybody. That’s America for you. Naturally, when Mildred reveals her billboards, the town is shaken up, mostly on the account of Chief Willoughby (Woody Harrelson), who is the only member of the force singled out. The controversy lies in the fact that Willoughby is a genuinely good man who is dying of pancreatic cancer as he fathers his two little girls. Why is Mildred so insistent on calling him out specifically? “It’s better to get him on the case before he croaks, right?” There is a tendency in American people to turn everything into a spectacle for our own entertainment. Hence, the residents of Ebbing, Missouri are geared up for a showdown between their resident crazy woman scorned and their good cop. But it’s not that simple. Of course it’s not that simple. No life is simple when it’s filled with unspeakable pain, as both Mildred and Willoughby’s are. This is the greatest strength of Three Billboards— its ability to find empathy and compassion underneath the leather-tough exteriors of McDormand’s and Harrelson’s characters. We find that compassion and hold it out for the characters. The characters find that compassion and hold it out for each other. There comes an understanding in this and a reaffirmation of human kindness. It’s truly beautiful and, for that, it deserves the acclaim that it’s been getting. Perhaps that’s what makes it all the more infuriating when other characters of Three Billboards don’t get the same nuanced treatment that Mildred and Willoughby are given. There is a commanding presence of a character in Officer Jason Dixon (played by Sam Rockwell, whose performance won the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor in a Drama), a violently racist and homophobic cop who, (after some events that would spoil the movie if I revealed them), changes the error of his ways. This character’s redemption arc has certainly rubbed audiences the wrong way, as the passivity of Dixon’s redemption almost makes his bigotry excusable and not a big deal. I want to say very quickly that I think there is something hopeful about the fact that Dixon can change at all. In a climate wherein bigotry has become mainstream, I think Dixon’s redemption is refreshing. It gives me hope to see that one can reform and live his life according to his resolutions. Great works of art are full of deeply flawed characters. But here’s the thing: It’s strongly implied that Dixon has abused his authority as a cop in the past by torturing a black person. That’s no small thing— it’s a very real matter. In a movie so centered on empathy and compassion, shouldn’t we get to hear the voices of the person who was tortured and the black community around him? We don’t, and it’s more than frustrating; it’s inconsiderate and inconsistent. If Three Billboards is about the empathy and compassion that lies in beaten-down people, it neglects to give its black characters the same treatment. We get to see Mildred’s struggle as a mourning mother and abused wife. We get to see Willoughby’s own body oppressing him in his cancer diagnosis. Three Billboards brilliantly uses characterization to get to the root of a compassion between Mildred and Willoughby, but there is hardly a meaningful conversation between a black character and Dixon— or just about any white character. In a movie full of complex characterization, there is very little in Dixon and none in the people he’s brutalized. I really liked most of Three Billboards. I thought most of it was incredibly witty, poignant, and brilliantly acted through and through. The encompassing themes were lovely. Several moments took my breath away. Had it not tackled more than it was willing to treat well, I think it could be a perfect film. The controversy exploding around this movie, however, is undoubtedly warranted. Regarding the issue of race, screenwriter Mark McDonagh just about does what Get Out warns against— instead of treating black people like complex human beings, they are objectified and used as pawns for the progression of their white counterparts. I think McDonagh wanted to make impactful points about racial injustice in America, but it falls so flat. Not only is the remainder of this movie far better than these scenes, but…we got Get Out this year, guys, and we’re going to get so much more. We’re getting a conversation in the media that hasn’t gone this far before. And now, during Hollywood’s award season, a staple of glitzy Americana, these daring and unafraid films punch in their brevity the state of our nation with as much breathless commentary as a tweet. Simple, enough, and seen by everybody. That’s America for you. For more information on the backlash of Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri, read Nate Jones's piece for Vulture "Oscars 2018: Your Guide to the 'Three Billboards' Backlash.'
0 Comments
WONDER WOMAN reminds us why we need superhero movies now more than ever.When comic book superheroes were initially conceived, the entire draw behind them was that they were personifications of what humankind should be. Comic book authors recognized that humans were weak and susceptible to evil forces, and that’s why superheroes were around to save them. They were like us, only stronger. Their intentions were always virtuous and noble; and, with their true hearts and impossible powers, a superhero was what humans should be. And, for a time, this concept was alluring and attractive.
But I think something happened along the way as the superhero mythos began expanding—people noticed that their once-beloved heroes were simply idealized humans, and they didn’t like the idea so much. They couldn’t relate to their heroes. Humans are morally messy creatures, and we wanted figures who we could relate to. So superheroes became more complex, and we got to watch our superheroes fight internal darkness as well as external darkness. Often it’s incredibly successful (Logan is a fantastic recent example), but sometimes it’s not (Man of Steel). Undeniably, though, this approach has changed superhero franchises forever. So Wonder Woman, in this case, is a bit of a shock. I’d actually say it’s an incredibly refreshing one. With everything going on in the world, it’s very easy to make a cynical superhero movie. But that’s not what Wonder Woman does, because that’s not who Wonder Woman is. Wonder Woman (played by Gal Gadot), whose real name is Diana, is raised among Amazonian warrior women. They live on an island called Themyscira, which, in its peace, has been quietly waiting for the imminent attack of Ares, the god of war. These warrior women have been training for this dreaded day of combat, and Diana is the strongest of them all. When Steve Trevor (Chris Pine), a spy for the WWI British army accidentally finds Diana’s island, he tells her all about the horrors of the war. Diana is convinced the World War has to have been Ares’ doing, and she sees it as her duty as an Amazonian to travel back with Steve, find Ares and end the war. But Diana learns it isn’t so simple. Not only is the “real world” very The war has spread all across the world, and the spirit of Ares has seemed to manifest itself into the hearts of all humankind. On earth, it’s normal that men, women, and children are slain every day. Diana is a complete outsider to this knowledge, and when we hear it explained to her, it’s jarring. We’ve been so desensitized to war that it takes the reactions of someone like Diana, hearing of it for the first time, to remind us just how ridiculous war is, and Gadot’s reaction is devastating. Diana is only motivated to do good, to vanquish war and help others. She is distraught when she sees how many individual lives have been affected by war, and harrowed when she learns mortals don’t have enough time to help each person with their own personal needs. But the human beings around her aren’t so pure of heart. It isn’t because of Ares why humans are flawed; it’s simply because that is the human condition. Ultimately, Diana has to find out how to save the world, but first she has to figure out if human beings, in all their ugliness, are worth saving. And she doesn’t come across her answer in the easiest way. What’s interesting about Wonder Woman is, despite how refreshing it feels, just how archaic its theme is. The duality of what humans should be and what humans are is an enigma we’ve sought after since the beginning of time. Every major religion tries to rationalize the coexistence of innate sin and Godly goodness, and most of them promise salvation— a god covering the banality of sin by his love. So, when Wonder Woman wants to save the earth, how can she be so sure if a flawed race is worth saving? Humans are not driven by virtue and nobility the way Wonder Woman is. Humans are morally messy. And the acknowledgement of the complexity of the human condition is just why Wonder Woman is the movie 2017 needs. It goes without saying that we’ve desperately needed a serious female-led superhero film (why did it take so long?!), but in these dark times, we just need hope as we deal with both good and evil. It doesn’t mean the journey to hope is perfect— Diana’s naïveté regarding earth c. 1919 gets her into some trouble, but she is always motivated to do the right thing. The friends she meets aren’t perfect, but they’re endearingly human. This isn’t a straight-arrow superhero fable like its early predecessors, nor is it a bleak look at the world. We are left instead with that conflict of what humankind is and what it ought to be. We may never attain perfection, and we may never deserve it. But we can believe in it. And if we all watch Wonder Woman and feel a little of her power to do good, the world could surely become a bit more wondrous indeed. |
Archives
June 2018
Categories
All
|