//literary and arts//
Fall 2018
When Film Goes Back to Black and White
Harry Ottensoser
My recent movie outing to The Hate U Give was not a simple one. With this production, George Tillman Jr. joined the string of directors who are exploring through their movies salient issues in the American black community. Tillman’s movie, in specific, focuses on the aftermath of the shooting of an unarmed black man by a white police officer, and particularly on how this leads protagonist and eyewitness, Starr Carr, to reassess her own identity and blackness. This movie is not a standalone; in recent months, movies such as BlacKkKlansmen, Sorry to Bother You, Monsters and Men, and Blindspotting, have similarly grappled with such issues. These movies unflinchingly examine topics such as police brutality, black on black crime, and white privilege, all while exploring the response of the black community. For me, these films have forced me to ask a difficult question: what is my place as a white viewer?
I don’t think the answer is simply that these movies were just not intended for me. Movies by nature focus on a specific time and place; the intention of this specificity has never been to exclude a wide audience. Rather, a film’s specificity is often used as a tool for generating empathy from its viewers. As film critic Roger Ebert famously noted in his review of Brokeback Mountain (2005), “[It is] strange but true: the more specific a film is, the more universal [it is], because the more it understands individual characters, the more it applies to everyone.” That is to say, when a movie utilizes its specificity to create a character that feels real we as viewers are able to insert ourselves and find a deep human truth that speaks to us.
The issue of racial violence in America is real, and to ignore it is to be irresponsible and even harmful. I need, therefore, to see these movies, because though they seem “specific,” they ultimately apply to me, too. My real question, it seems, is not whether or not I, as a white viewer, should watch these films, but rather what my takeaway should be, and what kind of response the filmmakers hope to evoke from a viewer such as myself.
I think The Hate U Give attempts to answer those questions through its portrayal of several white characters who voice their opinions on the killing of the unarmed black man — and it’s not a great picture. First we are given Starr’s classmates who start a “Black Lives Matter” campaign only in order to get a day off from school, instead of being motivated by empathy or sensitivity. Then there’s Starr’s friend Hailey, whose inability to comprehend the gravity of the situation quickly escalates from the indifference and insensitivity of many of Starr’s classmates to blatant, undisguised racism.
There is, however, a redeemable white character in the film: Chris, Starr’s boyfriend. While his at- tempts to empathize with Starr are misguided, the film doesn’t villainize him in the way it does other characters who displayed inappropriate reactions. Instead, the movie recognizes his positive intentions and offers a suggestion for what he should—and shouldn’t— do in order to support the person he loves in a situation that he can’t possibly fully understand. In one of the movie’s pivotal scenes, Starr and Chris are talking in a limo outside their prom, and the conversation turns to the topic of race. Chris offers what he believes to be a good show of support, telling Starr that “he doesn’t see her color.” Starr insists that what Chris sees as a supremely sensitive reaction is misguided; she responds that she is proud of her blackness and instead of not “see[ing] her color,” he should embrace her blackness as a fundamental piece of her identity. With this, the movie is suggesting that Chris should not pretend that the situation doesn’t exist— he can’t avoid the issue by not “see[ing]” race—but rather he must acknowledge Starr’s identity in a positive way. As a white person, the film seems to say Chris cannot pretend the privilege his race grants him does not exist because that is just as dangerous, and even as ignorant, as actively reinforcing that privilege.
The film makes it clear, however, that despite Chris’s attempts to understand Starr’s experience, he cannot assume a position within the black community; he is an ally, but this does not make him subject to the racism of Starr or her community. In the film’s climax, Chris drives Starr and her siblings towards a street in her hometown where a protest reminiscent of the 2014 protests in Ferguson, Missouri is turning violent. When they get nearer to the action, they pause for a moment and Chris asks what he can do. Starr tells him that the most helpful thing he could do is take her siblings and drive them back to safety. This small exchange is wildly significant; Chris recognizes that though he deeply cares about and empathizes with Starr, he can not always know how to best help her.
The Hate U Give’s treatment of Chris seems to me an inspired start towards identifying my role as a white person who sees ongoing injustices to a community that is not my own. While I must recognize the issues and learn how to become a better listener and ally, I can never fully understand an experience so foreign from my own, nor can I rightfully claim and understand the struggles of the black community as members of that community do.
Many of these recent films offer a way for audiences of all demographics to see the problems and is- sues of a community that may not be their own, and to recognize the existence of those problems in a way that is meaningful and impactful. Being an outsider, in this regard, does not necessarily mean you are excluded. The Hate U Give wasn’t about me, and may not have been explicitly intended for me. Or perhaps The Hate U Give, with its focus on white characters, is specifically attempting to address a wide audience. Whatever it may be, I am able to turn my viewing experience into something incredibly meaningful by internalizing what the movie has to say and responding appropriately, something which I—and many others—are still learning how to do.
I don’t think the answer is simply that these movies were just not intended for me. Movies by nature focus on a specific time and place; the intention of this specificity has never been to exclude a wide audience. Rather, a film’s specificity is often used as a tool for generating empathy from its viewers. As film critic Roger Ebert famously noted in his review of Brokeback Mountain (2005), “[It is] strange but true: the more specific a film is, the more universal [it is], because the more it understands individual characters, the more it applies to everyone.” That is to say, when a movie utilizes its specificity to create a character that feels real we as viewers are able to insert ourselves and find a deep human truth that speaks to us.
The issue of racial violence in America is real, and to ignore it is to be irresponsible and even harmful. I need, therefore, to see these movies, because though they seem “specific,” they ultimately apply to me, too. My real question, it seems, is not whether or not I, as a white viewer, should watch these films, but rather what my takeaway should be, and what kind of response the filmmakers hope to evoke from a viewer such as myself.
I think The Hate U Give attempts to answer those questions through its portrayal of several white characters who voice their opinions on the killing of the unarmed black man — and it’s not a great picture. First we are given Starr’s classmates who start a “Black Lives Matter” campaign only in order to get a day off from school, instead of being motivated by empathy or sensitivity. Then there’s Starr’s friend Hailey, whose inability to comprehend the gravity of the situation quickly escalates from the indifference and insensitivity of many of Starr’s classmates to blatant, undisguised racism.
There is, however, a redeemable white character in the film: Chris, Starr’s boyfriend. While his at- tempts to empathize with Starr are misguided, the film doesn’t villainize him in the way it does other characters who displayed inappropriate reactions. Instead, the movie recognizes his positive intentions and offers a suggestion for what he should—and shouldn’t— do in order to support the person he loves in a situation that he can’t possibly fully understand. In one of the movie’s pivotal scenes, Starr and Chris are talking in a limo outside their prom, and the conversation turns to the topic of race. Chris offers what he believes to be a good show of support, telling Starr that “he doesn’t see her color.” Starr insists that what Chris sees as a supremely sensitive reaction is misguided; she responds that she is proud of her blackness and instead of not “see[ing] her color,” he should embrace her blackness as a fundamental piece of her identity. With this, the movie is suggesting that Chris should not pretend that the situation doesn’t exist— he can’t avoid the issue by not “see[ing]” race—but rather he must acknowledge Starr’s identity in a positive way. As a white person, the film seems to say Chris cannot pretend the privilege his race grants him does not exist because that is just as dangerous, and even as ignorant, as actively reinforcing that privilege.
The film makes it clear, however, that despite Chris’s attempts to understand Starr’s experience, he cannot assume a position within the black community; he is an ally, but this does not make him subject to the racism of Starr or her community. In the film’s climax, Chris drives Starr and her siblings towards a street in her hometown where a protest reminiscent of the 2014 protests in Ferguson, Missouri is turning violent. When they get nearer to the action, they pause for a moment and Chris asks what he can do. Starr tells him that the most helpful thing he could do is take her siblings and drive them back to safety. This small exchange is wildly significant; Chris recognizes that though he deeply cares about and empathizes with Starr, he can not always know how to best help her.
The Hate U Give’s treatment of Chris seems to me an inspired start towards identifying my role as a white person who sees ongoing injustices to a community that is not my own. While I must recognize the issues and learn how to become a better listener and ally, I can never fully understand an experience so foreign from my own, nor can I rightfully claim and understand the struggles of the black community as members of that community do.
Many of these recent films offer a way for audiences of all demographics to see the problems and is- sues of a community that may not be their own, and to recognize the existence of those problems in a way that is meaningful and impactful. Being an outsider, in this regard, does not necessarily mean you are excluded. The Hate U Give wasn’t about me, and may not have been explicitly intended for me. Or perhaps The Hate U Give, with its focus on white characters, is specifically attempting to address a wide audience. Whatever it may be, I am able to turn my viewing experience into something incredibly meaningful by internalizing what the movie has to say and responding appropriately, something which I—and many others—are still learning how to do.
//HARRY OTTENSOSER is a sophomore in Columbia College. He can be reached at ho2262@ columbia.edu.
Photo courtesy of: Time Magazine.
Photo courtesy of: Time Magazine.