And why don’t I want to see it,
you may well ask? I’m not thinking about how the movie was put together—not entirely
at any rate—since I have not seen it. I have seen the trailer though, I’ve read
some reviews, and I cannot get around how this movie looks like it facilitates
white privilege. Let me walk you through my reasoning.
First, a wee bit of background.
Based on Laura Hillenbrand’s book of the same name, “Unbroken” chronicles the
life of WWII veteran and POW Louis Zamperini. Director Angelina Jolie and co-writers
the Coen brothers have billed the movie as a story about “survival,” “resilience,”
“redemption.” Regardless of the film’s merits, critics have associated the
usual words about WWII with the movie. Manohla Dargis writes that “[Zamperini’s]
is one of those stories that has come to define the Greatest Generation.”
Although Justin Chang offers us a look at what’s at stake, noting that Ms. Jolie
and co. are pushing for a major award, he describes the movie as a “capably
stirring, morally unambiguous and classically polished prestige picture about
an unusually spirited member of the Greatest Generation who survived a hell
beyond anyone's imagination.”
Here’s where things get sticky
for me. Despite that African Americans served alongside whites in World War II,
the former do not appear to be well represented in “Unbroken.” Indeed, the lone exception
that I could find is a “brief glimpse” of Jesse Owens, played by Sierra Leone
sprinter Bangalie Keita. If there more references to African Americans in the
movie, film reviewers have not mentioned them.
Let me be clear. I am not trivializing
either Zamperini’s experience as a WWII veteran and POW survivor or the
story that Ms. Jolie and the Coen brothers set out to tell in making this film. And
I am aware that the vast majority of Americans who served in WWII were white
and that Zamperini was one of the few survivors from the war whose story could
be told some 60 years later. But that’s just it: Zamperini and the millions of
white Americans who served in WWII don’t have to fight to tell their stories. Their story dominates the picture we have of what WWII was like. Whereas the fact that almost no African Americans are depicted in the movie
clearly reflects the fact that, unlike their white counterparts, they do have
to fight to be recognized. I’m willing to bet very few white people know
that anywhere between 125,000 and 1.2 million African Americans served in WWII
or that the Tuskegee Airmen were the first blacks ALLOWED to serve as aviators
in the United States armed forces. And despite serving their country and
proving their worth in battle, these soldiers were discriminated against at
home and in the theatre (Jim Crow laws were in effect until 1965).
I’m well educated, and I’m
ashamed to admit I had not heard of the Tuskegee Airmen until today. Which is
precisely the point I’m making. I knew the watered down, white version of
history everyone knows, not the far more nuanced, far more compelling one.
Because I didn't make an effort until now to know it even as I was chaffing at
what I was seeing and not seeing in the trailers for “Unbroken.”
If you think I’m exaggerating the
problem with black people having to fight to tell their stories or to fight
even for the same screen space, let me give you some more examples that came up
in my research. For one, when I googled an image search on Bengalie Keita—a picture
of him was not provided at the IMDB—I saw some pictures of Keita and other black
people but also lots of white people, including Jack OConnell, who plays
Zamperini in the film, but also Republican congressmen John Boehner, Taylor
Swift, and perhaps most disturbingly, Oscar Pistorius. In contrast, something
like 96 percent of the pictures I saw of Jack OConnell were of himself. And not
one black person is depicted instead of OConnell.
Moreover, whereas Zamperini’s
story has not been questioned to any serious degree, almost immediately upon release the movie “Selma” and the story it tells has been contested by Joseph A. Califano, former Special
Assistant for Domestic Affairs under President Lyndon B. Johnson, who wrote an
op-ed on the film entitled “The movie ‘Selma’ has a glaring flaw.” In a
nutshell, Califano’s beef is that the movie unfairly portrays Johnson and the
FBI: “Selma was LBJ’s idea,” Califano writes, “he considered the Voting Rights
Act his greatest legislative achievement, he viewed King as an essential
partner in getting it enacted—and he didn’t use the FBI to disparage him.” Quite
frankly, I’m amazed at Califano’s gall in trying to credit LBJ with organizing
the Selma marches. I also guess the fact that the current President of the United
States has had to fight every day he has held office to be treated with
respect has escaped Califano’s notice. And although I think that’s shitty
enough, there are worse examples I could trot out of how blacks have been
portrayed for protesting the deaths of Mike Brown, Eric Garner, and countless
others. I promise you, few of the words the media has used to describe these
people compare favorably to “survival,” “resilience,” or “redemption.” And of
course, Mike Brown, Eric Garner, and countless others are dead because they
happened to be black. And that’s just the last six months, let alone the last
two-hundred some years of systematic, violent discrimination and oppression of
the American black community.
In closing, I don’t want to see “Unbroken”
not because it might not be a good film but because I don’t think it’s the
movie anyone, and especially white people, needs to be seeing right now. We
could do with a few more movies about Selma and the civil rights movement (and
yeah, I do plan to see the one out now). We could do with a few about the
Tuskegee Airmen.