The Reader -- a film that spans about 40 years in Germany -- was phenomenal and has already garnered Golden Globe nominations; Towelhead, is a quirky dark comedy about a half-Lebanese teenager growing up in Texas; How I Learned to Drive, is a must-read and 1998 Pulitzer Prize winner about a Maryland girl's adolescence and sexual awakening.
**Spoiler Alert: Plot Reveal**
These works explore the tension between good and evil, black and white, and binary relationships in general. It's not until an hour into The Reader that we discover that Hannah Schmitz (Kate Winslet) was a former S.S. Guard during World War II, who aided in the deaths of more than 300 women. Writer David Hare begins with the relationship between Winslet (in her 30's) and 16-year-old Michael Berg (played by David Kross and then Ralph Fiennes). Their age difference is not mentioned in terms of right or wrong; rather, clashes in their personalities and male hormones lead to the demise of their relationship. Though critics have brought attention to the statutory rape, the film does not view Winslet as a predator, and their age difference receives significantly less attention than their difference in literacy.
Years after Hanna abandons Michael, he attends a hearing of the S.S. guards and spots his past lover. Michael faces a tough decision and contradicting feelings. Does he offer the details of her illiteracy to help defend her case? Is he disgusted by her actions? Is he bitter that she left him? These precise feelings aren't addressed. The audience anxiously waits for a scene when Michael explicitly confesses his situation to his law professor -- who'd surely point Michael in the right [moral] direction -- but the conversation doesn't happen. The Reader isn't The Curious Case of Benjamin Button or Marley and Me; it specifically doesn't offer explanations to feelings. Though Michael sends recordings of classic novels to imprisoned Hannah (hence the title), he doesn't respond to her letters and consequential new found writing abilities. When the prison matron asks Michael to help Hanna once she's released, it appears he wants nothing to do with her. He decides to help, but when he finally visits, his coldness likely leads to her suicide. The Reader jumps through time, ignoring narrative consistency, in the same way the film rejects the notion of logic. The worst question you can ask after you see The Reader is: why? Why does Hanna kill herself? Why doesn't Michael write her back? Why does Hanna let 300 women burn in a church? The film specifically does not want to provide its own answer to those complex, disturbing, and heartbreaking questions.
My parents prefaced Towelhead as being a film I "would have written." Even though Towelhead deals with racism, pedophilia, and parental abuse, I take it as a compliment. Towelhead is unapologetic. Case in point: the first scene opens up with Jasira (Summer Bishil's) stepfather offering to shave her bikini line.
Similar to The Reader, Towelhead explores the concepts of right and wrong. Clearly an older man and Army reservist, Travis, (Aaron Eckhart) wanting to have sex with a 13-year-old is wrong, but the film introduces Jasira as a sexually mature girl who wants sex -- and begs for pornography. Melina (an excellent Toni Collette) is constantly prying into the strange relationship between Travis and Jasira, and she's the voice over the shoulder that says "this is wrong!" a voice that is absent during the pedophilia between Hanna and Michael in The Reader.
But besides sex, Towelhead explores the "right" kind of parent. Jasira's father (standout Peter Macdissi) reprimands Melina and her husband for thoughtlessness after finding out Jasira had sex in their home; however, he slaps his daughter when she shows up to breakfast in boxers and a t-shirt, locks her out when he finds out she's using a tampon, and beats her when he discovers her pornography.
This film provides a vivid glimpse of hypocritical judgments and beliefs. Though Jasira's father constantly laments the fact that Texas locals think he's un-American because he's Middle Eastern, he refuses to let Jasira be with a black boy because of her reputation. Towelhead is an excellent coming-of-age film, especialy since it explores the experience of a a girl not usually seen in pop culture. It reminded me of Ghost World, American Beauty, and Slums of Beverly Hills. Check it out.
Similar to The Reader, Towelhead explores the concepts of right and wrong. Clearly an older man and Army reservist, Travis, (Aaron Eckhart) wanting to have sex with a 13-year-old is wrong, but the film introduces Jasira as a sexually mature girl who wants sex -- and begs for pornography. Melina (an excellent Toni Collette) is constantly prying into the strange relationship between Travis and Jasira, and she's the voice over the shoulder that says "this is wrong!" a voice that is absent during the pedophilia between Hanna and Michael in The Reader.
But besides sex, Towelhead explores the "right" kind of parent. Jasira's father (standout Peter Macdissi) reprimands Melina and her husband for thoughtlessness after finding out Jasira had sex in their home; however, he slaps his daughter when she shows up to breakfast in boxers and a t-shirt, locks her out when he finds out she's using a tampon, and beats her when he discovers her pornography.
This film provides a vivid glimpse of hypocritical judgments and beliefs. Though Jasira's father constantly laments the fact that Texas locals think he's un-American because he's Middle Eastern, he refuses to let Jasira be with a black boy because of her reputation. Towelhead is an excellent coming-of-age film, especialy since it explores the experience of a a girl not usually seen in pop culture. It reminded me of Ghost World, American Beauty, and Slums of Beverly Hills. Check it out.
How I Learned to Drive is one of the most haunting plays I've ever read. The play explores sex in the way that Pillowman by Mark McDonagh explores violence. It didn't occur to me when I first selected these three works that they all deal with pedophilia in such a similar way; in each, the the younger partner (the victim, by law) is intrigued and attracted to the older partner and the sex is, to some degree, consensual.
In How I Learned to Drive, Li'l Bit (a family-given named for a small patch of pubic hair at bitch) is sought after by her uncle-by-marriage, Uncle Peck. The play considers the possibility of Li'l Bit instigating the relationship and egging him on. The narrative is reverse-chronological, so we watch the relationship develop from her college years back to her adolescence. Much like The Reader, How I Learned to Drive refuses to use logic to define its characters' actions.
It's easy to see why Li'l Bit likes Uncle Peck. Her family thinks her boobs are a bigger asset than her brain, and only with the encouragement from Uncle Peck does she apply to college. Plus, Peck isn't related by blood. Vogel specifically describes Peck as an innocent and attractive looking older man.
It's not until the final scene that we discover that Uncle Peck molested his niece at 11-years-old.
Vogel requires that an older woman play Li'l Bit's character throughout the play. Vogel purposefully toys with the audience's expectations, and it's not unusual for an audience member to ask with shame, "Would I have had the affair as well?"
In Spring 2007, I had the privilege of seeing my monologue Baby Girl produced by Johns Hopkins University's Witness Theater. In the play, 35-year-old Rick lives alone with his "baby girl." He takes care of her, watches TV with her, and loves her with all his heart. It just so happens that his baby girl is a dead fetus living in a tank that Rick "saved" after his pregnant wife killed herself.
"Now I’m no fool. I know some folks might say I’m as sick of a man as Sachs* by the way I treat my baby girl. But all I’m doing is loving her like anyone would love their baby girl. People love all kinds of things, things that make you sick. Things that make you broke or mean. I just think a person ought to be able to keep what’s theirs. Ain’t that right, baby girl?"
*Phil Sachs slept with his teenager daughter.
Many people will say that the three works I mentioned -- and also my own work -- are sick, disturbing, and wrong. I've always thought that instead of immediately labeling art, characters, or people as "good or bad," it's important to examine the motivations and back-story that lead to their choices. Material about pedophilia, incest, and abuse in general that doesn't directly point out the "villain" is important because it challenges our notions of the moral and ethical "right and wrong." Works such as The Reader, Towelhead, and How I Learned to Drive reveal that people can't be labeled as simply as heartless S.S. guards, oversexed teenagers, horny uncles, or "terrorists," but human beings with complex motivations and objectives, and often, sad sad lives in which they were victims once themselves. We need to engage with the disturbing in order to challenge our own perceptions and avoid making binary claims. There's a little bit of "right and wrong" in all of us, and being able to explore complex and disturbing characters takes us one step closer in understanding and exploring our own lives.
In How I Learned to Drive, Li'l Bit (a family-given named for a small patch of pubic hair at bitch) is sought after by her uncle-by-marriage, Uncle Peck. The play considers the possibility of Li'l Bit instigating the relationship and egging him on. The narrative is reverse-chronological, so we watch the relationship develop from her college years back to her adolescence. Much like The Reader, How I Learned to Drive refuses to use logic to define its characters' actions.
It's easy to see why Li'l Bit likes Uncle Peck. Her family thinks her boobs are a bigger asset than her brain, and only with the encouragement from Uncle Peck does she apply to college. Plus, Peck isn't related by blood. Vogel specifically describes Peck as an innocent and attractive looking older man.
It's not until the final scene that we discover that Uncle Peck molested his niece at 11-years-old.
Vogel requires that an older woman play Li'l Bit's character throughout the play. Vogel purposefully toys with the audience's expectations, and it's not unusual for an audience member to ask with shame, "Would I have had the affair as well?"
In Spring 2007, I had the privilege of seeing my monologue Baby Girl produced by Johns Hopkins University's Witness Theater. In the play, 35-year-old Rick lives alone with his "baby girl." He takes care of her, watches TV with her, and loves her with all his heart. It just so happens that his baby girl is a dead fetus living in a tank that Rick "saved" after his pregnant wife killed herself.
"Now I’m no fool. I know some folks might say I’m as sick of a man as Sachs* by the way I treat my baby girl. But all I’m doing is loving her like anyone would love their baby girl. People love all kinds of things, things that make you sick. Things that make you broke or mean. I just think a person ought to be able to keep what’s theirs. Ain’t that right, baby girl?"
*Phil Sachs slept with his teenager daughter.
Many people will say that the three works I mentioned -- and also my own work -- are sick, disturbing, and wrong. I've always thought that instead of immediately labeling art, characters, or people as "good or bad," it's important to examine the motivations and back-story that lead to their choices. Material about pedophilia, incest, and abuse in general that doesn't directly point out the "villain" is important because it challenges our notions of the moral and ethical "right and wrong." Works such as The Reader, Towelhead, and How I Learned to Drive reveal that people can't be labeled as simply as heartless S.S. guards, oversexed teenagers, horny uncles, or "terrorists," but human beings with complex motivations and objectives, and often, sad sad lives in which they were victims once themselves. We need to engage with the disturbing in order to challenge our own perceptions and avoid making binary claims. There's a little bit of "right and wrong" in all of us, and being able to explore complex and disturbing characters takes us one step closer in understanding and exploring our own lives.
Loved "The Pillowman" and all of Martin McDonough's plays. You should rent "In Bruges" if you haven't seen it. It's Colin Farrell's best movie - and if you hate dwarfs, its a great movie. "How I Learned to Drive"s an amazing play -- saw it at CenterStage. Only wish I got to see Mary Louis Parker in the role
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