I say all that and then have to admit I spent the lion's share inside reading. What a waste! My husband fell asleep in front of the Olympics and I took the occasional doze whilst reading about the "real" Downton Abbey, Highclere Castle.
Finally, my husband declared we should go see a movie, so we got up off our cans and headed down toward our local independent theater.
Earlier this summer (as defined in academic calendar terms, rather than meteorological), I had arranged to meet up with some friends at this same theater to see "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel". It was Memorial Day weekend, which for most people around the country would have been lovely weather. For us here in the Northland, it was a dreary, cool, rainy weekend. Duluthians of a particular age (read 50-ish and beyond) THRONGED the theater to see this particular film. Even though I arrived a half hour in advance so as to secure tickets for mes amis, all showings for the day had been sold out before I even set foot on the premises, forcing us to get tickets for the following day. When we arrived the next day it was still a crowd, in spite of much better weather. Fast forward two and a half months to yesterday, and it was like opposite-world. The weather was perfect, and with the exception of two other couples, the theater was otherwise devoid of paying customers. We could only surmise that they must have been on the lake, at the beach, on the Lake Walk, hiking the trails around the area, or...fill-in-the-blank.
We settled down to watch "Beasts of the Southern Wild" expecting to see something different, yet award-worthy; after all, it's received good reviews and ratings. Within the first 20 minutes of the film, my husband and I ended up being the only people in the theater; the other four people got up and left. I think I've walked out on only one film in my life--"There's Something About Mary"-- and that was because my companion (my sister) was so grossed out by the "hair gel" moment, she couldn't stand to sit through another minute. I have to say, I understand why they left, but both my husband and I had committed to seeing the film through to the end.
The film is set in the "Bathtub," a fictitious location in the Delta of southern Louisiana, threatened by the impact of the levees and rising waters from hurricanes and other storms. Hushpuppy (played by young Quvenzhané Wallis--she of the unpronounceable name), the central character of the film, is a six-year-old girl, living by herself in an elevated trailer (that is a trailer home sitting atop blocks of some kind), a number of yards from where her father lives in his own hovel. The word "squalor" doesn't begin to describe their living environments. Frankly, I surmise that our fellow viewers were so disturbed by what they saw that they couldn't take it and had to leave. It was massively uncomfortable to look at the filth in which these characters resided. As a mother, I couldn't help thinking about germs and disease. I worried about creatures--snakes and alligators and bugs--posing untold risks for little Hushpuppy. I fretted about this poor child's exposure to the elements. What kinds of shots did they have to give this child actor in order to shoot this film?
The setting aside, the other characters in the film were unkempt (to put it mildly), wild, defiant, drunken, backwoods people living off the water. It was difficult to discern any of the other characters' names or relationships (it was also difficult to understand what they were saying, but that's probably because my hearing is defective), but the fact of their being all in it together was a major theme. These people were determined to maintain their way of life in this isolated world. One female character teaches the small group of children featured in the film (all girls, if memory serves) about "meat," noting that "we're meat too" and that capturing, cooking and eating meat is key to their survival. These characters are bound and determined to live their kind of life without interference from the outside world. The adults in the film, flawed though they might be, are all committed to the idea that the kids should survive in the Bathtub.
Hushpuppy is our guide through the film and to the world of the Bathtub. Her narration reveals a preternatural understanding of her place in the universe. We see Hushpuppy bring all manner of creatures to her ear in an effort to hear what they have to say. Her failure to hear anything is just that--she tells us something must be wrong with her because she's not hearing anything. She gives the viewers a kind of warning. Something bad is about to happen and it's probably too late to do anything about it.
One morning, after discovering that her daddy is missing and unavailable to prepare food for her, she takes matters in to her own hands and cooks for herself. a meal of catfood cooked in grease. The means by which she's able to make this meal are ridiculously dangerous, and of course things go terribly wrong. Her reunion with her daddy is ugly and she gets mad. The disaster which ensues is something she exacerbates. As kids of this age are wont to do, she knows she has responsibility for the problems which transpire. She muses that she has thrown the universe out of balance and then seeks for ways to restore that balance.
After the fire, the people of the Bathtub find themselves threatened by a terrible hurricane (and of course, we're meant to think of Katrina). Hushpuppy and her daddy go out in their truckbed boat to assess the status of their friends and to come together in finding a way to negotiate the post-hurricane environment. They discover one couple passed out in a shack; the man falls out while the woman is conked out on the filthy floor. One assumes their condition was caused by something which came from a bottle, rather than the heavens, but once again the viewer is confronted by the squalor of these people's lives. It's hard to know what to make of this recurrent theme of filth and base living beyond recognizing the way others live.
In the midst of their celebration of life in the face of the hurricane's devastation, they prepare a mess of crawfish (and God knows what else) poured onto a surface for all to consume. Thoughts of food poisoning come unbidden. But in the midst of their feasting, Hushpuppy's daddy shares the tale of her conception with the assemblage, highlighting her mama's way with an alligator.
Hushpuppy's mama is a presence in the film, although we're not sure we ever really meet her head on; at best we see her from the rear as she takes "care" of the 'gator she prepares for Hushpuppy's daddy's consumption. She apparently left shortly after Hushpuppy was born and from that point forward Hushpuppy's daddy is her primary means of support. Unfortunately, her daddy's earlier disappearance is due to the fact that he is very, very sick. He must come to terms with the fact that Hushpuppy will be left to her own devices. At first he pushes her away, but he regains his senses and starts teaching her things--such as how to catch a fish with her bare hands. We see little Hushpuppy with her hands plunged in the water--water we can imagine is contaminated with the germs of bloated animals we see floating in the waters of the Bathtub, presumably killed by the hurricane's raging waters.
Her adventures continue, but I won't give away the ending. I will confess, I felt uneasy at the end. Truth be told, I felt uneasy all the way through this film. Perhaps that's the point.
My husband and I found ourselves wondering whether or not we would recommend the film to others. I'm not sure. The uneasiness listed above stayed with me as I took an evening walk. I found myself reflecting on the state of the world. I thought about the fires in Oklahoma, and the earlier summer fires in the West. I thought about the drought affecting the vast majority of the lower 48 this year. I thought about our own floods here in the Northland this past June. I couldn't help but think of the role we have all played in changing the climate. Maybe little Hushpuppy is meant to be the little voice in our ears telling us how we've caused the world to go seriously wrong. We may not be the cause of all that's wrong, just as Hushpuppy isn't responsible for the Hurricane, her father's illness, or the squalor of the Bathtub. But we, like Hushpuppy, have all contributed to the current state of things.
I don't know what the "Academy" will make of this film--if anything--but Quvenzhané Wallis is a little force of nature. She is a stunningly beautiful little girl, but it's not her pretty little face that will stay with the viewer. Rather, it is the force of her being that makes the mark.
So...do I recommend the film? It's certainly not everyone's cup of tea, as evidenced by our fellow audience members' abdication. Regardless, the film causes one to think, and that cannot be said of the overwhelming majority of films.
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