Stop Loss, Kimberly Peirce (2008)

This film was Peirce’s first since the incredible success of Boys Don’t Cry (1999). Following a similar tradition, Stop Loss is concerned with bringing attention to a tragic, but little known, real-life issue. In this case, the issue is not just the war in Iraq but more specifically the U.S. military’s Stop Loss policy, which enlists soldiers for active duty beyond their initial term of service contract. The film mainly tracks one “stop-lossed” soldier, Brandon, as he goes AWOL and hides from the possibility of a third tour in Iraq. Meanwhile, Brandon’s comrades, though most of them already show signs of post traumatic stress syndrome, willingly prepare for another stint overseas and shun Brandon for abandoning his squad. It is very clear through the film that no single character has a sense of a political objective or attributes any value to this war. The film is poignant in its ambiguity and the way that it avoids all discussion of their “mission” as soldiers. There is something eerie about the fact that many of the characters are eager to return to Iraq for the mere thrill of it or as an invigorating alternative to their lives small town Texas. This film makes the point that this Iraq war is, very strangely, an experience of an otherwise directionless or apathetic youth. It seems in the film that the decision to become a soldier is, for very few, about political beliefs or moral convictions—more commonly it’s about comradery, direction, and having something to do.
When “the boys” return home, they are nearly suffocated with empty praise and zealous patriotism—yet there is never an affirmation that they have accomplished anything concrete. Peirce seems to be making the statement that almost more futile and needless than the relentless violence going on in Iraq, is the pride and celebration that Americans stage for a soldier’s homecoming. The hero of the film holds our attention because though he is passionately patriotic and not remotely cynical, he is completely drained of pride and enthusiasm when he returns home. The film makes a powerful argument against the stop-loss policy for the way it takes advantage of good-natured, wide-eyed, young patriots like Brandon but also attests to the overbearing deceitfulness of our government.

Strange Days, Kathryn Bigelow (1995)

Strange Days is dystopian film with science fiction and cyber-punk elements, set in volatile, rioting Los Angeles on the eve of the Y2K “collapse” . Apocalyptic energy runs high through this film, where ambiance is just as important as the principal plotlines and characters. Strange Days is most prominently a story of virtual reality technology gone awry.
The S.Q.U.I.D device is a cutting-edge technology which hooks up to the user’s cerebral cortex and records their sensual experiences to a disk so that they may be felt and consumed by absolutely anybody. In the film, people use SQUID to satisfy curiosities ie: to see what it is like to commit a crime, or have sex with a porn star. The film’s protagonist, Lenny, for example, uses SQUID to re-live past memories with his ex-girlfriend. This technology, however, when put in the wrong hands, becomes a sadistic torture instrument. The most mind-boggling scene in the film (also the most violent and troubling) involves the rape a woman receiving a SQUID signal from her attacker, allowing her to witness her own rape and death,also allowing her to feel the sensations of the attacker layered on top of her own phsyical anguish. When Lenny receives these snuff recordings, we watch him (now three times removed from the actual victim) experiencing the violence all over again as he “jacks-in” to the woman's final moments. The film employs many POV shots and continually engages the viewer in the virtual reality. The entire concept brings to mind, among other things, Laura Mulvey’s ideaof the male gaze. The aforementioned scene attempts to eradicate the traditional politics of women on film, by making the male characters both voyeurs and victims of objectification and male violence via virtual reality. Strange Days is also reminiscent of Michael Powell’s 1960 film Peeping Tom (a film in which the protagonist holds both a camera and mirror up as he murders people) in the way that it portrays the violations and terror made possible when one identifies with the victim of a film's horror.
On top of the virtual reality elements, Strange Days also manages to fuel its apocalyptic "reality" by referencing contemporary tensions and anxieties. The film’s subplot makes obvious reference to the Rodney King murder and 1992 Los Angeles Race Riots. From this moment in history, where cops kill innocent people, where there is essentially no justice or safety, Bigelow creates a believable and recognizable world which teeters on the edge of anarchy.

The Piano, Jane Campion (1992)

The Piano is, more than anything a story about female repression. The protagonist, Ada, is, almost to a humorous extent, the epitome of Victorian rigidity. Ada is something of a caricature with her plain white face, blank stare, exaggerated black hoop-skirt and bonnet. She is a tragic female character by all accounts: sold into a loveless marriage and trapped in a foreign land. The only way in which Ada has agency is, ironically, in her refusal to speak. Though she has almost no control over her immediate situation, she demonstrates incredible will and power over others, who seem both intrigued and intimidated by her. The piano is clearly the outlet for all of Ada’s pent up emotions, and is, on many occasions, made out to be an extension of her physical being. When her beloved Piano is sold by her husband to their neighbor, Baines, Ada, is compelled to follow it. Knowing her obsession with music, Baines asks Ada for lessons as a way to get closer to her; the meetings quickly become sexually charged thus begins their illicit affair. Baines is able to appreciate and love Ada because understands that her music as an extension of her repressed spirit and an expression of her unspoken thoughts—unlike her husband, who does not appreciate her music as anything more than a hobby. In this way, we know that when Ada gives Baines one of her piano keys, it is quite seriously as though she is giving him a piece of herself—it is the most powerful gesture and offer she could possibly make. The significance of Ada’s gift is not lost on the husband, who is horrifically punishes her by literally chopping off one of Ada’s fingers. This point in the film is heavy with symbolic meaning, as Ada’s attempt at a repressed, albeit authentic expression of love is reprimanded by inhibiting her only means of self-expression. By cutting off her fingers, the husband threatens to cut her off from the world entirely.
When Ada and Baines at last escape to be married and live together, she is finally able to get rid of the piano and begins learning to speak. Up until this point in the film, the piano was her friend and her crutch, but Ada suddenly realizes what a weight it is on her life. Now that she has found true love and is living out her free will, she can rid herself of its literal and symbolic heaviness

Ratcatcher, Lynne Ramsay (1999)

This film is essentially about a twelve year old boy on the brink of adulthood, confronting and coming to terms with the most devastating “facts of life.” Ratcatcher is most potent in its images and visual atmosphere, which are striking in their bleak, gritty beauty. Set in a poor Glasgow neighborhood in the 1970s during a trash collectors strike, the majority of the scenes make note of the piling black trash bags in the streets, scummy garbage-filled pond, and, like the title suggests, the rampant rat problem. There is an overpowering feeling of moral and material decay in this film, as we witness the unpunished cruelty of children against the backdrop of urban decay. Morality is a prominent theme through the film. James, the main protagonist, is introduced into the narrative when he accidentally drowns and kills another neighborhood boy. Though James never admits to his incredible mistake over the course of the narrative, the truth is always nagging at the viewer, as Ramsay constantly brings focus back to the pond. The pond seems to represent a dirty reflection of our world, a world where rats breed in stagnant garbage and unattended children abuse and kill one another.
The most joyful moments are the film take place far from home (as far as James can get on the bus line) in the serenity of an unoccupied home in the country and the expansive pasture it rests on. The place becomes a literal, as well as a mental retreat for James as he longs for peace, space, and a clean slate. James, in his youthful curiousity, embodies resilience, light and potential in what would seem an utterly hopeless situation.

Bend it Like Beckham, Gurinder Chadha (2002)

Though this film is framed by a fairly simple “feel-good” story, it is quite complex in its cultural criticisms. Jess, the main protagonist, is the youngest daughter of orthodox Sikh parents and is forbidden to fulfill her dreams of playing soccer on the grounds that it is inappropriate behavior for a young lady. Jules, the only daughter of a normal middle-class British family, is a soccer lover as well. Jules is, in the same way, discouraged to play the game by her mother who would prefer that she take an interest to things more typical of high school females (namely boys) and behave in altogether more “feminine” manner. While the girls have different familial relationships and cultural backgrounds, they endure similar animosity and societal pressures as they strive for independence. In Jess’s case, her parent’s biggest concerns are the disrespect of religion, tradition, and the approval of their religious community. For Jules, her mother’s biggest fear is that her daughter is secretly a lesbian. Chadha, an English citizen of Indian descent, seems to be claiming that homosexuality in the traditional British family is the cultural equivalent to Jess’s situation. In my research, I found that Chadha originally wrote the screenplay so that Jess and Jules would indeed end up in a romantic relationship—but, ironically, she was afraid it would be too controversial. Instead, Chadha made the girls’ soccer coach Joe the object of desire for both Jess and Jules. It is interesting that the director chose to perpetuate female competition in favor of promoting tolerance of homosexuality, but one may never know if the film would have had such success with a lesbian sub-plot. The film definitely deserves credit for the way it addresses issues of sexuality, albeit in self-conscious way. That being said, the ultimate “message” of the film is definitely a positive and practical one. Unlike most teen films the romantic interest doesn’t stand a chance against the incredible ambition of these young women. The film is an attainable sort of fairy tale.

Sur Name Viet Given Name Nam, Trihn T. Mihn-ha (1989)

It is difficult to classify this film, but “experimental documentary” seems the most fitting. Trihn Mihn-ha, a Vietnamese-American theorist, professor, and academic, explores the identity of Vietnamese women in this very interesting assemblage. The film is mostly composed of interviews which are re-enacted by Vietnamese-American actresses along with archival footage, stills, and traditional music. The experience of watching this film is very unusualand almost frustrating; frequently, for example, when an interviewee is speaking, her incredibly accented speech is not given subtitles, or her voice is overpowered by the somber lyrics of the music. Seeing that many of the women who are interviewed are recounting some of their most horrific memories of the Vietnam War, it is ironic that they are being (once again) overpowered, overlooked, and underestimated by the viewer. All throughout the film, the viewer who has a more “western” bias and/or consciousness is reminded of their profound, almost boundless, differences to the Vietnamese. This is made most explicit by the lack of effective translation as well as the lack of a conceivable “thread” or narrative. The film alienates both the viewer and the subject from one-another, mimicking the real-life cultural disconnection between the two groups. This film demonstrates, mocks, and submits to notions of “otherness.”

Xiu Xiu: The Sent Down Girl, Joan Chen (1998)

Set during the Chinese Cultural Revolution in the 1970’s, this film follows 15 year-old Xiu Xiu as she leaves her home and family to study horses in the rural countryside. The film is, very obviously, criticizing the entire principle of the Cultural Revolution and Mao’s failed attempts to “reeducate” the youth through labor and rural isolation. Xiu Xiu is, at the beginning of the film, enthusiastic to be part of the movement and incredibly devoted to her country, but, once she is removed from the propaganda and waving red flags, she loses touch with Mao’s grand vision. Once she is away from civilization and wallowing in boredom, even as a viewer, we forget that there is a political purpose for her suffering. Xiu Xiu is not reeducated or empowered by her experience in the countryside, but she instead becomes utterly disempowered, desperate, and miserable. The film eventually becomes about her complete loss of innocence and pride, as she begins whoring herself out to all the men who give her a promise for a return to her home in Chengdu. The poor treatment of Xiu Xiu reiterates the fact that Mao’s utopian vision was never really possible—humans are still, in Joan Chen’s view, innately selfish. It is powerful to consider that Xiu Xiu is ultimately punished for being a bright-eyed nationalist, not for being insubordinate, but for merely following the calling of her country’s leader. The film is a rich commentary on this tumultuous moment in Chinese history, where so many of the youth lost the opportunity to go to college and develop freely, all for the purpose of a failed political policy.