Sickness and my continued malaise about the state of our country led me to procrastinate this week with two classic films, both fascinating in their own right, but more so when they are placed in the context of our current national situation.Giant (1956) is a sprawling epic, part melodrama and part midcentury Western. Directed by George Stevens and based on a novel by Edna Ferber, the film explores the life of wealthy rancher, Bick Benedict (Rock Hudson), his romance with the socialite Leslie Lynnton (Elizabeth Taylor), and his lifelong rivalry with Jett Rink (James Dean), a handyman who strikes it oil rich, allowing him to do opulent things like build his own hotel. Giant was a hit with both the public and the critics back in 1956, earning $12 million at the box office and garnering 10 Oscar nominations (including a win for Best Director).
By today's standards, the film's soundstage-bound sets and saturated color palette lend it the aura of technicolor soap opera; the overblown conflicts - fiery romances, accidents on horseback, shady business shenanigans - further serve to propel the overall experience to somewhere way over the top. Throw in some progressive concern for the plight of the Mexican laborers and some overt racism when Jordy Benedict (Dennis Hopper) takes a Mexican wife and you have a gripping, full-tilt drama with a social conscience.
Viewing Giant through the lens of our current national situation, one can't help but draw parallels between new-monied oil baron Jett Rink (who hosts balls for himself at his eponymous hotel) and a certain real estate mogul and reality television star whose exhausting omnipresence tarnishes every sunrise. Jett, in a drunken stupor, finally tumbles off the dais and crashes to the floor under the weight of tables, chairs, and microphones; his embarrassing fall seems a justifiable end to a loutish and bigoted life.
The film's big finale takes place in a rural Texas diner that proudly displays a sign declaring, "We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone" - a sentiment that mimics the rhetoric of today's religious freedom fighters who long for a return to government-sanctioned discrimination. At first, Bick tries to ignore the racist comments of the diner's owner, Sarge, who hesitates to serve Bick's Mexican daughter-in-law and Mexican-American grandson. (When Bick says his grandson would like some ice cream, Sarge responds that he's surprised he doesn't want a tamale.) For Bick, the last straw is when Sarge refuses to serve and then attempts to physically remove a Mexican family that has entered the diner. Bick takes up for the family and stands up to Sarge, resulting in an extended fight sequence that exemplifies the classic struggle between tradition and progress, the very same struggle we find ourselves still witnessing today, six decades later.
The Grapes of Wrath (1940), John Ford's adaptation of John Steinbeck's novel, tracks the journey of the Joad family from Oklahoma, forced into migration by the Great Depression. Like Giant, The Grapes of Wrath was a critical success, earning 7 Oscar nominations, including wins for Best Director and Best Supporting Actress (Jane Darwell as Ma Joad). After arriving in California, the Joads first spend time in a transient camp filled with hordes of other dirty and emaciated migrant workers. Ma Joad is so taken aback by the sight of the starving children that she shares her family's food with them; the scene in which those children run with delirious eagerness to retrieve tin cans from a trash heap is eerily reminiscent of real life footage of contemporary refugees equally desperate for sustenance and shelter.
The Joads finally find work at the Keene Ranch, an otherworldly creation that is simultaneously a reflection of our troubled past and a cautionary warning about the potential for a dystopian future. The Joads are repeatedly questioned by the ranch's private security detail. Once inside the confines of the ranch, they are not allowed to leave; any money that they earn for their labors on the ranch can only be spent at the ridiculously overpriced ranch store. When Tom Joad (Henry Fonda) goes out for an evening walk, he is quickly stopped and questioned by one of the guards who lurks in the shadows. Tom is not deterred, though, in his quest to find out about the so-called "agitators" that reside outside the barbed-wire boundary of the Keene Ranch.
Several months ago, two consecutive evenings spent with two classic American films would have seemed like nothing more than an entertaining diversion. Watching these films this past week in these heightened times in which we find ourselves served as a further reminder of the latent vitriol, racism, and xenophobia that still festers in the underbelly of our nation and our world.
Giant reminds us that, whether we like it or not, money most often is power - and the powerful have the right to refuse service to any of us who don't fit in at the club. That same money-power dialectic is also on display in The Grapes of Wrath, as the wealthy ranch owners exert force over the desperate migrant workers. Both films offer a timely and vivid reminder that those of us who long for progress and justice and equality for all will never be able to let down our guard. The ugly and the powerful will always be lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce.
These are scary times.
ReplyDeleteHave you been checking out the film noir series every Tuesday night at the Landmark Midtown Art Cinema? While most of them don't have the social significance of Giant or Grapes of Wrath, it's been interesting to see the casual racism and sexism of that era. And to think that people want to go back to that....
I'm almost always too tired to go out on a school night! That's what struck me so much about watching these two films - racism, sexism, vigilantism - all the forefront. GIANT seems to promote a kind of 1950s progressivism, but GRAPES OF WRATH really smothers the plight of the Joads with some hokey "We are the people" sentiment.
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