football

The Blind Side

admin — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 06:36:00 +0000

I didn’t intended to write a review of The Blind Side, but when my aunt responded to my Facebook status deriding the film’s racist indoctrination by saying my critiques were a figment of my liberal imagination, it all came flowing out.

The Blind Side is a version of (Black) NFL player Michael Oher's true life story of being taken in by a (White) Christian family in Memphis, TN during his final years of high school after ending up homeless. (How he ends up that way is never explained in the film.) The family cares for him and helps him graduate from high school, go to college on an athletic scholarship, and eventually play professional football. Meant to be a feel-good film, Oher’s story actually isn't told from the vantage point of Oher himself, but from the perspective of his surrogate mother. And this is where the misstepping begins.

When a creative work is made, it is necessarily imprinted with the not only the aesthetic lens of its creators, but their social, political, and personal ones as well. In The Blind Side’s case, this is especially important. The movie is based on a book, The Blind Side: Evolution of a Game, written by Michael Lewis, who collaborated with director John Lee Hancock on the script. Both Lewis and Hancock are Southern, class privileged, and White, and this standpoint is heavily felt throughout the film. Though not always a recipe for cinematic disaster, the choice to center a White, upper class point of view dooms The Blind Side from the jump.

Every person of color in this film is a stereotype and, with the exception of Oher (played by Quinton Aaron), a villain: Oher's crack addicted mother; the 40-drinking, gun-toting thugs in the Hurt Village projects; the storeowner who makes fun of Oher's height and weight; the immasculated caregiver who folds to his selfish wife's demands to give Oher the boot. Oher himself is depicted as a mentally slow, physically intimidating, overly protective Black boy (a la King Kong) whose simpleminded thoughts on most things are either silenced or overtaken by whatever the White lead, Leigh Anne Tuohy (Sandra Bullock), thinks about things. This is so much the case that Oher begins parroting her toward the end.

The Tuohy family, who takes Oher in, is also shown as a stereotype: benevolent White saviors who shower Oher with money and materialism in order to 'fix' his problems (as they perceive them, of course). They use their wealth to buy their way out of everything; however, in reality one doesn't overcome sixteen years of abuse and trauma just because you give him his first proper bed and a shiny, new pickup truck. Any time a traumatic issue comes up, the film shows Leigh Ann's hurt (not Oher's) and quickly cuts to a new scene without lingering on questions about the causes or effects of Oher's suffering.

When the suggestion of Oher’s going to therapy does come up, the flippant response is “he just wants to forget it,” which should make any mental health professional choke on their popcorn. We are shaped by our pasts from the ground up (why do you think Oher was mostly mute and intellectually stunted in the first place?), and we don't just forget our personal histories and move on to the next scene—unless you're a filmmaker who doesn't place importance on such things or prefers to put the focus on how knowledge of Oher's past effects Bullock's character (the person the audience is encouraged to identify with) rather than Oher himself (who is simply a vehicle for the back-patting, ‘White people are good’ plot).

The times we see racism enacted, mentioned, or alluded to, it is swept aside with little explanation. For example, the myth of the black rapist (though not so straightforwardly named) is brushed aside with a simplistic “shame on you,” and the myth of the welfare queen isn't even acknowledged enough to be given the courtesy of dismissal. On the contrary, it's reinforced. Both just lie there, unaddressed, like so many other things in this film. (At one point, Oher’s surrogate father jokingly says, “he thinks he’s a redneck,” with no hint of irony given that the term is typically applied to racist Whites.) The overt racism that is addressed receives only pat responses, like name-calling and an underplaying (e.g., the deliverance dad and the discriminatory ref) of their sustained importance on the life of a young man of color.

The Tuohy family supposedly looks past race—except that they conspicuously have no friends of color in a city that is only a third White and apparently have little knowledge of the poverty that is destroying people's lives just a few miles away from their posh mansion and private Christian school. They live in a safe bubble of White, upper class ignorance that absolves them of any need to know about such an untidy reality—and they're still living there at the end of the film.

The fact that racism’s pervasiveness in American society shields it from being recognized by many people, like my aunt, who sat through a viewing of The Blind Side (or is that the titular reference?) is all the more disturbing in its ‘white is right’ programming. If I believed the film was supposed to be calling attention to the way racism functions in America (like Precious, for example), instead of further diminishing its presence and impact, I could get down with the idea that art is simply imitating life. But it doesn't unmask racism in America; instead, it works to further conceal it.

Good intentions are just one side of the story, folks. Although The Blind Side is rife with those, its failure to deliver a complex look at Oher’s side of the story, ultimately, reinforces the exact system it intends to disassemble.

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, February 22nd 2010

Football Under Cover

admin — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 23:02:00 +0000

Directed by Ayat Najafi, David Assmann

Flying Moon Filmverleih GbR

I encountered one major problem with Football Under Cover very early on: it wouldn’t play either on my U.S. regional DVD player or through a few of the many video players on my computer. Eventually, I managed to get it to run in Windows Media Center and sat down to watch.

The earliest scenes were so well done, I started to doubt my own memory. This was supposed to be a documentary on the first international match for the Iranian women’s international football team. (Football, of course, is what people in the U.S. call soccer.) What came up on my monitor, however, could easily be mistaken for a feature film. After watching the first ten or fifteen minutes, I had to find out, so I stopped the DVD and pulled up my favorite search engine. Yes, Football Under Cover is a documentary, an extraordinarily well filmed and edited documentary, but a documentary nonetheless.

As impressive as the filmmakers’ technique was, the story it captures is even more so. A young German woman named Marlene Assmann, a member of an amateur football team from Berlin, hears from an Iranian friend, director Ayat Najafi, that the Iranian women’s team has never played a match despite a great deal of training. The two decide that Assmann’s team, BSV AL-Dersimspor, will go to Iran to play against them. Together, they struggle through the various obstacles posed by the Iranian bureaucracy and the escalation of political tensions to get an official invitation for a match.

As the young Germans prepare for and undertake their trip to the Islamic Republic of Iran, the clash of cultures is examined thoroughly and sensitively. The best stories, however, come from the Iranian side. The simple act of being a female footballer in Iran must be courageous in and of itself, but the women we meet often go one step further. Iranian team member Niloofar Basir admits on camera to practicing in a local park disguised as a boy, questions the dual standards for behavior in the university, and challenges her nation’s record on human rights for women. Female spectators, who are normally forbidden to visit the nation’s sports arenas, respond to a warning from their “moral guardians” by chanting about the denial of their freedoms and their right to attend the stadium. In light of Iranian women’s leading role in the recent opposition protests against the “election” of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, these scenes are even more inspiring.

Even if you have to watch this film on your computer, do it. The Iranian women alone will make you proud to be a woman and a feminist.

Written by: Melinda Barton, October 11th 2009

The Off Season

admin — Sun, 29 Jul 2007 02:23:00 +0000

By Catherine Gilbert Murdock

Houghton Mifflin

This book, the sequel to Murdock’s Dairy Queen, may be marketed for young adults, but it’s not the equivalent of Sweet Valley High or The Princess Diaries, as both the book and heroine D.J. Schwenk have their feet planted firmly in reality. D.J. is a high school junior in rural Red Bend, Wisconsin, who has a lot on her plate: handling the pressure and jibes directed at her as the first female member of the high school football team; trying to figure out and handle her feelings for Brian, the quarterback of the rival high school team; and putting in hours of work on her family’s dairy farm, worrying that said farm will soon go under; trying to reconnect with her best friend, Amber, who has recently come out and is dating an older woman; and, of course, struggling with school work.

The Off Season is such a gripping read that I read it a single sitting. D.J. is such a believable, sympathetic character and faces up to her challenges (including a big one towards the end of the novel) that the reader empathizes with her throughout, even when she does something somewhat foolish. Murdock does an admirable job of capturing the rhythm and concerns of small town and rural life and has an ear for dialogue. The supporting characters, including her father, mother and younger brother, ring true and are fleshed out enough that they give us a picture of D.J.’s upbringing and family life. This is one-level headed girl with a down-to-earth grip on what’s important in life. I can’t wait to read of her further adventures.

Written by: Karen Duda, July 28th 2007

Goal Dreams

admin — Mon, 05 Mar 2007 13:15:00 +0000

Directed by Maya Sanbar, Jeffrey Saunders

Arab Film Distribution

Originally projected onto the Separation Wall in Palestine/Jerusalem on the eve of the 2006 World Cup, Goal Dreams is a documentary account of the struggles the Palestine National (Football) Team faced to whip up what is so strikingly absent in Palestinian culture: hope. Even if you don’t give two stuffed grape leaves about sports, this edu-docu-drama will capture, break and embolden your heart. The sport itself is not entirely incidental, but the film is about unity amongst people who have been essentially homeless for over fifty years.

The football (that’s soccer, you know) players, all of whom have Palestinian blood, come to Egypt from around the world to play for Palestine. Goal Dreams highlights the thirty incredibly stressful days prior to the “decision match” between Palestine and Uzbekistan, which will determine who goes on to play in the World Cup.

Training camp, if it can be called that, takes place in Egypt because (in case you didn’t know) there’s political tension in Israel and Palestinian Territories. As the film observes, any discussion about Palestine becomes—inevitably—a political discussion. Goal Dreams shows-not-tells what it means to be a Palestinian today, whether in New York, Chile or Gaza. Strangely, the team’s coach is a very difficult to like Austrian named Riedl. Given to fits of brow furrows and eye rolling, Riedl yells a lot, but does little coaching.

The team’s goalkeeper, Ramzi Saleh—a distractingly beautiful Gazan Palestinian—is key in keeping our non-politically-based attention. He is a devoted husband, father, son and brother. We kind of love him for that. However, we can’t help thinking about the palpable absence of women in this story. The women we do see are wearing abayas; some are munaqqabat (women who wear niqab, a full face cover).

Additionally, one player makes a frat boy observation about Swedish girls and Riedl considers “We are looking like girls!” the ultimate insult. (The Palestinian Territories National Women’s Soccer Team might disagree.)

Maya Sanbar, a Brit with Palestinian heritage, and Jeffery Saunders, a Jewish-American, are skilled directors who keep an unflinching tone throughout the film. There is a tastefully indulgent moment at the end when a player opines, “everyone should dream because without dreaming, there is no life.” Nice by itself, but even nicer with an image of David Beckham shouting from a wall ad in the background.

Written by: Michelle C. Schaefer, March 5th 2007