Monday, April 17, 2017

"Get Out" and the Collective Imagination: A Movie Review

Image credit: Universal Pictures
All narratives, and therefore all movies, must speak to a collective imagination or they will not be effective; they will not resonate with an audience. What is a "collective imagination"? The collective imagination of a group is a reflection of how that group perceives social interactions and relationships based on that group's experiences. "Imagination" does not mean that this perception is false; it means that a group's perception is envisioned in its members' minds. It is the story or explanation that we tell ourselves.

"Collective" means that this imagination is not something that is simply in the head of one individual; just as entire groups (tribes, ethnicities, nationalities, etc.) share a common mythology and narrative of history, so do entire groups share a common imagination that enables them to make sense of their world.

Sometimes the collective imagination may be investigated for its truthfulness, to the extent that truthfulness may be verified by numerical data. For the most part, however, the collective imagination must be investigated with an eye toward understanding how groups construct meaning as a means of navigating through social territory and day-to-day experiences.

Collective imagination may be fruitfully critiqued, but rarely is it helpful to be judgmental toward it. Criticism of narratives and imagination arising from group experiences manifests itself as dismissiveness toward the group altogether.

I say all of this as a prelude for my brief comments on the "social thriller" Get Out.

Other people have brilliantly and meticulously analyzed every aspect of this movie, right down to a detailed analysis of the symbolism that is involved. I don't have much to offer that could improve on their analysis. I propose, instead, to discuss how one might think and talk about the movie in terms of what it represents as collective imagination, and how the narratives in our minds affect the resonance of the story on the screen.

When it comes to matters concerning race, black Americans and white Americans -- as groups, not necessarily as individuals -- have different experiences and perceptions of social reality. It is not surprising that these two groups also have different collective imaginations when it comes to race. We should pay attention to these differences if we hope to ever understand each other.

A film is a collective imagination projected for an audience. Film images, that most white males find affirming and heroic are off-putting to many white females and to non-whites, whether they are male or female. The reverse is also true, as is evident from complaints about "political correctness" when films and other images feature non-whites and/or females as protagonists in heroic roles, rather than in their usual role as peripheral characters or villains.

Clearly, there are movies and stories that draw on racial topics but do not get a divided response in terms of the group narratives of black and white Americans. These films tend to focus on the nature of virtue and character. That will have to be a topic for another blog post because it is important. It may be a key to how we may transcend the racial divide.

Horror and terror films often resonate with an audience because this genre is a metaphor for something that is plausible, according to the collective imagination and experience of that audience. These films are effective because they tap into a group experience and a shared narrative. When it comes to matters of race the things that seem plausible, and therefore horrific, to black Americans often seem implausible, and therefore nonsensical, to whites.

Some of my friends, with whom I go to movies, are white American males. They almost always want to see films where white males are in heroic and benevolent roles and receive the gratitude and appreciation of the rest of the world. If some of the non-white and non-male characters in the film do not appreciate these heroes it is usually because these people are villains and need to be eliminated.

Some of my friends, with whom I go to movies, are black American males and females. They almost always want to see films where what they see as being the hypocrisy and untrustworthiness of white people is "exposed," and the audience learns, once again, a lesson that cannot be repeated enough: "Stay Woke."

When Jordan Peel's hit movie, "Get Out", was released I knew I would have a problem finding people with whom I could watch and discuss the film. My white movie-going friends tended to avoid films that presented a narrative from the perspective of an African American, arguing that such films were not "universal" enough and that they did not do well in ticket receipts or win many major awards. Moreover, my friends argued that their own selection of films for us to see was purely "objective", based on critical acclaim and sales at the box office.

They would tell me, fraternally, "Nobody wants to see the movies you want to see, bro."

This reasoning, however, did not explain why they chose to take a pass when it came to seeing "Moonlight," which won the Golden Globe Award for Best Motion Picture, the Gotham Independent Film Award for Best Independent Film, and 22 other major awards for outstanding acting, directing and cinematography. It also failed to explain why they would not even consider seeing "Get Out," which so far has achieved critical acclaim and has dominated box office sales.

My black movie-going friends, on the other hand, who were eager to see the film were not likely to discuss the film's story arc, its characterization, or to critique how it reflects the collective imagination that resonates well with black Americans and not so well with whites. They were unlikely to step outside of the black American narrative, critique the film, and contrast and compare our narrative and collective imagination against that of white Americans.

On the broadest level, "Get Out" will mostly be viewed for its entertainment value; for people such as myself, who grew up within an African American cultural frame-of-reference there is much in the film that they will find entertaining, and that will receive knowing smiles of self-recognition and nods of the head. There is also, for me, deeper significance to the film. It is that the film is a metaphor that projects the collective imagination and fears of black Americans on the screen.

It is significant that we, as a nation, continue to have such sharply different narratives about race, we continue to experience race in the United States so differently, and we continue to find it difficult to have an informed and substantive conversation with those who do not share our imagination and our narratives. We continue to find it difficult to examine and discuss what these different narratives about racial experience mean.

Excellent  Analysis of the Film:

Out of the Cave (a poem)

Out of the Cave
By C. Matthew Hawkins
Spring, 2017
Baltimore

Image Credit: WBaltTV

After what seemed like more than a lifetime
in dimly-lit rooms where the musty smell of unwashed clothes
and stale cigarette smoke still lingered in the air
something drew you to the door.

You stumbled through narrow hallways cluttered with empty soda bottles,
greasy boxes of half-eaten pizza, and large plastic bags filled with trash,
waiting to be emptied.

You bumped against smudged walls as you made your way to the door.
You reached for the knob and turned up your nose when you smelled the rotten wood.
The door gave a painful whine when you opened it.

***

Although the air outside was fresh you tensed, 
flexing the muscles in your arms, 
and tightening your fists into knots,
and scowling as you stared down the street, 
nursing fear concealed as anger.
You thought anger would protect you,
but it suddenly dropped away like an unreliable bodyguard.
All that was left was your fear. 

In that brief moment, you were exposed.
Light passed through the summer mist, which rose from the sidewalk after the rain.
The air was sweet.
All things were new again.

***

Sunlight cut across your eyes; 
You squinted with a pout, trying to turn away
but you could swear you caught a glimpse of the very figures of love, truth and freedom 
strolling through the haze.

You snapped your head back to where the figures were, but they are gone.

***

You shook your head to clear it of thoughts and feelings that could not be trusted.
The feeling was strange and new, yet it had shadowed you for years. 

Comfortably familiar, yet disturbingly unexpected, you searched for traces of the elusive figures
and you knew this search was reckless.

***

As reckless as kids on dirt bikes in city streets dodging in and out of traffic,
cutting across alleys strewn with broken glass and across vacant lots overgrown with weeds.

They scraped their knees and blood rose to the surface of wounds too fresh to form scabs.
If you had hung on for the ride no telling where you would have ended up.

You could not trust the feelings that drew you out of the cave.
You tried to retreat into the safety of darkness but stubborn fascination insisted on more than just a glimpse.

You heard the roar of an approaching dirt bike, almost inviting you to hop aboard,
but you wouldn’t even think of riding along because you could not afford to lose control.

Image Credit: 12 O' Clock Boys Film

You could not see the face of the rider, whose ragged, blood-stained bandanna covered everything below the eyes.

How could you trust that which was partially concealed?

Yet above the tattered bloody cloth that flapped in the breeze as he zipped past,
the rider’s piercing eyes looked you dead in the face, and in an instant, he was gone.

Burning, soul-piercing, youthful eyes older than all the centuries
peered beneath a scar across his sweat-soaked brown forehead
and he disappeared as suddenly as he came.

Image Credit: 12 O' Clock Boys Film

It didn’t matter where the feeling came from that drew you into the sunlight,
your impulse was to turn away.

The feeling that drew you out refused to explain itself or to give you answers to all of your questions.

It was a moment of encounter that refused to be confined by your logic.

Your tongue felt like sand against the roof of your mouth and it reminded you that you thirst.

Gradually it dawned on you:

Mystery is not your inability to know; it is your inability to exhaust your thirst for what had been revealed.

Even as you tried to turn away revelation tightened its grip, cutting through layer upon layer of encrusted belief that you had woven over the years to hide you from yourself.

Image Credit: Baltimore Police Department

A Reading of the Poem During a Practice Session: