So, I saw 12 Years a Slave

[browngirl]

Which is the absolute best movie I have ever seen which I have no intention of ever seeing again (a compliment to it).

I don't think the entire US needs to see this movie. There are many people who don't. But I do wish that I could magically compel some people to, such as everyone who has ever told me that the slaves were better off before they were freed, that Black people are unintelligent, that we benefited from and were civilized by slavery, that racism has economic benefits, that the Confederacy was in the right and should have won the US Civil War. I wish I could collect everyone I used to argue with from Elbows and #elbows and filkdom and the Nose and so on, and have a mass field trip to go see 12 Years a Slave.

Of course, people being what they are, half that crowd would probably throw popcorn at the screen and laugh loudly at all the floggings.


But, I should write about the movie, and what a movie it is. I could write individual essays about different aspects of it, including but not limited to: the acting, including Chiwetel Ejiofor's masterful portrayal of Solomon Northup, Lupita Nyong'o's breakout role as Patsey, and the excellent and nuanced portrayals of some sincerely horrible people; how the movie showed that a good kind slavemaster is still a culpable participant in an evil system and yet a brutal master is so boundlessly horrible; the effects of slavery on women, or, that whole idea of otherwise powerless women controlling men through sex is so much rank bullshit; the extra-crispy haunting scene where a woman is torn from her children and sold away from them; the intelligence with which the Black characters are credited by the script and acting; how much it tells us to see that a woman who picks a quarter ton of cotton a day and suffers unspeakable abuses also has a hobby of making grass dolls; the almost hilarious scene where a former overseer complains, rightfully, of how soul-destroying he found overseeing and oppressing slaves, to the captive audience of the slave whose whipping-induced wounds he's treating; the way music threads through the movie; the way violence threads through it, including some truly shattering scenes of violence. This movie is incredibly rich and full of amazing layers of detail and message that form a synergistic whole. It would greatly reward repeated watchings and lots of analysis.

I just don't think my heart could take it. This movie was as brutal as was necessary to be accurate, which was astonishingly brutal. Just remembering the first whipping, or the worst, or several others, my eyes are running over again. One thing I really wish could be written in letters of fire in every history book about the United States or any part of it which had slavery (including many parts of the Northeast) is how brutal slavery was. ANyone who dares say it was a beneficial system should taste the smallest crumb of the experience of watching Solomon's terror and pain, watching the agonies his fellow slaves were put through all around him. I can't even imagine what it was like to live through them.

So many of my fellow Americans won't bother, I know. This movie needed to be made but I am unsurprised it took a team of Brits to make it, even in 2013.

ETA 12 Years a Slave is being quite rightfully compared to Schindler's List; another comparison that struck me sometimes (because I am ridiculous) was between Solomon Northup's portrayal and Jean Valjean's. Not just in the surface effect of red eyes and painted suffering, but also in the actors' portrayals of men who needed to cling to the knowledge that they were "no worse than any other." Valjean's story is seen as universally applicable; I could hope that Northup's could come to be seen so as well.

I thought I had more to say on that but it's just as well that I don't. *laugh at myself*

I think I shouldn't've bothered to take notes. My notes are quite hampered by intermittent ink, being jotted in the dark, and the times when I was crying too hard to write, or when I dropped the notebook in shock at a particular plot development.

I was the only Black person in the theater, as I was for Django Unchained, which was interesting to note not least because my reasons for seeing the movies are flipped reversals of each other. I saw Django Unchained to lay claim to a revenge fantasy constructed by someone else; I saw 12 Years a Slave because my ancestors lived it. (Interestingly, out of four or five trailers there was exactly one with a POC with a speaking role.)

I cried a lot during the movie. Even though I hydrated well beforehand and brought a whole pack of tissues, I still wasn't prepared for just how much I cried. I hid my face in WD's shoulder at one point, and during the last scene I broke down into full on ugly crying, sobbing while WD rubbed my back, and couldn't stop till after the credits ended. I feel a mix of apologetic and weirdly defiant towards the other audience members about that.

Speaking of.. all thanks to my dearest bikergeek, who took me to see this emotionally wrenching movie, and let me cry into his shoulder and squeeze his hand, and rubbed my back while I wept through the credits. Who understands why I had to see this movie and why I needed him with me. *blows a grateful kiss*

Also, I owe thanks to Mr. McQueen, Mr. Ridley, Mr. Ejiofor, Ms. Nyong'o, and everyone else who brought this astonishing movie to fruition. And to Mr. Northup, for surviving and then writing down and publishing his ordeal. And to my ancestors, for surviving theirs so I can exist.

In summary, I'm really glad I saw 12 Years a Slave, even though or maybe because I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight.

Comments

[browngirl.livejournal.com]

Quite accurate.