My last
post was about the Grammys, so now I am going to attempt to analyze that other
bastion of white-bred, elite nepotism: the Oscars.
Much has
been made of Fruitvale Station being
snubbed by this year’s Oscar committee. 12
Years a Slave has nine nominations, and other than a Best Song nomination
for Mandela, it is the only Black film in contention.
Fruitvale Station depicts the events
leading up to the death of Oscar Grant, a young Black man from Oakland who was
shot by a BART policeman on January 1st, 2009. 12 Years a Slave is also based on a true story, that of Solomon
Northup, a free Black man from New York, who in 1841 was kidnapped and sold
into slavery by two white men he thought were his friends.
My take on why a film like 12 Years a Slave received Oscar
accolades and Fruitvale Station did
not is fairly straightforward. White people, especially liberal elites, have an
easier time processing movies about past racism. They don’t want to face
present day racial oppression, and furthermore they have no desire to be
implicated in such injustice. But to get the full story, I believe we need to
look at Fruitvale from an aesthetic
point of view.
One scene
that stands out in particular is when Oscar Grant is at a gas station. He is in
a pretty negative headspace. He has lost his job and decided that he can no
longer go on selling weed. He meets a dog at the gas station and pets it
eagerly. When he is finished filling up his tank, he sees the dog die in a hit
and run. Needless to say, he is devastated. While this scene most definitely
did not happen to Grant in real life, Ryan Coogler has stated that it is of
great metaphorical importance. In an interview with Huffington post, Coogler had
this to say about the pit bull:
When you hear about them in
the media, you hear about them doing horrible things. You never hear about a
pit bull doing anything good in the media. And they have a stigma to them ...
and, in many ways, pit bulls are like young African-American males. Whenever
you see us in the news, it's for getting shot and killed or shooting and
killing somebody -- for being a stereotype. And that's what you see for
African-Americans in the media and the news.
However, there is something else that needs to be noted. When
Oscar runs towards the dog he screams for help. And the silence that meets his
pleas is resounding. Something that is communicated so effectively in Coogler’s
film is the sense of helplessness that often infects Black life in this
country. Grant can’t get a job and yet he can’t go on selling drugs. His mother
is at a loss as to how to help him. He has no one to whom he can appeal.
Later on in
the film, Oscar takes the place of the dog. Even after trying to play peacemaker
in a fight that he did not start, the police choose to arrest him and his Black
friends rather than the white instigator (who is also a neo-nazi). A group of
bystanders on the train witness the injustice, but even they are powerless to
intervene. More than anything, Fruitvale is
the story of a man who, by all accounts was not perfect, but tried to do the right thing. In the end, he still meets his demise. When violence comes, it comes
suddenly. And like that Grant is gone.
This scene
is mirrored in 12 Years a Slave. When
Northup is first is enslaved in Washington, DC, he leans out of the window of
the dungeon he is chained in to call for help. The camera cranes upwards to
show the Capitol Building, that old symbol of democracy, now portrayed in a
more cynical manner. Northup’s pleas are also met with silence.
I bring up
these scenes because I think they elucidate a fundamental problem in US civil
society. We must ask ourselves, what is at stake when we tell stories? Who is
allowed to narrate? Whose version of truth will be believed? Whose pleas for
help will be heard? After all, isn’t that exactly what was at stake in the
cases of Renisha McBride, Cece Mcdonald, Trayvon Martin, Jordan Davis and so
many other Black folx who were either killed, brutalized or detained by white
supremacist proponents? What makes me sad about Fruitvale’s lack of recognition is that white people historically
have been able to pick and choose how stories are told. They can support a
movie about slavery and feel good about themselves for being progressive, but they
will not face the horror that surrounds them in the present.
Fruitvale Station and 12 Years a Slave are both testaments to the
overwhelming helplessness, panic and despair that are the result of a country
built on anti-Black racism. While Oscar loses his life, Northup does return
home, having missed his children growing up and growing old with his wife. Either
way you slice it, time has been stolen from both men, just like time is being
stolen from countless Black folx by the twin terrors of the prison-industrial
complex and the criminal injustice system.
But ultimately, opulence is
blinding. And the Oscars are nothing if not opulent. While there have been
significant breakthroughs in terms of Black artists, in all mediums, getting
recognition, it is clear that the road to progress is paved with plenty of
setbacks.
