01-17-2019 07:54:10 AM -0800
01-17-2019 06:55:32 AM -0800
01-16-2019 03:10:05 PM -0800
01-16-2019 12:47:48 PM -0800
01-16-2019 09:37:22 AM -0800
It looks like you've previously blocked notifications. If you'd like to receive them, please update your browser permissions.
Desktop Notifications are  | 
Get instant alerts on your desktop.
Turn on desktop notifications?
Remind me later.
PJ Media encourages you to read our updated PRIVACY POLICY and COOKIE POLICY.

Stretch, grab a late afternoon cup of caffeine and get caught up on the most important news of the day with our Coffee Break newsletter. These are the stories that will fill you in on the world that's spinning outside of your office window - at the moment that you get a chance to take a breath.
Sign up now to save time and stay informed!

Another Day, Another Apology for Telling the Truth

I have yet to see the new movie Green Book, directed by Peter Farrelly, but judging by everything I’ve read and seen about it, it would appear to fit cozily into a very familiar subgenre. Set in 1962, it recounts the purportedly true story of a car trip through the South by African-American pianist Don Shirley (played by Mahershala Ali), who is on a performance tour, and his Italian-American driver/bodyguard from the Bronx, Tony Vallelonga (Viggo Mortensen). A hermit living in a cave in Timor-Leste could instantly nail the story arc of this thing: By experiencing the humanity of the black pianist and the segregation of the 1960s South, the driver learns to rise above his casual racism and to respect the black guy in the back seat.

Hollywood loves making movies like this. They give directors and producers and studio chiefs the opportunity to deplore racism. To be sure, it’s best to set these things in the 1960s or earlier so that the racism can be at full toxic pitch, making it easy to tell who are the good guys are who are the bad. If you make a movie about American race relations set in more recent times, you're kind of forced to deal with nuance -- the downsides of affirmative action, welfare dependency, one-parent families, gang culture, drugs, crime, and so on.

A perfect example of the subgenre is the 2011 movie The Help. It's about black maids in Jackson, Mississippi, in 1963, who work hard for well-off white families but are condescended to and taken for granted. As is routine in these pictures, however, they’re also condescended to by the filmmakers. For the film's protagonist isn't one of the maids but a young white woman, played by Emma Stone, who writes a book exposing their plight. The Emma Stone character is of course, in a sense, a stand-in for the filmmakers themselves, who plainly consider themselves heroes for noticing the prejudice these maids endure. In these films, in short, the blacks are always the victims but never the heroes.

This subgenre should not, note well, be confused with other, related subgenres -- such as those cheesy dramas in which an inspiring white teacher in an inner-city school turns around the lives of students who would otherwise have ended up in gangs, in prison, and/or in early graves. In Dangerous Minds (1995), the teacher is Michelle Pfeiffer; in The Ron Clark Story (2006), it's Matthew Perry; in Music of the Heart (1999), it's Meryl Streep; in Freedom Writers (2007), it's Hilary Swank. You might as well shoehorn Finding Forrester (2000) into this category too, even though the white writer (Sean Connery) who mentors a black teenager (Rob Brown) doesn't do it in a classroom.