Anytown, USA
What if you were born in a small town community where you had very little, to nothing. Some of your neighbours, have even less because they have to support a family with 7 children. What if, you got your grubby little hands on a bone and fed it to the town dog. He's got to eat, too. What if your neighbour nearly kills you for giving it to him? Could his behaviour be justified? Nobody has seen meat for weeks. There might have been a couple of strings of meat left on there. Desperate times and all.
Who would you be?
What if a stranger came town, on the run, whose life was in jeopardy? What if she was trying to find safety, having to rely on the kindness of strangers? In theory, a person is innocent until proven guilty. In practice, it isn't always that simple. This stranger had the obstacle of false condemnation.
What would you do?
I watched the movie Dogville last night. WARNING: If you have any intention of seeing this movie, you may not want to read this post.
It's Spoiler City.
Lars Von Trier, a prodigious Dane, wrote and directed. He is swiftly usurping Tim Burton as my favourite director. Nicole Kidman, whom I keep trying to hate, but can't because she's wildly believable, plays Grace. Large studio set. It is a stageplay shot in 35mm. No walls. No doors. Everything is delineated by chalklines. Everything is implied. It is allegory. It looks like an illustration. There is some furniture, but it is sparse. It is genius.
One of the Dogville citizens Tom, a moralist and would-be writer with writer's block, questions the town's goodness and humanity. They're poor and made punchy by their poverty. When times are lean... they're lean.
Along comes a beautiful girl, in good garb, in need of help. She's on the run. She's lovely and scared and he's smitten. Young Tom offers the beautiful Grace harboured shelter. Soon after her arrival, a procession of very expensive automobiles roll into this town. A veiled, important figure with gloved hands, offers the moralist/ would-be writer a business card for him to call if he learns the whereabouts of this young lady. She is very important to him.
The townsfolk are suspicious. They are good God and law fearing people. They don't want to be caught harbouring any potential convicts or criminals. Because it is Dogville, USA, they initiate a democratic process. The girl is put to a vote. She is given 2 weeks so that they can decide whether they like and trust her enough to stay. She was, afterall, an outsider. You can't really trust new people. But they are good people willing to give her a chance. Her fate was in their hands. In two weeks time, the vote was not to be won in her favour by majority, but by unanimity. If one person cast a vote against her, she was voted off the island. Whoops, I mean, banished from the town.
Their hands held suspicion and scrutiny.
Though she'd never worked a day in her life, she went around the town asking if anyone needed help. She was sweet, resourceful and nonallergic to work. Initially they didn't want her offering. There was barely enough work for themselves, they reasoned. But she kept at it. She used her resourceful to create a need for her services.
After a fortnight, the townsfolk reconvened. Blessed, blessed Humanity! She had convinced them. She'd built enough like and trust.
She worked very hard. What she had no knowledge in, she became a quick study. She developed relationships. She began to touch people's lives. She understood the fallibility in human beings. She wanted to be everything to everyone. She never complained. She was grateful for being harboured. Protected.
She wanted to gain acceptance by these people. She did so by demonstrating her character, being careful, consistent, helpful. The results of her labour initially yielded kinship and scant barter income to afford her a few precious figurines. These became an illustration of her life there, something that brought her immense joy. A couple of the menfolk had emptied out an unused industrial space. With a bed destined for the trash heap, she called it home. She did need a place to rest up for her duties. When she was resting, her eyes fell on these figurines, something she displayed with great pride of achievement.
Police came to the sleepy town, tacking up a WANTED poster. In bold 50 pt Western font, a sizable reward was advertised for the safe return of this young woman. The townsfolk held another meeting, again in her absence. There was a lot of money being offered. They were not being greedy, but it was decided she could remain only if she could offer up some quid pro quo. They felt uncomfortable having information and not providing it to the proper authorities. They were good law-abiding citizens, though if they were asked to bend the rules, it would have to be worth their while. It was only right. It was only fair. It was the American way.
The more she did, the more they asked her to do. Other than exhaustion, the more she worked the less she had to show for it. The more she did, the more they demanded of her. It became their right, their privilege.
Though she had demonstrated nothing by goodness and Grace:
It was their right to wrongfully accuse and incriminate.
It was their right for every townsman to repeatedly rape her, while threatening to turn her in.
It was their right to have this acknowledged and ignored by all the womenfolk.
It was their right to treat her as a slave.
It was their right to treat her as a captive criminal; a woman in chains.
It was their right to have no accountability.
It was their right to possess greed, greed, greed.
Time and time again, she would forgive them. They knew not what they did, was her rationale. They were only human. It was because of their circumstances, their poverty, their desperation, that they behaved the way they did. They were doing the best they could with what they were given.
Her ally, the moralist/ would-be writer, had a plan. Gather the small community together and bring to light all the crimes and injustices that had ever been done to her, gently telling it straight to the faces of her perpetrators. The truth, child, will set you free.
Well, the ally turned out to be Judas. The truth was every man, woman and child was guilty of at least one heinous crime against her. Each was flagrantly unwilling to look at any of the damage they'd done; unwilling to take any responsibility for their actions. By looking at their own behaviour, it caused shame so fierce that to admit it would be like parading their syphilitic chancres for all the world to see. Though, their world really didn't pass the town's limits, they couldn't abide by that. They were good people. They needed to maintain that title. The best course of action would be to rid the source of shame. Eliminate her. Best to call that number that was in connection with her in the first place. And perhaps collect a litte reward money. Ka-ching.
Well, it turned out the number belonged to Daddy (as played beautifully by James Caan).
Daddy's a mob leader, the Big Man.
Daddy came to finish an argument that they'd started but hadn't finished because his little girl had pulled a runner. He also wanted to step down from kingpin, offering her a gift of The Business. To all of this, she rolled her eyes and accused him of being arrogant.
Grace: To plunder, as it were, a God given right? I'd call that arrogant.
Daddy: But that's exactly what I don't like about you. It's you who is arrogant.
Grace: That's what you came here to say? I'm not the one passing judgement, Daddy. You are.
Daddy: No-oh! You do not pass judgement because you sympathise with them. A deprived childhood and a homicide isn't really necessarily a homicide, right? The only thing you can blame is circumstances. Rapists and murderers may be the victims, according to you. But I, I call them dogs. And if they're lapping up their own vomit, the only way to stop them is with a lash.
Grace: But dogs only obey their own nature; so why shouldn't we forgive them?
Daddy: Dogs can be taught many useful things. But not if we forgive them every time they obey their own nature.
Grace: So I'm arrogant? I'm arrogant because I forgive people?
Daddy: My God! Can't you see how condescending you are when you say that? I mean you have this preconceived notion, that nobody, listen, that nobody can possibly attain the same high ethical standards as you... so you exonerate them. I cannot think of anything more arrogant than that. You... you my dear child, forgive others with excuses that you would never in the world permit for yourself.
Grace: Why shouldn't I be merciful? Why?
Daddy: No, no, no, no... you should. You should be merciful when it is time to be merciful. But you must maintain your own standards. You owe them that. The penalty you deserve for your transgression, they deserve for their transgressions.
Grace: They're human beings.
Daddy: Does every human being need to be accountable for their actions? Of course they do. You don't even give them that chance. And that is extremely arrogant. I love you to death but you are the most arrogant person I've ever met. And you call me arrogant! I have no more to say.
Grace: People who live here are doing their best under very hard circumstances.
Daddy: If you say so, Grace. But is their best... really good enough?
She steps out of the 1930's Cadillac and looks around at these people, still romantacising who they are and where they'd come from. She puts herself in their position. What if she were them? She'd probably do the same thing, right? Given the circumstances.
But would she have?
Would she have taken advantage of a vulnerable stranger looking for a ounce of kindness and a modicum of compassion? Would she have not judged a stranger, whom she grew to know over the better part of year, properly or impartially? If she was demonstrated nothing but trustworthiness, kindness and diligent duty, would she still have treated her like a criminal?
Her answer was: if she could be that kind of person, she needed to pay for her transgression. Ooh, it gets really biblical here.
Daddy had given her The Business, effective immediately. She didn't want to do it his way: thugs with no honour. She wanted to make the world a better place. There was no place in a good, just world for Dogville and its inhabitants.
Upon her directive:
Daddy: Shoot 'em all and burn the town down.
The whole town was wiped out. Except for one.
Interesting to note that the only creature that was spared was the lone dog of the small town. Moses. The only reason she spared him was because she had trespassed against him, her one transgression throughout the entire film. In a period where no one had much, this dog was given a bone. By her ravenous hunger, she stole from Moses. She spared his life.
So what did this leave me with? I saw how ugly, small minded, and insular people could be. I saw how afraid they were to look at themselves. That if someone brought out a truth in them, something they were unwilling to look at, it dredged up too much shame within. Their best course of action was to eliminate the reminder of their shame.
I understood myself a little bit more from watching this film.
I don't believe in circumstances. I don't care who you are or what or where you've come from. I believe we all have choices. Some people choose the majority vote. There's less friction that way. Some never go beyond their own intrinsic natures. Few stand by their own convictions. With honour. Fewer voice what's right. What's just. Most would continue lapping up their own vomit.
It doesn't make me jaded to the whole of the human race.
I believe in humans.
Though, specifically... the good ones.
And I'm working on my arrogance.
Who would you be?
What if a stranger came town, on the run, whose life was in jeopardy? What if she was trying to find safety, having to rely on the kindness of strangers? In theory, a person is innocent until proven guilty. In practice, it isn't always that simple. This stranger had the obstacle of false condemnation.
What would you do?
I watched the movie Dogville last night. WARNING: If you have any intention of seeing this movie, you may not want to read this post.
It's Spoiler City.
Lars Von Trier, a prodigious Dane, wrote and directed. He is swiftly usurping Tim Burton as my favourite director. Nicole Kidman, whom I keep trying to hate, but can't because she's wildly believable, plays Grace. Large studio set. It is a stageplay shot in 35mm. No walls. No doors. Everything is delineated by chalklines. Everything is implied. It is allegory. It looks like an illustration. There is some furniture, but it is sparse. It is genius.
One of the Dogville citizens Tom, a moralist and would-be writer with writer's block, questions the town's goodness and humanity. They're poor and made punchy by their poverty. When times are lean... they're lean.
Along comes a beautiful girl, in good garb, in need of help. She's on the run. She's lovely and scared and he's smitten. Young Tom offers the beautiful Grace harboured shelter. Soon after her arrival, a procession of very expensive automobiles roll into this town. A veiled, important figure with gloved hands, offers the moralist/ would-be writer a business card for him to call if he learns the whereabouts of this young lady. She is very important to him.
The townsfolk are suspicious. They are good God and law fearing people. They don't want to be caught harbouring any potential convicts or criminals. Because it is Dogville, USA, they initiate a democratic process. The girl is put to a vote. She is given 2 weeks so that they can decide whether they like and trust her enough to stay. She was, afterall, an outsider. You can't really trust new people. But they are good people willing to give her a chance. Her fate was in their hands. In two weeks time, the vote was not to be won in her favour by majority, but by unanimity. If one person cast a vote against her, she was voted off the island. Whoops, I mean, banished from the town.
Their hands held suspicion and scrutiny.
Though she'd never worked a day in her life, she went around the town asking if anyone needed help. She was sweet, resourceful and nonallergic to work. Initially they didn't want her offering. There was barely enough work for themselves, they reasoned. But she kept at it. She used her resourceful to create a need for her services.
After a fortnight, the townsfolk reconvened. Blessed, blessed Humanity! She had convinced them. She'd built enough like and trust.
She worked very hard. What she had no knowledge in, she became a quick study. She developed relationships. She began to touch people's lives. She understood the fallibility in human beings. She wanted to be everything to everyone. She never complained. She was grateful for being harboured. Protected.
She wanted to gain acceptance by these people. She did so by demonstrating her character, being careful, consistent, helpful. The results of her labour initially yielded kinship and scant barter income to afford her a few precious figurines. These became an illustration of her life there, something that brought her immense joy. A couple of the menfolk had emptied out an unused industrial space. With a bed destined for the trash heap, she called it home. She did need a place to rest up for her duties. When she was resting, her eyes fell on these figurines, something she displayed with great pride of achievement.
Police came to the sleepy town, tacking up a WANTED poster. In bold 50 pt Western font, a sizable reward was advertised for the safe return of this young woman. The townsfolk held another meeting, again in her absence. There was a lot of money being offered. They were not being greedy, but it was decided she could remain only if she could offer up some quid pro quo. They felt uncomfortable having information and not providing it to the proper authorities. They were good law-abiding citizens, though if they were asked to bend the rules, it would have to be worth their while. It was only right. It was only fair. It was the American way.
The more she did, the more they asked her to do. Other than exhaustion, the more she worked the less she had to show for it. The more she did, the more they demanded of her. It became their right, their privilege.
Though she had demonstrated nothing by goodness and Grace:
It was their right to wrongfully accuse and incriminate.
It was their right for every townsman to repeatedly rape her, while threatening to turn her in.
It was their right to have this acknowledged and ignored by all the womenfolk.
It was their right to treat her as a slave.
It was their right to treat her as a captive criminal; a woman in chains.
It was their right to have no accountability.
It was their right to possess greed, greed, greed.
Time and time again, she would forgive them. They knew not what they did, was her rationale. They were only human. It was because of their circumstances, their poverty, their desperation, that they behaved the way they did. They were doing the best they could with what they were given.
Her ally, the moralist/ would-be writer, had a plan. Gather the small community together and bring to light all the crimes and injustices that had ever been done to her, gently telling it straight to the faces of her perpetrators. The truth, child, will set you free.
Well, the ally turned out to be Judas. The truth was every man, woman and child was guilty of at least one heinous crime against her. Each was flagrantly unwilling to look at any of the damage they'd done; unwilling to take any responsibility for their actions. By looking at their own behaviour, it caused shame so fierce that to admit it would be like parading their syphilitic chancres for all the world to see. Though, their world really didn't pass the town's limits, they couldn't abide by that. They were good people. They needed to maintain that title. The best course of action would be to rid the source of shame. Eliminate her. Best to call that number that was in connection with her in the first place. And perhaps collect a litte reward money. Ka-ching.
Well, it turned out the number belonged to Daddy (as played beautifully by James Caan).
Daddy's a mob leader, the Big Man.
Daddy came to finish an argument that they'd started but hadn't finished because his little girl had pulled a runner. He also wanted to step down from kingpin, offering her a gift of The Business. To all of this, she rolled her eyes and accused him of being arrogant.
Grace: To plunder, as it were, a God given right? I'd call that arrogant.
Daddy: But that's exactly what I don't like about you. It's you who is arrogant.
Grace: That's what you came here to say? I'm not the one passing judgement, Daddy. You are.
Daddy: No-oh! You do not pass judgement because you sympathise with them. A deprived childhood and a homicide isn't really necessarily a homicide, right? The only thing you can blame is circumstances. Rapists and murderers may be the victims, according to you. But I, I call them dogs. And if they're lapping up their own vomit, the only way to stop them is with a lash.
Grace: But dogs only obey their own nature; so why shouldn't we forgive them?
Daddy: Dogs can be taught many useful things. But not if we forgive them every time they obey their own nature.
Grace: So I'm arrogant? I'm arrogant because I forgive people?
Daddy: My God! Can't you see how condescending you are when you say that? I mean you have this preconceived notion, that nobody, listen, that nobody can possibly attain the same high ethical standards as you... so you exonerate them. I cannot think of anything more arrogant than that. You... you my dear child, forgive others with excuses that you would never in the world permit for yourself.
Grace: Why shouldn't I be merciful? Why?
Daddy: No, no, no, no... you should. You should be merciful when it is time to be merciful. But you must maintain your own standards. You owe them that. The penalty you deserve for your transgression, they deserve for their transgressions.
Grace: They're human beings.
Daddy: Does every human being need to be accountable for their actions? Of course they do. You don't even give them that chance. And that is extremely arrogant. I love you to death but you are the most arrogant person I've ever met. And you call me arrogant! I have no more to say.
Grace: People who live here are doing their best under very hard circumstances.
Daddy: If you say so, Grace. But is their best... really good enough?
She steps out of the 1930's Cadillac and looks around at these people, still romantacising who they are and where they'd come from. She puts herself in their position. What if she were them? She'd probably do the same thing, right? Given the circumstances.
But would she have?
Would she have taken advantage of a vulnerable stranger looking for a ounce of kindness and a modicum of compassion? Would she have not judged a stranger, whom she grew to know over the better part of year, properly or impartially? If she was demonstrated nothing but trustworthiness, kindness and diligent duty, would she still have treated her like a criminal?
Her answer was: if she could be that kind of person, she needed to pay for her transgression. Ooh, it gets really biblical here.
Daddy had given her The Business, effective immediately. She didn't want to do it his way: thugs with no honour. She wanted to make the world a better place. There was no place in a good, just world for Dogville and its inhabitants.
Upon her directive:
Daddy: Shoot 'em all and burn the town down.
The whole town was wiped out. Except for one.
Interesting to note that the only creature that was spared was the lone dog of the small town. Moses. The only reason she spared him was because she had trespassed against him, her one transgression throughout the entire film. In a period where no one had much, this dog was given a bone. By her ravenous hunger, she stole from Moses. She spared his life.
So what did this leave me with? I saw how ugly, small minded, and insular people could be. I saw how afraid they were to look at themselves. That if someone brought out a truth in them, something they were unwilling to look at, it dredged up too much shame within. Their best course of action was to eliminate the reminder of their shame.
I understood myself a little bit more from watching this film.
I don't believe in circumstances. I don't care who you are or what or where you've come from. I believe we all have choices. Some people choose the majority vote. There's less friction that way. Some never go beyond their own intrinsic natures. Few stand by their own convictions. With honour. Fewer voice what's right. What's just. Most would continue lapping up their own vomit.
It doesn't make me jaded to the whole of the human race.
I believe in humans.
Though, specifically... the good ones.
And I'm working on my arrogance.
posted by Comrade Chicken at
3:22 p.m.
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