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racism

Native Son – 1951 Film Still Speaks

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“Fear has haunted Thomas to the very end.”

Richard Wright’s 1940 novel Native Son is one of the standards of African-American literature. It has found its way to the screen a few times. The first such film, directed by Belgian director Pierre Chenal, was made in Argentina in 1951. The international flair is worth noting, because it is a film that probably couldn’t have been made at that time in the US (in part because Wright was blacklisted). When the film was released in the US it faced severe censorship. Many thought the unexpurgated film was lost for years, but in the 1990s a complete copy of the film was found in Argentina and was given to the Library of Congress for restoration. That restored version (actually restored from two copies, one 35 mm the other 16 mm) is now being released anew.

It is the story of Bigger Thomas (played here by Richard Wright himself), a young black man in Chicago’s South Side, (described in the opening voice over as “a prison without bars”). We’re told he longs to be an adventurer and explorer, but “when you’re black it’s better to keep your dreams locked in your heart.”

Bigger is on the edge of criminality, but is given a job as chauffeur for the rich white Daulton family. The parents are somewhat liberal in terms of race, Mr. Daulton tells Bigger that has wife “has a deep interest in colored people”. Daughter Mary Daulton is very progressive. When Bigger drives her to an evening out (supposedly to the library), she has him pick up her boyfriend Jan (a labor organizer) and they all go to a South Side club where Bigger’s girlfriend Bessie happens to be singing.

Mary and Jan believe in complete equality. Jan has various pamphlets on unions and racial equality. Jan tells Bigger, “One of these days we’re going to smash this Jim Crow system, and when we smash it, it’s going to stay smashed.” They expect Bigger to be their friend rather than just a chauffeur. It is very uncomfortable for Bigger to be in such a situation.

After a long night of drinking, Mary needs help getting to her room. While Bigger is trying to get her into bed, events lead to him accidentally killing her. He knows that a black man killing a white woman will never be understood, so he tries to cover it up. As the cover up escalates, and then unravels, Bigger and Bessie are on the run from police. Bigger is eventually captured and put on trial.

The film is very much in the film noir tradition. Bigger is not a moral paragon or innocent man. He has had past issues with the law. At the beginning of the story he’s planning a crime that doesn’t happen. Yet he gets caught up in circumstances mostly of his own making. However, all of this is rooted in the fear ingrained in Bigger because he is black. He knows that justice can sometimes be very swift for black men. His father was lynched twelve years earlier. What might be for some people a terrible accident, Bigger knows could be deadly for him. His every action is based on growing fear of how the world will see this and react to it.

It’s important to keep in mind that this is a mid-twentieth century view of racism. (That is one of the causes of the censorship it faced.) While there are some very overt racist scenes, such as a crowd outside the courthouse complaining over the cost of a trial when they could just lynch him, often there are more nuanced views of racism. For example, when Bigger is driving Mary and Jan, Mary wants Bigger to sing something, suggesting “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”. For all her supposed liberalism, she has a pre-conceived idea of a black person that is very much a stereotype.

There are some interesting religious angles to the story as well. Bigger’s mother is very religious. Right after Bigger goes to work for the Daultons, he is brooding at home, and he and his mother have a brief dialog:

Mother: What’s you thinking about?

Bigger: About how we live and how they live.

Mother: Leave them things to God, son. In his Kingdom all men are equal.

Bigger: Yeah, I know, but we don’t live there.

After Bigger’s arrest, his mother takes his siblings to church and we hear her prayer seeking mercy. But Bigger never turns to God, in part because he believes he is deserving of what has befallen him.

Here is a nearly seventy year old film based on an eighty year old novel that continues to seem contemporary. That serves as a reminder of just how little progress our society has made in racial relations. We might want to join in Bigger’s mother’s prayer for mercy—for young men who must live such lives and for ourselves as we see our failure to bring about change.

Native Son is available on Virtual Cinema through Kino Marquee and local arthouses and includes in introduction by film historians Eddie Muller (Film Noir Foundation) and Najima Stewart (co-curator of Kino Lorber’s Pioneers of African American Cinema).

Photos courtesy of Kino Lorber

Myth of a Colorblind France – Black Expats

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Paris has been a haven for American expatriot artists of all sorts, but especially for African-Americans. In Myth of a Colorblind France, from Alan Govenar, we get to see that history in the 20th century and how it continues today. However, just because African-Americans found freedom there, doesn’t mean that there is no racism in France.

Most of the film is a celebration of African-American artists, writers, and musicians who migrated to Paris starting early in the 20th century. With the advent of World War I, when black soldiers were readily accepted by the French (who didn’t know about American segregation), many African-Americans felt free for the first time. In the post-war era, African-Americans began to return to France to enjoy the ability express their arts freely. This continued in the post-World War II era as well. Among those we learn about are dancer Josephine Baker, jazz clarinetist Sidney Bechet, painter Henry Ossawa Tanner, writers Countee Cullen, Chester Himes, Richard Wright, and James Baldwin. The film also allows us to hear some of the stories of current African-American expats who continue to find their home in Paris.

There are two key elements that made African-Americans feel welcome in France. The first was the absence of the racism that was so engrained in American society. When American blacks came to France, the segregation and discrimination they knew at home was not part of French culture. The second element is that in France these people were seen as artists rather than entertainers. That is a key difference. There was no sense of minstrel show when at a jazz club or seeing Josephine Baker. These were people who were making art—something that was valued in the French culture.

Note that I’m talking here about the African-American experience in France. It is noted in a few parts of the film that this is not the same experience that Africans and French people of African descent deal with. One of the current African-American expats recalls being in a neighborhood where many Africans live, and being harshly stopped by police and asked for papers. He says when they heard his American accent and saw he had US identification, they acted very politely. He doesn’t believe that would have been the case otherwise.

Early on it is pointed out that “racism in France is much more complicated” It is tied to the period of colonialism when France controlled many places in North and West Africa, and the Caribbean. People from these former colonies have often migrated to France as well. Even those born in France with such heritage, often times are treated much differently that the African-Americans.

The film really spends very little time on this issue, even though it seems to be implied by the film’s title. While the film is instructive for us to see the great talent among African-Americans that was nurtured in France, it fails to give more than some passing examples of how racism works in France. There is no systematic look at how racism and anti-immigrant (especially anti-Moslem) sentiment has taken root in France. That might serve as a starting point for discussion in French culture about the realities of racism. It might also serve as an opening for Americans to better understand some of the subtle ways racism works here as well.

Myth of a Colorblind France is available through Virtual Cinema at local arthouses.

TIFF20: One Night in Miami

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One Night in Miami' Review: Regina King's Vibrant Directorial Debut | IndieWire

Regina King flexes her incredible directorial skills for the first time in a feature film by bringing the stage play, One Night in Miami by Kemp Powers, to the big screen (or little screen, as it were).

One Night in Miami is a fictional take on a meeting between real life friends, Malcolm X (Kingsley Ben-Adir), Cassius Clay (Eli Goree), Jim Brown (Aldis Hodge), and Sam Cooke (Leslie Odom Jr.) as they celebrate Clay’s title victory in 1964.

When these four men are in a room alone together it sparks deep and passionate conversations about faith, civil rights, racism, and freedom.  As this was a stage play, we are blessed with numerous impressive monologues from each character.  This is an extremely emotionally driven piece and it certainly compares their world in 1964 to ours in 2020.

One Night in Miami is a very impressive film that is not only entertaining but extremely relevant and important.  Each performance was incredible and the cast had great chemistry on screen.  (In fact, from the footage I have seen of these men in real life, the acting was spot on.)  You believed their friendship but you also believed their disagreements.  And perhaps we can take a note from these men in the way that they support each other, yet don’t hesitate to call it out when there’s an issue and a potential for growth.

One Night in Miami is currently streaming at the Bell TIFF Cinema as part of the Toronto International Film Festival.

Black Boys – The Two-edged Sword

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“The bottom line for why things haven’t changed is there is no love for black boys.”

Sonia Lowman’s documentary Black Boys opens with former NFLer Greg Scruggs reading The Little Engine that Could to his toddler son. It transitions to a middle school age boy taking Richard Wrights Black Boy from a shelf and reading it. That dichotomy of idealism and reality is the driving force of the film. Or as activist/rapper Malcolm Little puts it, “You’re talking a double-edged sword to be a black boy in America, because you have to tell yourself that you are magnificent and that you are free and beautiful, while simultaneously acknowledging that the world is not built for you. It’s not built for your success. It’s not built for you to survive.”

The film is designed in four sections entitled Body, Mind, Voice, and Heart. In each of those we get a touch of what it means for young black men as they grow into the world. Sports dominates the Body section. Sports may seem like a way out of the difficulties blacks face, but is it? Or is it just another exploitation of black bodies? Education becomes the main topic of the Mind section. Again, this is an area of great hope, but we also know that as early as kindergarten, black children are often getting less attention and are sold lower expectations. The Voice and Heart sections really focus more on the hopeful side of the film’s core contrast to let us hear what the experience has done to the people interviewed and how the future has an opportunity for change, but that is by no means a certainty.

I consider myself woke (at least for an old white guy), so there isn’t much in this film that is new to me. But it is a very powerful presentation of not just facts and figures, but of the emotional reality of the lives of the people we visit. This is in no small part because of the excellent work Lowman has done in interviewing her subjects to evoke their reflections. Whether the subjects are athletes, educators, activists, or young people looking at their future, the insights provided are always challenging without being overly judgmental. As a white person watching the film I didn’t feel as though I was being called on to feel guilty, but to be engaged with the issues of social justice that are brought forth.

One piece of archival footage that spoke to me, personally, was a press conference held by Philadelphia Eagle player Malcolm Jenkins in which he never spoke, only held up prepared signs. Several of the signs repeated the sentence, “You aren’t listening”. To me that is a reminder that the first (but not the last) thing I need to do when faced with the cries for social justice, is to listen. I may have heard these things before. I still need to listen again.

Black Boys is an invitation for all of us to listen. Some of us need to hear the facts and figures we may have missed. Some of us may need to hear the pain some people have lived through. Some of us may need to hear of the inequalities we never knew about. Some of us may need to hear the visions of hope that continue to be dreamed—and realized. Listen.

Black Boys is available on NBCUniversal’s Peacock streaming service.

BLM Unpacked; RTJ4, Last of Us 2, Christians & R-Rated Media

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your sunday drive podcast

Picking up from our last episode, we revisit Black Lives Matter, unpacking it as a value statement vs. a political statement, how the situation has developed over the past few weeks with defund the police movements and the death of Rayshard Brooks, and the potential dangers of “woke anti-racism” as a secular religion (a la John McWhorter).

Also: cancel culture, blackface, statues, and finding a way to navigate the symbolic nexus of history, freedom, motivation, love, etc. that this moment represents.

We also look at two popular pieces of current media (that Matt digs) – the album RTJ4 from rap group Run the Jewels and the game The Last of Us Part 2 – and ask questions around Christians and R-rated media: should we engage? How? Why? Dangers? Benefits? (you get it 🙂 )

Come along for Your Sunday Drive – quick conversation about current events, politics, pop culture and more, from the perspective of a couple of guys trying to follow Jesus.

Hosts: Matt Hill and Nate Polzin. Presented by the Church in Drive of Saginaw, MI, as often as possible. Please visit churchindrive.com and facebook.com/thechurchindrive

Films in Full Colour #2: JUST MERCY

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We, at ScreenFish, believe that we are all created in God’s image and want to show our support where we can to those in the Black Community who continue to battle against systemic racism. While our team strives for diversity, we can always do better ourselves in giving voice to those who need the chance to speak out and be heard. 

In our new series, ‘Films in Full Colour’, we will be examining films that explore issues specifically within the black community. For each episode, my co-host will be Jordan Thoms, pastor of Warden Underground Church in Toronto and our hope is that, through the lens of film, we might be able to shine light on the issues faced every day by African Americans. This week, Jordan and I welcome film analyst Chris Utley to the show to talk about justice and its relationship to hopelessness, and what it means to tell a new story through Destin Daniel Cretton’s Just Mercy.

You can also stream the episode above on podomatic, Alexa (via Stitcher), Spotify or Soundcloud! Or, you can download the ep on Apple Podcasts or Google Play!

Want to continue the conversation at home?  Click the link below to download ‘Fishing for More’ — some small group questions for you to bring to those in your area.

Films in Full Colour 2: Just MercyDownload

Just Mercy: Never Too Late for Justice

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Image result for just mercy movie

Based on true events, Just Mercy tells the story of Walter “Johnny D” McMillian (Jamie Foxx), a man who was wrongfully convicted of the murder of Ronda Morrison and sentenced to death in Alabama. Adapted from the book by Johnny D’s attorney, Bryan Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan), Just Mercy is a hard-hitting look at racism in Alabama in recent decades, and the reality of a corrupt justice system.

Set in Monroeville, Alabama, the birthplace of author Harper Lee, the film makes multiple references to Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird, a fictional yet soberingly accurate comparison to some of the events that took place in Just Mercy. If you’ve seen To Kill a Mockingbird, the scene in Just Mercy where all people of colour are standing at the back of the courtroom will give you a chilling flashback.

Bryan Stevenson moved to Alabama to begin the Equal Justice Initiative, a non-profit organization providing legal services to prisoners who could not afford a proper representative, who were not granted a fair trial, or who were likely wrongly convicted.

Image result for just mercy movie

The case against Johnny D was based on very little evidence, including a fabricated testimony of a fellow inmate. It was clear that he was targeted based on race and class. Johnny D had also been unfaithful to his wife with a Caucasian woman, and this news had travelled around town.

When Bryan first met with Johnny D to reopen his case, it was clear that Johnny D was broken and had lost hope. He didn’t want to feel the pain or put his family through it again. With every turn, it seemed as though there were more road blocks that they had to face. People were intentionally trying to sabotage the appeal despite knowing that there was no real case against Johnny D.

Just Mercy is yet another look into how the justice system does not always provide justice, and how people who serve time in prison often come out worse then when they went in. Johnny D developed dementia later in his life which was thought to be the result of his time in prison and the trauma of what he went through. In addition, the film also brings up the moral debate about the death penalty. On a human level it was very difficult to watch the emotional trauma these men experienced as they sat and waited to be killed.

Image result for just mercy movie

This film is real and powerful. 

Special features on the Blu-ray include “Making Mercy,” “The Equal Justice Initiative,” “This Moment Deserves,” and deleted scenes. The film is now available for digital purchase and download from Warner Bros.

1on1 with director Andrew Heckler (BURDEN)

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I recently had a chance to talk by phone with Andrew Heckler about his film Burden. The film recounts the story of a man (Mike Burden, played by Garrett Hedlund) who was heavily involved in the Ku Klux Klan. When he chose to leave the Klan, he was taken in by a black Baptist minister (Rev. David Kennedy, played by Forest Whitaker).

How did you come upon this story?

I read a blurb in a small newspaper in 1996 that says “Klansman opens Redneck Shop and KKK museum in small town town square.” And I couldn’t believe it. In 1996. You think that kind of story only exists in the Fifties and Sixties. It was amazing to me, so I put it in a folder and thought maybe I’d get back to it and write it. But before I could, about eight months later I saw another story and that said, “Klansman sells Redneck Shop and KKK museum to black Baptist minister.” At which case I almost fell off my chair because I just couldn’t believe the story. So I actually picked up the phone and called the Reverend and actually headed down to Laurens, South Carolina and I spent around ten days down there getting to know the congregation and the Reverend, getting to know the town of Laurens, South Carolina. Once I met them, I couldn’t help but fall in love with the story and fall in love with the people. That really was the spark.

In the press notes, it mentioned that you went undercover to meet Klansmen. Tell me a bit about that.

Yeah, that’s true. What I realized is after I met the Reverend and the congregation, and really got to know them and got the flavor of them, I really believed that in order to write this story, I needed to understand and get to know—at least to understand and empathize with the Klansmen. If you’re going to be writing a story about what it takes to get someone out of this sort of family of hatred, you better know the person and what the family was all about. So I basically called the Redneck Shop and KKK Museum and I just said, “I’m heading to Hilton Head and I’d love to stop by, I’m a member of your organization in Colorado and I’ve heard a lot about you guys.” They were very welcoming. I ended up going back down to Laurens and spending some time there with the Klansmen at the shop and spent a lot of time in areas were there were known Klan hangouts, and just got to know them a little bit better. Now what you really have to do is just put all of your personal beliefs aside and just kind of open up your eyes and your ears and take in where they’re coming from. And have empathy for who they are and where they’re coming from in order to tell a truthful, honest, and authentic story. So that’s what I did. I don’t think the movie would have had any of the complexities that it has unless I actually done that and got to know them a little bit.

You also spent time in Rev. Kennedy’s church and with Mike Burden. How was that experience?

My time with the Reverend Kennedy was amazing. He really is a man who’s willing to help not only African Americans but literally anyone. In Laurens, there was a line outside his office door on a daily basis—people that were coming to him who faced some sort of injustice. Black, white, Hispanic, it didn’t matter. If there was injustice, the Reverend would pick up and take off and go chase it down. He was very difficult to corner because he was always running around trying to solve different injustices that had been perpetrated on people who came to him. But also getting to know the congregation, and getting to spend a lot of time there, I just realized that the people of the congregation had so much joy. They were just dancing and singing, and just filled with life. It was really wondrous to see them down there. In addition, there’s the character who’s played by Usher Simpson. He and I spent a lot of time riding around. He told me so many things I could never imagine. But the realities of race relations, and where people fit in the world and economics down there were truly not black and white, but very, very gray. I owe him a huge debt of gratitude for that time he spent with me.

As far as Mike Burden goes, Mike and I developed a relationship over a long period of time, and had become very close and trusting friends. I admire Mike and what he’s done with his life, because he was on a one way path down the road of endless hatred and bigotry. Through the love of Judy, honestly, and the Reverend, he’s a changed man. He’s always been a very complicated individual. He was a real, real tough tough guy. He’s a very vulnerable soul as well. You can only imagine if he had not grown up, you know, in dire economic circumstances, if he’d not grown up in a really, really screwed-up family, if he’d not grown up with all the abuse that was heaped on him as a child, who he could have become. But he was very vulnerable and he was able to be hijacked by a family that really looked like family and felt like family, but it was a family built on hate. And families built on hate are only skin deep. So at that point for Mike Burden any family, any sign of attention or compassion or what would look like love, was welcome to him

The story takes place over 20 years ago. How have things changed in the community in that time? And what hasn’t changed?

It’s hard for me, honestly, to give you an in depth answer to that. I can tell you what’s changing now, what’s exciting now is that we’re using some of the proceeds from the theater and some of the partnerships we’ve established with some major corporations, our goal is to jump start the conversion of the KKK Museum into a center of tolerance and community of love in the center of Laurens Town Square. I think it’s an amazing project to think that space which was once steeped in hatred can now be steeped in tolerance and love. But as far as the race relations in Laurens, South Carolina, I’m not qualified really to speak about it. We didn’t shoot there. We shot in a very, very small town in Georgia.

I think that we’re all seeing what was someone relegated to small towns, the sort of open racism and bigotry that was relegated to small towns in 1996, now the lids been sort of brought off of it and we’re seeing it everywhere now. I know that when we filmed in Georgia there was a lot of interesting, if not hateful, dynamics going on. Also a lot of love and support. I’m sure it’s the same in Los Angeles and New York. I try not to let myself think it’s only in small southern towns or the South in general. This kind of racism and bigotry right now is not only in the United States but everywhere. I hear from people in Italy. We’re going to Italy with the movie because of the Syrian refuge crisis, and so they’re having a lot of issues right now with racism and bigotry in Italy, and they think the movie will play there. I’ve heard it a lot from people in the UK that have suffered at the hands of people because they’re Paki. There’s a lot of Indians and Pakistanis in the UK that are being marginalized and sort of persecuted for their race. It’s all over.

As you went through the process of creating this film, what did you learn about racism in your own life?

Oh, yeah! The messages in the film are fairly easy to digest. The real message is do unto others as you would do unto yourself. It’s the most simplistic of rules, period, and it’s leading throughout the entire movie. But it’s not easy. I look at my own life and the way that I deal with my family, my neighbors, and society around us, I have to think about things in a much simpler way, too. There’s a lot of times when you live and you don’t get along with your neighbor. And for what reason? Nobody knows. Strangely enough that’s a form of what’s going on in the movie in that it’s a label instead of actually opening your eyes and communicating with people. So in terms of racism in the movie and what I’ve learned about myself, is to really pay attention to when I’m not actually engaged in a discussion or conversation, when I’m not opening my heart and my eyes, but blindly labeling people, blindly being polarized and hating for no reason. The movie’s taught me quite a bit about empathy, and that you can’t affect any change until you put yourself in someone else’s shoes and live there for a while, and try to get their perspective on things.

Before finishing up, I know you touched on this a little bit earlier, is there anything you want to share about the #RehabHate hashtag the film promotes?

Sure, I just think nothing would be a greater irony than to convert that space of hatred into a space of love. I hope that can be a metaphor for what we can actually do—not only to physical spaces—but to the hearts and minds of people across this country right now, who are so polarized and entrenched in their positions that they can’t even see anybody right now. Like I said, I hope it’s a metaphor, and I think that Mike Burden really says it best when, at the end of the movie the real Mike Burden said, “She was able to see it. She saw who I was underneath the hatred. She saw that little hole in me. And she started chipping away and chipping away until that hole got bigger and bigger.” I would ask everybody to look for the hole in that other person who you think you hate. Look for the hole in the person you don’t agree with. And try to see if your hole also be seen and chip away and chip away until that hole gets bigger. I think that’s what the Redneck Shop conversion into #RehabHate means.

Burden – Only Love Can Replace Hate

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Jesus told us “But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you” (Luke 6:27f, NRSV). We revere those words, but probably in our heart of hearts we say, “yeah, right.” In Andrew Heckler’s film Burden, we see what that means. It is hard. But it may also lead to transformation.

Based on a true story, the film is set in Laurens, South Carolina in the 1990s, the film centers on Mike Burden (Garrett Hedlund), a young man who has risen to the rank of Grand Dragon within the local Ku Klux Klan. He is mostly uneducated and get by working as a repo man. He, along mentor and father-figure Tom Griffin (Tom Wilkinson), opens The Redneck Shop and KKK Museum in downtown Laurens. This immediately gets the attention of a local Baptist minister, Reverend David Kennedy (Forest Whittaker), who organizes daily non-violent protests outside the shop. Kennedy is adamant about keeping the protests non-violent, but Griffin is eager to provoke a riot and wants Kennedy out of the picture.

When Burden begins dating Judy (Andrea Riseborough), a young single-mother, who is opposed to the Klan, his commitment begins to wane. His love for Judy and her son makes him question his place in the Klan, and eventually he opts to leave the Klan. He and Judy are immediately evicted from their home and lose their jobs. Living in Judy’s car and reduced to panhandling, Kennedy meets with them and hears their story. He invites them into his home—much to the dismay of his wife, son, and congregation.

But that marks about the halfway point in the film. The real conflict that fills the second half of the film is about how Burden must learn lessons of repentance, forgiveness, and transformation. As Kennedy says, hate will not go away unless it is replaced by love. Burden’s love for Judy was the starting point that opened the way for more love to flow in. I think the film could have used a bit more of Judy’s story to explain her antipathy for the Klan.

Many will look at this as a great triumph over racism. In some ways it is. The Klan and its hatred need to be confronted and overcome. The personal transformation of Mike Burden is not far short of miraculous. But showing racism in its grossest forms (as many films do) covers over the more subtle systemic racism that fills our society and, if we are honest with ourselves, our own lives. It is easy to look at Mike Burden and know that we were never the kind of racist he was before he was brought around to a new way of thinking. But will we be willing to look to see just how racist we are?

Where this film shines is not so much in its confrontation of racism as in its more subtle look at the power of non-violence and the transformative power of Jesus’ words in the first paragraph above. That teaching goes against everything else in our experience. Reverend Kennedy acted out those words in the way he treated a man who hated him and abused him. To befriend Burden went against Kennedy’s own sense of self-preservation. (And his wife and son were more than clear about their fears.) The fruits that flow from that act eventually led Burden to a new way of seeing the world in which he lived. It also opened him up to the point of confessing his own sins and repenting so that he could more fully appreciate the grace that had been offered him.

Photos courtesy of 101 Studios

Blinded By the Light – Words Matter

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“Mister, I ain’t a boy, no I’m a man, and I believe in the promised land” (Bruce Springsteen, “The Promised Land”)

In Blinded by the Light, Javed (Viveik Kaira), a Pakistani young man growing up in a town outside of London, struggles to find his place in the world. He wants to be a writer, but his strict, traditional father Malik (Kulvinder Ghir) doesn’t see that as a proper job for a Pakistani. Javed feels much more English, but that is not acceptable. He feels trapped in a family that doesn’t understand him. His troubles are amplified by the presence of anti-immigrant thugs. But when a friend (Aaron Phagura) introduces him to the music of Bruce Springsteen, he feels he’s found someone who speaks to his problems. Toss in a budding romance with a classmate (Nell Williams), a growing distance from a childhood friend (Dean-Charles Chapman), and an encouraging teacher, and Javed begins to find his own voice. But will it be at the price of losing his family and traditions?

(L-R) NELL WILLIAMS as Eliza, VIVEIK KALRA as Javed and AARON PHAGURA as Roops in New Line Cinema’s inspirational drama, BLINDED BY THE LIGHT, a Warner Bros. Pictures release.

The film is inspired by a true story and based on Sarfraz Mansour’s memoir, Greetings from Bury Park: Race, Religion and Rock N’ Roll. The film only touches in the briefest way on the religious aspect of the story, but it still manages to show us how the conflicts Javed faces between family, society, and self-fulfillment are compounded.

Obviously, music plays a key roll in the film. We often hear bits of Springsteen’s music. From time to time a Bollywood vibe comes in, with the lyrics coming on screen in various ways, and one or two minor production numbers that go along with the Boss’s songs.

The adolescent struggle for an independent identity has always been fertile ground for stories and films. (The best example is Rebel Without a Cause.) The expectations of society and parents often feel stifling. The relationship between Javed and his father is highlighted by conflict. As Javed notes early on, “In my house no one’s allowed opinions except my father.”  Malik feels that he is responsible for all his family maintaining the values he brought with him from Pakistan. He is stern and demanding. He expects his son to grow up to be Pakistani, not English. But Javed has a different view of where he wants his life to go. Director Gurinder Chadha looked at the generational issues of South Asians growing up in the UK in her earlier film, Bend It Like Beckham. Although the immigrant family issues play roles in both Blinded and Bend It, it is really a universal story of generational conflict.

Although set in 1987, this film seems to be very current in terms of race and nationalism issues. Javed is regularly cowed by National Front thugs and their nationalist and white-supremist actions. Thirty years later, those issues have not only not gone away, they seem to have reemerged in recent years on both sides of the Atlantic. We see the threat of anti-immigrant violence through Javed’s eyes. It is another obstacle he must deal with to find his place in the world—a world where some are very vocal about thinking he doesn’t belong.

One of Springsteen’s lines that comes up at varying points is the one that opens this piece. The push to be seen not as boy but as a man is the essence of the adolescent struggle he is going through. For Javed, the music of Bruce Springsteen not only gives him something to identify with, but it pushes him to express himself through his writing. It is his words that will finally show his family and the world who he can become.

Special features include a “Behind the Scenes” look at the true story behind the film and the making of featurette, as well as deleted scenes.