First off, let me just say that I've come to the realization that perhaps I watch far too many movies. I just can't seem to get caught up with all the films I've watched. It's February 03 and I'm writing a review for a film I saw eight days ago. That in and of itself isn't so bad except that within those eight days, I watched another four films (actually five but one of them I'm not going to bother with) that now need to be reviewed. I once read that the average person goes to the movies about two times per year. That's about how many times I go to the theater in a week.
Anyways, moving on ... The Visitor is another one of those films that I had resisted for the longest time. J. also commented that when she first heard about the film, there was very little that seemed appealing. Think about it for a second: a white person who's emotionally lost/damaged, finds solace and redemption by meeting a person of color and then learning to play African drums. Ever see Matt Damon/Will Smith in Bagger Vance? Ever see Patrick Swayze/Whoopie Goldberg in Ghost? Ever see just about any movie starring Morgan Freeman? This phenomenon, which Spike Lee once termed "the magical negro" (this was back in 2001 during a series of lectures he gave at Yale and at Washington State), is a familiar trope throughout American films. Of course, back in the 1990s, Toni Morrison traced it back even further in her lecture series, Playing in the Dark. She argues that throughout American political and cultural history, there has always been an Africanist presence that enables and sometimes even enobles white characters. If you want to see a gendered version of this argument, go look up Gynesis.
This has become a tired formula that really needs to be put to rest. I wouldn't mind it so much if the enabler just happened to be a person of color (like Danny Glover's character in the Lethal Weapon series ... those films are apalling on an entirely different level) but so often it's the very "ethnic" quality of that person that seems to be the great liberating factor. In Head of State, the sadly disappointing Chris Rock film (and, by the way, is there any Chris Rock film that isn't sadly disappointing? With someone as much comic genius as that guy, he just can't seem to find a movie to showcase that talent), there's a big finale in which all the uptight white people get loose and funky dancing to hip-hop. This, of course, makes the world a better place. Seriously now ... we have to stop this. Now.
In a major hypocritical moment, the film pokes fun at the prototypical white liberal collector of "ethnicity." A woman in a street market admires a set of handmade earrings. This white woman is dazzled just as much by the earrings as she is by the African woman who made them. She admires the African's name and asks where she might be from. There are plenty of white jewelry makers selling their ware on the streets. How many of them do you think get asked, "where are you from? What's your name" Oh, Betty ... that's such a beautiful name. What does it mean?" It's then revealed that this white woman has no real sense of Africa as she confuses two countries that are thousands of miles apart. For her, there is just a general Africanness that she finds interesting and exotic. Now, the protagonist, Walter, has an obviously more sincere relationship to the drums. For him, it's a personal experience in which he engages. It's not an item to purchase and hang on the wall. But, when looked at through the prism of the Africanist presence, it becomes clear that the drums are, in fact, simply just another set of interesting earrings.
J. and I ultimately decided to rent this film because it was up for an award (Richard Jenkins, lead actor) and because our friend, The Poet, kept talking it up. I should pause and mention that The Poet and I have a very adversarial relationship when it comes to films. I certainly respect The Poet's views and enjoy "debating" film choices no matter how much our respective choices may diverge. There are some films that we both enjoy (Lars and the Real Girl, for example) but most of the time we just have to agree to disagree. I'm not sure this is exactly one of those times but it's not that far off. Despite my political protestations to this film, I wouldn't grade it as being bad. But I also don't think it's particularly interesting or unique. Richard Jenkins surely deserves his Oscar nomination for what might be one of the most powerfully restrained acting roles I've seen in quite some time.
The Visitor is written and directed by Thomas McCarthy whose 2003 debut, The Station Agent, I enjoyed quite a bit. It had a slow, meditative pace that savored every moment without being overly languorous. It was also quirky without being overly cute (and as anyone who knows me or who has read enough of my reviews will surely know, there are few things in films that I despise more than quirky white characters whose affectations are meant to be perceived as cute eccentricities). Simply put, The Station Agent felt cinematic. The Visitor, on the other hand, felt flat. It was a fine story but not a finely told story. I felt that the movie was in such a hurry to explore Walter's transformation that it never let us experience his despair. In other words, to appreciate how much Walter changes we have to know where Walter begins.
Ultimately, J and I both enjoyed the film and were glad we saw it but we also felt unsatisfied ... like having a good dinner with a lousy wine and no desert. There was something good but not complete. To some extent, The Visitor felt like a very well-done HBO special and not really a "film." I think if I had watched this in a theater I would have been more disappointed.
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