Akeelah and the Bee

LINKS:
— Overview
— Cast and Crew
— Photo Pages

2005 was all about winning. Cinderella Man, The Greatest Game Ever Played, Dreamer, Glory Road (okay, that was early 2006)—coming out on top was a major part of all these stories. 2006 is shaping up a little differently.

Not because Glory Road taught us that winning doesn’t change quite everything—no, we already knew that. No, this spring’s crop of movies just places more of an emphasis on competing. After I watched Take the Lead, for instance, I walked out of the theatre and asked my wife, “Wait a minute! Who actually won the contest?” Quite frankly, winning just didn’t matter.

This is not to say that Akeelah and the Bee is not about winning. It is. But it is also about competing, competing well, and competing fairly.

Keke Plamer is stunningly captivating as a nearly invisible inner-city middle-schooler named Akeelah. When her principal browbeats her into competing in the school’s first spelling bee—and she wins—she catches the attention of a former spelling-bee whiz who’s looking for a competitor to coach. Mom’s not so thrilled. But the course is set, and it’s no surprise that Akeelah makes it all the way to the finals of the Scripps National Spelling Bee, after a few hiccups along the way and a run-in or two with both Mom and the coach.

And in terms of formula plot, that’s about all you need to know.

But, ah, what a joy it is to see Angela Bassett and Laurence Fishburne on screen together again as Akeelah’s mother and coach, even in supporting roles. The direction is tight and fine, and the script manages to deliver a number of clever and pleasant surprises on the way to the Finals.

And in the end, Akeelah reminds us that how we get to the finals is every bit as important (and fun) as getting there—or winning.

“Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us... so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” (Hebrews 12:1-3)

CONTINUE:
— Overview
— Cast and Crew
— Photo Pages

The Notorious Bettie Page

If you’ve got a real problem with pornography—either philosophically, morally, or personally—The Notorious Bettie Page is probably not for you. You’ll see enough of Gretchen Mol in the title role (and often enough) that you might easily forget what this movie is about. And if, like a lot of men I know, bondage fantasies have damaged your psyche, you really don’t need this kind of stimulation.

Still, Notorious manages to celebrate innocent sexuality. Without ever really showing us any. Before Page ever leaves her native 1950s Nashville, she’s introduced to the darker side of sexuality—right in her own home. When she does leave the nest, her marriage ends in abuse. Close on the heels of that episode, she’s gang-raped—and things don’t really get any better for her from there.

When she heads to the big city, she falls in with small-time pornographers who soon enough get big enough. Page sees no harm in the cheesecake-lingerie and pinup-calendar bathing-suit sessions she does, and she even enjoys a buff day in the park (or the surf); but Page really has no clue what the leather, whips, and heels are all about. That bit’s all just a mystery to her. It ain’t no mystery for the men, however.

Eventually, she starts figuring things out, though—and finds her salvation in learning how to say “no” to men. For Page, that’s a long and torturous road. And the only helpful signposts along the way come from—yes—the church. By movie’s end, Page is preaching in Central Park, still proud of her body, her photographs, and her confidence in honest sexual joy. But she finds she’s more comfortable with a Bible in her hands than she is with ropes and patent leather.

To be sure, there’s plenty of wink-wink and nudge-nudge in Notorious. But writer-director Mary Harron presents such a matter-of-fact portrayal of Page’s story that we’re also quite confident that there’s more to the Hefner worldview than just silk robes and martinis. It’s not all merely innocent fun. There’s a lot of secretive twistedness, too.

If Pleasantville sang the praises of unfettered sexual awakening, The Notorious Bettie Page employs a similar black-and-white-world-gone-color technique to reach quite a different conclusion: that there’s bondage and blinders, and then there’s moral restraint—and that there’s a world of difference between the two. Pleasantville threw off the former while glibly dismissing the latter; Notorious takes both equally seriously.

Take the Lead

Though I like to dance—particularly swing—I don’t much care to watch people dance. And I really don’t care to watch films about people dancing. The one film I have always exempted from this bias, for some reason, is West Side Story. Go figure. I guess I’m a sucker for schmaltz.

Yet I found Take the Lead quite appealing. To start, I was hooked by the opening credit sequence, a montage of contrasting musical styles—and a comparison of preparations for dance: dressing, primping, agonizing, mirror-gazing. Two basic styles are juxtaposed—ballroom and hiphop. In spite of the differences between these styles, however, and in spite of the apparent ecomonic strata that separate the practitioners, this sequence demonstrates that people are still people, regardless of music preferences, place of residence, or upbringing. The one thing that brings unity to this sequence and to these characters—indeed, to this film—is love... love of music.

Take the Lead tells the story of a struggling (if classy) dance instructor who chances upon an inner-city school in need of some purpose. No one wants to deal with the kids in detention, and they have little interest in what the school has to offer. Are they troublemakers? Sure. Are they dead-enders? Well, couldn’t we all end up there, given the right scenario?

At first Pierre Dulaine doesn’t connect to the kids either—and they don’t connect to him. He doesn’t know their style, and they couldn’t care less for his. But he’s got the tougher row to hoe because he’s (nominally) in charge.

And here’s the first lesson of Take the Lead: if you’re a leader, lead. Take charge. Don’t let the followers set the tone. So Dulaine takes the lead. He finds ways of connecting with and motivating the kids. Of course, it’s terribly convenient that all of the kids in detention love music and love to dance—but in the context of this movie, it’s not a terrible stretch. Not all of these kids (nor the actors who portray them) are great natural dancers. So there’s plenty of room to grow—and grow they must, if they’re going to enter the city ballroom competition.

Naturally, this is where the second lesson comes in: when there’s a leader, someone has to follow—and there’s a lot of following in this movie. Some of it’s productive, and some of it’s not. One of the students, in particular, has a lot to learn about following the wrong people.

But this is the movie’s stickiest point, both internal to the story and external to it. How many of us really like to follow? Admit it. Americans in particular are so sheep-like, and still have the illusion of being in charge of everything. Freedom of choice, baby! Almost three decades ago, DEVO observed, “Freedom of choice / is what you’ve got. / Freedom from choice / is what you want.” What a paradox. And like most paradoxes, it rubs us wrong every chance it gets.

One of the central metaphors of the Christian faith is marriage. According to the Apostle Paul, Jesus Christ is the groom, and His Church is the bride. The point? Christ leads, the Church follows.

Wow. Talk about backward, right?

Well, maybe not. In Take the Lead, Dulaine makes the point to the kids that, in ballroom dancing, the man always leads and the woman always follows. Is that because the man is superior? Not at all. It’s simply about role playing: knowing what your role is, and being responsible to it. As Dulaine says, “Following takes just as much courage as leading.”

Maybe more.

And this is Take the Lead’s final lesson: trust. When leaders lead and followers follow, it’s only harmonious, joyful, and beautiful when trust blossoms between them—the product of patience, kindness, gentleness, reliability, self control. Ballroom dancing—heck, any dancing—can be a spiritual experience.

What a joy!

And it’s nice to see that the filmmakers are really behind that message. Wouldn’t it be nice if, at the end of all such movies, winning and losing became wholly irrelevant?