By Steve Sailer
02/20/2015
Oscar contender âBoyhoodâ is Richard Linklaterâs somewhat overpraised autobiographical movie about his youth in Texas is the 1960s-70s as filmed through the gimmick of following a boy actor growing up from about 2000-2012.
From Criticwire:
âBoyhoodâ and the White Savior
By Sam Adams | Criticwire February 17, 2015 at 12:51PM
Does âBoyhoodâsâ near-total absence of Latino characters make it racist?
Although the praise for Richard Linklaterâs "Boyhood" has been about as unanimous as praise can get, thereâs been a small but persistent objection, mainly lodged by critics of color, that the filmâs focus on a white middle-class male and the claim to universality implied by its title effect a kind of erasure. "Depicting a white American male from childhood to adolescence," Armond White wrote, "it celebrates the emblematic figure of American social power. If Masonâs boyhood is "Boyhood," what about the boyhoods of those whose lives are radically different from his own? What about "Girlhood"? Wouldnât the movie have been more interesting if were about Masonâs sister (Lorelei Linklater) or his mom (Patricia Arquette)?
Not if Richard Linklater had made it.
Is the concept of âautobiographicalâ really that unclear? So far, Richard Linklater is the only writer-director in American movie history to make an autobiographical movie over 12 years. If you want to watch an autobiographical movie called âGirlhood,â then you would need a former girl to have made it. And so far no former girls have done that.
Truth be told, Linklater might have better off sticking with his working title, â12 Yearsâ (although half-stealing it from a movie about slaves would not have have helped his case)âŠ.
But in order to suggest life continues outside the frame, we first have to see a hint of that life inside it, and for Grisel Y. Acosta at Latino Rebels, "Boyhoodâsâ near total lack of Latino characters amounts to a kind of subtle racism:
When we see âThe Birth of a Nation,â after returning from the bathroom because of becoming sick to our stomachs, we know without a doubt what the problem is and we can easily criticize the film â despite its merits in editing â for its horrendous content.
A film like Boyhood, on the other hand, has been praised universally for its âlife-likeâ dialogue and visual realism, largely due to the fact that it was shot over the course of 12 years. Much like âThe Birth of a Nation,â it is being praised for its innovative technique and will likely be shown in many a film school, just like âThe Birth of a Nationâ often is. However, unlike âThe Birth of a Nation,â the racism depicted in âBoyhood,â I suspect, will not be seen as clearly as the racism in the former film.
The sole exception to that absence â at least according to Acosta; I havenât had an opportunity to rewatch the entire film to scan for Latino characters on the periphery â is Enrique, the yard worker played by Roland Ruiz, the one who picks up on an offhand suggestion by Arquetteâs character and turns up years later as a college graduate and restaurant manager. For Acosta, this constitutes an iteration of âthe horrific âsave me White personâ trope that has been depicted in countless films, from âDangerous Mindsâ to âThe Blind Side.ââ
Some folks will argue, âWell, whatâs wrong with the Mom character being nice?â You must look at the overall structure of the story. If you delete all people of Mexican descent from the imagery onscreen, then only have one interaction with a person of Mexican descent, and that one interaction is one of a white savior uplifting the Mexican, THAT IS RACIST. But, because it is cushioned in the decade-plus depiction of a warm, interesting family, we will accept it. We will say, âOh, but itâs still such a wonderful film.â We will say, âOh, but didnât Linklater really accomplish something with this.â We will say, âLook at how brilliant we can be.â We wonât say, âDamn, we made a really racist film.â Ever. I mean, itâs not like we have the KKK running around lynching people, right?
This isnât the first time that scene has been a focus for critics of the film. Back in August, the Daily Dotâs Jaime Woo wrote:
Logically, it feels like a stretch: the initial exchange so brief and minor that his evolution feels unearned. Worse, Ernestoâs journey relies on an audience that has internalized the idea that Oliviaâs words could have such effect, a trope on race and class called-out incisively by the show âCougar Townâ: âIf thereâs anything weâve learned from Michelle Pfeiffer in âDangerous Mindsâ or Sandy Bullock in âThe Blind Sideâ or Hilary Swank in that movie nobody ever saw, itâs that all you need to fix minority problems is a really pretty white woman.â
Jose SolĂs at the Film Experience has a different idea. What if the absence of Latinos in significant roles is a function of Masonâs point of view, the way that his father and mother, who are named Mason Sr. and Olivia in the body of the film, are credited in the end as âDadâ and âMomâ? Maybe there are no Latinos because Mason doesnât notice them, because âBoyhoodâ is the story of a boy who grows up to be a racist. He writes:
Being a huge fan of Mr. Linklaterâs work, I came up with my own justification: while Boyhoodâ itself is not racist, perhaps the boy in question is. Think about it, the film is clearly Masonâs (Ellar Coltrane) story and as such, we can safely assume that everything is seen from his perspective. But is he a reliable narrator when it comes to political correctness and tolerance? As a Caucasian, heterosexual male, growing up in one of the most conservative states in America, wouldnât it make sense that Mason would grow up to be racist?
Looking past the âRoom 237? nature of this particular explanation, not to mention the implication that racists are primarily political conservatives â see the aforementioned âThe Blind Side,â not to mention Hollywoodâs long history of condescending uplift â the fact that the movie is nearly devoid of non-white characters, let alone any discussion of race, would make it impossible to tell. The Atlanticâs Imran Siddiquee phrased it in less fantastical terms:
In this tale of a white family living in a state that borders Mexico, isnât it strange that the only time theyâre shown truly interacting with a Spanish-speaking non-white individual is when they are saving them from a life of manual labor? Perhaps weâre meant to gather from this that Mason is aware of the barriers that those with brown skin must overcome to make it in a place like Texas, but unlike the filmâs references to other forms of discrimination, itâs not made obvious.
Back at Latino Rebels, JosĂ© Zuazua offers a more plausible explanation: Linklater simply wasnât paying attention. (Zuazua hasnât actually seen "Boyhood," which Criticwire normally considers a deal-breaker, but itâs point worth considering.)
Just because (probably) White people made a movie where White characters are front and center, that doesnât mean the movie is actually racist as well. It just makes it a false representation. A story. A vision. A fable.
By the way: are there any Latinos in front of the camera in Boyhoodâs rival Birdman?
âBirdmanâ screenwriters
Not that I can recall, and Birdman is written by four Spanish-speaking gentlemen. Hollywood used to make movies with Mexican characters, but somewhere along the line it stopped.