A copy of the help was given to me by my sister- it looked interesting enough, but I put it amongst the heap of books collecting dust at the back of my mind.
My exposure to the help might have ended there, but fate had other ideas. The stars conspired with my old lady and somehow- someway I found myself sitting down watching the film adaption.
By the end of it I sat humbled pie, by the type of sentimentality I foolishly thought beneath me. Granted, I was told that 'the help' would make me cry (first in a tweet courtesy of @unclerush and then later in a shrewd prophecy from my old lady). On both occasions, I dismissed the nonsense and so I went into this movie with my usual cynicism.
How was it then that I found myself wiping a tear (or two) over the lives of the imaginery characters of "the Help"?
I have never had the desire to read a book once I have seen the movie. It has never seemed worth the effort until now.
Playing my own advocate, I propose it's not so different from watching a football game even though you already know the result. Chaps still take the time to sit through match of the day because of the the qualitive experiance of watching the play. The silk skills, the drama when two players square off make up the little details that the quatitive result alone, cannot convey.
It's the little things that amount to the experience that bring a result to life- for most of us the "experiance" is all we care for.
Back to the "the Help"; my initial sceptism towards it was based on it's sweet smell of "chick lit". Also, a cursary glance left me with the impression of a knock off "Colour purple"- this was an insult to the classic surely?
I knew from reading the summary that it was set in deep south America at a time when racial segregation was legislated through the Jim crow laws. Blacks languished at the bottom of the social hierarchy, typically stuck in menial jobs. I wont give too much away but one of the many narratives follows the story of a white journalist raised by her family's black housemaid.
After studying away from home she returns to her small town with an open mind that has outgrown the prejudices of friends and family. By fate a working arrangement turns into friendships and then into an activism that challenges the entrenched racism of her piers.
Like all great art 'the help' is a representation of life that evokes laughter and tears- shame and pride. It's an inspiring story where the ugliness of social iniquity is humbled by the might of a gracious pen.
I cannot recommend this movie enough- it's a bold statement but I think its a movie that everyone can take something from.
Onto the title of this blog- books or films, which is best?
Its an unfair question in a way because it's impossible to objectively take in a story, after it has already been conveyed in a different medium. Depending on which one you consume first, your perspective on the latter is distorted by the yardstick created by the first exposure.
I have experienced this in a few of the books that I have read where there is a corresponding movie. 'The Sicilian' by Mario Puzo was a book I loved when I was younger. It had the Mafia life I first came across in the godfather where characters were described so intimately you felt you personaly knew them.
By the end of the book it was real anger I felt at the betrayal and real sadness I felt for the tragedy. However that level of emotional attachment was not there when I watched the movie- the actors on screen did not measure up to pictures I had painted in my head.
Another example I read recently is an intense spy novel called 'The little drummer girl' (John le Carre). Set to the backdrop of the struggle between Palestinian terrorists/ freedom fighters (depending on which side of the fence you are on) and Israel's secret service, it gives the reader a meticulous insight into both sides of the conflict. Another exceptional book that didn't translate well when turned into a film due to a massive loss of detail, and the whole tone of story being changed by the watering down.
On the other hand 'There will be blood' and 'The departed' are two of my favourite movies of all time. The first thing that springs to mind when I think about what made them great for me was the quality of the acting. I expect that they are also fine books but would the films have struck a cord so strongly had I read them as books- I expect so but I cannot honestly say.
Books are dear to me, they usually leave a deeper footprint than the films I have seen but a part of me also believes that a great film satisfies in ways that only a film can.
The mediums of expression are many: I have read graphic novels that have moved me (V is for Vendetta, Watchmen), I have watched emotional cartoons ( Disney's 'Up', 'Full Metal Alchemist') and I have sat through inspiring documentaries (HBO's Koran by heart, Bobby Fischer against the world). There is a tendency to put books on a pedestal, above all other forms of information. The truth is that style and content does not discriminate when it manifests in great art.
I am simply satisfied any time I have the fortune to come across good art that carries a good message.
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