The story of American History X tells of Derek Vinyard (Edward Norton), a young man who, after his father is murdered by a black drug dealer, eventually transforms into a neo-nazi skinhead driven by hatred. As found out through various flashbacks, Derek spends his few years after high school building up his name, and his legacy, as a white supremacist. As Derek grows increasingly violent, so too does Derek's brother, Danny (Edward Furlong), who is often said to idolize him. When Derek is sent to prison for the manslaughter of three black men who had been attempting to steal the family car, Danny is left to fend for himself with the values his brother has instilled in him, leading to a variety of school-related issues. Three years later, when Derek is released, he has miraculously reformed and quickly finds out the extent to which his brother is following in his footsteps. Desperate to eliminate the legacy he has left on his family, Derek does what he can to reform his brother before the consequences of his actions become permanent.
I admire American History X simply for its bravery and good intentions; few films attack issues like Nazism and hate crimes unless they're based on true events. A movie like Schindler's List tackles human abomination like few other films can, but is also firmly cemented in reality. American History X is also cemented in reality, but it isn't real. Of course, the points at which the movie is most effective is when the audience realizes that, in a way, it is real. Derek is not merely the figment of a writer's imagination, but is a symbol of a problem that still unequivocally exists. And Derek's reformation, brought about by a reversal of his values through traumatic prison experiences, is what brings his character beyond just a symbol. His inevitable journey is what makes him into a human being, vulnerable to the problems that plague him and formerly destined to blame these problems on the wrong issues. In transforming a mere monster into a human being, the film is able to portray the startlingly real effect of Derek's legacy upon his brother and his family.The issue is that a character like Derek, with a well-written arc and an amazing talent like Norton behind him (Norton got an Oscar nod for his role, deservedly), needs someone to reflect his amount of complexity. Furlong, of Terminator 2 fame, is in no way a bad actor. The issue is the script he's been given, which offers him no freedoms or depth of character. It's impossible to tell what Danny Vinyard actually believes in, whether he's hopelessly devoted to the white supremacy cause or simply stuck in the middle. He never gives opinions or exposes his psyche in any way; when he eventually provides a moral dilemma to the audience, in which he explains that he could have testified against his brother to put him away for life, the thought is thrown away in a millisecond. Similarly, after hearing Derek tell of his three years in prison and his moral transformation, Danny knows how to end a school essay he's writing about his brother, in which he defines his revelation about the world. But the odd part is that the audience doesn't know if this is actually a revelation for Danny, because essentially nothing is known about him. He hangs out with skinheads, but the viewer doesn't know if he is actually a skinhead. He writes a version of Mein Kampf for an English essay, but the viewer doesn't know if he actually meant it out of ill will. The only reason the viewer is aware, in any way, that Danny Vinyard is, in fact, following in the footsteps of his brother, is because it's directly told, several times, by other characters. He may be hanging out with the wrong people, but there seems to be no evidence, based on character alone, that points to his moral corruption. He merely exists off of the words of others.
In this way, some of American History X's exploration of the hollowness of hate becomes hollow itself, delivered by a character that we have no reason to believe came to some sort of epiphany about the human condition, especially when it comes a day after Derek's return. In a movie that seems so unafraid to chronicle events that might make audiences uncomfortable, it's a profound disappointment that the film can't achieve the raw power it was intending due to poor writing. What a viewer has to put up with, then, is a film that is altogether good, but full of great moments. Derek Vinyard's violent past, presented entirely in black in white, is unflinchingly brutal in its direction, giving some of the most chilling shots and close-ups I've seen in quite a while. After shooting the three black men who were attempting to break into his car, Derek is shown facing his brother on the lawn, waiting to be arrested. He spreads his arms like a triumphant eagle, gun still in hand, the victory on his face present and haughty, the Nazi tattoo on his chest seemingly growing larger within the frame . As he kneels down and puts his hands to his head, the camera finally zooms in on the telling smile. Derek opens his eyes wide for his brother and raises his eyebrows, as if he should look upon the glory of the acts just committed. Accompanied by a high-pitched choir that could very well be singing about the depths of hell, the scene seems to contrast a poetic subtext with the pure monstrosity that exists in front of it. But that monstrosity is, of course, a human being. We hate to acknowledge it. And I hate to call such a scene beautiful, but in a morbid, truly disgusting way, it really is.American History X is full of these fantastic moments, unafraid to explore the nature of human brutality. There exists a very human desire in all of us to seek out the panacea to our problems. Often, we mistake the panacea as the blaming of others, taking the weight of the problem off of our shoulders in order to throw it on someone else. There is always a scapegoat, and always a reason to despise the origin of our problems, whether this origin actually exists or not. Sometimes it's easier to blame than to solve the problem. Derek was an incredibly intelligent high-schooler who couldn't find the answers behind his father's death. He needed someone to blame. And soon enough, his hatred became so immense that he needed entire races to blame. One person was not enough. And just like baggage, as the movie compares it to, the hatred only mounts until the ceaselessly large tower collapses an entire life.
Now, I know it sounded like I was trying my best to criticize the movie initially, but the fact of the matter is that the film's successes far outweigh it's shortcomings. I do think it's final message is a gross simplification of a complex issue, and many of it's characters feel secondary to the point of pointlessness, but the film's strengths come through in pieces. The film doesn't have an all-encompassing feeling of power (thanks to it's flaws), but instead is composed of singular pieces of fantastic film-making that don't necessarily comprise a whole. I suppose what I'm trying to say is: the individual pieces of the film that stand out create a much more complex picture of hatred and prejudice in America than the film's final statement does. The film doesn't need to condemn itself to one message like it so worthlessly decides to; viewers are intelligent, and they should be respected as such. Let each person pull out what they will from the film. As far as I know, painters don't plaster a sentence describing what their artwork is about across the canvas. So why should films be guilty of such a sin?
American History X is a film that either succeeds at being powerful, or succeeds at trying to be powerful. Only occasionally does it fail entirely. Whichever way one may see it, it's undeniably compelling and has some truly mind shattering moments; I guarantee that jaws will drop at one scene or another, no matter the person. Despite it's glaring flaws when viewing the larger picture, it's individual studies of American brutality and the legacy it leaves behind are stunning and beautifully directed. While I believe it should have been at least a half an hour longer to develop some of the messages it was clearly going for (and to explain, in a much less cursory fashion, why the ending even happens), I can't say I was never somewhat enthralled through those two hours. With that, I give American History X:
No comments:
Post a Comment