Watching The Help is an exercise in absorption and immersion. From the first frame I could feel the muggy, sticky summer drip out of the screen. There were scenes where I could taste and smell the chicken, the pies, and the diner milkshakes of Jackson, Mississippi. In short, the set pieces are tremendous, and the cinematography is crisp and warm. Yet, the era is not only depicted by the outfits, classic cars, and antique-stuffed houses, but the tense, near boiling-point relationships that permeate the film. The Help
Our first introduction in the film is to the voice of the film's star (who is not the white, auburn-haired Emma Stone as many of the movie posters and promotions might have led many to believe), African-American maid Aibileen Clark. Clark, portrayed subtly yet passionately by Viola Davis, has been a caretaker for several white children for her entire adult life, and simply has to swallow all of the racially-charged realities of mid-20th century Ameri ca. Davis is nothing short of a dynamo in Help; she becomes Maya Angelou's "caged bird." She emotes an intelligence and dulled anger that have both been stifled by years of "yes, ma'ams" and "of course, ma'ams." Davis' Aibeleen Clark is baffled by, yet forced to graciously accept, the way Jackson's sons and daughters grow up to mistreat and dehumanize the very women who spent their lives raising them. In this world where Clark has given love and kindness, and received only disdain in return, she feels she has no agency. And indeed she alone has none.
This is where we need Stone's character, "Skeeter" Phelan, to turn the tide slightly in Clark's favor. An aspiring journalist, with a moronic local paper job, she decides to undertake the writing of a tell-all book from the viewpoint of Jackson's black maids. She is a digital-age woman stuck in a relatively barbaric place and time. Skeeter is all moxie and ambition, while her cancer-ridden mother and high society frie nds just wish she would shut up, get married, and start churning out babies for the maids in town to take care of. Just naive enough to believe her book can succeed, and having not nearly as much to lose as the maids she asks for stories, Skeeter is the perfect catalyst to provide Aibeleen Clark with the dignity she's resigned to having lost. Stone, who has swiftly ripened as a can't-miss leading lady, plays the part aptly; she has just enough quick-tongued retorts and wide-eyed eagerness to endear the audience to "Skeeter" (who could have just as easily been a grating character).
Where the movie truly shimmers is in its meditation on hate and injustice, occurring within the characters aside from the predictable plot structure. Help shows how, contrary to what most film and art shows us, hate is much more simple than love and virtue. As illustrated by the film's venomous Hilly Holbrook, played with maniacal fervor by Bryce Dallas Howard, it sometimes takes only a single person to perpetuate odiousness. Mrs. Holbrook, looking as if her head could explode at any moment, is at the head of Jackson's high society table, and the other white ladies in town absorb her every hostile word. As is true of all of history's great villains, and especially Hilly Holbrook, they gain great followings because it's easier to bend to hate and fear than resist it. Opposing spite requires courage and sacrifice, while abetting it only requires that one steps out of the way. In contrast, none of the heroes in Help can accomplish their goals alone or without sacrifice. Aibeleen can't act alone because no white person in Jackson will listen. She must also put her well being in danger to help Skeeter, who in turn can't write a book without Abileen's words and endurance. Neither of them can succeed without the help of many other maids: Skeeter's book w on't be published unless at least a dozen maids give her their stories. As shown by the maids in Help swallowing their pride and showering their future oppressors with affection, love is often courage while hate can simply be acceptance of the world as it is.The Help
There are a flew flaws in Help, mostly minor. One moment that stands out as particularly horrific came from maid Minny Jackson, otherwise played with gumption by Octavia Jackson. The line spoken, word-for-word, is "I love me some frieeed chicken." While it's not necessarily racist to portray a Southern black person liking traditionally Southern food, the line as written feels cheap and unnecessary, as if the audience is too stupid to deduce that Minny likes fried chicken from the action of her cooking it enthusiastically. There is also an oddly forced love interest for Skeeter's character. I believe the writers place him there to show what Skeeter would have to sacrifice to reach her goals, yet the ch aracter is so small and underdeveloped that the romantic subplot seems expendable in a movie already approaching an 150 minute running length. Yet, despite a few ignorable mishaps, The Help is a welcome break from much of the other inane drivel Hollywood rolls off of the conveyor belt and passes off as drama. The ensemble cast is fantastic, most notably Ahna O'Reilly and Jessica Chastain. O'Reilly plays the emotionally-battered second fiddle to Hilly Holbrook, and steals one of the Help's best moments in the closing sequence. She is the perfect vessel to display Holbrook's parasitic effect on Jackson's white residents. Chastain, portraying the painfully sincere housewife Celia Foote, gives a career-making performance. Celia hires Minny, and they repair each other's lives as outsiders in a world they feel helpless in. Their relationship is probably the most stirring in an exceptionally poignant film. Celia's boundless innocence and Minny's seen-it-all steadfastness combine to give both women the fortitude to withstand all that is 1960's Mississippi. The Help
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