Interdisciplinary Readings of Asian America
The Course Blog for ENG-L635/AMST-G620 Fall 2011, Indiana University, Bloomington
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Gran Torino and the "Authentic" Asian American Voice
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The Gran Torino in Gran Torino
A few times in class over the week we touched on the idea that Gran Torino’s title refers to something that has a relatively minimal presence in the film. Why is this movie called Gran Torino? Is that really a comprehensive statement of the film as a whole, literally or thematically? I’m more and more convinced that it is.
So, first, and perhaps most obviously, the car is a clear marker for masculinity throughout the film, just as it is in American culture. The Hmong gang members test Thao’s masculinity by making him steal the car (he’s previously done “women’s work” by gardening and working around his house), importantly signaling the defunct nature of their masculinity, which is achieved illegally. When Thao “correctly” makes advances into Walt’s form of American masculinity and asks Youa out, Walt lends him the car in a tentative yet authorized form of its ownership. Finally, when Thao has proved himself a “real man” with the nerve and desire to avenge his sister (after previously refusing to engage with the gang when he is attacked coming home from work), Walt legally wills the car to Thao in a highly symbolic gesture. The final image of Thao driving into the sunset in his car is a classic image of American masculinity.
As I’ve been clearly hinting, the Gran Torino also functions as a symbol of Americanness and its rightful inheritance. It is American made, and plays on nostalgia for a magical time when great cars were made, bought, and loved by “real” Americans. Walt’s son, Mitch, as Walt constantly reminds him, owns a Toyota, signaling his eventual displacement as heir to Walt’s essential American identity. By legally (and through institutionalized channels) leaving Thao his car, Walt bypasses and redefines the classic system of Americanness, which, as we’ve talked about throughout the semester, is traditionally built on birth and an ancestry that hopefully stretches far enough into the past that the inevitable immigrant source is buried in history. In this way, the title of Gran Torino points to the way the film attempts to divert classic American narratives and perhaps classic American thinking, if not about masculinity, at least about race (whether or not it succeeds is another, fairly large, question).
But I also think the car is presented, at core, as simply a vessel of meaning in a movie that has a lot to do with emptiness and soulless tradition. Walt sits on his porch every night with his dog and a cooler full of beer not necessarily because it does anything for him, but because he’s always done it. Walt’s children visit their father out of duty and necessity, not because they value him at all. Father Janovich gives a paint-by-numbers sermon and chases after Walt’s confession only because he wants to keep a promise made to a dead woman. Through all this, Walt looks out at his Gran Torino parked in the driveway and says, with genuine feeling, “ain’t she sweet.” The car seems to be the only thing in Walt’s life that bears any meaning at all. Significantly, Walt’s granddaughter sees the Gran Torino as nothing more than a commodity, “a cool old car” that she’d like to add to a list of meaningless items Walt could pass on to her as his age makes them unnecessary. The film demands, then, that items such as the Gran Torino maintain their meaning by being passed on via a non-normative pathway of significance. As the movie tries to grasp at the remaining threads of American substance, it argues that the car, if it had been inherited “normally” would have lost its meaning and become almost demagnetized, stripped of its ability to carry significance (be it masculinity, American identity, honor, family, etc.). Thus the plot of Gran Torino is wrapped entirely around this Gran Torino, desperately urging us to hold onto its meaning.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Hand Imagery in Gran Torino
In class Monday, we discussed the symbolism involved in Walt’s cough and his death at the end of the film. The way in which both these ideas become manifest in the film involves an extensive use of the visual imagery of Walt’s hands covered in blood—first the blood he coughs up, then the blood streaming from his bullet wounds onto his outstretched hands. There is another particularly intriguing moment involving Walt’s hands, namely the close-up on his hand dropping his water glass when Sue walks in after her beating and rape. I’d like to discuss how each of these images in turn fill out Walt’s character and problematize his model of white masculinity.
The blood on Walt’s hands from his cough carries with it a variety of connotations. First, it bears the obvious symbolism of the blood on his hands from the Korean War, something that he cannot let go of and that constantly resurfaces unpleasantly, just like the blood coming from his lungs. The image also gives us a reminder/representation of his impending death, and the visual nature of that memento mori keeps us from being able to escape it. Such a reminder of Walt’s mortality functions to make him more sympathetic, since we pity his shortened lifespan; to provide a sense of urgency, since we now know he has little time to atone for his deeds; and to complicate his highly foreshadowed sacrifice, since laying down his life is less of a cost to him if he already knows he will lose it soon (and perhaps more unpleasantly).
Later, when Sue walks in visibly having been beaten—and even in this moment it is not difficult to presume she has also been raped—there is a cut to a close-up of Walt’s hand holding a water glass, which he promptly drops. As a technician who spent 50 years building cars, and a self-professed person who fixes things, Walt’s hands are symbolic of his power in the world. Dropping the glass, then, is a failure of his hands and indicates his sudden awareness of his own helplessness. This moment is emblematic of many of the problems with the film as a whole. It is an extremely powerful moment showing a crack in Walt’s toughness, which carries with it the connotations of Clint Eastwood’s toughness. However, the focus on Walt’s loss of power in that moment takes the focus away from Sue’s loss of power; her rape becomes, like the rest of the film, all about him.
Finally—and I’ll go into this a little less because we discussed it so thoroughly in class—there is the blood running down Walt’s lifeless hands as he lies in a crucifix-like pose. In a way, in addition to being a Christ reference, this brings together the implications of the two images discussed above. The promise of mortality is realized, and his hands are both powerless in death and far more powerful than they have been before. If we take it in the context of the other hand images, we can read the crucifixion imagery as having more specific character meaning than just its Jesus-figure implications. I think an exploration of hands as a symbol throughout the film could be far more rewarding than what I’ve done here—such an exploration could delve further into Walt’s fake “hand-gun,” for example, and could even incorporate a reading of Walt’s faux pas in touching the child on the head. It might also be valuable to include readings of the hands of other characters, such as the symbolism of Thao’s hands washing the car, etc.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Spirituality & Faith in Gran Torino
As I mentioned in class, I am interested in interrogating Gran Torino’s investment in a Christian spiritual narrative of redemption. As we discussed in class, the film’s critique of organized religion (specifically Catholicism) is rather obvious and heavy-handed. Although Walt’s dismissal of Father Janovich as a naïve “boy just out of the seminary” (and, therefore, unworthy to receive his confession) proves correct, the film still places a great deal of value on Walt’s confession and atonement. Whether or not Walt’s self-sacrifice leads to absolution is not explicit. However, if we consider Thao to be Walt’s confessor, than perhaps the final scene of Thao driving the Gran Torino into the sunset can be considered a pardon of sorts.
Even more complex than the film’s attitude toward organized religion, is its endorsement of mysticism/spirituality. For instance, Walt’s birthday horoscope (which he dismisses in typically profane eloquence as “a load of shit”) is actually accurate: the horoscope states that “this year you have to make a choice between two life paths, second chances come your way, extraordinary events culminating in what might be called an anti-climax.” On that same day, the Hmong Shaman also reads Walt and describes his life in stunning accuracy: “The way to you live your food has no flavor, you’re worried about your life. You made a mistake in your past life. . .you have no happiness in your life, it’s like your not at peace.” The Shaman’s pronouncement is so spot on that it actually drives Walt into a consumptive coughing fit that literalizes the blood on his hands. However, I can’t help but wonder to the extent that the mysticism of the horoscope and Shaman is an Orientalist gesture that implies that religious “truth” resides not within the Western Catholic Church, but, rather, Eastern spirituality. If the film depicts a “crisis” of Western faith, it seems to be pointing East for a revitalization of Christian faith. And so, just as Walt’s death reanimates the masculinity of both Father Janovich and Thao, I think that Eastwood's cinematic appropriation of Christian iconography is indicative of how Walt's death can be read as an attempt revive Western faith via Eastern spirituality.
Monday, December 5, 2011
NAVIGATING THE WORLD AS AN ASIAN “BROWN” BODY
The idea of the “impossible subject” proposed by Ngai (2004) is important to understand the manner in which bodies have been constructed historically, in the United States, as desirable or undesirable. For Ngai the illegal alien is the “impossible subject”, “a person who cannot be and a problem that cannot be solved” (2004:5). This suggests that the “impossible subject” is at once slippery and ambiguous, while framed as a “problem” that has a particular function in the nation-state. The “impossible subject” is dehumanized (“a person who cannot be”) yet constructed in a particular manner (“a problem that cannot be solved”) as troubling the imagination of the nation. Such a subject is undesirable to the nation, and this concept allows us to think through “desirability” and “undesirability” in post 9/11 America. In this personal reflection I will attempt to demonstrate the manner in which the war on terror constructed “impossible subjects”, and the contradictions in the discourse of “desirability” and “undesirability” that such constructions produce.
When I first arrived in the in United States of America in 2006, I came on a cultural exchange visa, as the Ford Foundation funded my studies in the US. Entering the US as a student the visa application process was thorough and extensive. In South Africa the US Embassy determined my “desirability” and framed me as a particular type of migrant in the US. Upon entering the US for the first time I did not encounter any problems. The process was swift without any hassles. Being a student I presented my passport and other documentation that demonstrated a thorough check had been done and successfully passed. A friend who traveled with me at the same time on a visitor’s visa was not so lucky. He was ushered into the private room and questioned extensively before being allowed through customs. While settling into life in New York City, I met many travelers from around the work, many also on cultural exchange visas. I found out that many people on the same visa type as myself were subject to a two-year home residency requirement, which had to be fulfilled once their studies were completed. I was not subject to this rule! This baffled me and made me think about the purpose of this two year home residency requirement and those who had to fulfill them. Not surprisingly, most of those who had this requirement where Pakistani and Indian nationals. I am of Indian origin but I am a South African citizen, which placed me in a different category of “desirability”. However this was challenged on many occasions when I visited Canada.
Leaving the US through New York was not problematic at all. My passport was stamped and I was on my way to Toronto. However when I was leaving Toronto to come back to New York, I quickly discovered that the process was longer and more extensive. Being of Indian descent (not Middle Eastern or Pakistani), I was under more scrutiny. My passport was checked more thoroughly, I was looked at in peculiar ways and I was asked questions that my documentation provided. However, upon reentering the US I was perceived as threatening and my “desirability” was in question. My desirability was based on my “ethnicity”, not my nationality and I, like many others, was over-determined by my “Indian” features – dark hair, brown skin and accent. However, I noticed that I was perceived as being more threatening if I was not clean-shaven. Every time I traveled between the two countries and I had facial hair, my boarding pass was immediately marked with a highlighter at the check-in counter, and I was subsequently scrutinized and searched even further. Having traveled internationally often I performed the behavior of the “desirable” subject, smiling, patiently waiting, even though the looks I was given was hostile and at times threatened my entry into the US. What I encountered through these immigration checks is a slippage between my passport identity and my ethnic identity. Being South Africa was not problematic and constructed me as “desirable”, however being of Indian origin threatened my desirability (although it is ironic that at that stage I had never been to the sub-continent).
The events of 9/11 certainly constructed a newer image of the “undesirable” subject. The events also consolidated the US nation as a newly imagined community who could define the enemy as the other from the Middle East (Afghanistan, Pakistan and other “brown” people). Immigration policies were tightened; people were scrutinized more critically and new categories of “undesirable subjects” were constructed. From my observations men from the sub-continent and the Middle East posed the greatest threat. Women were next, especially Muslim women who chose to wear the hijab. However, I have often wondered how this post 9/11 panic has consolidated racial categories in the USA, especially in an attempt at constructing desirable and undesirable subjects, and the impact that this has had on immigration to the USA since 1994. Another point to think about is how has this re-created the category of the “migrant”, the alien, the impossible subject– with all its negative connotations – and how has this affected the lives of ethnic South Asians and people of Middle Eastern origin who are citizens of the USA. Although they may have assimilated, their ethnicity clearly marks them as the “other”. 9/11 constructed them as political threats to the nation.
Categorization appears to remain at the core of how citizens are constructed, racial categories are mobilized and subjects created. It is important to note that such constructions are nation-state based, and does not account for the multiplicity of identities that people navigate on a daily basis. Ngai’s book allows us to understand the power of categorization and the manner in which nation-states mobilize categories, more as a way of reflecting its own insecurities.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
What is the true conflict in Gran Torino?
It seems that a central question the film asks is, what does it mean to be a man? We are presented with several interesting characters for different representations of masculinity. Walt, obviously, but there are also the sons as symbols of material wealth, Father Janovich as a symbol of spiritual health, Thao as the emasculated Asian male, and "Spider," Thao's cousin, and his gang friends, as symbols of violence. Ultimately, I don't think the film privileges one representation of masculinity over another, but rather each representation has its faults. Walt's sons may be materially wealthy, but lack emotional depth and compassion. Father Janovich is naive, according to Walt, and doesn't know "the difference between life and death." Spider and his friends also lack emotional depth and compassion and have to act tough in order to compensate for what they lack.
Thao is emasculated early on in the film by Spider and his friends. They claim he does "women's work" because he is gardening. Walt calls him "p**sy" on several occasions. His own family members question his ability to be man of the house, because again, early in the film, Thao is seen washing dishes. So what does it mean when Walt takes Thao under his wings, advising Thao on his love life and also how to get a job? Walt, for all of his faults, becomes a father figure to Thao, and eventually Walt becomes the martyr in the conflict between Thao's family and the gang. One interpretation of this film could be Walt as the "white knight" (albeit very very flawed) saving the feminized East from the "savagery" aka Spider and his gang of their native land. And the Hmong people do hail him as a hero, after saving Thao from the gang the first time they harass him at Thao's house. I am still trying to figure out, though, what the death of Walt means in the context of this film and all the other texts and films we've covered this semester. Could there have been a different ending?