A Novel Idea

CHAPTER: THE SECOND

   Pushing all common sense and reason to the back of his mind, Darlous Quip began to write what seemed to be the beginnings of a book. This act, although attempted several times throughout his life, was completely irrational, for Darlous had not the faintest idea what this book would be about nor did he know how to write a book at all for that matter. He merely sat himself behind his typewriter and began typing the first thing that came to his head. What materialized where the words that you see before you, in their exact order and condition from when Darlous first typed them. They have not been altered.
    Darlous devoted precisely twenty-two seconds to this attempt before he realized that this work was no better than the others that he had tried and failed to complete through a mist of momentary inspiration. Like the others, Darlous realized that this beginning had no substance, no tracks leading it towards an end goal. All that he had written within those twenty-two seconds was bland exposition about the actions of his protagonist.
    So in an effort to salvage those seconds past, Darlous took to deepening his introduction by cleverly lengthening the majority of the sentences used thus far in order to make his writing more attractive to a literate audience. Darlous had always found that long sentences usually indicate that the writer was well educated in the field of writing, and the reader would then feel that they are in good hands. Charles Dickens would often use exceptionally long sentences which usually made for long paragraphs which in turn made for long, complete books. This tactic was the first of three maneuvers Darlous took to ease his mind into thinking that what he was doing was worth the now fifty-eight seconds spent.
    The second maneuver used by Darlous was the act of name-dropping important writers that had come before him in order to fabricate a connection within the reader's mind between these authors' works and his own. This maneuver was a rather intelligent illusion which, if used with the proper amount of finesse, could subconsciously persuade readers into believing that the words they read before them are on par with those of Hemmingway, Steinbeck, or Tolstoy.
    Interestingly though, for reasons beyond him, Darlous Quip chose not too use his real name within the pages of the book but rather chose to invent a pseudonym. The choice came late in the writing process, five paragraphs in to be specific, which once again made Darlous go back through all that he had written and change the protagonist’s name to something that rolled off the tongue more easily than his real name. Also in a lame effort to once again promote the authenticity of the writer’s image, Darlous removed any mention of modern technology in favor of more beloved imagery such as that of the typewriter. Darlous understood what the concept of a lonesome alcoholic beating his thoughts into such a barbaric machine justified to the common reader: brilliance, no doubt.
    The third and final maneuver that Darlous used was the technique of listing for the sake of bulking up what now appeared to be a gratifying opening chapter to his book. The technique is actually quite simple. It is just a matter of coming up with a various number of items to discuss, then in well formulated paragraphs neatly explain each of their relevance. For Darlous, this gave him a focused direction to write towards, a track leading towards an end goal. The technique of listing also allows for the reader to follow coherently the trajectory of the events, for they are given in a simple formulated fashion. Darlous used this in order to manipulate the impression that he was aware of what he was doing, in the easiest way fashionable.
    Having abused the privileges that these three maneuvers can offer the proper writer, Darlous summed up the introductory chapter of his book with a well integrated closing sentence, typed from the keys of his typewriter, and in one final half-hearted attempt to allude to attractively larger concepts for the sake of sounding profound, Darlous ended on philosophy.

What is ‘Meta’ For? A Look at the Relevency of Self-Reflexivity and What it Communicates.

We currently live within a world where technical advancements are aimed to simulate ‘reality’ as best it can, specifically within the arts and entertainment industry. In a current interview at CinemaCon, James Cameron (director of the 1991 film Titanic, and 2010 Avatar) states that “the future of digital cinema is in 60FPS (frames per second),” as oppose to the conventional 24FPS which has been the standard for film and video since movies began, (Billington). Cameron, being already a huge advocate for the technological advancement of 3D cinema, explains that, “if watching 3D in cinemas is like looking through a window, making the jump to 60FPS was removing that window” (Billington). This concept of the ‘window’ that Cameron describes is the medium itself being hid as far from view as possible in order for it not to hinder the world of the experience. We intentionally trick ourselves into believing the experience we are given for the benefit of entertainment. We do this not only with films, but also with books and through the Internet, by cellphones, skype, texting, television, etc. It seems that we demand devices and mediums that draw do not draw any attention to themselves, which therefore creates a more beneficial experience using that device. In this essay, I have chosen to research and investigate an opposing school of thought, dedicated in embellishing self-reference and termed ‘meta’. Within this paper I will explain the concept of ‘meta’ and how it is relevant in works throughout history. In forming an understanding of the concept I wish to focus my attention to two relevant artists who use ‘meta’ heavily within their works counteracting the idea of “removing the window”. I will looks at the works of Irish novelist Flann O’Brien, specificialy his debut novel At Swim-Two-Birds, making adjacent comparisons to modern screenwriter and director Charlie Kaufman. In both cases we have artist that create works that do not hide from the medium in which they exist, but rather communicate the technical aspects employed by the medium itself, creating an even more relevant form of communicating realism. This concept greatly coincides with the communication philosophies of Marshall Mcluhan to which I will connect the concept of ‘meta’ as a further extension to his philosophy “the medium is the message,” from his book Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (1964). Understanding the importance of ‘meta’ within the works of relevant artists allows for a thorough look into how self-reflexivity communicates the medium to the audience. This form of communication, opposite to the “hidden window” technique that Cameron expresses and is over abundantly beholden in current technological society, creates a more realistic and expressive relationship between the audience and the medium.

As unconventional as the term ‘meta’ sounds, its existence as a form of communication has been around since Aristotle, though not in the same context as it is today. The term itself comes from the Greek word μετά meaning: “after”, “beyond”, “with”, “adjacent”, “self”. The contemporary understanding of the concept comes from the last definition: “self”, and when used as a prefix such as in “metafiction” it would indicate that it is about its own category, in this case fiction that would self reference the devices of fiction, within itself (Oxford). This contemporary understanding first came into place under the study of Willard Van Orman Quine, and American philosopher and logician who, in 1937, devised the word “metatheorem” which explained that meta was “an X about X”(Quine, pg. 145-152). From Quine, spawned various reputable figures who often turned to meta forms within their works such as Douglas Hofstadter, an American academic whose column in the Scientific American Magazine entitled Magical Themas drew on heavy influences of Quine’s meta concept. One column in particular Hofstadter created a book, which he titled “A Review of This Book”, a self-referential concept and paradoxical one. Hofstadter explains the concept of this work:

“…Reviews of This Book, is just a fantasy of mine. I would love to see a book consisting of nothing but a collection of reviews of it that appeared (after its publication, of course) in major newspapers and magazines. It sounds paradoxical, but it could be arranged with a lot of planning and hard work. First, a group of major journals would all have to agree to run reviews of the book by the various contributors to the book. Then all the reviewers would begin writing. But they would have to mail off their various drafts to all the other reviewers very regularly so that all the reviews could evolve together, and thus eventually reach a stable state of a kind known in physics as a “Hartree-Fock self-consistent solution”. Then the book could be published, after which its reviews would come out in their respective journals, as per arrangement.”

                                    (Jenner)

            Apart from its perplexing forms in science and mathematics, the meta concept grew as an application used greatly in literature.  As I addressed earlier in the paragraph, the concept of “metafiction” elucidates itself within itself, stating to its reader that they are reading a work of fiction. Examples of this run as early as Homer’s Odyssey and Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, both stories that have the writer within the story telling the story.  Other contemporary works that exercise concepts of metafiction include James Joyce’s  A Portrait of a Young Man as an Artist (1916), most of the works of American novelist Paul Auster, Anthony Burgess’ 1962 novella A Clockwork Orange, many of Stephen King’s work including Misery (1987), Secret Window, Secret Garden (one of four novella’s in Four Past Midnight in 1990), and various books from his Dark Tower series, to name a few. With each of these works, there begs the question as to how self-reference effects the work, and what does it communicate to the audience reading. To properly examine this idea, I have chosen to narrow my focus to the specific works of a single author whose writing has delved deep into the metafiction concepts addressed by many of these other authors.

  The author in particular, which I have chosen to look at specifically, is Irish novelist and satirist Flan O’brien (pen name for Brian O’Nolan), whose body of work deal greatly in metafiction concepts. O’brien’s first novel, At Swim-Two-Birds (1939), was hailed by writers such as Graham Greene, James Joyce, and Anthony Burgess for it’s “self-awareness” and it’s depictions of “literary traditions” (Hopper, pg. 54).  Michael Cronin looked specifically at the metafictional concepts of At Swim in his article “Mental Ludo: Ludic Elements in At Swim-Two-Birds", stating, “Contrary to what Benstock argues, what post-independence Ireland needed was not less but more of the type of playful, self-aware writing being proposed by Flann O'Brien in At Swim-Two-Birds. ... We would all be very much poorer without Mad O'Brien's narrative chessmen,” elucidating both his relevancy amongst post-modern writers and his craft for metafictional storytelling (Cronin, pg. 51). The story itself is a Menippean satire, which follows an unnamed writer who creates a web of fictitious plots and characters throughout the story, equal to the story that he is placed in. As we read the story, O’brien uses the concept of the ‘story within the story’ to keep the audience in realization that even the plot of the writer (our central character) is fictitious. On top of this, O’Brien breaks the fourth wall constantly by using omniscient italicized heading to either navigate through different plots, or to footnote words, thoughts, or actions of the characters used comically as such: “I was compelled to secrete my suite beneath the mattress because it was offensive to at least two of the senses and bore an explanation of my illness contrary to that already advanced. Two sense referred to: Vision, smell.” (O’Brien, 23). No longer is the framework of the narrative disguised but rather used as a point of the story in allowance of a further investigation of the work. O’Brien promotes the ideals of metafiction by allowing the reader to not only understand the plot and themes of the story, but communicates to them the art and technique of the medium as well. Furthermore, O’brien deconstructs conventional narrative time-lines using his metafictional devices as justification. Whereas, in conventional fiction we are slated to the current chapter and everything that has happened in previous chapters is considered ‘past events’ within the narrative and everything in the rest of the book is considered ‘future events’. Because At Swim is specifically about a writer and the majority of the book consist fictional plots that he is currently writing, the linearity of conventional narratives does not exist. For example, on page 43, in a plot line created by the main character is a scene that involves a trial of one of his fictitious characters named Dermot Trellis. Dermot Trellis is also a writer and in this trial he is being accused (among other things) of not supplying his characters with enough self-awareness to sustain themselves. Mr. Trellis is asked why he did not use any sort of “magical” literary device to appear before his character to at least give the character his name and identity. Mr. Trellis responds “I do not know,” and “I suppose I fell asleep”. Later, however, on page 50, we are shown the scene in which the character that Mr. Trellis created, named John Furriskey, comes to life and questions his own identity. In this plot, an omniscient apparition does appear and gives Furriskey his name, (we are to conclude that it was Mr. Trellis). As it would seem at this point in the novel (the ‘trial of Mr. Trellis’ does explain itself in the second half) that O’Brien has created two alternate realities: one where Mr. Trellis does communicate to his creation and another where he does not. This is not the case, however. O’Brien is using his own “magical” literary devices to show the reader the revisability of writing within the written work itself. By doing this the medium itself, in this example the written work, becomes the subject of discussion. As we follow the book we witness events that we would expect to be ‘past events’ become revised and turned into new events. This is justified because within the technical world of writing a novel, revisions can and do happen. O’Brien is therefore allowing us to focus on how the medium (in his case written fiction) distorts reality and by using (and I would even go as far to say abusing) the devices within said medium communicating the differences with actual reality.

Marshall Mcluhan, in his book Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man, Mcluhan discusses in great detail the unique distortions that each medium creates on the message it is transmitting and that the focus of study should look at such distortions. Mcluhan takes a look at print, comics, the printed word, photographs, the press, telegraph, the typewriter, the telephone, the phonograph, movies, radio, and television (to name a few), and looks at the ramifications of transmitting a message through each medium creates. Similar to the meta concept, and dissimilar to Cameron’s “hidden window”, Mcluhan understood the message must be viewed within the context of how it is transmitted through the medium it is transmitted by, in order to be fully aware of the message you are receiving. Such as the case in O’Brien’s At Swim, O’Brien uses the narrative of the story to disclose the ‘distortions’ or devices used to create the story, thus making the medium the message. The fact that O’Brien has the ability to write, erase and revise is the subject of distortion and commentary that O’Brien is making. We as an audience should be aware that though we are following a linear narrative, there was much at work; many revisions and expulsions, required in making this narrative, so therefore, O’Brien makes them the point of focus. By Mcluhan’s theory, had At Swim been a radio play, or a movie, O’Brien would have manufactured a different commentary on its media form. Such is the case with screenwriter and director Charlie Kaufman who uses the meta concept to comment on film as a medium.

Similar to O’Brien, Kaufman is not the first use meta within his works; the subject of ‘breaking the fourth wall’ had been a matter of discussion since the beginnings of filmmaking itself. During the time of the Lumiere brothers, films most often identified their audience through the film because film at the time was a spectacle of technological innovation. It wasn’t until the development of continuity and editing that film began to hide the fact that they were films. Come 1910, the earliest precursor to Cameron’s “hidden window” mentality took hold. Though throughout various era’s of film history came artists who chose to ‘break the forth wall’ and reconnect the audience to the idea that what they are watching is a work of technical innovation. Jean Luc-Godard communicated this idea in many of his films including Breathless (1960) and Pierrot Le Fou (1965), many of the works of Agnes Varda, amongst others. The reason I chose to make Kaufman my focus is because he is the most recent of the ‘meta school of thought’ and concentrates all of his films on the subject. In his 2002 film Adaptation, Kaufman puts himself within the story to show the struggles of writing the script the eventually becomes the film that we are watching. In the story, Charlie Kaufman is given a novel in which he must adapt into a screenplay. We watch as he utters his ideals at the beginning of the film, “I just don’t want to ruin it by making it a Hollywood thing. I don’t want to cram in sex, or guns, or car chases, or characters overcoming obstacles and succeed in the end,” then watch as the script “tragically” (in Kaufman’s own words), succumbs to the conventions of a Hollywood narrative. Kaufman’s commentary is on the medium of film bottle-necking the creation of the story, or as said earlier, ‘distorting’ the message: Kaufman’s script. With all artists who take to using the meta concept within their works, their commentary is that the audience must be aware of the medium in which they choose to transmit their message, thus the audience has a better understanding of the conclusions the artist is making. This even goes beyond that of the arts and entertainment world. As Marshall Mcluhan philosophized, the medium in every form distorts the message, whether it be on the internet, through your cellphone, etc. We now live in a world where information is being transmitted to us in every way and form. In Mcluhan view, “the purpose of media studies is to make visible what is invisible: the effects of media technologies themselves, rather than simply the messages they convey. Media studies therefore, ideally, seeks to identify patterns within a medium and in its interactions with other media.” (Mcluhan). From his argument in New Media, Mcluhan states, “technologies are to words as the surrounding culture is to a poem: the former derive their meaning from the context formed by the latter.” (Mcluhan). The ‘meta’ concept is the device, which allows us to view the medium within the framework of the message gathering a more complete image then without.

In conclusion, I would like to reiterate the importance ‘meta’ has within the technological world we live in today. Lance Strate, in his essay The Medium is the Memory states, “Over the long history of our species, we have extended our collective memory in a variety of ways: through language and art, through oral tradition and mnemonics, through writing, typography, photography, film, audio and video recording, and through digital media,” realizing the weight that technology carries in properly transcribing and archiving our existence (Strate). If we follow Cameron’s “hidden window” concept, and hide our technology for the benefit of making the experience “more real” than we are neglecting the distortion factors that these technologies have on the message we are receiving. No longer will these technologies be ways to transmit a message, truthfully, but rather distort the message to a degree that we would no longer care to know. The ‘meta’ concept, used first by Aristotle, then broadened to all various forms of media outlets, allows the audience to view the message without forgetting the medium in which the message is being transmitted. This, in essence, allows the message to reach its audience clearly and allow the audience to experience a truer reality than that offered by hiding technology.

Work Citation

Billington, Alex. “CinemaCon: James Cameron Demos the Future of Cinema at 60 FPS.” Firstshowing.net. First Showing LLC, 04,04, 2011. Web. 4 Apr 2011

Definition of “Meta” found at: http://oxforddictionaries.com/view/entry/m_en_gb0514040#m_en_gb0514040

Quine, Willard Van Orman. “Logic Based on Inclusion and Abstraction.” The Journal of Symbolic Logic, Vol. 2, No. 4. December 1937, pp. 145–152

Jenner, Andrew. “Reviews of “Reviews of This Book” An Unusual Book.” Reenigne Blog (np): n. pag, Web. 22 Mar 2011 <http://reenigne.org/blog/review/>/

Cronin, Anthony (1989), No Laughing Matter: The Life and Times of Flann O'Brien, New York, pg. 51.

Hopper, Keith. Flann O'Brien: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Post-Modernist, (1995), Cork: Cork University Press. Pg. 54.

O’Brien, Flann. At Swim-Two-Birds. 2^nd ed. London, England: Penguin Classics, 1967. Print.

“The Medium is the Message,” by Marshall Mcluhan, reprinted from Understanding Media: The Extension of Man (1964), MIT Press.

“Marshall McLuhan: The Modern Janus,” by James C. Morrison, reprinted from Perspectives on Culture, Technology and Communication (2006), Hampton Press, Inc

McLuhan, Marshall. "Introduction," Explorations in Communication,edited by Edmund Carpenter and Marshall McLuhan (Boston: Beacon Press, 1960)

McLuhan, Marshall. The Gutenberg Galaxy: The Making of Typographic Man (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1962)

Strate, Lance. “The Medium is the Memory.” Library and Archives Canada (2007): n. pag, Web. 1 Apr 2011

Babe, Robert. “Mcluhan and the Electronic Archives.” Library and Archives Canada (2007): n. pag, Web. 1 Apr 2011

“An Alternative Current in Surveillance and Control,” by Aaron Doyle, reprinted from The New Politics of Surveillance and Visibility, edited by Kevin D. Haggerty and Richard V. Ericson (2006), University of Toronto Press.

“The Culture of Surveillance,” by Vincent P. Pecora, reprinted from Quantitative Sociology 25, no. 3 (2002), Human Sciences Press.

Social Relevance within the Works of Dudley Randall and Robert Hayden.

Within the poetic works of Dudley Randall and Robert Hayden are the influences of their livelihood and culture. Naomi Long Madgett, in her article “Dudley Randall’s Life and Career” discloses much of Randall’s influence. She explains Randall takes much influence from the experiences of his own life, recalling many such events as his employment in a foundry as recalled in “George” (Poem Counterpoem), and his military service during World War II as reflected in his poems “Coral Atoll” and “Pacific Epitapns” (More to Remember). Furthermore, Madgett tells of Randall’s identification with Africa which was “enhanced by his association with poet Margaret Esse Danner”, and his “study in Ghana in 1970”, both evident in Randall’s poem “African Suite” (After the Killing) (Dudley Randall’s Life and Career). Similarly, Robert Hayden’s use of his own culture’s affairs as a springboard for his work is respected and well known. Looking at Hayden’s work, Mark A. Sanders, in his article “About Hayden’s Life and Career,” writes, “Hayden's poetry takes up the sobering concerns of African American social and political plight; yet his poetry posits race as a means through which one contemplates the expansive possibilities of language, and the transformational power of art” (About Hayden’s Life and Career). Knowing wherein the influence of each of these two poets lie allows us to further investigate African-American poetry and culture as a whole. Within this essay I will be exclusively looking at Randall and Heyden’s poetry and further developing what both Madgett and Sanders discuss in their articles. By doing so I will be able to investigate the social context in which both Randall and Hayden were present, the role these poems played within capturing the African-American image, and how the African-American perspective contributes to Modernist ideals. 

In the case of both poets, there is immediacy in acknowledging their skin-color and the effects it has on the poems subject matter. Neither poet avoids making the context of their race known, but rather use their race as a tool in which context is formed. This approach contributes greatly to the Modernist ideals of relevancy.  Both Randall and Hayden make use of their skin-color within their works because issues dealing with prejudice, self-image/worth, were (and still are) topics relevant and pertinent to discussion. Randall engages in the topic of relevancy directly in his poem “A Poet is Not a Jukebox”. The poem is a discussion between Randall and an unnamed ‘dear friend’, wherein the friend, in response to a love poem that Randall had written, asks, “But why not write about the riot in Miami?” (Line 4). His response is, “Telling a Black poet what he ought to write is like some Commissar of Culture in Russia telling a Poet He’d better write about the new steel furnaces in the Novobigorsk region…” and, “Yeah, I write about love. What’s wrong with love? If we had more loving, we’d have more Black babies to become brothers and sisters and build the black family” (Lines 11-13, 33-35). In this poem, Randall both acknowledges current events not only in relation to America, but also to events globally whilst maintaining the notion that broad themes of love transcend the relevancy of the riot in Miami. Randall’s use of his own race within the poem regiments his voice and thoughts to those of the Black community. Similarly, Hayden takes the relevancy of plight of the African-American activist in his poem “El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz (Malcolm X)” into consideration, using renowned activist Malcolm X as the topics of his poems discussion. Hayden takes Malcolm X’s personal battle of protest and freedom, “As Home Boy, as Dee-troit Red, he fled his name, became the quarry of his own obsessed pursuit,” and layers it with articles of it’s time period, “He conked his hair and Lindy-hopped, zoot-suited jiver, swinging those chicks in the hot rose and reefer glow,” therefore, exposing the time period from an African-American perspective (Lines 8-10, 11-13).

Lorenzo Thomas, in his essay “‘Communicating By Horns’: Jazz and Redemption in the Poetry of the Beats and the Black Arts Movement,” discusses and verifies the importance of social relevancy within art, specifically that of the Black arts movements. Though Thomas’ central focus is the Jazz movement of the 1950’s and it’s importance to the Black-American image, “For the poets of the 1950s "Beat Generation" and the militant Black Arts Movement of the 1960s And '70s, jazz is perceived as a more significant social critique of an oppressive social structure,” he links Black poetry’s affiliation with Jazz, such as Black poet Bob Kaufman’s influence of Jazz through his poetic works (Communication By Horns). Thomas writes, “In Kaufman's poem "Countess Erica Blaise: Chorus," jazz is "Africa's other face, stranded--in America, yet to be saved" (Ancient Rain 12)” (Communication). The ties of social relevancy that Thomas makes to Kaufman’s work (along with others), and that of Jazz, can be made with both Randall and Hayden’s work as well, using their medium as a social critique, as a projection of their personal experience, and as a form of liberating the Black society. This is because African-American Modernist Poets like Randall and Hayden where the ones who voiced the way of thought that became the “Beat Generation” that Thomas describes. Thomas illustrates the principles of the Beat Generation and the Black arts, a movement heavily impacted by social commentary and activism, with Amiri Baraka’s “Black Art”, a poem that defines the goals of the Black Artist.

            Baraka’s “Black Art” states, “We want live words of the hip world live flesh & coursing blood,” which uses vocabulary of the time to disclose ideas of activism amongst the African-American society, “ we want "poems that kill."” (Lines 9-11, 19). Both the argument that Baraka makes within “Black Art” and the style in which Baraka voices the poem position Black Art as one whose objectives are political and significant to the current state of the Black society. Links can be made to Randall’s most well known poem “The Ballad of Birmingham”, which was a response to the 1963 bombing of a Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama, and Hayden’s “Runagate Runagate”, which tells of the Underground Railroad (historical, yet still pertinent to the African-American Identity). With Modernist poetry it is important to not only look at what is being written, but also the way in which each poem is written to understand the context of the times in which the author existed. Baraka’s “Black Art” calls for violence, and is written violently; therefore we can conclude the violence of the times in which this poem was written. When we look at Randall’s “Rabaul”, or Hayden’s “Monet’s Waterlillies”, we note the essence of sadness of the current situations depicted within the poems, due to the bluntness and bleakness in the way these poems are written. “Rabaul” makes the comparison of fighting for equality whether it is on one’s own soil or the soil of another nation. Randall concludes that there is indeed no difference from those fighting in distant lands for freedom and democracy, than the oppressed in America fighting for their own freedom. In “Monet’s Waterlillies”, Hayden equally compares the events of Saigon during the war to the civil unrest of Selma, Alabama. Both works depict the aggression of the times in which they were written by what they say and how they say it; both Randall and Hayden existed during a time of racial segregation, oppression, and within their work there is indication of this.

            Processing the works of Dudley Randall and Robert Hayden allows us to understand further developments of the African-American expression for rights and freedoms through artistry. With the Modernist movement, sprung from post-war discourse, idealisms formed by Ezra Pound, T.S. Eliot, etc., laid the foundation for the writings of Dudley Randall and Robert Hayden. As well, reading Randall’s “Booker T. and W.E.B.” or “Langston Blues”, shows the unity and affiliation of the African-American community within the literary world. Through this fight for racial tolerance and justice, or tolerance in general no matter the race, came the Beat Generation, which, come the 60’s then expanded into Hippie counterculture. Looking at Randall and Hayden is equal to looking at two small pieces of a larger puzzle, therefore enabling us to navigate through the history of modern poetry and it’s affiliation to the Black experience.

           

Work Citiation

Randall, Dudley. "Dudley Randall." Modern Poems. Ed. Richard Ellmann and Robert O'Clair. New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company, 1989. P. 490-494 Print.

Hayden, Robert. "Robert Hayden." Modern Poems. Ed. Richard Ellmann and Robert O'Clair. New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company, 1989. P. 484-490 Print.

Madgett, Naomi Long. “Dudley Randall’s Life and Career.” Modern American Poetry. Oxford University Press, 8/15/00/ Web. 14 Mar 2011.

Sanders, Mark A. “About Hayden’s Life and Career.” Modern American Poetry. Oxford University Press, 1997 Web. 11 Mar 2011.

Lorenzo Thomas, “‘Communicating By Horns’: Jazz and Redemption in the Poetry of the Beats and the Black Arts Movement,” African American Review.

Ennis, D. L. “Robert Hayden – Seeking Tranquility.” American Chronicle. Ultio, LLC, 8/19/06 Web. 11 Mar 2011.

Baraka, Amiri. “Black Art”. ChickenBones: A Journal. Nathanial Turner, 02/23/08 Web. 13 Mar 2011.

Archive. “Poems of Dudley Randall - Works.” PoemHunter. 22 Feb 2011

 < http://www.poemhunter.com/dudley-randall/poems/>

Archive. “Poems of Robert Hayden - Works.” PoemHunter. 22 Feb 2011

 < http://www.poemhunter.com/dudley-randall/poems/>

cock-blocked by a kiwi

             It’s proper name is Pete’s Bar and Pizzeria but over the nights spent in Waskesiu I’ve learned to just call it Pete’s. It’s a small little place, no bigger than a Starbucks. It’s where the locals come to spend their weekend nights and where the tourists come to meet the locals.

            This is where my story begins- well, actually it begins with me asking my new found friend “Dave the hotel receptionist” to meet me at Pete’s at ten thirty. He owed me a beer and a couple to funny stories. Oddly, I ended up buying most of the alcohol that night. Oh well.

            So back to Pete’s. There I sit, bar-side, with Dave to my left explaining how woman are simply amazing creatures and should be cherished, me looking around the place to see tables full of grizzly Saskatchewan dudes chugging pints of Keith's and mimicking the FIFA horn from the commercials.

            After about an hour or so Dave lays down an ultimatum, “if a tall blonde doesn’t walk through those doors in the next five minutes, I’m calling it a night.”

            I replied,  “Sounds fair.”

            Then, by the luck of every four-leaf clover in the hills of Ireland, in steps not one tall blonde, but six.

            I turned to Dave and Dave turned to me, both with smiles on our faces.  And so the hunt continues. We jumped from out bar stools eager to not look like the two lonely dudes that we were and made our way to the biggest table (hoping that they would need to sit at some point and we would have a table big enough to accommodate them). I thought that was pretty clever to be honest. Dave did too. This was about eight beers in I must add.

            So we sat, and they stood. We watched, and they continued to stand. They danced a bit, I ordered another round for Dave and I. Then, the magic happened. Apparently, these women were Roughrider Cheerleading alumni who come to Pete’s annually to celebrate their dancing sisterhood (which explained why they were all wearing big green fluffy cowboy hats). I found this out when one of the women happened to catch me looking at her. I did my best to pretend I was just casually glancing around the room, but at nine beers in I guess it seemed pretty obvious what I was actually doing. She smiled, talked with the other ladies in hats then made her way to my table. Without saying a word, she slides her hand in her pocket… She comes bearing gifts!!!… and pulls out a green golf tee with the “roughriders” printed on it.  She then slid it behind my left ear and went back on her merry way, dancing with her friends.

            I turned to Dave and Dave turned to me, both with even bigger smiles on our faces.

            Now, before I continue I must tell you a little about Dave. I met him about three weeks earlier at Pete’s. I went to scope out the Waskesiu nightlife, and happened to strike up conversation with a man named Mike, sitting next to me. Mike introduced me to Dave who just finished his shift at the hotel across the street and was still wearing his receptionist uniform (white shirt, black pants, tie, vest, and to top it off his nametag). To this day, this is the only outfit that I have ever seen him in.  He probably is wearing that outfit as I write this now.

            Back to the story, though. Dave, my fifty-five year old receptionist pal decided his chances were slim against the younger men that began to make their way into Pete’s and decided he should head home. I, being the intelligent drunk that I am, decided to persist and continue the hunt. Dave wished me good luck and said that he “owed me a beer” to which I replied, “probably”, then headed out into the night.

            Now it was game time. Well, after another pint and a trip to the bathroom, then it was game time. I looked at myself in Pete’s dirty mirror the way all hero’s of a good story do, and said “go for it Mack.” And I did, though not realizing exactly what trials awaited me outside the bathroom door.

            Upon my return I noticed that a new group had entered Pete’s and had taken refuge at the table next to mine. From what I caught when I was sitting back down, they sounded South African. A long way from home toto. The cheerleaders must have overheard their dazzling accents as well and sprung towards them like a moth to a flame. Maybe I could pull off a South African accent? I thought momentarily, then decided against it immediately. My cheerleaders were now on the laps of ravaging, drunk South Africans and I was about a three feet away, helpless to do anything.

            Then I caught the eye of my Golf Tee Girl. A smile… wait for it… then a wink. NO EFFING WAY! I had to do something. That was a sign, wasn’t it? Who winks at a guy from across the bar just for fun? NO ONE! My drunk mind screamed. But what do I do? Do I approach her and say “hey I saw you winking at me, we should persist in these romantic gestures”? No. That’s lame. I decided to wait on it. Something told me that I would get a chance to introduce myself, and from there, I think I would be golden.

            BAM! It happened. If I blinked I probably would have missed it. She and some South African left the table and went outside to smoke. This was my chance!! I jumped from my table and followed them out.

            It was a nice night in Waskesiu, the air was warm, but not – who cares. I slide my way beside South Africa and my Golf Tee Gal who were talking about some country song that they loved. South Africa spotted me sliding.

            “Hey,” he said, kind of like a greeting but sounded more like a light threat.

            So, from my ass I pulled, “Sorry friend, I just quit smoking like two weeks ago and being in the presence of smokers helps dull my cravings.” Where the eff did that come from?

            South Africa gave me a funky look that you give to your dog when you catch him humping your toaster. Yup, that look. But my Golf Tee Gal saved my ass.           

            “Oh man, I tried quitting last year, good for you honey,” she calmly said. If she knew I was lying, I couldn’t tell. “I’m Janice,” and she gave me her hand.

            “I’m Mackenzie,” I replied, shaking her hand.

            “And I’m Jordan (or Keith of Frank or whatever)” South Africa said.

            “Cool,” I returned.

            The three of us talked until their cigarettes died. I told them I was a filmmaker hired to come up for the summer to shoot video for the park and originally I’m from Vancouver. South Africa said he was up for the weekend to get away from his wife. Point Mack. Janice said she was up for the weekend with her girls celebrating the 20^th anniversary of the Roughriders. South Africa said he loved football. I said I didn’t follow it. Point South Africa. Then one of South Africa’ friend came out and said they were leaving and that if he wanted a ride he had to come with them. Point and Match, Mack. We all walked back inside and I sat down with Janice.

            From there I was introduced to the rest of the ladies in the green hats. I guess I was told their names but at ten beers in, it would have been superhuman to remember them. So I nodded and smiled then turned to my Janice, the best looking of the bunch, and tuned out the rest of the world… well tried to at least. This was about the time one of the ladies asked me if my name was Brad.

            I said honestly, “no, whose Brad?”

            “Brad’s my son’s friend. He’s our next door neighbor. You look exactly like him.”

            “I can assure you I’m not Brad. I’m Mackenzie. I’m from Vancouver.”

            Then another one chimed in, ‘Yeah, you kind of look like someone my son would hang out with. How old are you?”

            Boom! What a question. I probably was their son’s age, maybe even younger. I knew that if I told them that I was a nineteen year old looking for older loving my chances with Janice would be over and done with.

            “I’m twenty-seven,” I said, without even thinking.

            The looks on their faces were frightening. Would that cut it? Oh no, I blew it! Twenty-seven? They won’t buy that! I don’t look twenty-seven! I’m done.            

            It seemed like it was quiet for an eternity. No one wanted to pull the trigger on my charade. I had to say something.

So I asked, “Why? How old are you?”

And Janice turned to me and said, “Twenty-seven. Now buy me a drink,” with the most adorable look on her face.

By now you are probably wondering why I chose to name this story the way I did. Well, now you will begin to find out.

Pete’s clock chimed one thirty when a rugged group of Kiwi’s walked through the doors and into the bar. One of them, the leader of the pack, was wearing a sling (having just injured it from a game of rugby). This was Ash. He wore RayBan sunglasses and walked around like he owned the place, his kiwi minions close behind. It wasn’t long before they noticed one dude sitting at a table with six super hot mamas. My time was up.

“Who wants to drink from my cup?” were the first words from Ash’s mouth as he produced a large trophy from a golf tournament or something. How do you compete with a trophy?

“Oh me first!” one of the girls cried and raced to place her lips around Ash’s trophy and suck his juices. Revolting I know. Several other girls got up from the table and started to dance with the Kiwis. The loser of the bunch, I’m calling him Asswipe, (you will understand why by the end of the story), stood in the corner watching his pals bump and grind the Roughrider Cheerleading alumni.

I turn to Janice and say “I’m going to go out and get some air. Would you like to join me?”

“No, I think I’m going to dance.”

DAMN IT, JANICE! YOU'RE A DANCER! I was stuck now. I had to go out and get some air like I told her, but the only reason I said that was to be outside with her. I didn’t want to get some air. Screw air!

But by then Janice was up on the dance floor, shaking every beautiful gene her parents gave her. I made my way outside.

Outside, I met a group of smokers. They were piss drunk. I didn’t catch one name because I’m pretty sure they didn’t even know them. But it gave me something to do before I went back in to Janice. Then, to my surprise, Ash appeared beside me.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a smoke on you?” he asked me.

“Sorry man. I just quit.” I kept with the lie.

Ash asked another guy and another until eventually got a smoke.

“What kind of accent is that?” one of the drunks asked Ash.

“I’m from New Zealand.” Ash responded.

“OYE! OYE! OYE!” all the drunks started to chant.

“No, I think that’s an Australian thing,” I said.

“New Zealand, Australia, who the fuck cares, right?” one replied.

I could see that this insulted Ash on a personal level but they were too drunk to notice so they continued.

“OYE! OYE! OYE!”

“Yeah, you’re a real fun bunch,” Ash said sarcastically, dragging hard on his cigarette to get back inside.

“How did you hurt your arm?” I asked and he told me from a game of rugby.

“Rugby’s for queers,” a drunk said, “why don’t you play football or something?”

“Well, in New Zealand, Rugby is ‘the sport’. If your father ever caught you playing football he would remove you from the family,” said Ash.

“I play football,” the increasingly idiotic drunk said.

“So you’ve been playing rugby all of your life?” I asked Ash.

“Since I was four years old. I grew up –“

“OYE! OYE! OYE!”

Ash dropped his cigarette and headed back inside. I followed.

“Your mates are assholes,” Ash said over his shoulder to me.

“Their not my mates,” I replied. He didn’t seem to believe me.

Once back inside I noticed that Janice was dancing with the loser kiwi Asswipe. How nice of her. I approached her calmly and told her to “Save a dance for me.”

She smiled, and Asswipe continued to look like an idiot dancing with a beautiful woman.

It was now about ten minutes before last call and all the kiwi’s and cheerleaders, and myself, were back at the table. I was sitting beside Janice. We were both extremely aware of how attracted we were to each other. Asswipe was gushing over her from the other side. He had a taste, now wanted more.

“Let me buy you another drink before last call,” I said.

            “Sure,” Janice said, “Let me come with you”.

We both stood up from the table and made our way to the bar. On our way we ran into Ash who was just coming back from the bathroom.

“Janice, get me a drink would you?” he said.

“Sure, what do you want?” she replied.

“Whatever you’re having.”

What? I thought. So I guess I was also buying Ash a drink as well. Thanks Janice. And I did. I bought myself one last pint of Keith's and two double vodka waters (Janice was off soda). I handed Janice her drink and walked Ash’s drink to him at the table.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“You asked Janice to get you a drink. I was buying Janice a drink, so I bought yours as well,” I said handing Ash his vodka water.

“Alright, thanks- what was your name?”

“Mackenzie.”

“Cool. Thanks Mackenzie.”

“Oh and those guys back there, they weren’t my mates,” I reaffirmed.

Ash smiled. I could see he believed me now.

“I want to introduce you to my brother later,” Ash said, “You’re a cool guy, Mack.”

“Introduce me.”

Point Mack.

The lights came up in Pete’s at three o’clock. Time to get the fuck out. I turned to Janice.

“I never got that dance.”

“Oh, well we are all heading back to Ash’s cabin to listen to some music if you would like to come?”

I turned to Ash to get the okay. He nodded. So I went.

The walk to Ash’s cabin was, to put it casually, AWESOME. Janice and I were all over each other. Laughing, smiling, hugging, making out, you name it. I kept glancing over at Asswipe (whose name will make sense soon) who was green with envy.

We made it to Ash’s cabin and the dancing began. The lights were off and Janice and I were in the corner dancing very very dirty to some terrible country song she liked. A few other girls were dancing with Ash and his boys. Asswipe was sitting watching Janice dance with a real man (I just had to say it once).

Janice, I could see, felt sorry for Asswipe. Why? Don’t ask me. After we danced for like eight more songs we took a break and she went over and talked to Asswipe. They laughed and he hugged her, and took her on his lap. I watched the whole thing from the other end of the room, acting like I didn’t care. Then he kissed her.

I put down my beer and walked over to Janice. I took her hand. She started to come with me but Asswipe continued to hug her.

A kiwi on the other side of the room yelled “hey [real name of Asswipe], you’re either going to have to fight this guy or let the girl go.”

Asswipe smiled a defeated smile and let her go. Janice gave me a wink of relief and we danced for another song. I glanced over at Asswipe who was now talking with this new Kiwi. They seemed to be discussing something, but I got distracted by a kiss from Janice.

It was now four thirty. The music was done and everyone headed out on Ash’s porch. Janice went on ahead and I stopped to get my shoes on (I seemed to have been the only one who had been polite enough to take off my shoes). By the time I got my second shoe on and ready to go outside, it happened.

The new kiwi jumped out from God knows where and closed the door, locking it. He stood there looking at me. He was built. Like Rugby built.

“Sit down,” he said. So I did.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Mackenzie,” I said reaching out my hand.

“I’m not going to shake your hand. I don’t mean to be rude. I will give you a high five. But I wont shake your hand. It’s a friend thing. Like to say I respect you enough to give you a high five, but I’m not your friend. I wouldn’t back you up in a fight.”

“Ok?” I said and gave him the drunkest of high fives, “So what’s up?”

“Is this your cabin?”

“No?”

“Then you need to leave.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing personal.”

By this time Ash had run around and entered the cabin from the back door.

“Hey Ash.” I said casually.

“What the fuck is going on?” he asked me. This wasn’t the same Ash I bought a drink for. He seemed pissed.

“I closed the door and locked him in.” The new Kiwi said and gave me another high five, oddly enough.

“Oh, so you didn’t close the door?” he asked me.

“No, he’s just been sitting here,” the new kiwi said.

Ash turned away from us and began checking his phone messages.

“You need to leave man,” Ash said to me.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked.

“No, it’s nothing personal,” Ash said, “It’s just you are going for the same girl as [Asswipe’s real name] and you need to leave.”

“I see.” Fucking Asswipe. He turned his friends on me like dogs. They do the dirty work while he sits out there with my Janice, drooling over her.

“Well,” I started, “if that’s the case Ash-

“That is the case,” Ash said without taking his attention from his phone. What a fucking guy. A real champion. Now I see why he was carrying around that trophy.

“This is your cabin and I will be on my way then. But at least take yours eyes off the your fucking cell phone for one minute and shake my hand like a gentleman.” To this day I still don’t know why I wanted to shake Ash’s hand. Ash looked up from his phone and accepted my demand.

“No hard feeling, mate. This is my brother,” Ash said pointing to the new Kiwi, “and if he tells you to go, you go.”

I turned to the new kiwi as he opened the door. This was the brother Ash wanted to introduce me to. Some introduction. I smiled and walked out of the cabin and onto the porch, but not before saying under my breath “You’re not my mate, Ash.”

Janice was sitting on Asswipe’s lap. This guy has a real lap thing. He should get a pet. I approached Janice.

“I’ve been asked to leave, so I’m going now.”

“You’ve been asked to leave?” Asswipe said with a smile on his face. At that moment I thought If Dave had stayed and was with me now I would do everything in my power to make sure Asswipe never smiled again. But Dave wasn’t with me. I was alone and surrounded by Asswipe and his gang of rugby playing kiwis.

I kissed Janice goodnight and thanked her for the dances. I was half hoping she would get up from Asswipe’s lap and follow me, but it never happened. She wasn’t the same Janice I danced with. She was different now. Even with that being said, the whole walk back to my apartment I took glances over my shoulder, hoping to see her chasing after me. But every time I looked it was just an empty street.

I remember the last thought that hit me before I passed out on my bed at five o’clock that Sunday morning. It was about the time I found that green golf tee still tucked behind my left ear. I thought: Asswipe better be getting real lucky tonight, because he just ruined a done deal.

popsicle sticks

           Across the street she sat. She was no more than six and wearing a soft pink dress, one that little girls wore on Sunday to church. She even had the bow, pink and starched, holding back her long brown hair.

            In her lap she held an empty plastic peanut butter jar. The lid sat next to her on the ground. In the neck of the jar, the part that spirals and seals with the lid, were two polar holes on opposite ends, both connected with a white string that lay limp around the girl’s neck. In the jar, were Popsicle sticks.

            Patrick had noticed this girl before, several times actually, waiting for his bus. Being a man of habit, he worked the nine to five, five out of seven, summer shift and because of this, he automatically developed a regular routine. Because of that, Patrick’s mornings brought him to the 4^th and grand bus stop. He would sit at the stop, sipping a coffee, reading some news article that seemed almost unrealistically far away. Then his bus would arrive and Patrick would board it.

            Three weeks ago Patrick noticed the girl, as described, sitting directly, (almost eerily) across from him with her jar of Popsicle sticks. Every so often she would reach her hand inside and pull out a stick and hand it to a passer by. The person would look at it, as if reading what it would have to say then put it in his/her pocket and continued to wherever they were heading. She would stay seated on the curb, staring at her brightly polished black dress shoes.

            When Patrick first saw the girl handing out the sticks, he instantly felt as though he needed to have one. Patrick felt he needed to know. But his bus arrived, rather prematurely that day, and he left in dismay.

            The following day Patrick realised how silly he had felt, thinking he was missing out on something, and made his way to the bus stop with his regularity back in swing. He watched her hand out four Popsicle sticks to people who weren’t concerned in the slightest about her. But as they read the sticks their reactions instantly changed. Some smirked. Some got angry, and even one started to laugh, uncontrollably. And after each had read the sticks they put it in their pockets and walked away. Then Patrick’s bus would arrive.

            This new routine became the point of interest in Patrick’s day. He even began to wake up earlier so he could watch all the sticks that were given out that morning. She would always be there, sitting and waiting for the next stick receivers. The reactions varied moment to moment, with no pattern whatsoever. An old woman would read the stick and would laugh, but a young teenager would cry. Then a mother would smile, and a busy father would scratch his head confusedly. Their reactions varied, person to person, but then they would all put the stick in their pocket and Patrick would get on to his bus.

            It became a form of amusement, guessing what could possibly be on those sticks. Patrick’s ideas varied as much as the reactions and became more outlandish with each given stick. Maybe it was a silly joke? Or a poem? Maybe it was the winning lotto numbers? Or a message from a dead relative? Or maybe the stick posed as some type of American style fortune cookie that revealed their future? Maybe it showed their deepest desires? All Patrick knew was that every morning the girl would have a empty peanut butter jar full of new sticks and everyone she gave them to would be changed, altered to what degree, Patrick didn’t know, but to a point where keeping the stick was unquestionably necessary. And every morning Patrick would board his bus, thinking for a change. 

Petrie and Burnett’s Representation Of The African-American Life In Relation To the Renderings of Poitier.

Within the past several decades, there has become increased commercialization of “African American persecution” films, aimed at exposing the intolerance and oppression that the persecuted Black archetype is constantly faced with in his or her day-to-day life.  Such films as To Kill A Mockingbird (1962), and more recently last year’s box office hit, Precious (2009), undoubtedly describe the stereotypes and struggles that the African-American individual living at the bottom of America’s socioeconomic ladder lives with, but fails to connect with anything outside of its specific relatable demographics. These persecution films represent only a victimized life, which ultimately can be seen throughout cinema since the beginning of film itself. Nowhere in these films are we, as film historians, shown a definitive image of the African-American life that defines yet transcends the role of the persecuted archetype and paints the African-American’s image as a whole. From the early renderings of D.W. Griffith we were shown the African-American as a fowl and destructive creature, whose only goals were to create misery on the kind and obedient white race. Bogle describes this representation of the African-American, based on G.W. Griffith’s 1915 film The Birth of A Nation, as the “Brutal Black Buck” that “move into Piedmont (the setting of the film), exploiting and corrupting the former slaves, unleashing the sadism and bestiality innate in the negro, turning the once congenial darkies into renegades and using them to crush the white South under the hell of the black south” (Bogle, 12). Although this perspective of the African-American did exist (and continues to exist), this portrait that Griffith paints holds very little historical truth of the African-American living in that time. We as a scholarly community know and understand that there is a lot more to the image of the African-American life then what Griffith has shown.  Respectively, we should be aware that African-Americans nowadays play more than the role of the persecuted victim, and to only describe them as such paints a harmfully incomplete picture. In this paper, I aim to explore both Daniel Petrie’s 1961 film A Raisin In The Sun and Charles Burnett’s 1977 film Killer Of Sheep for their uniquely specific and encompassing portraits of the African-American image while subjecting both films to a comparison of journeyed African-American actor Sydney Poitier’s actual life.  I argue that both of these films are the quintessential representation of the African-American life that transcends persecution and victimization and delves deep into the definitive truths of the human condition: Idealism, Family, and Society. Both of these films, I argue, implement an unprecedented knowledge of the African-American life that we as Film Historians, and as Social Historians, can evaluate and understand as a whole. Also, I argue using Poitier’s life as a control of the African-American life, I can put into perspective the conditions of reality that stem farther then the fantasies seen only on the screen.

Idealism is a key-weighing factor in the design of the African-American image as it is in the design of an image in general. The ideals of an individual juxtaposed next to the current status of that individual create an identifiable human condition of growth, maturity, and determination. Specifically speaking, we as film historians should able to understand where we stand in time from the ideals and dreams of African-American agent on screen. Poitier tells of how, after having seen his first movie, told his family that he dreamed of becoming a cowboy, which arguably that he did. Poitier says, “[as a child] I had no idea that Hollywood meant the movie business. I thought Hollywood was where they raised cows, and where they used horses to keep the cows corralled, and where the cowboys were the good guys, and they were always fighting the bad guys, who were trying to either steal the cows or do something to the people who owned the cows, and I wanted to do that,” an ideal that ultimately became the precursor to his life in cinema (Poitier, 18).  Poitier’s dream alludes to the American symbol of power, individualism, honor, and justice romanticized greatly in the films of the time including Henry King’s Jesse James (1939), Michael Curtiz’ Dodge City (1939) and Victor Flemming’s oscar-winning Gone With The Wind (1939). We as historians can pin-point the context of the times through Poitier’s dreams just as we should the dreams of the African-American agents portrayed on screen. Bogle, in discussion of Burnett’s film, explains how it is represents a character (Stan) who is “emotionally disconnected” and is “numb from his work and his world: a place where men plot petty would-be hustles; where women look bruised and forlorn; where he is alienated from his wife, distanced from his children and acutely aware of the absurdist, (racially) deterministic culture that offers him few options,” (Bogle, 338). Bogle continues by highlighting specific scenes throughout the film that capture this “emotionally disconnected” mentality and even acknowledges much of the film to be “metaphorical” (338). I argue that Burnett’s film encapsulates a deepened sense of established idealism that Bogle fails to accredit. Burnett’s character Stan represents a man who ultimately wants control. Just as all the other men in Watts, Las Angeles try and define their home, their social status, their money, their family; Stan becomes a proxy for the African-American man living in this subculture trying to maintain the reigns. We are shown in a scene of the film that Stan refuses to take a job offering at the local liquor store for reasons that go unmentioned in the film. Stan’s ideals ultimately fall within the realm of the American dream.  Petrie, as well, greatly exemplifies the idealism factor in his characters he portrays on screen. Lena Younger, played by Claudia McNeil, reveals ideals that represent the mentality of the past. She describes how “once upon a time freedom was life… in my time we were worried about not getting lynched and getting to the North and how to stay alive and still have a pinch of dignity… I made sure we had a home,” which represents the American historical context of the African-American image. Petrie compares Lena’s motivations with his character Walter Lee Younger who represents a more current mindset. Where Lena expresses her dreams of owning a house, Walter Lee demands that the money she is given from his fathers insurance be put towards an investment opportunity to heighten their family’s social status. Walter Lee represents a dream of assimilation with the American identity; to have money and to be somebody. Walter Lee through his aspirations and ideals represents the modern man. Lastly, Petrie demonstrates a third representation of the African-American image through Beneatha Younger, played by Diana Sands. Beneatha evokes both the cultural understanding of her heritage as well as the modernistic approach to traditional religious views, all the while pursuing a career in medicine. Through Beneatha’s ideals, she comes to represent the liberated woman. All three pursuits (the pursuit of habitation, the pursuit of assimilation, and the pursuit of liberation), defines both the time frame and the African-American image living within that time frame. In both films, through the idealism of the African-American agents portrayed on screen, we as film historians are given the capability of understanding the deeper dimensions of the individual, the social motivations, and most importantly the underlining of the family factor.

           The family factor is perhaps the most common factor represented in African-American cinema. Poitier recognizes the family aspect as “camaraderie” or “the sense of belonging” (Poitier, 33). He implicated the roles of each family member; specifically himself as a child saying “as soon as I was big enough to lift a bucket, I carried water for my mother. I went into the woods to gather bramble to make our cooking fire. Even as a toddler I had my jobs, my purpose, and I knew that I had to contribute to the thin margin of our [family’s] survival. But I was a child bathed in love and attention,” (17). The family factor is an important aspect of the African-American image and should be a crucial component when expressing that image on screen because it employs elements of past generational ties as well as the importance of future generations to come. Whether it be the lack of the positive nuclear family factor as shown in Lee Daniels film Precious, which, through a negative light reinforces the necessity of camaraderie, or in Petrie and Burnett’s films, which rely deeply on family camaraderie, the family factor is an integral component of the African-American cinema and should not be overlooked. Before I move into Petrie and Burnett’s films I would like to make the point of saying that films which neglect the family image or poorly illustrate it have gone on to receive harsh criticism from audiences and scholars alike. Such films as Stephen Speilberg’s The Color Purple, although initially hailed for bringing the Southern African-American female to mainstream Hollywood, the films problematic family images are still being discussed to this day along with it’s incendiary archetypal characters used throughout the film. I argue that films of this nature, that fail to communicate or poorly illustrate the essential element of the family are not a proper representation of African-American image of that time or of any time for that matter. The family factor derives itself into three units: the relationships between each member of the household, the duties and responsibilities of each member of the household, and family values, all of which define and encompass the family factor. In both cases, Petrie and Burnett’s films are similar, illustrating the essential implications of the family in cinema. In both films we are given a man who is both a husband and a father, and the sole breadwinner for the family. Also, in both films we are given a housewife, who is revealed to be under-liberated and stuck mainly to the chores of the house. Burnett represents the role of the wife in a key scene in his film when Stan’s wife, alone in the kitchen quietly looks at herself in the reflection of a dirty cooking lid. Soon after, she finds her young daughter singing a pop song in her closet while playing. By looking at herself in the cooking lid, Stan’s wife both A) expresses the image of the woman’s nature and beauty, and B) traps that image in the reflection of a cooking lid –the epitome of the gender stereotype. Petrie shows us many similar instances with Ruth Younger, often seen hovering over a kitchen sink throughout the film. In both cases with the wives, we are shown a quietness and sense of defeat, and with both parents, hostility towards each other on account of their social status. This depiction of the husband/wife image, although devaluating, acts as a frame of reference for its time, positioning itself firmly when roles of this type were exceedingly plausible and distinguished in not just African-American families, but in all of Western society. Furthermore, in both films we as an audience are shown a firm interest in father/son relations. From the moment Burnett’s film opens we are shown a close-up of Stan scolding his son for a wrongdoing. Stan harshly explains to his son that one day he might not be around and that he has to look out for himself and his brother. Burnett’s insistence of the importance of the father passing on his flame to his son is equaled by Petrie who from the opening scene and the antics to get to the bathroom, both father and son are shown in similar likeness. Ultimately, in both films we are shown that family is at the core of each characters motivation. Stan’s wife quietly watching her daughter sing reveals to us the freedom that she too once had –her own ideals- and allowing her daughter to continue to sing implies a motivation on behalf of hope. Walter Lee aggressively states several times throughout the film that everything that he is doing is being done for his son. Ruth Younger dreams of owning a home so that she can ultimately piece her disjointed family back together, and in time for the arrival of the new baby. The Family factor is a core factor in the image of the African-American life because it is a key in the individual motivations. Failure to properly illustrate the family factor when creating a film both fails to show the proper motivation of the agents on screen, and fails to reference society itself.

            The Social Factor, I deem as one of the most important factors of the African-American image of life on screen because it not only defines the individual but it also defines the time. Social factors encompass the living conditions of our agents, the setting, as well as the social climate of the times in which this specific story is placed, historically and politically. Also, the social factor is a major component in the development of our agents themselves, on a motivational and psychological level. This aspect of the African-American image is often lost, underplayed or forgotten in the aims to highlight the persecution of our agents on screen. From the kitchen window that shows nothing more than a collage of adjacent brick apartment walls topped emphatically with a clothesline strung with old clothes, to the anarchical politics of the apartment floor’s one bathroom, Petrie’s film basis itself in both subtlety in the social descriptions of the environment as well as forthright.  From the opening shot we are shown the living conditions of the Younger family. Instantly Petrie has established a relevant historical portrait of an African-American household beneath the socioeconomic margins fighting to stay afloat. Similar to Petrie’s approach, but different in execution, Burnett also main-stages the living conditions of his African-American agents, underlining the importance of the setting around the character, rather than just the character itself. We are taken along with Stan’s son in his pursuit of recreation throwing stones and dried dirt at his neighboring friends then at a passing train marked “Southern Pacific”. We watch the children, as they watch this symbol of years economic power slice through their home with little regard. Burnett then takes us on a journey through the decaying houses of Watts, Los Angeles as if stripping apart his setting one layer at a time, before landing us back at Stan’s house; a house in similar construct as the ones around it, and to the one Petrie frames in his film. Poitier in his renderings of his mother tells a story of how she used to take him to the ocean and throw him in before he knew how to swim. Poitier describes how “she would watch as [he] screamed, yelled, gulped, and flailed in a pain-stricken effort to stay afloat” (Poitier, 4). Then Poitier explains how seconds before he went under his father would pull him out just to give him back to his mother who would throw him back in. Just as Poitier as a child tries to stay afloat, we are instantly weighted with a similar social circumstance for both agents, and a social image is formed.  For both films, we understand the social and political factors of the time not only from descriptive imagery, but also because both of these films were made for their time and of their time. Petrie depicts America as a world outside that we rarely get a chance to be apart of, a window. Burnett shows us America as a world outside of Watts, a world that passes through and onward, with little regard of its existence. Both depictions describe a Jim Crow way of life; a life of segregation by parameter. A life that Poitier describes as a lecture young African-American’s hear from their parents: “Face this reality. You’re gunna have to be twice as good as the white folks in order to get half as much,” (Poitier, 43).  In both films, we see the assemblage of a dream or goal, just out of reach of the man of the house. For Petrie’s character, Walter Lee Younger, it is the idealization of the white upper class social statues. We witness how he dreams to one day sit in a restaurant and have casual drinks with people of statues. He complains to his wife of opportunities lost in previous business ventures and argues on behalf of upcoming opportunities. We watch him hand a dollar to his son when his wife distinctively forbids it. Society around this character has therefore shaped his motivation to strive for an image of heightened social status. In a similar case with Burnett’s film we are shown Stan as an amalgamation of his social time. We are shown Stan’s fight for status in his monologue part way through the movie where he says, “man, I ain’t poor. I give away things to the salvation army –you can’t give away nothing to the salvation army if you’re poor. I may not have a damn thing sometimes… that ain’t me and it damn sure won’t be.” In both cases we are shown a struggle for both opportunity, and a motivation towards social status, creating an image of a societal figure that transcends even race.

            Understanding the African-American image relies less on the victimization of the agent and more on the understandings of the personal, nuclear and social factors at play. Each of these factors demonstrates the motivation of the African-American on screen from a personal standpoint, through their personal goals, aims and dreams, from an external standpoint, through relationships, values and roles of the immediate household, and ultimately from a societal standpoint. Western civilization has been bound by these factors for centuries and beyond and failing to properly represent these factors in cinema fails to represent our culture.  In my paper I position two films of equal status against the life of Sidney Poitier who has lived and described life through the decades in both African-American cinema and Western society. Using the real exploits of an African-American with firsthand experience of life, cinema, culture, and the positive views of the African-American image, I argue that Petrie and Burnett’s film show likeness on all fronts. Both films represent an African-American image that goes beyond the persecution and victimization and accurately portrays a whole image of an entire culture. Films of this nature can help deepen our understanding and investigations of the African-American image as film historians, and as historians in general.