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.
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