Courageous Storytellers Fight for Their Rights in The Help

This summer, my mom had a hip replacement, so she missed out on seeing several big movies opening weekend. She still plans to catch Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II, which the rest of us saw without her, but for her first trip to the theater in months, we followed the recommendation of several friends and decided to check out The Help. While neither of us had read the Kathryn Stockett novel upon which it was based, I could attest to the book’s popularity in the bookstore where I worked, and my grandma thought it was wonderful, which was reason enough for me to be curious about it.

The Help, written and directed by Tate Taylor, is set in 1960s Mississippi in a small town where black maids work tirelessly for high-society white families, receiving little compensation or recognition for their work, which often includes raising the children of parents too busy with social obligations to bother. One such child grew up to be Skeeter Phelan (Emma Stone), a spunky, tomboyish aspiring writer who returns home after college to find her nagging mother (Allison Janney) ailing and her beloved housekeeper Constantine (Cicely Tyson) missing.

When she manages to secure a small writing gig as a domestic advice columnist, Skeeter turns to Aibileen Clark (Viola Davis), the film’s narrator, for household advice. However, she soon shifts her attention to a heftier writing project when she begins to notice that her childhood friends do not treat their maids with the proper degree of consideration. In fact, some of them are downright cruel, and the worst offender is her old chum Hilly Holbrook (Bryce Dallas Howard), who has begun an obsessive campaign to require separate bathrooms for black domestic help due to concerns over disease. Skeeter realizes that these maids need an outlet for their frustration and that maybe if she could compile their stories, those who read about the injustices they face might be inspired to make changes. However, fear of repercussions makes most maids in the area reluctant to cooperate, and Skeeter has a limited window of time in which to present a viable book to New York editor Elain Stein (Mary Steenburgen). Will she be able to find enough willing interviewees in time?

Stone is immensely likable as the plucky Skeeter, who somehow avoided falling into the trap that so many of her peers did. Always a bit of an oddball, she put more store by the lessons about internal worth and integrity handed down by the gentle Constantine than her own mother’s chidings about her lack of fashion sense and misplaced priorities in seeking a career over matrimony. Kind but feisty, she treats her interviewees, especially stately Aibileen, the first to cooperate, with respect and isn’t afraid to knock her frivolous friends down a peg or two when circumstances call for it. While the movie contains a minor romantic subplot, Skeeter’s most significant interactions are with her own mother, whose shortcomings she strives to understand, and Aibileen, who is her gateway into comprehending the trials many such maids endure.

Davis is really the heart of the movie, carrying herself with quiet dignity as Aibileen observes the unfair conditions around her but maintains her strong work ethic and dedicates herself to raising children who are more compassionate than their parents. Her scenes with chubby, adoring toddler Mae (Emma and Eleanor Henry) are among the most touching in the film as she tries to make up for the neglect of Mae’s mother and instill in this child valuable lessons that will make her a better person.

Contrasting with Aibileen’s calm personality is her best friend, Minny Jackson (Octavia Spencer), a spitfire whose unwillingness to be bullied by Hilly leads her to take a job working for a fellow outcast. Jessica Chastain brings naïve exuberance to the role of Celia Foote, who is as kind and appreciative as Hilly is icy and unyielding. So profoundly grateful is this hopeless housekeeper for a helping hand in the kitchen that their friendship soon flourishes, and her sunny outlook and genuine decency makes her scenes refreshing after all of the snooty behavior displayed among most of the women in town.

The cast on the whole is excellent, with Howard perhaps the chief standout as the most sickly sweet villainess to grace a screen since Imelda Staunton’s Dolores Umbridge. Sissy Spacek delivers several laughs as Hilly’s mildly batty mother, as does Leslie Jordan as Skeeter’s expressively exasperated boss at the newspaper. The look and feel of the movie immerses viewers in a very particular time and place, and sermons given by the preacher (David Oyelowo) at the church Aibileen and Minnie attend help to underscore the movie’s theme of having the courage to do what is right in the face of adversity.

One of these days I intend to take my grandma’s advice and read The Help; if it’s anything like the adaptation, I am certain I will agree with her assessment. While the movie is being marketed primarily to women, I would recommend this powerful film to anyone as a tale of friendship, integrity and the power of a compelling story told with conviction.

Unsettling Doubt Encourages Self-Examination

During my family's Christmas travels, we watched Mamma Mia!, which stars Meryl Streep as the free-spirited but world-weary mother of a young bride-to-be. With that singing, dancing, emotional Streep fresh in our minds, it was jarring to observe her in Doubt, the film version of the acclaimed play adapted and directed by playwright John Patrick Shanley. In this unsettling movie, she portrays Sister Aloysius, the principal of a Catholic grade school in 1964. From our first glimpse of her, dressed in a restrictive habit recalling the Puritans and peering severely down at unruly students through small spectacles, she seems the perfect picture of the stereotypical oppressive elementary school nun. The pupils in her charge fear her, straightening up and ceasing their chatter at the sight of her. She is a force to be reckoned with.

While Streep makes the most striking figure in the film, equally important are Amy Adams as innocent, altruistic Sister James, who seems to be at least a generation younger than any of the church's other sisters, and Philip Seymour Hoffman as Father Flynn, an eloquent, charismatic preacher who may or may not be guilty of inappropriate contact with a vulnerable youngster. The boy in question is Donald (Joseph Foster), the school's first African-American student. He is shy and lonely, and Father Flynn appears to serve as his protector and confidante, a stabilizing force in a tumultuous environment. But when Sister James witnesses something that sets off alarms in her mind, Sister Aloysius seizes upon it and becomes determined to bring down this man who she fervently believes is a threat to her students' well-being.

Doubt is expertly written in such a way that audience members can legitimately draw one of two opposing conclusions. Perhaps Father Flynn is an innocent man whose hands-on approach and progressive ideas are distasteful to the conservative Sister Aloysius. While it's clear that she truly believes he is guilty, one wonders to what extent that opinion is formed by her own prejudices. On the other hand, he might be a pedophile with a history of victimizing children, making the principal's efforts laudable. Certainly there is evidence to suggest that this is a possibility, but the movie does not offer a definitive answer. Ultimately, whether you walk away from the film thinking he's guilty or innocent (or, like me, are equally torn between the two), it says as much about your personality and opinions as it does about the movie.

Each of the three leads does exceptional work. My favorite of the characters, and probably the one with whom we are meant to identify most, is wide-eyed, sweet-natured Sister James, who is torn between wanting to believe the best of people and desiring the welfare of her pupils. In her delicate performance, this conflict plays out strikingly. Hoffman plays his character as likable most of the time, having an easy rapport with students, cracking jokes and offering comfort. But as Sister Aloysius pursues his resignation, he grows increasingly agitated, to the point of explosive anger that could as easily be the result of frustration at false accusations as fear that a dark secret will be exposed. Streep's stern sister remains calm and cool in most scenes, but when her vulnerabilities seep through her steely demeanor, they threaten to unhinge her, particularly in her searing final lines. Her Puritanical garb accentuates the impression that she is on a witch hunt of sorts. Also compelling is Viola Davis as Donald's protective mother, who shares a powerful scene with Sister Aloysius midway through the movie.

The movie takes place at Christmastime, so the contrast between the warmth of joyful celebration within the church walls and the barren chill outside reflects the film's central struggle. Cinematographer Roger Deakins, who so hauntingly captured the bleak landscape of No Country For Old Men, is especially effective in showcasing windblown objects such as the once-vibrant leaves that echo the conflicted Sister James' loss of naivety. He makes frequent use of odd camera angles, giving us many close-ups and often tilting the camera so that the world we are watching feels topsy-turvy. It's a disorienting but very effective technique.

Doubt is not without its moments of levity, and the "thematic material" for which it is rated PG-13 is never addressed in any coarse detail. There's almost no objectionable language, and the presence of children in many of the scenes might be enough to sustain the interest of some youngsters. Still, this is definitely a film aimed primarily at adults, and it seeks to explore the nature of truth and the power of accusation. In its acknowledgment of uncertainty as an element of the human condition which it may not be possible or even healthy to deny, it encourages thoughtful self-examination and a possible admission that we, in the troubled words of one character, "have such doubts."