Thursday, October 14, 2010

The Owl and the Sparrow

Panda Express and PF Chang's are two restaurants that come to mind when I think of authentic Asian cuisine, as in "authentic Asian food is NOT Panda Express or PF Chang's."  The notion of authenticity, in this case, is useful as I can guide you away from "imitation" Chinese food (or just bad food in general) and hopefully towards greener rice pastures...err paddies.  In a broader view, labeling something's authenticity or "realness" is a way many of us differentiate between cultures --this is authentic Vietnamese food, thus you are experiencing a different culture from X and getting a real foreign/"other" experience, not, in my case, "Americanized" food (assuming you are not Vietnamese).  Authenticity a form of discourse that makes cultures distinctive from each other by defining them and promoting what is the rightfully "real" or wrongfully unauthentic.  You could argue a positive for all of this is that it has stopped the complete collapse of global cultures into one homogeneous mass culture or that it provides a way to recognize other cultures.

However, this concept severely limits our views on culture as it is a form of essentialism; when I say this is real Vietnamese food, there is an implication that the entire culture and nation of Viet Nam prepares and presumably enjoys the dish, which is obviously not true.  Even Viet Nam's most famous dish, pho, is prepared and eaten in different ways depending on your location (spice blend, noodle size, condiments, herbs, etc.).  As much as the Ministry of Culture would like, there is unfortunately no such thing as a single, homogeneous, and authentic Vietnamese (or any) culture.  Ministries of Culture don't work because culture is a constantly shifting, multiplying, and hybridizing force--it is difficult to really control and confine to one definition.  In Viet Nam's case, I don't think you can discuss Vietnamese culture without mentioning the various regions and ethnic groups within Viet Nam, nor could you without touching on influences from French, Chinese, and American culture (to name a few), who in turn, were influenced by others (British, Spanish, Christianity, etc.) and so on. I believe arguments about what is more authentically (insert culture) misses the point X's culture is a complex hybrid that varies with location and time and there are multiple ways to express one's culture.  In theory, there is no "authentic" culture.

The reason I am blabbering about this subject is because I have been sitting in some screenwriting classes at my University and the professor is pushing his students to create  "authentic" Vietnamese films.  This, according to him, means ignoring and opposing Hollywood and other Western influences and making a film that is uniquely Vietnamese.  Generally, I disagree with him because of the reasons above; one of his examples of a strictly "Western" director is Quentin Tarantino, which, similar to my Viet Nam example, cannot be discussed without mentioning Asian Kung Fu and Blaxploitation films.  (I think David Murphy in his discussion of African Cinema makes a good point that "if we follow this argument [of completely opposing Western Cinema] to its logical conclusion, then all [non-Western] films are 'inauthentic' or 'Western' simply because cinema was first invented in the West" (Murphy 28).  I suppose we will also have to take the pleasure out of non-Western cinema too.).

Yet, there is a part of me that doesn't blame him.  I think his desire for real Vietnamese films is similar to many calls by flaming liberals in our elitist Universities to produce more "positive" or "real" representations of homosexuals, Asians, African Americans, Women, etc. in media, history, literature, and so on.   On a personal level, I also don't want to see just Vietnamese imitations of Hollywood films, where viewers would think these films are a knockoff of HW pictures.  I would like to be some kind of Vietnamese aesthetic in cinema and for this distinctive style to be recognized on a global level--"Oh, that is Vietnamese cinema."  I think it was hard for me to completely reject the idea of authenticity because I am Vietnamese (I'm not exactly sure what percentage but it's there somewhere) and I believe we all have our opinions on how our culture (Hispanic, homosexual, women, whatever) should be presented and expressed.

We were then shown the film The Owl and the Sparrow (2007) by director Stephane Gauger as an example of a "Western" Vietnamese film.  It has been around for a couple of years but not many small films come to Texas (it is now available on Netflix).  Gauger is an interesting fellow; his mother is Vietnamese and his father is American (either of French or German descendant--there are two conflicting sources) and he was born in Saigon, Viet Nam, but moved to California at the age of five.  His education focused mainly on the technical area of film (lighting, camerawork) and he has worked with Tony and Timothy Bui (Three Seasons).   

The Owl and the Sparrow, Gauger's first film, is about three strangers meeting in Ho Chi Minh City: a country-side young girl who has run away from her job in her uncle's window blind factory; a 2nd-generation (possibly even more) zoo keeper who's fiance recently left him; and a lonely and depressed female flight attendant due to the fact that she has no love prospects in sight.  Throughout the whole film, I kept thinking, "This isn't Vietnamese..."  There were some instances where I thought Gauger captured some essence of Viet Nam--the clutters of trash interspersed with the modernity of HCMC, the chaotic and noisy traffic, and the hand-held camera work gave the film a slightly gritty feel (though I think the 50,000 dollar budget had more to do with that).  Nevertheless, I felt overall I was watching an American film: The story seemed to me like an universal (heterosexual) love story (I won't share the ending but I think you know where this is going) that could have occurred anywhere; stylistically it just felt like an American indie film with its hand-held camera work; and its ending, with musical score and all, produced a Hollywood feeling.

The film for the most part avoids politics and  Viet Nam's history, which is not exactly a bad thing since most Vietnamese films up until 2003 only dealt with those issues and those weren't exactly popular with a country full of young people who never experienced the war and turmoil like past generations.  (Since the film was being filmed in Viet Nam, it did have to be approved but Gauger says he did not have to change anything from the original screenplay.  However, this approval must have been in the back of his mind when constructing the script and in an interview he acknowledges that violence, politics, and sexual topics are "the three no nos" (qtd in Stone).)  Even the issue of poverty, which he does deal with the most--the young girl lives on the  street and sells flowers while avoiding people who "capture" children for orphanages--is glossed over by the romantic storyline. 

But I think I got too wrapped in the professor's use of the words "authentic" and "real" and some of my desires/thoughts positioned HW/Western films as normative, making non-Western film abnormalities (Sigh...so hard).  Instead of the idea of authentic vs. unauthentic, it is helpful to imagine film as an universal language with different accents and dialects, similar to James Potts or Hamid Naficy.  In this sense, like language, everyone speaks with an accent; so while there will be a dominant language(s) (classical and new HW), we don't have to necessarily place it in the center.  We shouldn't be expecting a completely different cinematic language from films around the globe, but, rather, we should focus on how these groups adapt film codes to their specific culture to produce an language that contains both domestic and foreign words.  For better or worse, I think The Owl and the Sparrow is a low-budget Hollywood film with a Vietnamese accent.  (Because of this, the fact that some people say it is an art film annoys me--speaking a different language and showing a foreign city does not make it an art film.  I think some focus on the "exotic" aspects while ignoring the films plays out like a HW film.) 


I think a lesson I got out of this is that while we should avoid the "authentic" debate and aim towards exploring cinema and culture as multifaceted, complex, and perpetually fluctuating objects, as my reception of the film shows, the concept should still be considered because perceived and imagined ideas about authenticity are very powerful and still affect us, even if we try really hard to ignore it.

On a personal note, although I have ragged on the film, I actually enjoyed it.  Yes, it is not full of depth, somewhat sappy, and very, very predictable.  But, after watching some of these films where everyone is poor and dying in wars, it was kind of a nice change.  We academics don't always have to complain and pout all the time, do we?  I enjoy cute and simple movies from time to time.  Plus, I always find that after 3 months of not seeing EAG, I start pining more...

tony



Murphy, David.  "Africans Filming Africa: Questioning Theories of An Authentic African Cinema." Transnational Cinema: The Film Reader.  Eds. Elizabeth Ezra and Terry Rowden.  New York: Routledge, 2006.  15-26.

Stone, Judy. "Stephane Gauger on 'Owl and the Sparrow.'"  SF360.org. San Francisco Film Society, 9 Feb 2009.  Web.  15 Oct 2010.

1 comment:

  1. I too enjoyed this cute fairytale. I might choose tender or sentimental instead of sappy but agree it followed a standard template though I would like to believe it is more universal than necessarily solely western. It also felt nice to consider how past world events and periods which can negativly cloud our perceptions and understanding could dissolve over time as new generations unaffected by our learned prejudices might bring us closer together.

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