I'll not go into a plot synopsis here (Latham details it much better than I could); suffice it to say, though, District 9 is a film about racism. I was awed at how, as I watched the persecution of aliens during its run, I was constantly reminded of the horrors of our own history. It was not so long ago that we treated our fellow human beings this way. In some ways, we still do.
One particular scene that struck me was when Wikus, an agent of a private military chosen to serve eviction notices to the aliens living in District 9, discovers a shack full of Prawn eggs. He details what an exciting find it is, then proceeds to kill the eggs, burning down the shack around it, laughing as he hears the screams of the prawn larva. As I watched that scene, I admit, I almost cried. And then I began to wonder: why was it so powerful to see the slaughter of something so repulsive, so emphatically inhuman?
The purpose of non-human life in good fiction is solely to reflect humanity in a distilled form. Whether it's the alien wretches of District 9 showing us the poor and destitute of Africa or the etherial elves of Tolkien showing us the beauty and potential of a race in harmony with the earth, we are always looking into a mirror. When we see the friendship of Legolas and Gimli, we see the reconciliation of the traditional and the mystical. When we see the journey of Frodo we see the cost of goodness. When we hear the cries of the alien larva, we hear the cries of children of the genocides in Rwanda and Uganda.
We see both the beautiful and the wretched reflected in the depictions of non-humans in fiction. We want to embrace some and ignore the rest, like Ebenezer Scrooge, happy to see the merry-making, but begging the Ghost of Christmas Present to remove Ingorance and Want from our sight. But it's essential that we look at both and not forsake one for the other. Humanity is a beautiful thing, but it is also a terrible one. It is only in seeing ourselves in the mirror that we can examine who we truly are and how we might grow. Good fiction will constantly hold that mirror up.
5 comments:
Wouldn't that be speciesism rather than racism? Interesting post!
I don't really make a distinction between speciesism and racism ('least not in a fictional setting). After all, species are defined by their reproductive compatibility, and as we all know from playing D&D there's half-human/half-(insert whatever seems cool here). :-D
Seriously, though. The distinction between species and race can be interesting to make (as Terry Pratchett says, "Racism was not a problem on the Discworld, because -- what with trolls and dwarfs and so on -- speciesism was more interesting. Black and white lived in perfect harmony and ganged up on green."), but it's not one that especially fits in S&S. The prevailing theory is that the non-human races are under-evolved cousins of humans, much like early 20th century scientists believed the Aborigines of Australia were under-evolved humans. Of course, Aduneans think the same thing about the Nerathim...
It's funny to read this post just two days after I watched the movie myself. And I will probably see it again, because it was a rather good movie, although it had not such a deep impact on me as it obviously had on you. I can't exactly say why, maybe it's the cynism and dark humor that works on me exactly like the director intended, shaking my head over the stupidity of the "superior ones" in some scenes, then the over-the-top violence in other scenes that probably should work similar to movies like Starship Troopers, which is another movie that is supposed to be an overly cynical reckoning with american society (the director of District9 just mentioned S.T. as a primary example in an Interview with "Der Spiegel"). Now, being a cynical myself I clearly get the message of those movies, and District9 added a few more levels of seriousness that sets it apart from S.T. which works more like a farce like Mars Attacks. Still, I wasn't shocked, the movie somewhat catered my expectations, even though being surprisingly fresh at times. It didn't make me question my morals or sent me into deep philosophical meditation about society, simply because it had too much humour. The last Science Fiction movie that really had a deep impact on me was "Children of Men" (which I consider a masterpiece), probably because cinema works more on the direct level on me - if they want to shock me, they have to do that the straight, direct way with making a scene that is directly, honestly shocking, and not abstracted by a level of humour, stupidity or unrealistic violence. The scene with the eggs you mentioned is a good example, when it happened I certainly raised an eyebrow in surprise, but it didn't come over as realistically cruel, more like "wow, that's sick!" because the whole main character was portrayed as an over the top weirdo - just take the line with "listen, they pop.. like popcorn".
This does not mean District 9 wasn't a good movie, it certainly was, it's just the high level of abstractness that keeps it from stirring up deep thoughts and feelings in me. I'm working too simple, if I'm meant to be sad I need to be shown a sad film.
Anyway, glad you liked District 9 that much, it's certainly a pic to recommend.
I see what you mean, Michael; I guess with the film example, I wasn't thinking in the context of S&S.
Come to think of it, what you describe is a much more powerful dynamic than the typical elf vs dwarf (or whatever) situation.
If you don't mind a bit of reading, you might check out the columns by Aeon at RPGnet. Good stuff, and he goes into detail about how different races represent humanity and why.
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