The Help May Clean Up Oscar Night 

But it's a mess of a movie

If you pride yourself in being fairly up-to-date on Oscar contenders and have yet to see The Help, you have some catching up to do. The film has already slid over to discount theaters and will be released to DVD on Tuesday, Dec. 6, well before Academy Award nominations are announced in late January.

I first saw The Help with millions of others when it opened on Aug. 10. My first reaction was that the film was an interesting diversion. Other filmgoers have since told me that they thought the movie to be one of the best of the year, so I felt compelled to watch it again. I'm glad I did. Because now I'm convinced that, while mildly entertaining, The Help is, at its core, a manipulative piece of Hollywood revisionism.

In 2000, a London history professor, in critiquing a thesis titled, "China and Historical Capitalism," said the author had "sucked the life out of the past and flattened history." Those words resonated with me as I reconsidered The Help.

The Help may pretend to have plenty of heart, but it truly lacks the element its story requires: a soul. For anyone old enough to even remotely recall the 1950s or '60s, The Help is an insult. It revisits stereotypes and, to a large degree, embraces them.

"Fried chicken just tend to make you feel better 'bout life," says one of the film's black characters as an approving white woman beams. The scene was gut-churning.

For anyone not familiar with the source material, Kathryn Stockett's bestselling novel of the same name tells the story of how Mississippi housekeepers raised generations of a wealthy community's white children, only to see them grow into ignorant racists. All of this is seen through the eyes of Skeeter, played in the film by Emma Stone. Though Stone's performance lacks any credibility, it is clearly Oscar baiting with her endless over-emoting.

Oscar may also come knocking on the doors of a few high-profile performances from The Help's cast. Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer should be expecting a wake-up call from their agents when nominations are announced.

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences embraces movies like The Help, and it adores female performances in such tripe (Sandra Bullock in The Blind Side, Julia Roberts in Erin Brockovich). But if anything, The Help steers audiences away from a serious dialogue on an issue as complex as race relations in America.

When the film is over--and it couldn't end soon enough for me--moviegoers may think they watched an embracing examination of the segregated South. Instead the excruciating 146 minutes is cringe-worthy, especially from a movie that pretends to be so important.

Movies, particularly dramas, matter. The Bicycle Thief, Do the Right Thing, In the Heat of the Night, Milk, The Oxbow Incident--they all ask hard questions and sometimes even shape public opinion. If a film like The Help is honored for its "excellence," then the bar has clearly been lowered.

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