Grade: B+
Good: An affecting, heartwarming account of the trials of African-American maids in the early 1960s anchored by superb performances by Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer; Character development abounds, even amongst the supporting cast.
Bad: Overstuffed by too many plot threads, leaving some underserved; A bit long at two and a half hours; Emma Stone wilts in the presence of stronger actors like Davis.
Ugly: It’s the story of African-Americans in Mississippi. In the 1960s. Probably doesn’t get much uglier than the way they were treated
Mad Men is pretty popular, right? Its precise restoration of the world of advertising in 1960s New York coupled with its incisive critique of American life during that period has won more than its share of critics and, to a significantly lesser degree, viewers. For a while, Mad Men stood alone, a paragon of biting nostalgia for halcyon days. Then, the networks wanted a piece of the pie and devised a pair of copycats, see ABC’s Pan Am and NBC’s The Playboy Club. Each show, Mad Men included, hopes to lovingly recreate the past while offering a sly critique of the time and its people, but none seem daring enough to make viewers remember just how bad the 60’s were for anyone who wasn’t a white male. Now, an adaptation of Kathryn Sockett’s New York Time’s Best Seller The Help has come along to show just how blinding the glaze of nostalgia for the 1960s really is.
The Help is a fairly meta tale of three women living in Jackson, Mississippi in the early 1960s—Aibileen (an amazing, as always, Viola Davis), Minny (Octavia Spencer, showing sublime wit and range), and Eugenia “Skeeter” Phelan (a typically spunky Emma Stone)—whose lives intersect when Skeeter starts to work on “The Help”, a non-fiction novel recounting the experiences of African-American maids who work in white households. Skeeter gets the idea for her novel after returning to Jackson in the wake of her graduation from Ole’ Miss. She meets Aibileen—a quiet and dignified maid who just lost her only son, but has raised a gaggle of children better than their parents and is currently the caretaker of chubby toddler, Mae Mobley Leefolt—at a bridge party organized by contemptuous bigot Hilly Holbrook (a particularly evil Bryce Dallas-Howard) and, being the educated scion of a relatively progressive white family, is inspired to document Aibileen’s story. After conquering an early, rational reluctance due to a understandable fear of retaliation, Aibileen provides Skeeter with a collection of heartwrenching stories that tell of the suffering many African-Americans faced silently, but Aibileen’s stories are not enough. Aibileen drafts her closest friend, the strong-willed and cleverly witty Minny Jackson, to provide more stories. In time, and in response to growing tensions flamed by several key moments in the Civil Rights movement, Skeeter is collecting the tales of most of the town's overworked and criminally mistreated domestic labor force. While the three continue to clandestinely compose Skeeter’s tome in hopes of publication, each will find their lives significantly changed by the experience.
Three major arcs compete for attention in The Help, but only two are strong enough to really leave an impression. Unsurprisingly, Aibileen and Minny’s arcs are the strongest, anchored by superb performances and motivated by true dramatic stakes. While Emma Stone delivers one of her trademark performances as the obviously-to-smart-for-this-backwater-town Skeeter, her arc is far weaker than Aibileen’s and Minny’s because it tries to do too much with too little time. Skeeter’s arc tries to address the emergence of white guilt and the place of women in the workplace all while attempting to build a scant romantic subplot. Not only are Aibileen and Miny’s arcs blessed with the exemplary work of Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer, they boast a simplicity and a fascinating insight into how these women dealt with the struggle of their circumstance. The thread that ties the three stories together, aside from the book, is Bryce Dallas-Howard’s Hilly Holbrook. Today, one of the easiest ways to build an effective villain is to make the that villian a racist. Hilly is a spectacularly devilish bigot. A selfish social climber who had her own mother, Sissy Spacek in a wonderfully irreverent turn, She seems to hate everybody, or at least believes she’s better than everybody in Jackson, but maids like Minny and Aibileen get the lion’s share of her wrath. Since the heart of the conflict in The Help is between Hilly and Aibileen and Minny, Stone’s Skeeter and her story seems ancillary with some of the very same concepts that are succinctly measured in Aibileen’s arc being retread in Skeeter’s. The Help will certainly win cheers and tears by its end, but any those emotional acclaims will come in response tothe fine work of Davis, Spencer and Dallas-Howard and the poignant simplicity of their conflict and growth.
Despite packing The Help with one arc too many—which, I know, can’t be helped, as Skeeter’s arc is crucial to the original novel—Director Tate Taylor adequately paints a picture of the American South in the 60’s that is never too pristine or ugly. There’s a welcome balance to the visual palette that brings the antebellum and the modern, for the time, into perfect contrast, from the lush views of Skeeter’s family’s plantation to the on point recreations of big fin Cadillacs and all-night diners. Apart from the visuals, Taylor shows a solid hand at developing characters without melodrama. Early scenes of Aibileen’s life are understated and moving combinations of visual and narration that tell a better story than dialogue ever could. Taylor also adds a healthy dose of humor to a potentially depressing story through characters like Spencer’s delightfully straightforward Minny and Spacek’s slightly loopy Missus Walter, but he never lets the humor overwhelm the gravity of the tale and it never comes at the expense of making the characters less than human. Because The Help is so jam-packed with character arcs for not only the main three, but a fair number of the supporting cast as well, Taylor has to employ a great deal of visual shorthand to give attention to the plethora of stories. While a few characters are notably underserved in the development department (e.g. Hilly), most of the character arcs are well attended by Taylor’s command of simple visuals and judicious editing that leaves some of the more unnerving sights to the audience’s imagination.
The Help succeeds despite being a bit overstuffed and trying to serve too many stories. It is sure to trend well with the built-in audience that has already read the book. As I have not read the book, I can’t accurately comment on the faithfulness of this adaptation, but if the book shares the spirit of this film then I probably need to get to a bookstore, or at least Amazon, fairly soon. While The Help is clearly aimed at its faithful, it does not alienate the uninitiated, offering a tale that many have heard details about, but never witnessed from such an intimate perspective. Sure, it’s nothing explicitly new—especially if you grew up in a household where your great-grandparents could tell stories like Minny and Aibileen’s from a personal perspective—but The Help is necessary as an affecting reminder that the old days weren’t particularly good to everybody.
The Help is a fairly meta tale of three women living in Jackson, Mississippi in the early 1960s—Aibileen (an amazing, as always, Viola Davis), Minny (Octavia Spencer, showing sublime wit and range), and Eugenia “Skeeter” Phelan (a typically spunky Emma Stone)—whose lives intersect when Skeeter starts to work on “The Help”, a non-fiction novel recounting the experiences of African-American maids who work in white households. Skeeter gets the idea for her novel after returning to Jackson in the wake of her graduation from Ole’ Miss. She meets Aibileen—a quiet and dignified maid who just lost her only son, but has raised a gaggle of children better than their parents and is currently the caretaker of chubby toddler, Mae Mobley Leefolt—at a bridge party organized by contemptuous bigot Hilly Holbrook (a particularly evil Bryce Dallas-Howard) and, being the educated scion of a relatively progressive white family, is inspired to document Aibileen’s story. After conquering an early, rational reluctance due to a understandable fear of retaliation, Aibileen provides Skeeter with a collection of heartwrenching stories that tell of the suffering many African-Americans faced silently, but Aibileen’s stories are not enough. Aibileen drafts her closest friend, the strong-willed and cleverly witty Minny Jackson, to provide more stories. In time, and in response to growing tensions flamed by several key moments in the Civil Rights movement, Skeeter is collecting the tales of most of the town's overworked and criminally mistreated domestic labor force. While the three continue to clandestinely compose Skeeter’s tome in hopes of publication, each will find their lives significantly changed by the experience.
Three major arcs compete for attention in The Help, but only two are strong enough to really leave an impression. Unsurprisingly, Aibileen and Minny’s arcs are the strongest, anchored by superb performances and motivated by true dramatic stakes. While Emma Stone delivers one of her trademark performances as the obviously-to-smart-for-this-backwater-town Skeeter, her arc is far weaker than Aibileen’s and Minny’s because it tries to do too much with too little time. Skeeter’s arc tries to address the emergence of white guilt and the place of women in the workplace all while attempting to build a scant romantic subplot. Not only are Aibileen and Miny’s arcs blessed with the exemplary work of Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer, they boast a simplicity and a fascinating insight into how these women dealt with the struggle of their circumstance. The thread that ties the three stories together, aside from the book, is Bryce Dallas-Howard’s Hilly Holbrook. Today, one of the easiest ways to build an effective villain is to make the that villian a racist. Hilly is a spectacularly devilish bigot. A selfish social climber who had her own mother, Sissy Spacek in a wonderfully irreverent turn, She seems to hate everybody, or at least believes she’s better than everybody in Jackson, but maids like Minny and Aibileen get the lion’s share of her wrath. Since the heart of the conflict in The Help is between Hilly and Aibileen and Minny, Stone’s Skeeter and her story seems ancillary with some of the very same concepts that are succinctly measured in Aibileen’s arc being retread in Skeeter’s. The Help will certainly win cheers and tears by its end, but any those emotional acclaims will come in response tothe fine work of Davis, Spencer and Dallas-Howard and the poignant simplicity of their conflict and growth.
Despite packing The Help with one arc too many—which, I know, can’t be helped, as Skeeter’s arc is crucial to the original novel—Director Tate Taylor adequately paints a picture of the American South in the 60’s that is never too pristine or ugly. There’s a welcome balance to the visual palette that brings the antebellum and the modern, for the time, into perfect contrast, from the lush views of Skeeter’s family’s plantation to the on point recreations of big fin Cadillacs and all-night diners. Apart from the visuals, Taylor shows a solid hand at developing characters without melodrama. Early scenes of Aibileen’s life are understated and moving combinations of visual and narration that tell a better story than dialogue ever could. Taylor also adds a healthy dose of humor to a potentially depressing story through characters like Spencer’s delightfully straightforward Minny and Spacek’s slightly loopy Missus Walter, but he never lets the humor overwhelm the gravity of the tale and it never comes at the expense of making the characters less than human. Because The Help is so jam-packed with character arcs for not only the main three, but a fair number of the supporting cast as well, Taylor has to employ a great deal of visual shorthand to give attention to the plethora of stories. While a few characters are notably underserved in the development department (e.g. Hilly), most of the character arcs are well attended by Taylor’s command of simple visuals and judicious editing that leaves some of the more unnerving sights to the audience’s imagination.
The Help succeeds despite being a bit overstuffed and trying to serve too many stories. It is sure to trend well with the built-in audience that has already read the book. As I have not read the book, I can’t accurately comment on the faithfulness of this adaptation, but if the book shares the spirit of this film then I probably need to get to a bookstore, or at least Amazon, fairly soon. While The Help is clearly aimed at its faithful, it does not alienate the uninitiated, offering a tale that many have heard details about, but never witnessed from such an intimate perspective. Sure, it’s nothing explicitly new—especially if you grew up in a household where your great-grandparents could tell stories like Minny and Aibileen’s from a personal perspective—but The Help is necessary as an affecting reminder that the old days weren’t particularly good to everybody.
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