Hiển thị các bài đăng có nhãn adolescence. Hiển thị tất cả bài đăng
Hiển thị các bài đăng có nhãn adolescence. Hiển thị tất cả bài đăng

Thứ Hai, 26 tháng 1, 2015

A scene from Girlhood.
Oh you petty thieves

By Don Simpson

Opening with an all-girl football game, Céline Sciamma’s Girlhoodshowcases the confidence that teenage girls possess whenever boys are not around. Post-game, the girls boisterously walk the dark and menacing streets of their Parisian banlieue défavorisée; but as soon as they reach the courtyard of their public housing development, the sudden silence is audibly jarring. This introduction immediately transports us into the mindset of Marieme (Karidja Touré), a 16-year-old who seems content and self-assumed in the company of other girls, but she shuts down in the presence of males — especially her abusive older brother.

Marieme’s one remaining hope of escaping the inherent trappings of her ethnicity, gender and class is dashed when she is informed that she will not be promoted into high school. Immediately after receiving that news, fate delivers Marieme into the hands of a local female gang. Lady (Assa Sylla), Fily (Marietou Touré) and Adiatou (Lindsay Karamou) are looking for a new recruit, and Marieme is in desperate need of female camaraderie. The three gang members are like hyper-real caricatures representing a temporary escape from Marieme’s grim reality. Gang culture is like a video game for Marieme; the seriousness of the bad girls’ actions does not seem real. Marieme is hypnotized by the cool and carefree nature of Lady, Fily and Adiatou. By the time that the four girls are lip-syncing Rihanna’s “Diamonds” in a hotel room, Marieme has fully entered the fantasy world of her comrades. That moment might be when Marieme feels the most free, but it is not long before she realizes that it is a false sense of freedom.

Petty thievery will not sustain her for very long.

Girlhood is told in four parts, each of which shows Marieme in a different stage of evolution. Each chapter ends with a cut to black, then Marieme appears in her next phase, showcasing how Marieme adapts to the world by physically and mentally reconstructing herself. The most obvious change is in her hairstyle. Her face also mutates from smooth features and a shy, downward gaze to hardened features and a cold, intense stare. Marieme begins to carry herself differently, too, as her body movements grow more forceful and determined. That sweet young girl from the beginning of the film changes into a powerful young woman.

This is not just purely out of survival instinct for Marieme, but it is also a rebellion against societal norms. She will do whatever she can to avoid the destiny determined by her ethnicity, gender and class — specifically, Marieme does not want to grow up to become a poor and abused single mother. Men are a constant threat to women in Marieme’s world, so she cuts her hair short, binds her breasts and wears baggy clothing to appear less womanly.

Marieme may be the only gang member who attempts to look less feminine, but she is also the only one with a boyfriend. Girlhood may not directly speak to LGBTQ issues, but the female characters do prefer the company of women. As far as we can surmise, there is nothing sexual about their relationships, but the girlfriends are extremely protective and supportive of each other. It seems very possible that Lady, Fily and Adiatou would not be able to survive without each other.

Skillfully avoiding any of the usual tropes or cliches of gang-related dramas, Girlhoodis not about redemption, nobody gets “saved.” Girlhood does not glamorize gang culture, nor does it overtly criticize it. In Sciamma’s eyes, female gangs fulfill the desire to be accepted as part of a social group, kind of like a sorority or sports team. Though these wild packs of girls do occasionally grow rambunctious and volatile, they also function as surrogate families, providing the girls with a level of safety and security that they cannot find at home. That is not to say that Sciamma glorifies thuggery either. Since we see female gang culture from Marieme’s perspective, we witness just how it is fake. You can only do what you want for so long before you have to grow up and find a way to make a living.

Chủ Nhật, 27 tháng 4, 2014

Suri (Chonnikan Netjui) and Mary (Patcha Poonpiriya) in Mary is Happy, Mary is Happy.
Tongue Thai-ed 

By Miranda Inganni
 
Finding inspiration in 410 consecutive tweets by a teenager, Nawapol Thamrongrattanarit's Mary is Happy, Mary is Happy fuses social media and filmmaking in this wonderfully whimsical movie.
Deftly intertwining the tweets (originally posted by Mary Malony) with the drama, we follow moody Mary (Patcha Poonpiriya) and her more evenly keeled best friend Suri (Chonnikan Netjui) as they navigate their way through their final year of high school. Mary is impulsive  -- ordering a jellyfish in the mail, booking a quick trip to Paris which she subsequently sleeps through because of jet lag -- and a frustrated creative  -- forever chasing the “magic hour” in which to take her pictures. But mostly she is a mercurial, seemingly hopelessly romantic, teenager.
Mary and Suri are in charge of creating the school’s yearbook, which provides for many distractions and obstacles that they must overcome to complete the book.
 
Accident prone Mary traipses through her days, despite her cell phone blowing up repeatedly, getting poisoned by mushrooms while on a quick camping trip and even a terrible tragedy. All the while, she pines for M(Vasuphon Kriangprapakit, a young man she meets near a pancake cark next to the train tracks.
 
While Mary goes through what is for so many the awkward transition into adulthood, Thamrongrattanarit capitalizes on the limitations -- and lack thereof -- of the original tweets allowing Mary to mature in the face of adversity during the course of the film.
 
As director Thamrongrattanarit creates the story line around the tweets, plot points can seem eclectic. But the feature has a groove that flows smoothly once you suspend all reality and give in to the film's playfulness. It's got to be hard for a grown man to create a story out of a bunch of tweets written by a teenaged girl. But Thamrongrattanarit pulls it off with aplomb.