Though
both Syriana and Babel attempt to comment on the global
political environment through perspective, Babel is more
successful as a result of the depiction of the Chieko
storyline. By oscillating between the intimate world of Chieko and
the vaster geographical and political landscape, Iñárritu
makes a powerful claim about the marginalized role of civilians
within the broader global sphere. As a result, I would argue against
Deborah Shaw's reading of the film as being entirely dependent on the
“tourist gaze,” and would suggest the film more closely aligns
with Wallace Katz's understanding of the dialectical movement
showcased by Syriana
that highlights these marginalizations in a significant way.
Shaw's
argument is built around her reading of Babel
as a Hollywood attempt at world cinema that not only necessitates and
adopts the gaze of a tourist, but also erroneously hinges on
cross-cultural empathy—something that Shaw argues is impossible.
“The film presents an image of a linguistically and ethnically
unified country,” Shaw suggests, “because it is not concerned
with creating an authentic documentary-like portrait of rural
Morocco, but seeks to present characters as archetypes that sit
comfortably in a tale ultimately more concerned with representing
U.S. concerns” (22). Shaw is right to point out the link between
film watching and tourism, and it is true that Iñárritu calls
attention to this fact with the actual tourists displaying foreign
anxiety throughout the Morocco storyline. While Iñárritu's
depiction of the Moroccan people and culture can be called into
question, Shaw does not focus on the storyline that the viewer is
able to interact with most: that of Chieko. Indeed, Shaw's theory
somewhat backfires when she mentions, “While the film has a focus
on non-Western cultures, the shadow of U.S. socio-political concerns
hangs over all of these, with the exception of the Japanese
storyline” (15). Even within her own argument about the importance
placed on an American “tourist gaze,” it does not seem to apply
to Chieko's depiction. The reason is because Iñárritu is making a
different, unique claim with Chieko that hinges on the act of
perceiving, instead of the reaction to perception.
Chieko
fits more into Katz's realization about the characters in Syriana
and how they fit within the larger global scheme. Speaking of
Syriana,
Katz admires how:
“[Syriana]
always relates the core of the global world to its margins, and
global institutions such as imperial governments and corporations to
lesser but value-laden institutions such as the family and the
community. Indeed, it is this dialectical spheres of global policy
and action to the peripheral and microscopic spheres of local and
human life, that makes for the film's real and necessary complexity”
(108-109)
While
Babel
might not share the “complexity” of Syriana,
Chieko's “microscopic sphere” appears to be the central focus of
Iñárritu. Though we share an intimacies between Richard and
Susan, Iñárritu forces us to view the world through Chieko like no
other character. We witness the lives of the Moroccan family and the
wedding of the Mexican family, but a large time is spent inhabiting
the perception of Chieko. Whether in the “J-Pop,” the night club,
or walking through the street, the muteness of Chieko's world offers
a stark contrast to the commotion of the Japanese streets or the
Moroccan village. In this way, Iñárritu is just simply not relying
on a “tourist gaze” or a “world cinema gaze,” but is forging
a unique view that habitually functions through the character.
In
keeping with Katz's notion, then, Iñárritu
re-establishes the hierarchy of perceptions by placing more
importance on Chieko's interior machinations than on exterior
(American) viewpoints. Shaw is right to point out that despite the
sale of the rifle by Chieko's father, “the characters affected will
never be more than a momentary, miscommunicated news item that
appears on her television set. Thus, while her storyline is very
powerful, no real ties link her to others” (27). Both of these
notions make Chieko integral to Babel,
and allow the film to suggest a more provocative understanding of
transnationalization. She is kept apart from the others because of
her marginalization—her link to the rest of the film is through her
father, who is just barely connected as well. And yet, the viewer not
only inhabits her point of view more than any other character, but
she also gets the final shot. As we see her nakedly embrace her
father, the pair is lost as the camera pans to a wider and wider
shot, revealing the sprawling skyline and lights of Japan. This move,
along with the focus on Chieko overall, suggests Iñárritu's attempt
at a reversal of focus and emphasis. Katz opines that what is often
“ignore[d] about globalization is that...every action at the top of
the pyramid or its core engenders a reaction at all other levels and
especially at the bottom or on the periphery” (109). With Chieko,
Iñárritu questions the influence of globalization over her by
making her not only indifferent to the Richard and Susan storyline,
but also by first focusing on Chieko and her father in this closing shot.
It is not the movement from the top down (like an inverted base and
superstructure?) but is instead focusing on the bottom and revealing
how it gets lost at the top. Syriana
does
this to a certain extent, but the film is more guilty of employing
the tourist gaze than creating a unique viewpoint through which to interpret the other actions occurring in the film.
Katz,
Wallace. “Hollywood Rarity: Imperialism Unmasked: Syriana by
Stephen Gaghan; The Constant Gardener by Fernando Meirelles; Why We
Fight by Eugene Jarecki.” New
Labor Forum,
Vol. 15, No. 3 (Fall, 2006), pp. 107-112.
http://www.jstor.org/stable/40342651?origin=JSTOR-pdf
Shaw,
Deborah Anne. "Babel and the global Hollywood gaze."
Situations:
Project of the Radical Imagination,
4.1, pp 11-31 (2011).
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