Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Thresholds in Dirty Pretty Things

I think a lot of my post is in accordance with Elaina’s in terms of both the morality called into question by the film and the importance of the camera work in the heart scene. 
Stephen Frears’ Dirty Pretty Things creates a conversation regarding immigration into England by juxtaposing the situation with the threshold between life and death. In addition to constant references to spirituality and life beyond death, Dirty Pretty Things cements this relationship with a scene that showcases the importance placed on a human heart found in a toilet. Through a discussion of Slavoj Žižek’s understanding of the importance of otherworldly elements and excrement, Dirty Pretty Things not only situates itself within a tradition of similar scenes, but also welcomes the viewer to choices concerning the interaction with the limit.
            Though Žižek is infamously interested in toilets and what they mean for ideology, his fascination is extended to film in The Pervert’s Guide to Cinema. The following clip shows this understanding (using the gaze as his starting point) as he provides commentary over Coppola’s The Conversation and Hitchcock’s Psycho:

I agree with Žižek that the explanation for this fear—which I would argue is rather ubiquitous—is grounded in our inability to comprehend the return of matter from a “netherworld” back to ours. More importantly, it is hard to miss the resemblance between the scenes of The Conversation and Dirty Pretty Things. Though the intention of both characters and their interaction with the bathroom space is different, both not only display the flowing of blood into the clear water as matter is brought to the surface, but also “return the gaze” onto the characters to reveal their looks of horror. For Dirty Pretty Things especially, there is a point of view shot from the toilet as the blood begins to rise. In this way, organs inhabit the role of the threshold that teeters between life and death, just as desperate immigrants rest precariously on the same limit. If Okwe’s encounter with the toilet is indeed based within this understanding, it creates the opportunity to view the remaining characters in a similar context because of the magnitude of the discovered heart as the catalyst for the film’s action.
            Guo Yi and Ivan are depicted as two options for threshold crossers. Though Guo Yi and Ivan have their individual methods for dealing with this limit—Guo Yi explains his motives for the pocket-stitching scene and Ivan converses with Okwe about the need to ignore the illegal activity of the hotel—their relationship is cemented with their discussion of Charon’s obol. Indeed, Cynthia Lucia suggests a similar understanding by stating “Both men ferry others to subterranean worlds - the hotel is the last stop on the way to the morgue - either literally or figuratively - for those forced to venture there” (9). In both cases, the role of these characters is attached to their relevance for the barrier to the underworld. Though other contrasting views certainly occur between characters—namely the clashing religious views of Okwe and Senay about God and love—the interaction with the underworld makes a startling claim about the nature of the immigrant’s lives.
            This claim, however, appears to be left somewhat ambiguous. On one hand, as Okwe suggests to Senay, their goal is to simply survive. Immigration into England—along with the absurdity of the situation into which immigrants granted asylum are placed—is focused less on the ability to gain access to work than it is access to life itself. On the other hand, Okwe and Senay successfully operate on Juan and are able to achieve their respective goals. In the Lucia interview with Stephen Frears, however, this resolution is complicated:

“Cineaste: What have [the characters] learned?
Frears: Ivan has learned a sort of cynicism that will get you through. If you understand all these things, you can keep your head down and survive. The other two, Okwe and Senay, get trapped by it, though I suppose they learn that they'd rather operate on Sneaky…than get operated on themselves. They've turned the tables on the system. Of course, it would be much better if it weren't necessary for them to do that.
Cineaste: Do they become tainted by their experience?
Frears: No. They're strong people who can deal with it, but the fact that Senay doesn't break down and crack, doesn't mean that something awful hasn't happened” (12).

Part of the illusion of the resolution is this realization that Frears offers: that actions lose their morality due to the constant interaction with the limit between life and death. This is driven home when Juan is trying to coerce Okwe into performing procedures by suggesting his actions are going to help a little girl in need of a kidney.
Thus, Okwe’s speech about worker invisibility pertains to the greed and exploitation associated with capitalism, but it is simultaneously a condition of simply being alive. In other words, if the immigrants inhabit the same space as the heart, the exploiters take the place of Okwe and gasp in horror when they actually see what should belong to the netherworld.
There also seems to be a great interaction between this film and Giorgio Agamben’s homo sacer and bare life, but this post is long enough as it is.


Cynthia Lucia and Stephen Frears, “The Complexities of Cultural Change: An Interview with Stephen Frears.” Cinéaste, Vol. 28, No. 4 (FALL 2003), pp. 8-15

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