It’s
interesting to think of our world, our culture, as changeable, or even
erasable. We create artifacts like
notations in a small book, paintings, even films to preserve some aspect of our
lives, some record that we were here, or the stories we care about happened or
could happen. But notebook pages get
discarded or fade, paintings (like the one on the alleyway across the street
from the shop) can be graffitied or distorted and films can be erased. In introspection of those artifacts, we can
see the role of Selective Tradition; that which survives to pass along. Even when all that’s left is the iconic matter
(like cardboard cars, trains and fans), the realization must be made that icons
can also be manipulated, films can be recorded over, and the tradition of
historical criticism can be questioned.
Only a decoding of the differing cultures existing in the same space and
examination of the power struggle incorporated can aid in making sense of the
dialectic.
Be Kind, Rewind, hits
on the ever fading way of life of a deteriorating slum in Passaic, New
Jersey. A condemned corner building in
danger of being bulldozed to make way for corporate industry, like condos, is at
the epicenter of our story. The
interplay of cultures establishes themselves from the very beginning shots of
the film. In the distance there is the
glowing metropolis of New York City, with its skyline and dominate hegemony. And in the forefront, a trailer parked next
to a power plant and a decrepit VHS rental store that sells outdated artifacts
to people who are equally outdated. The
owner of the store, Elroy Fletcher, is assured that his moving to the projects
and the remodeling of the neighborhood will “improve the lives of the people in
the city.” In these oppressive power relations,
we see big business, the middle man, and the individual “negotiating their
collective existence” (Clarke, 104). Mr.
Fletcher’s approach is a negotiated one.
He attempts to conform to the supposed needs of the changing
culture. Deciding to upgrade to DVD’s,
he fails to recognize that his clientele can’t afford the equipment with which
to play them. Mike and Jerry, on the
other hand decode this relationship oppositionally. They recognize the power of the local
government, but they resist it, doing everything possible to save the
store.
Before
we read too much into the content of this film, we should do as Hall encourages
and examine some external factor as well.
First, we must also note that this piece, written and directed by Michel
Gondry, is heavy on selective tradition in its own realm. He chose to represent only one side of a
story. Granted, his side might be the
one with which the audience will ultimately agree, but his community approach
to the situation, the transparency of the dominate culture forcing their ideals
on the working-class parent culture, and the necessity for the subculture to
rebel is telling in its own right. Look,
for instance, at the ease and complete lack of budget with which the
protagonists recreate the blockbuster titles, emphasizing only the memorable
parts of each story. In juxtaposing
this film with a commentary on the current social structure of Hollywood, one
can see the ridiculousness of the studios (the dominate culture) asking for $3.15
billion in fines or 63,000 years in prison for copyright infringement. The film, though riddled with clever and
hilarious moments, is clearly a statement on class power struggles, all the
while using popular actors to tell his story.
As
cultural studies deals specifically with the interplay of associations in the power
struggle, an examination of its complex relationships is essential. This film seems to purport an obvious hegemony:
the corporations that want to buy that last corner building in the neighborhood. Not only do they create, but they also work
within inserting themselves into the ideology of the subordinate class (Clarke,
102). A clear filmic example would be
the notion of financial success can only be found in one format: DVD’s at the
chain stores comprised of a high quantity of few titles, in only two genres. The local government and developers function
as the working class parent culture (complete with their desperation to
maintain the parental identification that supports them in this “theatre of
struggle” (Clarke, 103)). For a time,
Mr. Fletcher conforms into this category as well. Lastly, the subculture presents itself,
bringing with them their own generational experience in attempting to cope and
to solve problems in an almost imaginary way.
Just as Mike is allowed space to manage living in a slum by believing
that Fats Waller lived in the building; “a bedtime story to make this place
bearable,” the subculture “wins space” by simply recording their own version of
history (films “stolen” from the big film industry).
In
Be Kind, Rewind, the “sweeded” creations
are considered more creative and more desirable than the originals they are
parodying. Indeed, even the word “sweeded”
is a rebellion against the hegemonic authority of language. They invent a word to establish their own
belonging within this new record of their culture. And the attempt is communal. Soon the entire neighborhood becomes
“stockholders of their own happiness.” They
cluster around the store, begging for the product of this subculture and even
gaining full investment by helping to create the “sweeded” films and the
artifacts necessary for producing them. When
the hegemony threatens to overtake them, this subculture joins together to
create their own record of their believed culture; stating simply that “The
past belongs to us, and we can change it if we want.” This community creates a new history, a
social memory, experienced and told by all.
It no longer matters what has been erased, only what has been
experienced and created.
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