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Two
views on Hotel Rwanda
with
Beth! Orcutt, In Ruckus [Vol. 8, Iss. 4, February 2005]
Two
reviews of the movie Hotel Rwanda.
One by an enthusiastic yet critical Beth! Orcutt. One by a furious
Jelte Harnmeijer. But which is right? Will we ever know? And is
there a God, and if so, what does he have to say about Rwanda? Read
on for answers to these and other questions.
Review 1: An enthusiastic yet critical Beth!
Orcutt
As I stepped past the Amnesty International
volunteers crowding the theatre entryway, I wondered to myself how
a movie about genocide could possibly be PG-13. Genocide - the crime
of all crimes that gets its own pedestal in the halls of International
Law for being The Very Worst Thing. How could a movie about annihilation
possibly be PG-13?!
Hotel Rwanda captures the unimaginable
violence of genocide by telling the true story of a person, an ordinary
guy surviving in extraordinary circumstances: Paul Rusesabagina
(masterfully played by Don Cheadle), manager of the Hotel Mille
Collines in Rwandas capital city of Kigali. The circumstances
the opening days of the savage killing of Tutsis by Hutus
in Rwanda in 1994. By giving a human face to the conflict, director
Terry George (Some Mothers Son, In the Name of the Father)
harnesses extreme anguish to bring the horrors of genocide close
to home.
For the gore-seekers out there, the PG-13
rating might be a letdown. You wont see images of children
hacking their neighbors to death with machetes, or of churches packed
full of refugees set ablaze - both common occurrences during the
3-month peak of killing in 1994 that claimed the lives of 800,000
Tutsis. (Thats equivalent to nearly 9000 people killed per
day for 3 months in an area the size of Massachusetts.) Instead,
youll suffer the emotional trauma of Pauls young son
who witnesses the killing of a neighbor, coming home covered in
blood. Youll shrink from streets on fire and catch glimpses
of unbelievable fields of corpses through the fog. Youll be
exasperated as you watch the fear of children and the sorrow of
mothers as they wait and tremble and cry, only feet away from their
executioners.
Cheadles portrayal of Paul is premium,
elevating the film from the realm of simple humanitarian propaganda
into a higher league that incorporates masterful character development.
As the film opens, we see Paul as a polished, level-headed and ambitious
businessman, hoping to avoid getting involved with any trouble,
which he is sure will soon pass. We watch as Paul smoothes trying
situations (for instance, being told to choose which family members
live or die) by greasing tracks well-worn with successful business
dealing (a.k.a bribery). Yet, as time marches along, we witness
both the evolution of Paul, as he begins to realize that he has
to protect refugees and victims, and the parallel devolution of
Paul, as he breaks down under the crushing reality of the violence
that has engulfed his world. In this, an ordinary man who understands
the workings of power is simultaneously reduced and transformed
by recognizing and reconciling with an evil that annihilates his
estimation of civilization.
By focusing on the personal aspects of this
atrocious violence, however, the broader background of the reality
of the genocide is hastily introduced through cliché, biased,
and over-generalized one-liners. The generation of Tutsi versus
Hutu ideologies is blamed on Belgian colonizers; France is admonished
for supporting Hutu Power and supplying them with weapons. While
there is an element of truth in these statements, they are poor
simplifications for what is a complex and continuing struggle of
identity and power. It is unfortunate that Joaquin Phoenixs
character, a Western news cameraman, was on the receiving end of
many of these half-truths; his limited yet poignant appearance is
jerked along by others awkward blanket statements. Even further,
parties in the conflict were painted with stereotypical brushes
the advancing Tutsi army was shown as a glorious saving force
against the evil Interahamwe Hutu militias. In reality, each side
trailed along a blurry past.
While some aspects of the conflict are glazed
over, the film still manages to expose uncomfortable truths. A defining
element that transformed this conflict into genocide was the coordinated
and deliberate plan of killing, made possible by propaganda spread
via the Hutu Power-sponsored radio. As the film opens, an unseen
announcer is heard calling for the eradication of the Tutsi
cockroaches. When the Hutu presidents plane is shot
down (responsibility for this is still questioned), the announcer
is back, initiating the call to cut down the tall trees
(meaning kill the Tutsis).
Additionally, the film points an accusatory
finger at the inaction of the Western world to save civilian lives.
A UN peace-keeping General (Nick Nolte) bemoans his
orders to not intervene to stop the campaign of violence, claiming
that nobody cares what happens in Rwanda because westerners are
racist. The hot-air supporting U.S. and other nations offerings
of international human rights and humanitarian law is exposed for
the sham it is by the display of an unwillingness of State department
officials to use the g-word (genocide!) because of the implications:
using the g-word would require sending in troops. The director purposefully
displayed these sentiments in an effort to open the eyes of people
in the West to their guilt in this international affair. There is
even a hint of the Wests superficiality when Joaquin Phoenixs
character announces that those who see his footage will say Oh,
my God, thats terrible, and go on eating their dinners.
In reality, the movie may not have gone far
enough in implicating the complicity of the West. The UN not only
prevented soldiers on the ground from intervening, they actually
declined advance warning that atrocities were on the horizon by
removing troops from Rwanda. Once it became obvious how gruesome
the conflict was becoming, international agents finally arrived
on the scene to save the day, only to find that they were setting
up refugee camps for the same Hutu killers that were now fleeing
an advancing Tutsi army, thus exacerbating an already unmanageable
situation. These are just a few examples. Of course, Terry George
would likely have had to make Hotel Rwanda Parts 1-5 to tell the
whole story.
The limitation for expressing the full range
of complexity of the Rwanda genocide is apparent, yet it only slightly
detracts from the powerful conveyance of the horror it wreaks. As
the world each of us knows becomes increasingly global, the only
way to connect our common struggle may be by reducing the unknown
through sharing our personal experiences. In this light, Hotel
Rwanda speaks volumes to how just one person can change the
world.
Review 2: A furious Jelte Harnmeijer
Make no mistake. Hotel Rwanda is a
movie about the 1994 genocide in Rwanda written and directed by
Westerners for Western audiences. Is there an honest effort to portray
real Rwandans? Certainly not if we are to judge this by Don Cheadles
portrayal of the main character Paul Rusesabagina, although he admittedly
deserves merit for playing an exceptionally convincing role as the
Westernized African Man. Just look at Paul, the successful
business man with his European clothing and efficiency bringing
order and the light of reason to the marauding hoards in Africas
heart of darkness! How his clean and profitable hotel stands out
as an ivory lighthouse to helpless drowning Tutsi victims in a sea
of Hutu chaos! Ah, there is hope for Africa after all! Disgusting.
If you want to understand genocide, this
movie does far more harm than good. Decades of complicated ethnic
strife, in a highly volatile region of Africa, doubly underwritten
in blood-red ink by German and Belgian colonialism, are cleanly
distilled with Hollywood-style efficiency into a dualistic battle
that pits evil Hutus against a minority of freedom-loving Tutsis.
Most unforgivably, the only mention of Rwandas
colonial past occurs when we learn that the entire distinction between
Tutsis and Hutus was arbitrarily fabricated, on the basis of height,
by Belgian colonial administrators. I mean, lets not give
the Africans too much credit in assuming that they can draw their
own lines without European assistance, eh!? No, lets rather
leave the drawing of lines and the construction of high-voltage
barbed-wire fences and enclosures to the European colonists, who
have indeed displayed an uncanny historical aptitude for these activities,
not in the least by carving up most of Africa into arbitrary regions
neatly compatible with European maps. Oh, and hey, if some of these
infinitely thin lines end up dissecting the lives, languages, societies
and memories of the inhabitants (the ones not carried off to slavery),
and some of the resultant boxes morph into air-tight Colosseums
for brewing animosity, then
well, thats why we have
the United Nations, isnt it? Hah, one of the few redeeming
qualities of Hotel Rwanda is its relatively accurate account
of the impotent role the United Nations played during the Rwandan
bloodbath.
Hey, guess what director Terry George and
film-writer Keir Pearson, hard as it may be to swallow: IT WAS NOT
THE ARRIVAL OF YOUR EUROPEAN ANCESTORS THAT STARTED THE CLOCK OF
HISTORY TICKING ON AFRICAN SOIL! Hey, card-carrying members of Western
civilization, listen up! Never mind that, well before
your priests and warriors commenced their generous quest to spread
history across the globe, people that call themselves Hutus were
the original inhabitants of modern-day Rwanda. Never mind that peoples
labeled by your historians as Cushites arrived from a region your
geographers call the southern Ethiopian highlands at a time your
chronologers call the 1300s. Never mind that the new arrivals, who
call themselves Tutsis today, were different in almost every respect
from the resident Bantu Hutus (African is African, right!?). Never
mind that Tutsis clearly and unambiguously maintain a systematic
social and political distinction to the present day. Never mind
that this pre-existing divide was exploited and widened, but certainly
not created, to become the chasm into which Hutus and Tutsis alike
have thrown one another to their deaths over the last decennia.
Ok, maybe you just want to get a feeling
for what life in Rwanda is like? Again, this movie does far more
harm than good. Only a handful of scenes were shot in Rwandas
capital Kigali. Most of the movie was filmed in South Africa, with
a largely South African cast. The insights we get into a normal
day in Rwanda consist predominantly of scenes showing rich Rwandans
mingling on Pauls freshly sprinkled green lawn and in his
fancy fortified house. Somewhat more representatively, there is
some drive-by footage of South African slums, but I guess the camera
crew was too worried about getting their expensive equipment stolen
by people forced to live in tin shacks to actually bother depicting
what real Rwandans everyday lives are like.
How warm and fuzzy we are made to feel when,
in one of the final scenes (yes I will spoil it for you!), the persecuted
Tutsis finally escape out of the hostile clutches of Hutu-controlled
territory to arrive behind the front line, where vigilant
Tutsi freedom-fighters are virtuously shouldering the responsibility
of the ultimate battle of good versus evil.
I will waste no further words on Hotel
Rwanda. Instead, Im going to continue reading a book I
wish I had brought along with earplugs and a headlamp- when
I went to the theatre: We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow
We Will Be Killed With Our Families: Stories from Rwanda by
Philip Gourevitch. Read that instead.
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