The lady: a choice between love and your country

When I saw The Lady, based on the life of Aung San Suu Kyi, it sparked a number of debates between myself and the people I went to see the film with. Despite the important role that Suu Kyi has played in Burma's democracy this film is equally about, if not more about, the sacrifice she had to make to leave her family behind in another country, often without any communication. But the question we couldn't settle on was: was that the right decision?

The film starts with Suu Kyi living in England with her husband and two sons playing a very motherly role: cooking up big meals for her family whilst working on a book on her father's life, Aung Sang, the founder of the Communist Party of Burma, who was assassinated when Suu Kyi was a child.

When she goes to Burma to visit her dying mother, she gets caught up in the politics of the country when a group of activists ask her to lead a pro-democracy movement, due to the important role her father had previously played in the country.

At first she declines but, after thinking it over, she decides to accept. This decision eventually leads to her living under house arrest, cut off from her family, going for long spells without even the option to speak to them on the phone.

And this is what the film is centred around, the sacrifice she made in choosing her country over her family and the fight that her husband and sons led to get her international publicity, to get her out of her confinement and to eventually win her the Nobel Peace Prize.

But we're led to doubt her decision to dedicate her life to her country when her husband becomes terminally ill. While he puts off telling her for a long time, Suu Kyi is eventually left with the decision of whether to see her husband for the last time before he dies, leave the country and never be able to return, or continue the fight for democracy in Burma. She decided to stay with her country and the last conversation between her and her husband is one of the most heart-breaking moments I have watched in film. However, she wasn't telling him she couldn't come home, he was telling her she shouldn't. He knew, as much as she did, the importance of her fight.

The film got a number of bad reviews that said it was a pale depiction of an inspirational fighter for democracy and I have to agree, although it gave a quick overview of Suu Kyi's fight for her country, it wasn't the focus of the film, which is probably what you'd expect. The focus is the impact it had on her family life, her relationship with her husband and the huge sacrifices she had to make in that regard. Perhaps this is why we even asked the question of whether her loyalty to her country was the right decision. The focus on her family made her decision seem heart-breakingly cold; whereas, perhaps, if the focus had been more evenly split, her loyalty to the greater good would have seemed more loving, more selfless that it did in the film.

If as much love was shown between Suu Kyi and Burma as there was between Suu Kyi and her husband, I think the question wouldn't have even been raised but the way it was depicted made you wonder if she did in fact make the right decision in staying in her country and not seeing her husband in his dying days. But then if it wasn't for the Government she was fighting against, she wouldn't have had to make such a decision and I still felt, despite the skimming over of her political struggle and her Buddhist influences in this film, that the greater good was the only choice she had.

Submarine: a charming tale of self-discovery

When Submarine came out in the cinema I was upset to find that only the quirky small cinemas that make sure to play some of the best non-mainstream film releases were showing it. The film was directed by Garth Marenghi's Darkplace/ the IT Crowd/ the Mighty Boosh's Richard Ayoade, who also wrote the screenplay, adapted from a novel by Joe Dunthorne.

Having watched the trailer and being a fan of Ayoade's I was keen to see this film but, living a substantial distance away from such a cinema at the time, I did not get to see it. So when I saw this sitting on the shelf in a shop this week, I snapped it up with such enthusiasm others gathered round to stare at what glorious find I was holding in my mitts (ok, that bit didn't really happen).

What I found in the hour and a half that I watched this film was not life-changing. However, what it did have was a whole heap of charm that made me fall a little bit in love with it. The back of the box describes it as a story about a boy trying to lose his virginity while simultaneously protecting the sanctity of his parent's marriage. However, I saw this more as a story about figuring out who you are, putting your periscope above the safety of the ocean's depths for the first time and seeing the world around you for what it is.

Just hanging out in the bath

Oliver Tate, a 15-year old daydreamer from Wales, starts the film in a world of his own imagination, describing how the after-math of his own death would play out, which seemed to consist mostly of every girl he knew saying how amazing he was and laying in a heap together mourning him. He also frequently refers to the idea of how his life would be as a film, as his very own biopic.

And there are charming touches that go along with this self-aware idea of the story being a film. Dramatic b-movie chords frame each "chapter", and at one point when he imagines, in the biopic of his life, the camera would crane up at that point, he adds that the film would probably be low budget and have to zoom out instead. As he voices this thought the camera zooms out with an amateur jump that you're not quite sure is purposely put in. But it's timing is so ingenius that I think it has to be intended.

As Oliver Tate starts to realise he's not the romantic soul he thinks, this daydreaming seems to pass. Although he still collects memories like home-movies and compiles them together at regular intervals, he sees that his parents are flawed human beings, his mother is on the verge of leaving and his dad is in the midst of a deep, unyielding depression that mostly consists of him staring into a lemon tea in his bath robe.

Equally, his almost cringy attempts to enforce romantic encounters on his new girlfriend Jordana turn sour when he sets up the perfect scene for him to pour out his fears about his parents, and finds out instead that she has a much bigger problem than him, meaning he has to put her ahead of himself, which he doesn't handle all that well.

But by the end of the film you can feel a subtle growth within Oliver. A piece of his childhood has been lost to the depths of the ocean (which incidentally is 6 miles deep). And as he begins to see the world around him through the crisp clearness of the air instead of the murky haze of the water he becomes aware that there is a world outside his head. His life is not just a film that others play minor roles in, it is a diverse relationship of different people and personalities and problems. An idea that we perhaps all struggle with at times...

A week of equality fights - and a night in with Milk

This week has been an odd one for equality stories in the media. As a white woman poured out racist slurs on a tram, the Guardian attacked the all-male shortlist for Sports Personality of the year and the argument on equal pay kept stuttering on.

And while, watching the youtube video of the woman screaming racist, xenophopic balls of hatred at her fellow tram passengers made me feel sick to my core, somehow this was all put into context when I watched the biographical film Milk, the story of a gay man turned political activist in his 40s, who became became California's first openly gay elected official.

The woman on the tram, I was glad to hear, had been arrested after the video went viral and attracted the attention of the authorities. But, as argued quite convincingly in this article by Sunny Hundall, arresting her doesn't really solve the root of the problem here, what it really takes in the battle for equality is a "shift in popular culture pushed by brave people" and its this that the film Milk examines.

What was an eye opener for me was watching something that, although only set 30-40 years ago, was so far behind the modern day in terms of the equality fight. Sure,  I've heard the stories of the suffragettes chaining themselves to railings but somehow it's hard to comprehend the struggle and the passion of these woman in their fight for their rights. Watching a more recent story that focuses in on one man's fight, was a lot more powerful.

So, if you're interested in gay rights, women's rights, any rights I would recommend watching Milk. It will give you a taste of what your predecessors went through in the fight, not just for equality, but against oppression, against violent attacks and ignorant slurs, against those who believe themselves to be superior to you. In the midst of the battle, its good to look at those individuals who took the fight into their own hands.

Thelma and Louise: the masculine and the maternal

It would be easy to categorise Thelma and Louise as a man-bashing film, where all the men are bastards that the women have to overcome.

But that's not the case. It's more about that old cliché that women are attracted to the bad guys and can't see a good guy right in front of their noses.

And as they see the light and escape their masculine tormentors, they in turn embrace their own masculine characteristics. And if that gun isn't meant to be a phallic symbol - used to over power the rapists very own special penis-shaped weapon (being shaped like one because that's what it is) - then I don't know what is.

It's a shame really that Thelma wasn't wearing the anti-rape dress or Louise would have never have shot that man. But sadder than the thought of their eventual demise, is the thought of Thelma returning to her husband after a nice weekend in the mountains, back to her life of suppression and inferiority.

In the words of the tagline: "Somebody told them to get a life... so they did."

And, as we have learnt already, a Ridley Scott film wouldn't be a Ridley Scott film without that good old theme of Motherhood running through it. Ok, so that might just be this film and Alien then. But the bond between Thelma and Louise does have the feel of mother and child. The protector and the care-free.

Thelma for the most part of the film takes on the role of the child. Freed from her husband, she embraces her still evident youth. However, unwatched by Louise, who takes on the role of mother, she falls into the grasps of an even worse man who attempts to rape her.

Here is where we see Louise at her most maternal. Clutching the gun as she points it at Thelma's rapist her eyes water but she remains strong, protecting. She becomes, arguably masculine as she points her phallic weapon at the man but there's something too motherly about the relationship between these two for it to feel as such. It feels instead like a mother protecting her young. And, as we later learn, Louise's own ordeals are behind her actions. This is her chance to stand up to her own male tormentors. This is her chance to over power and put fear into his heart. But, unfortunately, he doesn't quite play ball and he gets a bullet in his flesh as a consequence.

For the most part, Louise keeps her cool and keeps playing mother to Thelma but Thelma doesn't seem to learn from her past mistakes to start off with. I mean, who sleeps with a man who tells them he's a robber (even if he is Brad Pitt) and then leaves him in the room alone with their wad of cash?

But this incident leads to a short role reversal between the two, which is symbolised by the swap of the cigarette. Thelma, who we see "try on" a cigarette but not smoke it earlier in the film, like a child trying on Mummy's shoes,  smokes one of Louise's cigarettes, grabs the (phallic) gun and confidently takes on the role of both mother and the masculine, providing for Thelma by robbing a store, threatening and overpowering those in there with her macho confidence, stance and suave words (stolen from Brad Pitt's character earlier in the film).

Louise, in her desolate state after the money is stolen and having been handed the cigarette as Thelma goes in to rob the store, looks at it and throws it away. This is probably the first scene in which Louise doesn't actually smoke. But once Thelma returns with the money, Louise re-assumes her masculine emotional strength and her motherly role towards Thelma, which both continue throughout the rest of the film, but Thelma never quite loses this new found assertiveness and she retains her masculine cockyness till their fatal end, swapping pretty dresses for "tough guy" denims.

So what of the men? Are they all bastards? Well for a while they're so awful that Louise's guy, Jimmy, who can't commit and only realises how much he wants Louise when he finds out she's going away, actually looks pretty good. He helps them out after all, he flies out to see her because he knows it may be his only chance, but there is one man in the film who does actually genuinely care about them.

Unfortunately for Thelma and Louise, they never actually meet him. He is the police officer trying to track them down. But, interestingly he shows quite feminine characteristics. He is understanding, caring, compassionate but he lacks the assertiveness to be heard. He tirelessly tries to get these girls to stop before they get into more trouble, he looks at Thelma's husband and sees him for what he is, he understands the shooting of the rapist for what it was. And, although Louise nearly lets herself be lead towards him when he brings up her own experience of rape, the girls never quite believe him for what he is.

And his fellow police officers, ultimately, do not listen to him when the girls' lives are in the balance. This man could have been their saviour, but by this point they have embraced the masculine. They take a bold and rash decision, and with a motherly hand hold, they create one of the most iconic moments of modern cinema.

Man is not the downfall of woman. Woman just leans towards the man that can lead her there.