Disenchantment vs. Hope: Documentation in "Not One Less"

In class, we discussed how documentation can disenchant us. We may think one thing, but learn another as we experience reality. This is what occurs in “Not One Less” for the teacher and the students. Wei accepts a job as a substitute, believing the job to be simple and hoping to be paid well for not doing much. She finds this to be much harder than expected and learns that she must keep the children in school in order to be paid. They will not do the work she assigns and she takes the assignment literally by barring them from leaving until the end of the day. Then one of her students is sent away to work off his parents debt. Wei needs to be paid so she goes on a journey to find Zhang Huike. Zhang Huike, on the other hand, has ideals about the city. He expects that he’ll be able to avoid work and be fine so he runs away. He finds himself begging for food during the day and sleeping in the train station at night.

There is another level to this disillusionment as an audience. Just as Wei hopes for an easy job and Zhang hopes for an easy life, we hope for the characters to acquire what they need. We anticipate that Wei will find Zhang. But she doesn’t. At least not right away. Our anticipation turns to expectation that the people around her will help, and they don’t either. There is too much red tape and the system fails her over and over again. The realization that all the things put in place to help and protect—security guards and systems—are actually working against the very thing they are supposed to do. Not until someone recognizes the suffering occurring because of the system does remediation occur.

The adventure happens in the everyday. Labor leads to learning. It is through experience that one grows up, and not just mystical kinds of experiences, but ones in which a person simply engages with the world around them.

There is the heartbreaking interview with Zhang as reporters ask what will he remember about the city. “That I had to beg,” he answers. The film records reality and the harsh truth of the world. This is similar to the clip from “Bicycle Thieves” that we viewed in class. The father is trying to be honest and follow the rules of the world, but finds no success. Society does not take care of people as we hope it will. It often punishes them.

This reminds me as well of the documentary I viewed at Sundance. “Most Likely to Succeed” disappoints the audience by revealing the reality of the education system. As a society, we hope that it will prepare students for life after school, but in actuality it prepares them for tests and more recently is not aiding those who graduate to find jobs.

A risk runs of losing hope when seeing these realities, but it is often the human spirit and innovation that finds a way. Wei perseveres and because of a sincere, heartfelt plea, is able to triumph over the severity of the city. Charity of an ordinary man spares the father in “Bicycle Thieves.” In the documentary “Most Likely to Succeed,” normal teachers find alternative solutions to help their students thrive. Humanity saves itself from humanity. Although disenchantment exists, optimism endures.

Maidentrip: Typical Teen, Atypical Adventure

An adventure story often starts out with childishness, but it does not usually end the way it started. Adventure, as discussed in class, is about going on a journey, learning about yourself and the world, and coming back changed. Laura in Maidentrip accomplished two-thirds of that. The film lacks power to be impactful because of Laura’s unaltered attitude, unlike other adventure films that inspire audiences because of character development based on the adventures had.

The theme of this film remains true to the definition found for adventure in class. Laura’s voyage on the sea is self-directed and one that brings her the opportunity to commune with nature and herself. She wants it more than ever because she fights a legal battle to be able to go alone. This is uncharacteristic of typical journeys because often times there is a “call to adventure.” (See Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey.) For example in “Tintin in Tibet,” Tintin has a dream about a friend in trouble. He responds to that dream by traveling to find and rescue his friend. In Spirited Away, the main character Chihiro is forced into a magical world by her parents when they get lost on a road. Laura chooses her adventure. It is more of a call from within. She states how ever since she was born on a boat, she has wanted to go back.

Being in the sea, she realizes how small she is, commenting, “I really feel like a guppy when I am on this big ocean.” Laura begins to be humbled when she is alone, but concludes part way through the journey that she likes it that way. She experiences her “ordeal” (Campbell) as she makes the longest and most dangerous stretch of her journey from Australia to South Africa. The ocean tests her, but she makes it through. This boosts her confidence and her ego. Tintin on the other hand experiences his ordeal when he faces the Yeti in the Himalayas. Chihiro faces her ordeal in a bathhouse when she helps a stink spirit, No-Face, and Haku with their various afflictions. Tintin cultivates confidence and deeper love for his friend Chang. Chihiro learns selflessness.

The “return” (Campbell) is characterized by transformation, like Tintin and Chihiro’s character development: Tintin was taught to doubt himself by the adults around him, but he perseveres and is validated; Chihiro starts with a whiny attitude about moving, but recognizes the complexities and problems of the people around her. Laura, however, never returns—literally and figuratively. She decides Holland holds nothing for her so she travels on to New Zealand after her trip around the world, and she remains self-centered. This is made apparent as she films mostly in a “selfie”-style as well as how she states that she doesn’t need her Dad anymore.

Laura’s pursuit of her dream is admirable. She has a goal and she accomplishes it. The deficiency lies in the ability of the journey to shape her into a new person. I even watched a Tedx video of her 2 years later. Her focus on the material world (talking about how she learned to cook and fix the ship) emphasizes the lack of an inner spiritual change. Even Max in “Where the Wild Things Are” as young as he is, experiences a change of heart when he comes back from the forest and appreciates his family. Laura never reaches this, and so the audience has no place to reach with her.

The Embodiment of Charity: Morality in Stargirl

The stuff of fairytales, fables, legends, and even young adult novels is very heavy-handed in moral teaching, but it is written beautifully. It’s digestible. Something so abstract as morality becomes tangible. That’s what I knew after reading Stargirl. This and other forms of children’s media make goodness and perfection a possibility, and because they are possible, they are real. The book is marketed as a novel about non-conformity, but the book is really about charity, and that’s what makes it a moral tale.

In a non-jeering way, Stargirl is a saint. She does good without being asked, and, more importantly, not expecting anything in return. She hopes that she will make people happy, but when she can’t (Wayne Parr and Hillari what’s-her-name), she realizes she must press forward and continue to be happy because she can’t help everyone, but she can help some of them. Speaking in LDS terms, she’s very concerned with the “one.” Like the man on the bench her and Leo passed on their walks. We don’t worry about “How does she have time for all this?” She makes time for it because it’s a priority, or more accurately, goodness is a part of her.

Although she is a fictional character, she is situated in a believable world. She is in a high school, typical of the ones readers attended. She is unbelievable in her sphere, but the other characters confirm her authenticity. Archie, the philosophizing paleontologist, often talks about how she is more in touch with her real and original self than anyone else. Because she operates in a familiar world, we can relate better to her and to the story. The audience can apply her characteristics in their domain. It makes it possible to see that we, too, can be charitable and aware of those around us.

Characteristic of children’s media, the morals presented in Stargirl are “black and white.” The other students are clearly portrayed as being in the wrong because they oppose this purely selfless and charitable character. This didactic element helps readers recognize what the author intends for them to learn.

There is also a tale of redemption within the story of Stargirl. Her friend and first love, Leo, is the gray character that displays both good and bad and is trying to find his place in the world. The most heartbreaking and moral-telling moment occurs as the Ukee Dooks perform in the courtyard. Leo reflects, “I knew what I should do.” But he doesn’t do it. In this sense there is no redemption. He will be forever stuck with the regret of choosing “them” over Stargirl. Most readers can relate to knowing the right thing to do and not following through with it at some point in their lives. This is why stories like this are written. We need to be reminded constantly and re-awaken the moral root within us because our amoral selves are at battle with our innate goodness.

He never gets to be with Stargirl again, but he has learned from the experience. He becomes a better person—a more aware person—and that is his redemption. “When I see change on the sidewalk, I leave it there. If no one’s looking, I drop a quarter. I feel guilty when I buy a card from Hallmark. I listen for mockingbirds” (p. 185).

This duality in regret and redemption is comparable to the different versions of Red Riding Hood. In the original, she is eaten. There is no repentance or forgiveness. The child (or whoever the audience may be) learns not to trust wolves, or, in the case of Stargirl, after realizing that Leo will never again see Stargirl, the teenager learns to embrace goodness and emulate it when he or she comes into contact with it. They also learn to embrace people for who they are and not be ashamed of the judgments of others. In the later version, Red Riding Hood gets away. Leo starts seeing the world around him as does the audience vicariously.

The ultimate moral of this story and many other children’s tales is the second great commandment—to love others in a way that rids division. Although Stargirl is different and they have segregated her out from among them, this division is invisible to her. That is why she is such a morally strong character.  She reaches the epitome of selflessness—maybe the crowing jewel of morality? “I never saw her look in a mirror, never heard her complain. All of her feelings, all of her attentions flowed outward. She had no ego” (p. 53). The clear presentation of right and wrong, and the relatable characters make Stargirl a prime learning tool of morality to teach children to put others first at a time in their development when all they tend to see is themselves.