Nightjohn apparently commanded a sizeable budget for a Hallmark production; the cinematography is more lush, the production values more elaborate than usual. Carl Lumbly plays the film's eponymous character with laser intensity, fierce eyes framed by dark brow; you can imagine the actor playing either Christ or Judas, perhaps both (would have had more respect for Mel Gibson if he had cast Lumbly as Christ or Judas in his boxoffice smash of a snuff flick).
Instructive comparing Burnett's film to Gary Paulsen's short novel. Paulsen, a popular writer of youth fiction, created a slim account of the cruelties in store for rebellious slaves in the South. That's what you remembered from the book: the sadism and graphic brutality. Slave owner Clel Waller was a "white maggot"-- his characterization didn't go much deeper than that; Sarny was a mere narrator, Nightjohn a cipher, the book efficient but inexpressive (oddly enough Paulsen in 1997 wrote a sequel titled Sarny, which seems to benefit somewhat from Paulsen having (strictly my suspicion no hard evidence to back it up) seen Burnett's adaptation).
Burnett with help from writer Bill Cain fleshes out Paulsen's flimsy characters: Sarny is now a quiet yet spirited girl ("she's 'still waters,'" her guardian Dealey (Lorraine Toussaint) observes); John (as he's called onscreen) a man who lost his family, finds another along the way.
The biggest difference comes with Burnett and Cain's treatment of Waller. As Beau Bridges plays him Clel has an affable roguish charm; he's not a bad man or (key difference) doesn't think of himself as a bad man-- he doesn't flog his slaves because he enjoys the act or needs to vent his frustrations (at one point he tells his son "I've never whipped a slave in anger"); he does so because it's expected of him, part of the business of owning slaves-- good practice, is all.
Or so Waller thinks; in another significant change from the novel Burnett and Cain actually trace the flow of plantation money and labor onscreen, from the bank loans that buy the seeds to the long days watching and watering to the frantically heroic efforts to harvest to the machinations brought to bear behind Waller's back that force him to borrow from the bank again. Looking at his sagging face as he gradually realizes he has not made a fortune-- the opposite, if anything-- and you almost feel sorry for this slaveowner. Almost.
When John is found out Waller extracts an appalling penalty. John in the book keeps quiet and carries on the revolution behind Waller's back, setting up 'pit schools' (pits dug in the ground and covered so that the lamplight doesn't leak). John in the film is openly defiant; he tells Sarny "When an arm is cut off the other grows stronger. You're my other arm now." Sarny proves John right; she not only reads better than he does and at an earlier age she takes on Waller too-- only she's smarter, able to think on her feet.
At one point walking a dangerous tightrope Sarny points out to Waller that he's actually a very rich man. His slaves are his greatest wealth, his problem being he can't seem to monetize them effectively. An extraordinary moment, not just for Sarny but for Burnett and Cain-- it's like they've gotten so far deep into the mindset of this man that they can see him in his entirety, assets and liabilities and all, even clearer than he does himself. Yes his greatest wealth are his slaves, maltreated and abused as they are; if he can look beyond those blinkered terms-- see them as equals and partners to nourish and collaborate with-- he might even start making some serious money.
In Paulsen's book John and Sarny take their punishments without complaint, then secretly carry on the teaching, a quieter safer way to respond to oppression. John and Sarny are retooled to be more active in Burnett's film and while their solutions may seem farfetched, said solutions are often rooted in the power of literacy to be applied, not just to immediate objectives (deciphering maps, reading road signs, forging day passes), but also long-range goals (knowing slave laws-- knowing one's way around slave laws-- and someday maybe repealing them). A lesson that resonates especially today, in this information age, and a lesson I couldn't resist pointing out to my students, to keep in mind when picking up a book.
Burnett gives us the antebellum South in all its moods, from everyday grit to evening glamor. Waller holds a lavish dinner for his older brother and guests, all sweeping candlelit shots and extravagantly plush furniture; when the topic of slavery pops up in conversation the camera stops to gaze as Sarny is slapped for dropping a tray of food. John teaches Sarny in the glow of firelight, the student warming her mind under the blaze of her teacher's attention; when Waller uncovers evidence of slaves reading (a stolen bible) he conducts his investigation under the noon sun, to better highlight the horrors to come.
Interesting to note that some of my students already saw the film; that teachers have gotten wind and are showing this to kids, usually for Black History Month. Ironic to think perennially cashstrapped Burnett was thusly bankrolled, and granted the biggest exposure of his career thanks to Disney.
I pointed out how Allison Jones' wide-open eyes give Sarny's face freshness and urgency; also pointed out that narrating Nightjohn through her voice and words adds a fairy-tale feel to the story, the camera-- taking its cue from that voice-- wrapping the drama in a ravishing glow (I remember Old Man's fierce face (Bill Cobb) as he recites his alphabet, just before revealing the heavy price he paid for learning). Burnett tells an important episode in African-American history in his distinctly humane gracefully understated manner-- all on a TV movie budget, under the banner of the world's largest entertainment corporation. That in my book counts as a miracle.
1.18.16, edited 2.2.18, then 2.26.26
No comments:
Post a Comment