Bamboozled (2000)

It just burns me up that we're always stuck in these asinine sitcoms. And it's funny. Why is it in the opening credits of all these shows that black folks always gotta be dancing?
-Spike Lee, Washington Post 1998



For Spike Lee, the contempt had been brewing. In the interview, he described the state of black films as “coonish, clownish type work.” His widely acclaimed documentary had lost the Academy Award, and a feud between wunderkind Quentin Tarantino had erupted over Spike’s criticism of the filmmaker’s gratuitous use of the N word. Lee wanted to remind him that some still don’t find the word “trendy or slick.” Tarantino reportedly shot back at Spike, telling him, “No black people watch your films.” Samuel L. Jackson’s defense of Tarantino and jab at Lee, only served to make the polarizing filmmaker’s point more clearly. But if you didn’t get it, there at least would be Bamboozled (2000). In the film, Lee takes aim at the entertainment industry and the artists willing to prostitute themselves for a buck.

Words and stereotypes are not only painful reminders of the past, but remain essential components to reinforcing oppression. Segregation was written out of the law, however segregated schools and communities remain. The average income for black Americans in relation to their white counterparts has remained roughly the same since 1880 (black Americans make 61 percent less than the average white income). Our “Justice” system penalizes crack cocaine offenses 100 times more severely than for powder cocaine (5,000 grams of powder cocaine is equivalent to 50 grams of crack under the law). The double standard is simple: crack cocaine is the drug of choice for the predominately poor and black, while powder cocaine is the drug of recreation for the rich. With media hysteria about “crime” rising, while the actual numbers of crime was decreasing, there is no wonder why “Three Strikes Laws” were passed, filling our prisons disproportionally with poor black men. And rather than having to say the N word (unless you’re in a Tarantino movie), the media now has an arsenal of coded words to provoke fear and distrust. The historical role of racial epithets and stereotypes is to dehumanize the subject, leading to fear, hate, or paternalism. With the average black male made out to be such a threat to society, black entertainers have to be “acceptable” (i.e. bourgeois) or harmless buffoons to be successful. The result is minstrel-like entertainment, serving up essentially the same stereotypes without the black face. For Lee to make his satirical point, it seems only obvious to put the black face back on to expose what has been underneath.

For the film to expose stereotypes, the main characters are stereotypes. Dunwitty is both the corporate shark and Quentin Tarantino. He’s a white man who “knows black culture.” He’s married to a black woman (like Tarantino’s character Jimmy in Pulp Fiction), and so it’s okay for him to use racist language. Pierre Delacroix is the middle class, highly educated black man filled with self-hate, yet repressed anger. His unexpressed contempt for the industry and particularly, Dunwitty, sets the film into motion. His passive aggressive response to the racism at CNS is to create the most racist show possible in an effort to both make a satirical point and to get out of his contract. To his surprise, the show is a hit. Man Ray, standing in for the “artist” (given that his name is an obvious reference to the artist Man Ray), allows himself to be degraded by the industry and turned into Man Tan (another reference, but this time to Mantan Moreland). After a brief moral dilemma, Pierre too, begins to accept his role by accepting the racist show he created. However Lee’s broad finger pointing becomes problematic. He criticizes both gangsta rap and expressions of black anger. Mos Def’s Big Black Africa has a moment criticizing the shallowness of industry portrayals of black artists, however he is portrayed as an ignorant opportunist. The only character to bring up systemic issues on race is considered crazy and uneducated. When asked what he is rebelling against, all Big Black Africa can muster is the “system” and seemingly recycle black paranoia with “the USA is the KKK.” This demeaning look at militant black youth comes from Lee’s own class position. The voice of reason in the film is Jada Pinkett Smith’s Sloan. She’s ambitious and well educated and confidently speaks out against Dunwitty’s racism. She calmly criticizes her brother’s militancy, however she offers no solution and no systemic critique. She is the middle class liberal. In essence, she is Spike Lee (or at least, who he sees himself to be). And because of this, there is a conscious distance that needs to be made between himself/herself and the young radical.
Lee’s class position offers no way forward for seriously combating racism. The best that the liberal analysis can muster is “awareness,” reminding people that these images still hurt. This is essentially due to, as Ahmed Shawki writes in his book Black Liberation and Socialism:


Liberal acknowledgement of the problems of racism, of urban ghettos, and of Black poverty and unemployment only went so far. Because, at the heart, liberalism believes that American society and economy is not fundamentally unjust or unequal. Rather, it believes that ‘social problems’ like poverty and racism can be ameliorated with social programs that aim to fix problems on the margins of the system. So on the one hand, this led to a proliferation of programs intended to address the discrete elements of inequality, while on the other hand, this led to a series of theories seeking to blame Blacks themselves, rather than the government or structural racism, for their conditions.



There is no surprise then, that besides the entertainment and advertizing industries, the film also blames the black community for not taking enough “responsibility” in the way they present themselves. The legacy of Jim Crow meant that the black community as a whole could not amass enough wealth to pass down to future generations. The opportunities and the training were denied. Enduring institutional racism keeps schools underfunded, jobs low paying, and opportunities still out of reach. Ditching artistic integrity for a better life seems like an obvious choice. The image that sells is the one that will bring your family out of poverty. Personal responsibility has its place, but what invoking that phrase is really meant to do is distract our attention from the real question. Who decides what gets played? Who benefits from circulating stereotypes of violent, hyper sexualized, and apolitical people? The black community? The artists? Or the industry power structure? Violence and sexism in popular culture are not the products of the artists themselves, but rather are reflections of a society that is inherently violent and sexist.

Grizzly Man (2005)

Nature here is vile and base. I wouldn't see anything erotical here. I would see fornication and asphyxiation and choking and fighting for survival and growing and just rotting away. Of course, there's a lot of misery. But it is the same misery that is all around us. The trees here are in misery, and the birds are in misery. I don't think they sing. They just screech in pain. Taking a close look at what's around us there is some sort of a harmony. It is the harmony of overwhelming and collective murder.

-Werner Herzog in Burden of Dreams

The same sentiment of contempt that was expressed in Les Blank’s 1982 documentary is carried through in Herzog’s Grizzly Man (2005). The film is a character study on Timothy Treadwell, self-proclaimed “kind warrior” and self-appointed defender of the bear habitat in Alaska’s Katmai National Park. To those familiar with Treadwell’s story, it would seem as if the film was meant to ridicule. The film introduces Treadwell as a sort of absurd figure, and undoubtedly his statements are meant to rouse laughter. However, Herzog reveals much more about Timothy Treadwell and ultimately points to the barbarity and irrationality of nature, as it brutally ended the life of its own protector.


Common amongst the Green movement is a rather conscious or unconscious spiritualism. While virulently condemning anthropocentrism, many in the Green movement base their politics on anthropomorphizing nature. As if the earth had a spirit or an agenda. As if the earth had a consciousness or some sort of quality that could be "liberated." As if animals were conscious of their own extinction and that their mortality presented them with an existential dilemma. The universe is indifferent to life and the survival of this planet. Our sun will eventually obliterate the earth in its own self destruction. To say that the earth has an intrinsic interest that humanity is getting in the way of, is a spiritual one. Treadwell was a part of that romantic spiritualism, dedicating his life to protect a group of bears that only in the simplest sense knew of his presence, let alone of his agenda. At first, the verdict can only be that Treadwell was crazy, but the tragedy that Herzog’s documentary is able to reveal is why was so attracted to that particular life. Not all of Treadwell’s footage were meant to be seen. Alone in the forest, Treadwell began to use the camera as a personal testimonial: letting out his loneliness, his anger, his paranoia, and his past. We find out that Treadwell was a recovering addict, and that his newfound love of the bears was what saved him. Treadwell jumped from one addiction to another, projecting his redemption onto beings that could not speak, and therefore could never reject him. To get out of the hole he dug for himself, he needed to live for something beyond him. He needed his cause and he found it. This is a particularly human trait, one that the rest of nature is unaware of and indifferent to. After Treadwell’s death, Herzog shows two bears attacking each other. Unmercifully violent, the two bears go at each other so fiercely they defecate all over themselves. This is nature, Herzog wants to remind us. Treadwell on the other hand, goes to scene of the fight and can’t understand it. He talks to the bear as if it should’ve known better. Herzog’s documentary is both effective at providing insight to Timothy Treadwell, beyond the surface antics, while also being polemic against spiritualistic nature-worshipping.