I’ve been thinking a lot about censorship lately, catalyzed by a recent visit to the Library of Congress, and fed by one of my many, fabulous conversations with Nokuthula Mazibuko. The Library of Congress collects documents (books, newspapers, pamphlets) they think are important or indicative of a culture in countries and regions where there are no organized libraries to save in their collections. This is all well and good for a library that’s used only on a national level; however, the Library of Congress is used on a national scale. So then, we aren’t really accurately portraying these societies, or, at the very least, we fail to capture the way they see themselves, making me think this time would be better spent helping these areas develop library systems. Nokuthula and I talked about censorship through access to books. I brought up my surprised that while I was living in Maseru, Lesotho, the country’s capitol, I couldn’t buy any books. Well, I could by a books on Lesotho distributed through the tourism office, a Sesotho language book and dictionary, and a Bible, all in English, but nothing else; if I wanted books I needed to travel four hours into South Africa. Nokuthula told me there is only one bookstore in all of South Africa that sells books in her native language, and that section amounts to only a tiny shelf in a very large store. Therefore, those who do not speak or read English would be kept from accessing these books and the knowledge and ideas they contain.
Last Wednesday, Carmen mentioned to me she often had trouble reading films, and felt she needed filmmakers to “dumb it down” so she could understand then. I began to wonder if there are ways to limit people’s access to film in a manner similar to what is done with books. Obviously, there are restrictions of age on many films, but all of those can be “gotten around” if you know someone over the age of 17 who will buy you a movie ticket. In my thinking, I decided language, and the way we as Americans decide what films are “good,” are forms of access censorship. In America, we tend only to value “American-made,” English-language films. By “American-made,” I don’t mean the films have to exclusively star American actors and actresses, be made by an American director, writer or producer, but they do have to be released by a major American studio to garner our attention and be considered a “good,” even “great” film. In fact, we don’t really mind British films, as long as they are released in America, by an American studio, and it has to be a big studio. Oh, I suppose I should explain where I’m getting this from – the Oscars. With categories like “Best Foreign Film,” we’re making a feeble attempt to include other cultures and languages in our film experience, but falling quite short. Because the Oscars are American, but, like the Library of Congress, internationally recognized as a barometer of “film goodness,” we ought to do our best to present films on an even field. I had the great pleasure of seeing one of last year’s nominees for “Best Foreign Film,” Yesterday, a beautifully filmed and acted and touching South African Film. In my opinion, it ought to have been considered in other categories. Alas, this fabulous film has gone quite unnoticed by the general public of America. Another example of “access censorship” in filmmaking is the Nolan brother’s Memento, which I had the immense pleasure to see and rent while I was living in Britain in 2001. Memento was released to a general audience in the United Kingdom on October 20, 2000. It wasn’t shown in the United States until January 16, 2003 at the Palm Springs International Film Festival, and never in wide-release in theaters. It is my opinion that this fine and quite innovative film went largely unnoticed by the general public, who is skeptical at best about films with a “foreign” stigma, as well as films that weren’t first released to a wide audience in America. Maybe filmmakers think the general public is too dumb to “get” these films, but with more exposure, I’m sure the public will learn to love and understand these films. Besides, you don’t have to understand everything the first time you see it to enjoy and appreciate a film. So, let’s open our eyes, and the eyes of the public, and start recognizing small-budget and foreign films as real contenders in the Academy Awards. And, let’s congratulate the Academy for recognizing a wonderful small-budget “indie” film, eLittle Miss Sunshine, this year.