Tuesday, November 4, 2008

The Secret Life of Bees

The Secret Life of Bees
(a review)

The movie was as good as the book. The tension between the terrible bursts of violence, and the long peace at the Boatwrights’ home is balanced, and the edge never is lost. The wailing wall, and May, are beautifully portrayed. I carried the pain and raw knees from kneeling on grits on the hard floor for a long time, and the scars on Rosalie.
I loved August Boatwright. Her “dark honey” strength, her persona, her ability to stand against the violence in a way that made it ebb instead of increase. Her ability to talk to the angry T Ray, and make him see that leaving his daughter there was a better thing to do. I loved the scene where she is lifting the panniers of honey covered with bees from the frame, and not losing her serenity and rhythm; the easy flow of the work, and the peaceful day in a magical place. I want to be like her when I grow up! And I want her strength to multiply, ‘til all the T Rays stop torturing the people they are hurting. ‘Til we get ALL the thorns from the paws of all the bullies.
The name “Boatwright” made me see the dark Madonna in a new light—from someone who probably carved her, maybe their dad or grandfather. She wasn’t as victorious as I had imagined her—maybe the carver had not seen a fully heroic black warrior woman, the equivalent of the “winged victory” statues in Europe. Something from Rodin, or Henry Moore. She was smaller, and older, and her chest was bony. But she was very powerful, as the story evolved, and as their hands drew near to her heart for that touch of empowering strength. She wasn’t as sexy, and maybe that was an added strength.
I loved the portrayal of the romance between June and her boyfriend, and how she becomes finally capable of the courage to have the relationship evolve into a marriage. I loved the sentence August says to Lily, trying to make her understand about the flaws in her mother-- about her wanting love that is "pure", and these sorts of situations don’t allow that unmixed emotional feeling. That there are a lot of complications sometimes, which color the emotional tone. However she put it, it was believable; that the mother had loved the child, but that her mistakes had made the whole thing tragic. And even that the love her mother had had for T Ray had started out right.
I loved Rosalie, and how she was believable too; when she stood up to the men who were bullying her, as she was planning to vote. Acting like she was ignorant and illiterate. How hard it must be to be in a town where people think they know you, and they actually don't know anything right about you. And they won't even try to understand or give you the benefit of the doubt.
Today I got an email from a friend in New Mexico that said:

"Rosa sat
So that Martin could march
Martin marched
So that Barack could run
Barack is running
So that our children can fly."

It is a truly historic day. I pray that God will bless America, and help us sit up straight, and fly right, and be the beacon on the hill we should be. I was reading a story by Flannery O'Connor, called "The Enduring Chill". It is about a young man who feels he is dying. There is a mysterious relationship with the Holy Ghost, which fills the interstices at the end of the story. May that be true for our country. Even if we don't deserve it, may we live up to the promise and hope our constitution and history have inspired in the whole world. May we be capable of inspiring hope and faith and even love, as we defend the right of people to pursue happiness.

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