A Diamond in the Rough: "Beasts of the Southern Wild"

In the seven years since Hurricane Katrina submerged New Orleans, there haven't been any films to breach the subject of that calamity. The United States' government's response was listless and ineffective, sparking controversial statements from celebrities like Kanye West, who claimed, "George W. Bush doesn't care about black people."

Benh Zeitlin presents to you a film about people who don't care about the United States government.

Beasts of the Southern Wild describes literally a pack of so-called Aurochs, ancient boars who, according to folk mythology of the Bathtub (an isolated community separated by the mainland by a levy), will one day reclaim the world for their own. But the eponymous "beasts" could also describe the denizens of the Bathtub, who fiercely defend their independence as the world around them is destroyed by the forces of nature. This is not to say they are bestial; on the contrary, their response is the most painfully human aspect of their culture. Zeitlin focuses on Hushpuppy, a six-year-old girl who is simultaneously a product of her environment, and somehow, lightyears above everyone and everything that surrounds her.

She is played by Quvenzhané Wallis, a non-actor from Louisiana who is my front-runner for this year's Best Actress Oscar race. Wallis imbues her character with vigor, bravery, and emotion so completely that she becomes impossible not to watch, even as her abysmal circumstances threaten to reduce the audience to despair. I was reminded of Gabourey Sidibe's performance in Precious; both actresses bring a vitality to their characters that somehow convinces you that they will not allow themselves to be suffocated by their misfortune, despite the fact that you know for damn sure that you would.

Hushpuppy's father, Wink, pours into her mind litanies of deception, like how she is the "king of the Bathtub," just as frequently as he pours liquor down his throat. But whether by design or not, Wink succeeds in making Hushpuppy stronger than those around her, including himself. To Hushpuppy, the Bathtub is a home, despite the squalor in which she lives. The piles of trash that litter her bedroom floor do nothing to convince her otherwise of the fact that the Bathtub is the "prettiest place in the world." You might be justified in explaining Hushpuppy's worldview through indoctrination, or you could explain that she knows nothing else except for filth and chaos. But Wallis makes you believe that Hushpuppy truly is as strong as her father would have her believe.

Given that this film is presented 100% through Hushpuppy's point of view, Zeitlin shoots the backwater scenery as if it is as beautiful as the little girl thinks. An early scene depicts the citizens of the Bathtub celebrating a holiday (of which, according to Hushpuppy, they have more than anywhere else in the world); children run through the streets with massive sparklers as the adults drunkenly parade through the town, using a torn garbage bag as streamers. It is almost a corruption of New Orleans' own Mardi Gras—the only thing missing are the bead necklaces.

Zeitlin—who based co-wrote the screenplay with Lucy Alibar, the author of the original stage play, Juicy and Delicious—has his cake and eats it, too. For example, the steam rising in the air during a recurring, lyrical shot originates from the boiling water inside a grimy pot. This movie isn't poverty porn, though. It is an allegory about childhood, albeit one that is wasted in a dangerous, forgotten hell on Earth. But only a child can see beauty in the most unlikely of places. Zeitlin knows this, and that is why Beasts of the Southern Wild is such a wonderful, moving film.