Dawn of the Planet of the Apes begins as it ends: a close up
of Caesar. It is a cinematic choice cautiously
not coy, and deliberately in your face. It implies Caesar’s presence as significant
to the plot, and a bridge between two worlds.
As one can remember what made the first of the reboot, Rise of the
Planet of the Apes great was watching Caesar develop from an infant to
adulthood. He was like a fresh canvas
that we got to watch move through the intricate and complex motions of the human
condition. Indeed, his relationship with
the human Will Rodman (James Franco) gave us an emotional parent-child
attachment from which a subsequent struggle with abandonment emerged; a very
human theme. Like many young adults that
come into their own, Caesar had to become detached from a world he was raised
in to accept the new – albeit a simian world.
In Dawn of the Planet of the Apes we get to see this world – this community
built by the apes.
Ten years since the initial outbreak of the virus from the
first film we are in a post-apocalyptic existence. There is peace among the apes, Caesar is the
leader and a family man, and the primal community – a character of its own, is
an architectural oasis that is – spoiler but not so spoiler – disrupted by humans. As the
inciting incident becomes a catalyst for springing the film into life, certain
themes can be explored; the gratuitous violence that defines masculinity, and the
fear of self.
The movie is as you would expect from a sequel; it has
action, heart, drama, and talking apes on horseback. As a cinematic experience of American movies
it is definitely a fun ride especially if you are a fan of the first film. The only thing lacking is character
development in the human society. It
felt, to me, as if I was watching humans encroach upon an innocent tribe. I felt no connection to the humans who are
trying to survive after a catastrophe.
While there was a human and simian kinship built in the Rise of the Planet
of the Apes, in Dawn of the Planet of the Apes no such kinship exists.
The heart and soul of the film is carried solely in the
human characteristics of Caesar and his relationship with his family. The
film will surely tug at your heart strings as it did mine when Caesar and his
son Blue Eyes fight and reconcile or when Caesar fears of his wife’s death, but
having said that, I want to explore – with a feminist perspective –
hyper-masculine tropes. It is important
to analyze what, in the absence of females, defines a world lead by male
bodies.
The gratuitous violence in Dawn of the Planet of the Apes exemplifies
a one dimensional aspect of maleness that is emphasized in possessing authority. Stoic, compassionless, violent activity is
considered leadership quality and the only kind of masculinity acceptable in
such a universe. When Caesar takes a “passive”
role with the humans it creates friction within the simian hierarchy. Koba, one of the apes we know from the first
film, questions Caesar’s ability to lead, and ultimately uses this “passivity”
against his friend. When males do
express compassion as Caesar does with the humans they are punished for it. When
males deviate from the expected social norm the punishment can range anywhere
from being ostracized from social settings to extreme violent attacks. It’s easy to ignore the hegemonic masculinity of
human males when faced with talking apes, but exerting dominance in order to
maintain power is an actual male experience.
Society conditions men into believing a violent manhood is appropriate behavior
in becoming a “real” man, and expressing anything other than that is a cardinal
sin against patriarchy. The guns used by
the apes symbolize a tangible sense of male dominance – a world based on coercion
and fear. In this way the apes suddenly
transform from primates to humans. It is
in this transformation that the film unintentionally explores the notion of a
primal link to violent behavior. Is this
kind of brutality an innate quality of nature?
Or is it entirely environmental? I
personally do not want to believe that we are driven by a biological impulse –
a predisposition to carnal savagery, but I do believe enough people accept this
impulse as innate in men that we build a whole code of honor around
violence. We reward male bodied people
for their homicidal guise and call it bravery or we make excuses for them when
the violence is difficult to ignore.
Our society has constructed such unattainable and rigid
definitions of both femininity and masculinity that it is problematic. Individual men can and do reject cultural
norms of masculinity, but society at large is still perpetuating two polar
opposites of binary existence. You are
either one or the other, but not in between. The definitions we give to things becomes signifies
that become stereotypes filmmakers use and reuse to sell a product – the film. Now, we can’t expect to completely ignore the
media, especially with films, but we must learn to identify the images being
repeated so that we may be able to navigate through the constant, perpetual
steam of social construction of personhood.
It is not easy attempting to fit somewhere within either
stringent roles, but how does a horde of apes help uncover a human folly? As it was depicted in the 1968 film, human
anxiety over the loss of superiority to simian primates is a substitute for the
fear of self; the destruction of self by the self, or in other words, the destruction
of man by man. I believe that the apes
are more a reflection of man’s battle with “otherness.” The “other” is a term to describe our society’s
fear of people we consider “foreigners” who look and sound and are different to
the culture we are most comfortable with. In creating an on screen enemy with this “other”
through primates we are creating an environment that accepts violence in men to
solve world problems. And in that same
process we dehumanize people different from us, which condones a self-destructive
behavior within ourselves to justify the violence acted out on others.
While the film on its own is not the problem, it does allow
us the chance to read between the existential lines of gender roles. Because this film is post-apocalyptic,
recreating a society in the absence of females is like repeating history. It rationalizes male dominance with an
irrational plot. What I’m trying to say
is that the strict and extreme characterization of maleness within the film is
an example that counters the invisibility of female participation in
society. It is unsurprisingly toxic to
both sides. But having said that, I still recommend the film.
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