“Beast it!! Beast it!!” are the words chanted by the
whimsical group of post-Katrina bayou squatters as six-year-old Hushpuppy
breaks open the crab shell and sucks the delicious, white meat from the middle.
The dinner scene exemplifies the joyful exuberance of life that prevails
despite the profound sadness and poverty found throughout Benh Zeitlin’s Beasts of the Southern Wild.
On Saturday night, I walked to the High Museum’s Rich Theater
for a sneak preview of the film. Having won prizes at Cannes and Sundance, Beasts already has the buzz of a highly successful independent film. Comprised
entirely of non-actors, the film follows
the fanciful imagination and brutal reality of six-year-old Hushpuppy living in
“The Bathtub,” Louisiana. The narrative takes place sometime after Katrina in a
nearly post-apocalyptic setting of vast waterlogged landscapes that dwarf the
remaining people and houses.
The film opens with voice-over narration as Hushpuppy tells
her story. She runs around the dilapidated property and tumbledown trailer wearing
a white tank top and orange boys underwear, frequently pausing to listen to an
animal or color on a piece of card board. Meals include a recently slaughtered
chicken eaten by hand or cat food heated up on the stove. Hushpuppy and her
father, Wink, spend their days on the boat – a buoyant truck bed powered by a
motor – and catch crawfish by hand. Wink strives to harden Hushpuppy and to
make her a self-sufficient and strong “man” of the world.
Magical realism runs deep in the film as Hushpuppy imagines
aurochs – a prehistoric beast resembling a terrifying boar. The director Zeitlin
uses these imagined creatures to represent the reality of Hushpuppy’s situation
and the presence of danger that she confronts everyday. Zeitlin’s camera goes
back and forth between Hushpuppy’s daily life and the primordial scenes of the
beasts emerging from the melting polar icecaps. By the end of the film, we have
the small Hushpuppy in courageous profile facing the aurochs saying, “I gotta
take care of mine,” and she walks towards her ailing father. The Biblical animal
imagery evokes Noah’s Arc and the aftermath of the flood.
Zeitlin tells a story of human suffering and endurance from
the perspective of a child mature beyond her years. She exudes wisdom that
cannot be taught. The poetic shot compositions show the microcosms of the world
that only a child would notice. A close up of the crawfish dumped out on the
table with the small fish still alive and jumping captures the tenuous circle
of life. Hushpuppy later watches
raptly as an alligator is gutted, battered, and fried to serve. The film’s
photography captures the luminous light of fireworks and twinkling lanterns at
night that additionally create a childish magic.
Zeitlin chooses to focus on the beauty rather than the
misery, and the images serve to distract from the constant poverty. He uses
childlike folklore to create a unique and satisfying examination of a
despairing chaotic situation. The strong score of violins and resounding drums
pump the film with courage and echo the strength of Hushpuppy. Her story is
timeless, triumphant and remarkable to behold on screen.
