Issue 4: What Story Gets Told?

By Prof. Edward J. Gallagher's Reel American History class, August 2012

The charge: "The film should have been about the killings of Andrew Goodman, James Chaney, and Michael Schwerner," opines James Alan McPherson. "How," questions David Halberstam, "could (Parker) do this to those three young men, turning them into cameo players in what should have been their film?" "The three young men who died defending the rule of law are worse than forgotten. They're defamed," snarls the New York Times
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Parker: "Our film isn't about the civil rights movement. It's about why there was a need for a civil rights movement. . . . Hopefully, one day someone will also make a film about the importance of these young men's lives."

Responses: Jaeyong Shim, Edward Tabor, Patrick O’Brien, Katherine Prosswimmer, Harrison Lawrence

Edward Tabor: Parker’s response to the critics tends to betray a blatantly elitist attitude. The New York Times editor questions why the heroes of the civil rights movement take a back seat to Parker’s FBI heroes. Parker and Gerolmo’s film switches the balance of power, turning a people’s movement into a government crack-down that uses brutality, scare tactics, and kidnapping to promote the well-being of the country. If this were the late 1930s, I would say that Parker’s film would have been very much appreciated by Stalin. In Parker’s vision, the civil rights movement is a good idea, and he hopes that someone may make a film about that. With all respect to Parker’s statement, the film doesn’t really come across that way; instead, it is Parker’s demonstration of the failure of such movements. In his film, people’s movements are weak, and the government becomes a kind of order of saints descended from the Kennedy era -- with a few amoral henchmen like Anderson thrown into the mix. Parker transforms the “authority figures” into heroes who step forward to help the helpless. Forget about the fact that the changes wrought by the civil rights movement were largely due to private citizens. Who needs power of the people, when you have the FBI? Parker’s film amounts to nothing more than a revision of black history from a white perspective and quasi-jingoistic propaganda for federal authority.

Patrick O’Brien: I’m quite sure that any true filmmaker thinks of the craft of making movies as an art, especially those who choose higher-brow topics. Similar to a sculptor, painter, or musician, the filmmaker has an artistic responsibility to create a viewing experience that transcends reality. Art depicts the particular but, when done with talent, also becomes a receptacle of universal truth. What Mississippi Burning is missing, among other things, is a reliable depiction of the particulars (for example, any real agency on the part of local activists in their own struggle). To be sure, there are scenes that qualify -- the early portion of the opening scene, the scene in which Anderson tells Ward why his father was racist, or the preacher (finally!) showing anger at the funeral towards the end of the film -- they are dramatized but reveal actual historical truths. Ultimately, the film does not create a sensibility (capacity to feel) among the viewers that would lead to the discovery of any broader truths or human possibilities and capabilities -- isn’t that a primary purpose of art? In fact, the audience leaves the film with a sense that the Feds will take care of everything -- not too self-liberating! James McPherson has commented that “the story is imposed on sacred ground, on a landscape that is alive with meaning . . . where human suffering has been certified as real.” The choice to dramatize Neshoba County in the summer of 1964 came with certain responsibilities that Gerolmo and Parker did not adequately acknowledge. The responsibility cannot be demanded by historians like McPherson, or movie critics, or even Coretta Scott King herself. It is demanded by their art and consequently should be a self-commandment.

Jaeyong Shim: The death of these young men triggered an FBI investigation, and, through that FBI investigation, racial oppression in Mississippi was revealed to the world. Indeed, in reality, the death of the three young men is significant. However, what directors and writers intend to present can be different. They can see the case from different points of views or want to focus on different aspects. Parker said that the movie is not about the civil rights movement but "why there was a need for a civil rights movement." In other words, Parker may intend to illustrate the broader picture -- the general atmosphere in the South and racial discrimination -- not one specific case. Parker certainly did not reflect the truth by creating fiction in the historical background. We can blame him for that, yet he can not be condemned for not focusing on three civil rights workers. The death of the three civil rights workers has significance because it is the case that unveiled racial discrimination in a county in Mississippi; however, it can not represent the entire history. Indeed, presenting atmosphere rather than concentrating on a single case may be more effective in having an audience understand what it was like in 1960s Mississippi.

Katherine Prosswimmer: I believe there is something to be said for framing the movie in terms of the experiences of a third party -- the FBI agents. Ward and Anderson’s presence helps convey the social atmosphere of America during the civil rights era. One of the most significant lines of the movie occurs when Mrs. Pell asks Mr. Anderson, “Do you honestly think you people'd be down here at all if it weren't for those two white boys?” Most tellingly, Mr. Anderson replies, “Maybe not, Miss.” To me, this was the most effective moment that supports Parker’s defense that his film is about the need for the civil rights movement. The success of the movie lies in its portrayal of an outsider’s reactions to the horrors of racism. The murder of the civil rights workers allowed those behind the lines to hone in on the true carnage of racism. It was the event that caused an outsider like Mr. Ward to experience first-hand the ugly reality of what was happening in his own country. Just as Mr. Ward experiences these things, so does the audience. The fact that someone else is as shocked and horrified as they are helps them to absorb the truth. I understand Parker’s basic goal. To make the story centrally about Chaney, Goodman, and Schwerner would have been to alter the framing of the movie; it would have been about those already dedicated to the fight rather than someone beginning to understand the need for the fight.

Harrison Lawrence: I believe that a director/writer should have the sole rights to his/her first premise. I applaud Parker when he states that his movie wasn’t about the civil rights movement but rather why there was a need for it. Parker attacks the root of the issue in his film. The reason that directors should have the right to their premise is because the contrary inhibits creativity and artistic license. Yes, there should be a movie made about those three unfortunate souls who were slain. However, there is neither governing body nor panel of historians that controls the markets of film -- and thank god for that. If this were the case, movies would be based on the ideas and opinions of one group as opposed to a director using his artistic liberties to redisplay history how he/she saw fit. At one point there was but one film on the holocaust; now they are virtually countless. There are many facets surrounding the killings of the three boys and the FBI’s investigation of the community. It is unfair and frankly against our nation’s right of free speech that one would be limited to certain aspects of an event that he/she could narrate.