The Help

I need to see some bad movies so I stop giving 10s to everything.blah blah blah blah

One genre of film that begs comparison to its predecessors is the Southern Fried Roman à clef. Unlike most serialized fictional film fare, this genre is tied inextricably to the history of The South, which for bad or good, will always be a topic of debate. The cinematic adaptation of the best-selling novel The Help places it smack dab in the middle - pardon my patois - of the struggle for Civil Rights and in the company of other luminary films such as To Kill A Mockingbird and Fried Green Tomatoes. The Help is told with the traditional female voice pioneered by Margaret Mitchell and subsequently revitalized by Alice Walker and Fannie Flagg. However, that strong female narration isn't enough to make The Help memorable. In the grand scheme of things, The Help will be as relevant or as memorable as Steel Magnolias, but unlike that vehicle for jerking tears and Oscar nominations, The Help lacks a stellar cast. Only Octavia Spencer shines, in part because she's the only character with any motivation. The rest of the cast pales in comparison to that of Fried Green Tomatoes, as the casting is very, very Hollywood. Emma Stone's Skeeter Phelan is cute as a bug, but unlike Scout Finch and Idgie Threadgoode, Skeeter is passive and one dimensional. Bryce Dallas Howard's Holly Holbrook is equally shallow, the obligatory protagonist mindlessly clinging to notions of class and superiority with a mustachio-twisting meanness that would make Snidely Whiplash roll his cartoon eyes. Sadly, aging icons Sissy Spacek and Cicely Tyson shine only in supporting roles, relegated to the wings. The Help breaks no new ground, rehashing a similar plot found in The Long Walk Home, but failing to engage the viewer vicariously in the struggles of Jackson Mississippi's virtually indentured domestic servants. At no time do we feel that Minnie or Aibileen are in jeopardy. We see very little of the backlash of the Civil Rights Movements in The Help, as most of the action takes place in idyllic, affluent homes. The Help even lacks much of the characteristic Southern humor which made painful films such as The Color Purple and The Prince of Tides easier to digest. To make matters worse, The Help panders to those responsible for the social inequities of The South, sugar coating the darker elements of the era and assuaging the guilt of the audience. Warts and all, The Help is entertaining, but not enlightening. I can't recommend it for the one of the top 10 slots in your Netflix or Redbox queue, wait for it to hit standard cable.

A film that is well acted but it suffers from being cliched and already made in other films. Also the film is racist in it's potrayal of the whites in the 50s. overall a film that feels like it is lacking. It could be lacking in many areas but at the end when the credits are rolling one just feels that you watched a descent film that you will forget about as soon as you walk out of the theatre.

The Help is just another racial movie about the past. when are we going to make movies that are different. yes there was some strong acting but i can't get over the fact it seems there are many of the chessy kinds of movies. time to grow up

"The Help" tells us nothing new. Anybody who didn't know what it had to say has been in a coma for over half a century. But that isn't my problem with it. Rather, it is a mawkish, sophomoric, soporifically paced, predictable, grotesquely populated, "young adult" CHIC FLIC. Think of sitting through "Steel Magnolias" with a mixed race cast and "We Shall Overcome" as its incidental music. Twice. Non-stop. We need a new rating system, one that advises single adult males that attending particular movies can be injurious to their sanity. Since I was stuck in the middle of a full row, I refrained from disturbing my neighbors and so sat through the entire four and a half hours of it. (It wasn't that long? It sure seemed like it.) My desire, after the first fifteen minutes, was to leave, running to find the nearest sports bar as an antidote. And I hate sports bars.