WaitWhat?

Jojo Rabbit is a controversial 2019 film which has won 48 film accolades, including the coveted People’s Choice Award of the Toronto Film Festival and an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay. Yet, it has had mixed reviews, which is not surprising given its premise. The BBC website describes it as a “satire about a young boy in 1940s Germany who discovers his mother is hiding a Jewish girl in their house”. The fact that the child in question is a fanatic Nazi whose imaginary friend is no other than Adolf Hitler himself would be enough to put off anyone for whom the Holocaust and anti-Semitism are no joke. Yet, I was mystified that a movie with such a blatantly insensitive scenario would gather so much praise. Was this just a sign that society had now decided that Nazism and anti-Semitism were nothing more than a laughing matter? Was this a win for those who complain endlessly against “cancel culture”?

Since I had mixed feelings about whether I would like this film or hate it, I never committed to spend my money to watch it in the movie theaters when it came out. Yet, it was recently available for streaming at Disney+, and I thought I’d give it a try to see what the fuss was all about, and whether it really deserved all awards it won. I’d watch it basically for free, and I would just stop watching it when it became apparent it was not worth my time. No harm done.

The movie’s first thirty minutes or so feel rather disappointing. As comedy goes, it’s not that funny, and the whole thing about Adolf Hitler as imaginary friend of a 10-year-old Nazi fanatic is frankly uncomfortable, not to mention the opening credits featuring 1940s Nazi footage to the sound of Beatles music. Yet, I could only wonder what made this movie win so many accolades, so I soldiered on. I am glad I did. If you wonder, the movie does deserve all those awards.

The thing with Jojo Rabbit is that it is more than a movie. It’s a weapon. Films these days typically tell people the stories that they want to hear. By doing so, they “preach to the Pope”, because the people who watch them is already aligned and in agreement with the plot. We want everyone to watch the movies we like, because we hope everyone else would learn something we already know. Yet, it often happens that those we want to watch these movies have no interest in anything deep or enlightening. They rather watch something lighthearted, funny, and outrageously offensive. And that is Jojo Rabbit’s secret weapon: it infiltrates “enemy territory” by posing as an insensitive comedy and then, unexpectedly, delivers a well-crafted explosion of heartfelt, serious and enlightening drama. It caters precisely to the audience who needs to understand its message. The fact that most people who are sensitive to the seriousness of ant-Semitism would steer away from this film just proves how well this movie succeeds in reaching its target audience. Target audience defined not as those who would “like” this movie, but those who “need to hear” this story.

Make no mistake: this is not your average “white savior” movie either. Hearing that the plot includes a “Jewish girl hiding” may evoke the idea of a helpless victim ultimately saved by the inevitably redeemed ex-Nazi kid. Yet, the real savior here is that “Jewish girl”, and not just as a redeemer of a lost child’s soul.

Whenever people hear the word “racist”, the first thing to come to their minds is likely white Americans hating black people, or Nazi Germans hating Jews (possibly both). Racism also conveys the idea of a powerful group of people oppressing a weak and rather helpless ethnic minority. Yet it’s important for us to stop for a moment and consider what racism really is, and what are the social dynamics that foster a racist mentality and behaviour.

The word “racism” naturally derives from the word “race”. It implies not only considering others differently from “us”, because of they way they look (colour of their skin, the way they dress, particular facial features, etc.), but also the idea that one ethnic group is (or rather, believes to be) superior or better than the other(s). Note how this definition doesn’t imply that all racism is basically white people looking down on non-white people. Moreover, one ethic group may be unaware or blind to divisions among different, wider groups: People from Asia or central Africa may be unable to tell an American Jew from an American non-Jew, just like a white American may be unable to tell a Japanese person from a Chinese one, or a Tutsi from a Hutu. My particular experience illustrates perfectly how the concept of race is vague and imprecise: growing up in South America, having mixed European ancestry (mostly English, Spanish and Italian), I always thought (just like everyone else around me) that I was “white”, as I lacked the black and/or aboriginal element typical (or stereotypical) of Latinos. However, when I moved to North America I learned that I was not “white”, because apparently “white” in these parts implies “northern European”, thus the fact that I had a good share of Spanish and Italian made me non-white (who knew?) My point is that it’s not easy for one individual to tell which ethnic group they belong to. Human race has been in a constant state of mixing and remixing through the ages, and that’s true for all “races”. Even someone who claims having (say) “pure English” ancestry will most likely have a mix of Germanic, Scandinavian/Viking and Celtic, and then there’s the Irish Celtic that’s a bit different from the continental Celtic. You get the point. There’s no such thing as a “pure” race. We’re all, without exception, a mix o various races. If that’s the case, though, why is the notion of “race” so prevalent around the world? Not just among the so-called “white” people, but also among every ethnic group? Hutus, Tutsis, Japanese, Korean, Chinese (not to mention the multitude of various Chinese ethnic groups). English vs Irish, Northern Italian vs Southern Italian, Russian vs Ukrainian, Turk vs Kurd, the list of rivalries among ethnic lines (sharp or blurred) is truly endless. It may seem, then, that being protective of “our race” is almost a biological feature of all human beings. Being proud of our kin and wishing to protect it is something that not only all humans do (consciously or not) but something common for many animal species too: herds, packs, prides… it’s all about sticking together and helping each other.

Growing up in the 70s, watching old shows and movies from the 50s and 60s, it was clear that being a coward was a bad thing. Brave and courageous was the cool, good thing to be. Only the “enemy” and the “bad guys” were cowards. Of course, it was all a product of WW2 propaganda that carried over into the Cold War. We were told to be brave and to not fear death, sacrificing all for the mother country, for our loved ones, for a better future. Then came the Vietnam war, and we eventually learned that war was (actually) a bad thing. Thus, anything associated with the glorification of war, including those obsolete ideas of courage, bravery and self-sacrifice, were considered a product of the manipulation by the Industrial-Military complex. Who knew that the hippies would figure that out?  Yet, what is cowardice, anyway…? As a child, it was obvious to me that being a coward was basically the same as “being afraid”. It was bad to be fearful… The war heroes and the good guys on TV would never blink in the face of almost-certain death. However, Vietnam was a reality-check. In the late 70s, after that war was over, we started to learn that feeling fear was rather a normal thing. Particularly while being bombed and shot at. The trauma of defeat in Vietnam rightly started a collective re-think that rightfully made “feeling fear” an accepted and normal part of being human. There’s no shame in being afraid, really. Yet, is cowardice the same as fear? They may seem like synonyms, but there’s an important difference. Fear is a feeling, the anxiety of danger. Cowardice is expressed in actions: deserting your brother-in-arms at a critical moment, or (worse) attacking defenseless people when they don’t pose any threat. Facing our fears is actually an act of utmost bravery. I have a friend who was terrified of deep water, so she became a certified scuba diver to get over it. That’s brave, and she’s my hero even if she’s still terrified of deep water.

Back to the 1970s, though… In those years terrorism somehow became “cool”… Terrorists were perceived as “freedom fighters” by many. Terrorism was, it seemed, the only way to “stick it to the man” (that is, to the greatest exponents of the evil Industrial-Military complex: the USA in particular, and “the West” in general). Targeting innocent civilians became apparently a totally acceptable and respectable way to achieve whichever political goals, or just get some free money from the government, as ransom and such. Now we are approaching the second decade of the 21st century and I still very seldom, if ever, hear the word “coward” used to qualify terrorists. Whenever a terrorist act happens, only big scary words are used: “atrocious”, “horrendous”, “despicable”, “evil”, and so on. Adjectives to make any terrorist proud, particularly when such adjectives are uttered by their “enemies”. Did the acceptance of “fear” in the post-Vietnam 1970s perhaps make the whole concept of “cowardice” acceptable, too? Did it become OK to be a coward, blowing up defenseless women and children? It seems so. Terrorists take pride in their “bravery” and “courage”. Why is that no one seems to have the courage to say out loud that killing innocent civilians is the most coward act of all?