After complaining about the lack of frank discussion about race and identity in The Crying Game, I get to watch The Commitments. Beyond Dr. Chown's assertion that Andrew Strong and I were possibly separated at birth, I may have worn my cassette version of the soundtrack to The Commitments out. (Gimme a break... it was 1991) Amber had never seen the film, and before Strong's Deco Cuffe starts singing at the first practice, I smirked and said to her, "Wait until you hear his voice." Her jaw nearly dropped a few minutes later at Deco's soulful wail of love lost and the angst of being human.
While the music is essential to the film's plot and narrative, the nature and the culture of the music remains as essential to the critical reading of the film as the music itself. Jimmy, son of the working class with big dreams and clear vision, forms the band not as a reflection of American soul, but as in tune with the soul experience as the blacks in the States are. Jimmy is very aware of the working class roots of soul, and has a intuitive sense how soul relates completely to the Irish working class existence. Not only does he want to utilize the music to provide a way out, but Jimmy wants to make the music as authentic as possible. One of the more humorous scenes, he repeatedly answers the door, asking each hopeful for an influence, from Wings to Joan Baez, only to receive a door slam to the face. Jimmy wants The Commitments to be genuine, less Rodex knockoff of cheap imitation, but with a degree of authenticity not found in the flea market he peruses at the beginning. But as important as his desire for a truly Irish soul band, Jimmy understands the odd racial juxtaposition he seeks. When answering saxophonist Dean's query of provinciality and soul, is the band's whiteness a hindrance, Jimmy passionately retorts, "Do you not get it, lads? The Irish are the blacks of Europe. And Dubliners are the blacks of Ireland. And the Northside Dubliners are the blacks of Dublin. So say it once, say it loud: I'm black and I'm proud."
The film claims "blackness" though no blacks are seen in the film, at least until Otis Redding's limousine happens upon a dejected Jimmy at the end. In fact, it argues its version of soul is not a version at all; it's simply soul. Sans blackness, the soul remains, and that the band's audience accesses the music so freely is fascinating.
Processing this critically, perhaps I can compare Irish culture (as presented in the film) with that of the Japanese, a foreign culture I am quite familiar with. In Japanese culture, sub culture is the predominant culture. Teens and young adults freely proclaim membership of fringe societies, from bōsōzoku (motorcycle punks) to burapan (hip-hop wannabes) and on and on. The groups have only a surface identification with the originators of the culture these groups are modeled upon. They lack the authenticity they so desperately seek, but the lack of authenticity allows them to continue to exists within the confines of Japanese culture.
A Japanese burapan can adopt an afro or dreadlocks and still move freely within society, despite the fringe elements of the hairstyle. But non-Japanese with the very same hairstyle, and in a sense, more ownership and legitimacy to do so, cannot operate as smoothly as the native can. In a sense, the non-native is more threatening to the social order. The native son who gets into James Brown and Curtis Mayfield, his obsession is seen as just a passing fantasy, a non-threatening phase he'll grow out of. A foreigner brings a contagion, a solidified background in what makes him or her foreign. These aspects of the culture cannot simply be assimilated, which heightens the threat to the dominant majority culture. So the question is, can an Irish lass sing hip hop and neo soul in cornrows without rejecting her Irish ethnicity, and conversely can a black Irishman do the same? If both are born in Derry, is one Irish and the other not, simply based on skin color?
I hope to have a clearer picture in just a few days.
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