SENA KAYASÜ (ARCH/III)
sena.kayasu@ug.bilkent.edu.tr

This week’s movie is [drumroll]…“The Giver.” It just came out this year. If you haven’t seen it, don’t worry, because most of what I have to say is about the first third of the movie: no spoilers. Also, I’ve read the book, and in such a case I never feel comfortable judging the movie’s ending, in particular. I do try to judge, but then I remind myself that even though they may share roughly the same plot, they are different creations, the products of different imaginations, so they should be evaluated in and of themselves.

Back on point, I read the book called “The Giver” way back when it was assigned to my class in seventh grade. I loved it. I did, I loved it. It was written by a great writer of children’s books: Lois Lowry. She is great not only in her narratives or stories, but also in the messages that they contain. They aren’t flimsy books about doing the right thing and respecting everything. They’re not strictly about discovering your identity, either. They handle pretty serious topics, from Nazi-occupied Denmark to dystopian societies. Rather ridiculously, I remember learning the meaning of the word “apprehensive” from “The Giver.” I think I found it on the first page of the fourth chapter. It’s funny how the strangest things stick with you, isn’t it? Hard to believe that “apprehensive” was so long ago.

Anyway, I have to say, I liked the movie. As we were saying, just because a movie is based on a book, it shouldn’t be judged against it. Personally, I judge a movie by what it can add to the story. It is the things that distinguish it from, not attach it to, the book that matter to me. In this case, I thought that the visual nature of the production helped to enliven some of the key points of the literary work. A lot of the main character’s development hinges on his changing perception of reality. In fact, it’s not exactly a reality. It’s a regular world, camouflaged under the unifying concept of “sameness.” Sameness is what this dystopian reality revolves around. Color has been eliminated (possibly by genetically modifying the human eye and removing the cone cells from the retina). Class has been eliminated. Natural privilege has been eliminated. Hormones relating to emotion or sexuality have basically been eliminated. This way there’s no envy or hatred. Right?

Well, not exactly. Jonas, the main character, has two best friends, Fiona and Asher. When they are assigned jobs at the age of 18 in a highly public ceremony, Asher gets “drone pilot” because he is adventurous—he took risks and broke rules as a kid. And what if Fiona wanted to be a drone pilot as well, but wasn’t qualified in the same way? Won’t she feel any envy or resentment? Jonas, on the other hand, wasn’t even assigned a job; he was “chosen” to be the Receiver of Memory (who keeps the memories of the old world to help the elders in their decisions). Aren’t all of those kids going to sense the difference? We know they have emotions, because Jonas’s parents are pretty anxious about his new career.

Let’s say they found a way to separate envy and “apprehension” so that the former could be eliminated (though for some reason they didn’t choose to do away with the latter, stressful emotion). What about Meryl Streep’s awesome hair? If you haven’t seen the movie yet, she has long white hair, and bangs. How come she has bangs? Nobody else has bangs. Everyone has to wear the same outfits, tie their hair back the same way on certain occasions—but the Chief Elder, in a society where hierarchical privilege doesn’t exist, gets bangs. Well, that’s fair, then.

The customs in that society are pretty strange as well. Yes, I realize that at this point this is no longer much of a review, but bear with me. Every time someone apologizes—and they can’t just say “sorry”—the person they are apologizing to says, “I accept your apology.” This idea is kind of great, since apologies really mean something if the person actually has to respond in a nonmonosyllabic way. They shouldn’t be squandered, so I would assume that you try to do less that you’d have to apologize for. What if the person doesn’t say it, though? What if you’ve done something awful? If they still respond with acceptance, the apology, once again, will not be very meaningful.

Another rule is that members of the community may not lie. They’re not allowed to. However, after Jonas is chosen, he is permitted to lie about his training. Since the memories or feelings in his custody must remain confidential, he is not supposed to reveal what he and the Giver do, and instead must simply say, “We talk.” But why does he have to lie about his training? Why can’t he just say, “I can’t tell you what it’s about”? The people are all submissive, suspicion is removed from their bodies with chemicals, and they don’t question much, so wouldn’t that be easier? Not to mention, less illegal? For such a rule-oriented society, this seems like an oversight.

I actually have a few more things to criticize, such as why did they make a difference between men and women at all, like by allowing women to grow their hair? Everything that distinguishes us as a girl or a boy is a step in our development toward becoming a breadwinner or a caregiver.

I have to admit, though, that watching “The Giver” was very rewarding, because when reading the book, it’s basically impossible to visualize a world without color, or Jonas’s transition from that world to what we normally see. Except we do, we see all the different shades! I never realized it in the book. We need light contrast to see, and with light contrast comes distinction—if we could only see one color, we wouldn’t be able to pick out figures. Or we might have only been able to sense movement. It might work, but where’s the fun in that?

The ending of the movie is also an original input, because it actually wraps up the story and presents a solution that wasn’t present in the book. I can’t say any more, but you’ll see.