Boyz n the Hood, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Hollywood Dads

Last week’s film classes were devoted to the subject of race. My students and I considered how African Americans are depicted in early and classical Hollywood cinema. To do this, we sifted through clips from The Birth of a Nation, The Pirate, and Bamboozled, the latter of which features a devastating montage of Civil War stereotypes (mammies, toms, and coons). My classes also explored the history of minstrelsy and blackface as well as the star power of Sidney Poitier and the problematic blaxploitation genre of the 1970s. Finally, we screened John Singleton’s layered, thought-provoking film Boyz n The Hood, asking ourselves first, how it defies Hollywood stereotypes and second, how it comments intra-racially (rather than inter-racially) on pressing issues within the African American community. Students frequently respond to the first question by citing Laurence Fishburne’s character, Furious Styles. Challenging Hollywood’s traditional representations of the black father (i.e., an unemployed deadbeat, a gang member, someone who is absent altogether), Furious cares for his son, Tre (Cuba Gooding, Jr.). He instill morals in his son, takes his son fishing, talks with him about sex, and explains to him why their community is in the shape it is. In short, he is there — physically, emotionally, and mentally there.

This weekend, I looked on from afar as my husband watched To Kill a Mockingbird. While he’d never seen the film (or read the book), he knew of the story and the characters, particularly Scout, the feisty little southern girl after whom we named our feisty little southern cocker spaniel. As he watched, I was reminded of a thought that I — and probably many, many viewers — once had about Gregory Peck’s Atticus Finch: like Furious Styles, he is one of the best onscreen fathers Hollywood has to offer. He exudes patience, understanding, kindness, and grace. He never talks down to his children. He doesn’t shield them unnecessarily from the realities of their world. In short, he is there — physically, emotionally, and mentally there.

Sure, Atticus and Furious are fictional, perhaps even fantastical, but they’re solid representations to strive for. And it’s nice to know that on occasion Hollywood gets it right.

Here are some of Hollywood’s other offerings, which I’ll consider Honorable Mentions. Who is your favorite Hollywood father? Whom am I missing?

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