I recently watched Catching Fire, the film production of the second book in Suzanne Collins' riveting Hunger Games trilogy. I had high hopes for this film, as I found the first one to be a stunning manifestation of the grim world of the Capitol and the indentured Districts. I was not disappointed.
I feel the need to say a few things about the film itself, such as the usual praise: the continued fine performances of Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss and Josh Hutcherson as Peeta, the superb casting of new characters, like Jena Malone as Johana Mason, Jeffrey Wright as Beetee, and Sam Claflin as Finnick Odair, all of whom perform beautifully. Stanley Tucci again proves himself one of the most skilled actors of the age with his incarnation of Caesar Flickerman. The visual effects, the costuming, on and on.
But watch the film for yourself and make your own evaluations based on your own tastes. I'd rather talk here about the story itself, about the world of Panem, because I think Suzanne Collins deserves a closer look at what she's done. And for those of you who have thus far condescended to read the series because it looks like young adult fiction, another coming of age, or coming into her power narrative, I challenge you to look again.
The nation of Panem, perhaps a linguistic derivation of "Pan-am" or "Pan America," is a futuristic world in which the fabulously wealthy and technologically superior Captiol, nestled in the Rocky Mountains, rigidly controls the outlying twelve Districts, the citizens of whom live in poverty behind electric fences under martial law. As explained in the the first book and film of the series, each year the Districts must suffer the Reaping, in which two of their children are chosen at random to compete to the death, gladiator-style, in the Capitol's favorite sporting event, the Hunger Games. This event is a constant reminder of the Districts' failed revolution attempt 75 years prior, and of the overwhelming might of the Capitol.
In Catching Fire, the second book and film, we get to see more of the culture of the Capitol, in which fashion is everything, the citizens vacuously follow the publicly televised narratives and lavishly indulge their every luxury, either unaware or unconcerned that their own wealth is bought at the expense of the Districts subservience. In the books, Collins hints, through beautifully rich characters like Effie Trinket, that the Capitol citizens whose awareness brushes that harsh truth excuse it quickly as a just consequence of the old Rebellion. In Catching Fire, we also get to see the Ball at the Presidential Palace, the opulent event that culminates the Victor's Tour. At the Ball, Katniss and Peeta, both of whom grew up in severe poverty and near starvation, witness a Saturnalia kind of excess at which cocktails are served that instigate vomiting so that guests may continue to eat and sample the full array of dishes. Saturnalia, if you're not up to snuff on European history, were Roman celebrations of luxury and excess at which feasters would do the same. Collins makes frequent other references to Rome by means of the character names of Capitol citizens, like Flavius, Octavia, and Plutarch, the current Game-master played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman.
But let's not get too distracted by allusions to that classical paragon of imperialistic might and hubris. This series can be as much a commentary on the American Empire of right now as the Roman Empire of posterity. When I read Collins' novels, and when I watch these films, emerging as powerful mouthpieces for more-than-ever-needed self-reflection, I see an increasingly vacuous and selectively ignorant American public glued screen-to-eyeball to "Reality TV" shows, to Ultimate Fighting tournaments and to Call of Duty first-person shooter games. I see an American marketplace so awash in fashion and appearance that, on the whole, we are either unaware or unconcerned that our vast selection of apparel comes out of District factories in Bangladesh and Guatemala, made by workers who get paid less than two dollars a day and few other options thanks to "Free Trade" agreements. And most horrifying of all, I see an American foreign policy predicated on martially enforcing economic interests in the oil-producing Districts around the world, like Iraq and Nigeria. Should any be so brazen as to withhold their resources from our market shares, American Peacekeepers will shortly be arriving at their borders. How long before reality TV gives us live footage of foreign battlefields and opportunities to gamble on the outcomes?
Of course, the parallels only go so far. Even as I see American Imperialism in the Panem of Suzanne Collins' trilogy, I also know that, more than ever before, citizens of the Capitol are waking up to these truths. More than ever, we are investigating drone warfare and the grave implications of a vast Defense establishment coupled with an arms industry motivated solely by profit. More than ever, Americans are attentive to and critical of the so-called Free Trade practices that have crippled and indentured other nations around the world. (If you want to research this for yourself, by the way, I recommend reading up on the history of family-owned sugar cane plantations in Brazil over the last century.) I really want to believe that readers (and viewers) of the Hunger Games trilogy see these connections, but I'm afraid that too many see the Capitol only in the much-villified One Percent , and not nearly enough in their own Roman excess and roaming attention spans.
Even so, I am hopeful. Collins, in the highest use of science fiction, as social commentary, has given us much to consider and a possible future against which to measure our present course. It is up to you and me, Fellow Citizen, to watch closely, to think carefully, and to use our vast resources for something more than Empire.
I feel the need to say a few things about the film itself, such as the usual praise: the continued fine performances of Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss and Josh Hutcherson as Peeta, the superb casting of new characters, like Jena Malone as Johana Mason, Jeffrey Wright as Beetee, and Sam Claflin as Finnick Odair, all of whom perform beautifully. Stanley Tucci again proves himself one of the most skilled actors of the age with his incarnation of Caesar Flickerman. The visual effects, the costuming, on and on.
But watch the film for yourself and make your own evaluations based on your own tastes. I'd rather talk here about the story itself, about the world of Panem, because I think Suzanne Collins deserves a closer look at what she's done. And for those of you who have thus far condescended to read the series because it looks like young adult fiction, another coming of age, or coming into her power narrative, I challenge you to look again.
The nation of Panem, perhaps a linguistic derivation of "Pan-am" or "Pan America," is a futuristic world in which the fabulously wealthy and technologically superior Captiol, nestled in the Rocky Mountains, rigidly controls the outlying twelve Districts, the citizens of whom live in poverty behind electric fences under martial law. As explained in the the first book and film of the series, each year the Districts must suffer the Reaping, in which two of their children are chosen at random to compete to the death, gladiator-style, in the Capitol's favorite sporting event, the Hunger Games. This event is a constant reminder of the Districts' failed revolution attempt 75 years prior, and of the overwhelming might of the Capitol.
In Catching Fire, the second book and film, we get to see more of the culture of the Capitol, in which fashion is everything, the citizens vacuously follow the publicly televised narratives and lavishly indulge their every luxury, either unaware or unconcerned that their own wealth is bought at the expense of the Districts subservience. In the books, Collins hints, through beautifully rich characters like Effie Trinket, that the Capitol citizens whose awareness brushes that harsh truth excuse it quickly as a just consequence of the old Rebellion. In Catching Fire, we also get to see the Ball at the Presidential Palace, the opulent event that culminates the Victor's Tour. At the Ball, Katniss and Peeta, both of whom grew up in severe poverty and near starvation, witness a Saturnalia kind of excess at which cocktails are served that instigate vomiting so that guests may continue to eat and sample the full array of dishes. Saturnalia, if you're not up to snuff on European history, were Roman celebrations of luxury and excess at which feasters would do the same. Collins makes frequent other references to Rome by means of the character names of Capitol citizens, like Flavius, Octavia, and Plutarch, the current Game-master played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman.
But let's not get too distracted by allusions to that classical paragon of imperialistic might and hubris. This series can be as much a commentary on the American Empire of right now as the Roman Empire of posterity. When I read Collins' novels, and when I watch these films, emerging as powerful mouthpieces for more-than-ever-needed self-reflection, I see an increasingly vacuous and selectively ignorant American public glued screen-to-eyeball to "Reality TV" shows, to Ultimate Fighting tournaments and to Call of Duty first-person shooter games. I see an American marketplace so awash in fashion and appearance that, on the whole, we are either unaware or unconcerned that our vast selection of apparel comes out of District factories in Bangladesh and Guatemala, made by workers who get paid less than two dollars a day and few other options thanks to "Free Trade" agreements. And most horrifying of all, I see an American foreign policy predicated on martially enforcing economic interests in the oil-producing Districts around the world, like Iraq and Nigeria. Should any be so brazen as to withhold their resources from our market shares, American Peacekeepers will shortly be arriving at their borders. How long before reality TV gives us live footage of foreign battlefields and opportunities to gamble on the outcomes?
Of course, the parallels only go so far. Even as I see American Imperialism in the Panem of Suzanne Collins' trilogy, I also know that, more than ever before, citizens of the Capitol are waking up to these truths. More than ever, we are investigating drone warfare and the grave implications of a vast Defense establishment coupled with an arms industry motivated solely by profit. More than ever, Americans are attentive to and critical of the so-called Free Trade practices that have crippled and indentured other nations around the world. (If you want to research this for yourself, by the way, I recommend reading up on the history of family-owned sugar cane plantations in Brazil over the last century.) I really want to believe that readers (and viewers) of the Hunger Games trilogy see these connections, but I'm afraid that too many see the Capitol only in the much-villified One Percent , and not nearly enough in their own Roman excess and roaming attention spans.
Even so, I am hopeful. Collins, in the highest use of science fiction, as social commentary, has given us much to consider and a possible future against which to measure our present course. It is up to you and me, Fellow Citizen, to watch closely, to think carefully, and to use our vast resources for something more than Empire.
