Film Review: Sin Nombre

Sin Nombre directed by Cary Fukunaga (Scion Films, Canana Films, and Creando Films, R, 96 min)

Starring Paulina Gaitan, Edgar Flores, and Kristian Ferrer.

35,000 Feet between Cultures

An airplane flies overhead as the characters look up in awe, dreaming of the day that they too can board a passenger plane. This scene is a brief but defining moment in Sin Nombre. It expresses the distance between the life of the viewer and the life depicted on screen.

Shot in Mexico and with dialogue in Spanish, Sin Nombre depicts the intertwining lives of two characters, Sayra (Paulina Gaitan) and Willy “El Casper” (Edgar Flores), as they escape the poverty and gang culture of Honduras.

Strikingly Different People, Strikingly Similar Pursuits

Sayra, with her father and uncle in tow, seeks refuge in the United States. With only a small amount of money to share between the three, the group stows away on the top of a train heading from Honduras through Mexico to the United States.

Meanwhile, Willy, a gang member known as “El Casper” flees his brethren after a fatal fit of rage left a homie dead. You see, Willy’s fellow gang member killed the love of his life when it was revealed that Willy shirked his duties to spend time with her.

As such, Willy finds himself on the same train knowing full well that his quest to escape his gang is an uphill battle since the price on his head is astronomical.

Through the adventures of escaping Border Patrol and vindictive gang members, Sayra and Willy grow close as they emigrate to the land of hope and plenty.

Entertainment in the Misfortune of Others

Although the plot intrigues, what really rattled me while watching Sin Nombre was the disconnect between my life and the lives of these characters. Most evidently, despite my fears regarding my economic standing, I have a roof over my head, food always a moment away from my belly, and the continual hope for job prospects.

In contrast, both characters possess little. For them, the idea of opulence is access to America and a minimum wage job. The difference is most evident in the scene where the characters dreamingly long for the possibility of flight—a phenomenon most individuals in our culture take for granted.

Sin Nombre provides compelling cinema not only through a pulse-racing plot, but also by its socio-economic implications. Those in the middle class too often get caught in the rat race comparing their lifestyles to those in higher classes. Yet in truth, the middle class is highly luxurious to the rest of the world.

Of course, watching a movie like Sin Nombre offers the danger of complacency in thinking “at least our situation is not as bad as theirs.” But I believe Sin Nombre is well worth watching to be reminded of the perils in the developing world and hopefully it urges you to consider ways in which we can make a difference.

Verdict: 3.5 out of 5

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Posted by: Donovan Richards

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Book Review: The Namesake

The Namesake: A Novel by Jhumpa Lahiri (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2003. 304 pp)

Born in London to Bengali immigrants, Jhumpa Lahiri moved to the United States at the young age of 3. Her first published work, Interpreter of Maladies, won the Pulitzer Prize in 2000. In 2007, Hollywood adapted The Namesake into a feature film.  A recipient of the Guggenheim Fellowship, Lahiri is a member of the President’s Committee on the Arts and Humanities. She lives in Brooklyn with her husband and two children.

Home for the Holidays?

Thanksgiving introduces an exciting portion of the year. I love sleeping in, wearing pajamas into the living room, and seeing a football game on the television. The turkey is already cooking in the oven and my stomach reminds me that I will enjoy feasting with family later in the day. I really enjoy watching football on Thanksgiving; my wife and sister, however, want to watch the parade and they jokingly call me a name, “turd” let’s say for sake of an illustration. These circumstances define my particular family. Jhumpa Lahiri’s novel, the Namesake, exhibits the emotions of a particular family existing in an unfamiliar culture.

The Namesake follows an Indian family (the Gangulis) transplanted from Calcutta to the suburbs of Boston. Over a thirty year period, Lahiri develops a subtle storyline around a husband, wife, and the turmoil of their second generation children as they attempt to exist in an American culture while clinging to the slivers of their ancestral Bengali culture. In a sense, the previous cultural traditions and expectations of Calcutta produce a perpetual curiosity in those associated with the family. Lahira writes,

“For being a foreigner, Ashima [the mother and wife of the family] is beginning to realize, is a sort of lifelong pregnancy – a perpetual wait, a constant burden, a continuous feeling out of sorts. It is an ongoing responsibility, a parenthesis in what had once been an ordinary life, only to discover that the previous life has vanished, replaced by something more complicated and demanding. Like pregnancy, being a foreigner, Ashima believes, is something that elicits the same curiosity from strangers, the same combination of pity and respect” (49-50).

We Are Named, Then We Are Known

In addition to the unhinged character of living in an alien culture, The Namesake portrays the tortured nature of Gogol, the son of the Indian transplants.  Lahiri exquisitely explains the importance of names in the early chapters of the book. Simply stated, each person in Bengali culture receives a formal name and a family name. The formal name is used in professional and formal settings, while the family name is reserved for family and friends. In Gogol’s case, the formal name – typically given by an elder figure in the family – had yet to finish its expedition through the postal system when the Ganguli family became ready to be released from the hospital. For this reason, Gogol’s parents provided his family name, “Gogol,” on the official birth certificate. This seemingly small oversight provides Gogol with a lifetime of turmoil. In naming the central protagonist by his family name, Lahiri invites the reader into the Ganguli family.

We Are What We Eat

Additionally, The Namesake develops its fascinating story around the convergence of culture. The author illustrates customs through the consumption of food. Each special occasion offers the Ganguli family with an opportunity to host other Bengali immigrants. These instances are occasions for feasts! Lahiri spends pages depicting the preparations the Ganguli family takes in order to facilitate such banquets. On the other hand, Gogol’s time spent in romantic relationships during his time spent in New York City portrays his Americanized culture. He eats well, sometimes drinks too much, and partakes in the popular cuisine of the city. Therefore, Lahiri creates a dichotomy through food between the culture of Gogol’s family life and the culture of his social life.

Although my experience at Thanksgiving in no way resembles the familial occurrences in The Namesake, Lahiri’s simple and engaging writing style invites you to be a part a particular family. I highly recommend this book.