Dear Vina Jie-Min Prasad: Snowpiercer and the Sleeping
Allegory
By
Rebecca Xun
There
are more eclectic auteur directors than Bong Joong Ho, and his work isn’t
something you’d immediately point to as fairy tale-like nor ballet-like. Yet,
while I was watching Snowpiercer and
its hypnotic rhythmed trek through the train, I couldn’t help find myself
comparing it precisely to those two mediums. And it’s precisely because of this
connection that makes the ending of Snowpiercer
(as much as the end of a Swan Lake performance
or a rendition of Cinderella) so immensely satisfying.
Jack Zipes in The Oxford Companion to Fairytales notes
that “the traditional association of classical ballet with the fairy tale is
based [...] on a fundamental affinity between the two art forms.” To start
with, the plots are supremely simple; in the case of Snowpiercer, earth has plunged into an ice age caused by global
warming where the only human inhabitants live in one massive train the elites
live extravagant lives in the front cars, while the “scum” inhabit the tail in
squalid and brutal conditions. Captain America (or should I say, Curtis
Everett) leads a revolt to lead his fellow tail passengers to the front of the
train where they can seize control of the engine, and thus of the train. All
this to say -- keep moving right, beat up anyone who gets in the way. Zipes
continues that both fairy tales and ballet are “constructed as highly
formalized narratives which make extensive use of repetition and tell their
stories primarily through the physical actions of their characters.” Because
the film is South Korean-Czech produced, and the other main characters feature
South Korean security expert Minsu and his clairvoyant daughter, Yona, there is
less emphasis on dialogue. The little dialogue that there is only serves to
further accentuate the movie’s already stark visuals -- whether that be the
disco thunder of the middle class trains showcasing the lack of class
consciousness amongst the petty bourgeois or the vicious fight scenes between
the guards and the rebel army representing the bloody class warfare necessary to
dismantle the system.
One of the last
components that Zipes mention is the element of fantasy. By its very nature, he
contends, ballet contains an element of fantasy since “dancers seem to float in
mid-air as easily as butterflies; opera singers, despite Wagner’s attempt to
get his fleet of Valkyries off the ground, cannot” and the mythological stories
and characters that unfolds in both mediums obviously contains fantastical
elements. In the end, Minsu kills the train conductor while Yona lights a bomb fuse
-- but Curtis and Minsu are forced to sacrifice themselves to protect Yona and
Timmy from the explosion. The blast triggers an avalanche that derails the
train, and Yona and Timmy emerge from the wreck, apparently the only survivor.
The last image we see is a polar bear in the distance, proof that life exists
outside the train.
Such an image is
transfixed like how a ballerina transforms into a supernatural being, elevated en pointe. Zipes describes the fairy
bride legend as a dramatization of “a central dilemma of romanticism -- the
search for the unattainable ideal, and its often tragic outcome.” With the
blinding white of the exterior in contrast to the muted earth tones or highly
saturated neon of the interior of the train, the polar bear (itself being a
mythical creature) was deeply moving. The entire allegory of capitalism that
was breathed life by the various characters and settings came together in a
still image at the end. Indeed, in Undine (1811), Taglioni gave his sprite the
ability to return James’s life, and this humanization not only “increased the
complexity and dramatic interest of the romantic ballet, but sometimes made
possible a happy ending.” Such a human artistic element brought this happier
ending to the fantastical political theory I think.
I particularly
enjoyed this ending because it was
tragic, yes, it was honest that real destruction and suffering are necessary to
bring down capitalism (if I failed to mention this, Snowpiercer is a delightful allegory about capitalism), and it asks
if it’s a price that the current generations in power (or who would be after
revolution) are willing to pay for the “train babies” that will inherit the
earth. And it said yes. And it said that there is proof of life outside the
prison of the system. If a story can make me feel that dread-like ichor in the
veins, yet light-headed and fantastical all at the same time, it’s done its
work.
Becca,
ReplyDeleteYour post calls up the idea of an ending needing to have thematic and tonal resonance, and not just plot purpose, to really satisfy an audience. I haven't seen SNOWPIERCER (whoops, spoilered) but now I think I need to in order to fully appreciate these resonances you've so ably pointed out.
Best,
TT