IMDb #239 Review: The Help (2011)

Source: Wikipedia

This movie came from a novel, which can mean any of many terrible things.

Most writers write what they know–who they are, what they do, where they live. In this case, it's a young woman writing in Jacksonville, Mississippi. Atoning for the sin of small imagination is difficult but not impossible: tell a stupendous story. Which, fortunately, she does.

Instead of hustling pool or falling victim to sultry housewives, our heroine sticks up for black maids in the horribly racist Deep South. Progress is slow, hard, painful. But, as with many protagonists in historical fiction, we root for her because she thinks the way we do today.

First she solicits a maid’s advice for a cleaning column in the local newspaper. Strangely, treating people like people tends to make them like you. Life stories trickle in, then pour in, from one, two, a dozen maids with horror stories about modern day slavery. A book deal is born.

Our authoress and her co-conspirators work in secret. Their project is not only illegal, it is social suicide. The consequences? Unjust arrest. Blacklisting. The tinkly tittering of tarnished southern belles who’ll tear your heart out with a condescending smile.

In a matter of minutes, I swung from rage at injustice, to maniacal laughter at justice served, back to rage, and finally to grudging acceptance.

It’s a brilliant chick flick that hits all the buttons. Predominantly female cast, feel-good story (which takes breaks for bitter realism), pointless romance…and, rarest of all, genuine heart.

Recommended for unthanked housekeepers, mothers (redundant?), blacks and whites and everything in between.

146 minutes.