So I finally watched The Hunger Games. Normally, I
would attribute my delay in joining the pop culture bandwagon-ism to my lack of
interest or simply, my complete ignorance about what movies are even out right
now. But that wasn’t the case with The Hunger Games. I definitely knew
they were out in the spring and I would have had to live in a cave to not
know that a wave of obsession was sweeping through America.
No, I couldn’t bring myself to watch The Hunger Games
when I learned of the plot. I felt nauseous thinking about children killing
each other so that the elite and privileged could be entertained. I had
heard it was kind of a social commentary on humans; the Hunger Games would not
be able to continue, as Gale points out, if people stopped watching them. After
all, it is just a show. But humans find entertainment and thrill and pleasure
from this and so, the games continued past their 70th anniversary.
Was I just like the wealthy and privileged that got entertainment from this, by
watching The Hunger Games?
The thought was unsettling and so, for months, I never
watched it.
But I kind of wanted to. I was curious about all the hype
and the previews looked thrilling. I wanted to see the movie.
So last night I
finally did.
I couldn’t stop talking through the movie (sorry, Rigo!)
because my thoughts were spinning like crazy. The plot was fairly simple and
yet I needed to voice my shock at what was actually happening. As Katniss
trained and was prepared for the Hunger Games, I began to feel nauseous. My
brother offered to turn the movie off, but I couldn’t now. I had to finish it.
My heartbeat raced and my palms got sweaty. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the
cheering crowds in the Capital and then the stark contrast of the poverty and
pain in the districts as they watched their beloved children slaughter
and be slaughtered.
I was amazed watching the dynamics of the game change as Katniss
displayed a humane side, time and time again. As she gently spoke with Rue, as
she shared her food with her, as she buried her and wept at her death. She
courageously stayed by Peeta’s side, though he was a liability to her survival
and helped nurse him back to health, though it almost cost her life. She was
saved by the boy from District 11 who couldn’t bring himself to kill Katniss
after she had protected and loved Rue. The games were changing because Katniss
would not—could not—become a player in their bloodbath. She was there to
survive, but not to play.
She disrupted the game dynamics so much so, and nearly
ruined the Hunger Games by suggesting that Peeta and her die together rather
than one of them survive and give the show exactly what they want: one victor.
This would upset the show so much, that the possibility of having two victors
was allowed, seeing the 74th Hunger Game with 24 slaughtered children and no
winner would not sell.
So did I like the movie?
It was well made. I was certainly involved, squeezing my
brother’s arm tightly, crying and gasping. I couldn’t turn it off half-way
through.
But I hated the plot… kind of.
I loved that one person was able to destabilize a 70+ year
tradition of slaughter. No, not necessarily get rid of it altogether. No, not
save the lives of 23 other children. But she saved the life of one other. She
dignified Rue’s death and she refused to kill cold-bloodedly. I loved how she
never really seemed to get used to the idea of killing humans. I loved her
courage and bravery.
But I absolutely hated the fact that the Hunger Games
existed in this imaginary world. Because it’s not so imaginary, is it? We do
find entertainment from watching others struggle, suffer and we can’t wait to
see who will come out on top—forgetting that to come out on top, someone had to
end up at the bottom. I hated the stark contrasts of opulence and poverty. I
hated the ruthlessness that overtook these children when the need to survive
kicked in. I hated the cheering crowds and the fancy TV show hosts.
And I kinda hated that I watched on a Saturday night… to
entertain myself.
