Aibileen works tirelessly raising her employer's child Aibileen's seventh one and keeps a tidy house, yet none of this distracts her from the recent loss of her own son who died in an accident at work while his white bosses turned away. Two events bring Skeeter and Aibileen even closer: Skeeter is haunted by a copy of Jim Crow laws she found in the library, and she receives a letter from a publisher in New York interested in Skeeter's idea of writing the true stories of domestic servants.
Skeeter approaches Aibileen with the idea to write narratives from the point of view of 12 black maids. Aibileen reluctantly agrees, but soon finds herself as engrossed in the project as Skeeter. They meet clandestinely in the evenings at Aibileen's house to write the book together as the town's struggles with race heat up all around them.
Aibileen brings in her best friend, Minny, a sassy maid who is repeatedly fired for speaking her mind, to tell her story, too. Hearing their stories changes Skeeter as her eyes open to the true prejudices of her upbringing. Aibileen and Minny also develop a friendship and understanding with Skeeter that neither believed possible.
Along the way, Skeeter learns the truth of what happened to her beloved maid, Constantine. Constantine had given birth, out of wedlock, to Lulabelle who turned out to look white even though both parents were black.
Neither the black nor the white community would accept Lulabelle, so Constantine gave her up for adoption when she was four years old. When the little girl grew up, she and Constantine were reunited. While Skeeter was away at college, Lulabelle came to visit her mother in Jackson and showed up at a party being held in Skeeter's mother's living room.
When Charlotte Phelan discovered who Lulabelle was, she kicked her out and fired Constantine. Constantine had nowhere else to go, so she moved with her daughter to Chicago and an even worse fate.
Skeeter never saw Constantine again. As much a part of white family life as weekly bridge clubs and church on Sunday, black maids were often loved, more often exploited and nearly always taken for granted.
Martin Luther King Jr. Against that backdrop, "The Help" takes us inside an unlikely rebellion. It all begins when new Ole Miss grad Skeeter Stone comes back home and tries to persuade the women who cook and clean and raise the babies to tell their stories and secrets.
She has a publishing career on her mind; they have uncomfortable truths, and redemption on theirs. For both sides it becomes a test of courage and conviction told in a kind of Capra-esque style, and I mean that in the best possible way. Kathryn Stockett's bestselling novel has given writer-director Tate Taylor a lot to chew on. Born and raised in Jackson, they are longtime friends and you can feel that connection in the care with which Taylor approaches the material, though the reverence is exactly what eventually trips him up.
As a result, the movie exists within an emotionally charged landscape sometimes too starkly black and white — there is no room for ambiguity at this table. With Taylor's deep Southern roots, he insisted on shooting the film on location, ultimately finding the retro feel he was looking for in Greenwood, Miss. Cinematographer Stephen Goldblatt, whose keen sense of the South earned him an Oscar nomination for 's "The Prince of Tides," makes the most of it, giving even the dirt roads and decaying frame houses a kind of gauzy beauty usually reserved for the plantation-styled manses.
While a lot of the action happens over stoves, it's the toilets that become the moral proving ground — and deliver some of the movie's funniest moments. That "The Help" can take the incendiary issue of "separate-but-equal" bathrooms and spin it into a series of side-splitting gags without losing sight of the underlying pain of discrimination, represents a kind of comedy I thought Hollywood had forgotten how to do.
You know, the kind that makes us laugh while going right to the heart of the matter, and comes as a blessed relief from the vapid raunch that has become the norm. Skeeter's new job at the local newspaper, a rejection letter from a New York publisher and the unexplained absence of Constantine, the maid who raised her, get things underway.
On paper, at least, The Help sounds exactly like the kind of well-meaning but backward, “progressive” yet pious movie that Hollywood, by now, should perhaps have outgrown. It’s set in the early civil rights era, a time whose turbulence long ago hardened into safe, non-controversial mythology.
“The Help” based on a best-selling novel by Kathryn Stockett, a story of three women who take extraordinary risk in writing a novel based on the stories from the view of black maids and nannies. Set in Jackson, Mississippi in the early s, a young girl sets out to change the town.
The help directed by Tate Taylor the characters Hilly, Skeeter, Celia and Charlotte all show us their different views of racism living in the southern Mississippi Jackson. Techniques such as dialogue, camera angles, costuming and lighting all show this. The Help is a movie that has been adapted from a bestselling novel by Kathryn Stockett. The story revolves around Jackson, Mississippi in the early s. The storyline is developed from the point of views of Aibileen Clark, Eugenia ‘Skeeter’ Phelan and Minny Jackson.
Essays on The Help Film Analysis. The Help Film Analysis Search. Search Results. The Doctor a Film Analysis The Doctor – A Film Analysis The movie the doctor tells the story of a very sarcastic doctor named Jack Mackee who finds out that he has throat cancer and tells. The Help. The novel The Help by Kathryn Stockett portrayal of the mother role follows the stereotype of the white neglecting mother and the loving and caring colored mother figure. Stockett uses several households to exhibit the archetype, but she emphasizes it in the Leefolt and Phelan households.