Spanglish
A new angle on mothers and daughters, and the immigrant experience.
Spoiler Alert: I am about to be very specific regarding the end of Spanglish.
Spanglish is a film that provides a whole new angle on the mother-daughter relationship. While primarily about the immigrant experience, the mother-daughter dyad is also a major component. Writer/director James Brooks has set up an almost too obvious contrast-and-compare of familial pairings — the American girl Bernice (Sarah Steele) and her mother, Deborah Clasky (Tia Leone); versus the Mexican Christina (Victoria Luna) and Flor Moreno (Paz Vega). Extra spice is tossed in with the character of Evelyn as Deborah’s mother, played by a sardonic Cloris Leachman. The ending, however, throws obvious out the window and saves the film from the realm of cliché.
In the typical immigrant story, the second generation defects from their parents; to achieve personal success in America, they must necessarily distance themselves from their cultural roots and, subsequently, their families. In one complex, event-filled, life-changing summer, Christine Moreno takes her first steps into American success — but before the race can even begin, her mother, in an act of supreme confidence and bravery, slams on the brakes.
After spending a summer at the beach home of the Claskys, her mother’s employers, Christine gets a scholarship to Bernice’s fancy LA private school, thanks to Deborah Clasky, who wants to “help” the intelligent, charming girl. On the surface this represents an unprecedented educational opportunity, but when Flor visits the school she rightly suspects it will turn Christine into a slice of white bread. Even Bernice’s father, played by an uncharacteristically subdued Adam Sandler, says he worries about what the school is doing to his kids. Thus, after quitting her job with the Claskys, Flor delivers the bad news to Christine: she’s not going to let her attend the school.
For Christine, it’s as if she’s been struck on the head with a hammer: after first screaming and crying and hating her mother, she wakes up and makes the decision that will set the stage for her future. She recognizes that she does not want to become other, does not want to leave her mother and her culture behind for the flotsam and jetsam of what passes for American success. This represents a stunning new twist in the immigrant story. Flor deviates from the maternal script to want her daughter to do “better” than herself, refusing to sacrifice their relationship for some dubious future for her daughter.
This term, sacrifice, is used all the time to define the essence of American experience and the American family. Frankly, it’s a concept I’ve never understood, and about which I’ve often felt guilty, wondering if I’m missing some essential parental gene. But if every parent sacrifices for the next generation, when do people get to live on their own account? When is it okay to simply live life? According to the American Dream, not only are individuals expected to sacrifice, but whole generations are expected to do so. Everyone is supposed to struggle and strive. When does anyone get to relax and enjoy their lives?
What happens between Flor and her daughter at the end of Spanglish is truly radical. When have we ever heard or seen a daughter who wants to be like her mother, a daughter whose every move, breath and action isn’t intended to separate herself from the hated maternal figure? I can’t recall ever seeing a film or play, or reading a book, in which any daughter beyond the age of puberty wished to emulate her mother. The perfect emblem of this denouement is Stella Dallas, in which a mother parts forever from her daughter so she can marry a wealthy man without being embarrassed by her lower-class roots.
If ever a fictional mother prevents her daughter from “bettering” herself, she’s portrayed as deeply neurotic, clinging, and overbearing. Flor is anything but neurotic: all along she is portrayed as a hard-working, loving mother, a role model worthy of emulation — a gorgeous, smart woman who strives to make her and her daughter’s lives function at a fairly decent level without sacrificing herself entirely.
Virginia Woolf, writing of female friendship in A Room Of One’s Own, posed the question of what the world might be like if, in a novel, women actually liked one another. What would happen if mothers and daughters were portrayed as liking one another, if daughters admired their mothers so much they aimed to be like them? What if the prevailing American values were more in keeping with those of Flor and Christine?
On a somewhat lighter note, I must mention that one of the best things about Spanglish is Tia Leoni’s performance. She is hilarious, an absolute gem and a pleasure to watch. Given the stunning looks of Paz Vega and Victoria Luna, whoever played Debora Clasky had to be really special to stand out here — and Tia Leoni was.
