I’m not a teenager. I’m not
Pakistani. I’m not British. And I’m not Muslim. So why did I – a
forty-something American white man – feel such a preternatural connection to Blinded by the Light and its protagonist?
Sure, I’m a huge Bruce Springsteen
fan, and the fact that he and his music plays a pivotal role in the lead
character’s life definitely factored into my enjoyment of the film. But that’s
not fully why I watched this film in awe. It’s also not why I cried twice while
watching this film. What made me so emotionally invested in this film was not
the differences I had with the lead character but rather the similarities.
That’s the brilliance of Blinded by the
Light. It’s the ultimate proof positive that, despite our differences,
there is more that connects us than divides us … if we’re only willing to
explore it.
I had first heard of the book Greetings From Bury Park by Sarfraz Manzoor a few years ago.
Knowing its premise of a young adult Pakistani who grew up in England, and how
he was turned on to Springsteen’s music, and dealt with the hardships of his
traditional upbringing as well as being an outsider, the story appealed to me.
I bought the book in April and made sure to read it before seeing the film.
While the book expectantly goes into more detail – nonconsecutively following
Manzoor’s journey from childhood to being in his twenties (even briefly covering 9/11) – the film strictly
focuses on Manzoor – renamed Javid Khan (Viveik
Kalra) in the film – as he begins his high school in 1987 Luton, England. The
film makes Javid’s father, Malik (Kulvinder
Ghir), appear as some greedy tyrannical father at the beginning as he’s
first introduced to take all of the family’s wages from their various jobs. It
skims over the fact that Manzoor’s father, (real name) Mohammed, traveled to
England and lived there for 11 years, earning enough money to buy a home and
pay for his wife and children to come to England, while they stayed back in
Pakistan. When his family did come to Britain, they all had to work and
contribute to make ends meet. It’s that kind of perspective that makes you
somewhat sympathize a little more for Mohammed. What the film does touch on is
the strict, traditional upbringing most often experienced in Pakistani and Muslim families. This is but one of the main parts of Javid’s life he longs to escape.
When he’s introduced to Springsteen’s music by a friend in a time right when, according to his peers, "no one listens to Springsteen anymore" (just before the release of his album Tunnel of Love), his emotions upon
listening to the music are represented by the wild winds of the Great Storm of 1987 as well as the lyrics filling the screen to convey to the audience the
vital words which stick to Javid’s brain and ring his truth.
While Javid has the usual teenage
problems of girls, staying true to himself, wanting to honor his parents,
wanting to do what he wants to do, and just all around wanting to have fun, the
film also
features real-world 1987 issues which sadly are still relevant today
– namely the representation and threat of the United Kingdom’s National Front
(NF) which can be seen in America today (most infamously at the 2017 “Unite the
Right” rally) under the lead of the white supremacy group, the National Policy
Institute. This all boils under the surface of this feel-good film as Bend it Like Beckham director Gurinder Chadha masterfully, delicately
shows just enough of this aspect without having it completely overtake the film.
There’s also a special props to the mentioning of the true meaning of “Born in
the USA,” a song mostly mistaken as a patriotic, “ain’t-America-wonderful” song.
I’ve heard it played at Independence Day fairs and celebrations, which is an
odd choice for a song about the destructive remnants of a Vietnam veteran’s
life as he returns from the war to no opportunities. Nevertheless, it’s Chadha’s romantic, fun
scenes which perfectly compliment the serious moments in Javid’s life. His
musical number to “Thunder Road” may first appear cheesy, but, by the end of
that sequence, you’re smiling! This may be some geeky musical dramedy that Springsteen fans get the most out of, but that doesn't negate its great qualities and it doesn't prevent the viewer from loving the various characters.
What most made me get so emotional
were two particular scenes. The first was a short scene between Javid’s father
and his mother, Noor (Meera Ganatra),
while she is dyeing his hair darker so he may get a job. This scene poignantly
shows a softer side to his father, a sentiment of which any father who has to
support his family can relate. In life, I’ve been Javid and I certainly felt a
closeness to this character; but I also faced the harsh reality that, lately,
I’m his father too: a man so caught up in worrying about supporting his family
and being a good provider that he’s been blinded to what’s in front of him and
it’s made him a bit angry and sad. It was a wake-up call of sorts that knocked
me for a loop, and, fortunately, by the film’s end, there’s proof it’s never
too late to change for the better. The other scene that got to me was soon
after seeing his desperate father try to search for a job (appropriately played
out to “Independence Day”), near the end when Javid reads from his essay and
his family shows up to truly hear him out, as Javid comes to his truth. This is
the crux of the film and Viveik Kalra’s performance is a delightful balance of
just enough emotion and tears without being overbearing, but emotional all the
same. I know these scenes affected me most likely more than others because they
spoke to me. I could relate to them. I’ve felt those feelings. I’ve thought
those thoughts. Often times I still do. And to see a writer (or, writers) have
enough sense to convey those same thoughts and feelings to the screen was what
I needed. Just like Javid’s feeling of how Springsteen relates to his life,
this film relates to my life – even as a forty-something white guy!
With all of the musician biopics the
likes of Bohemian Rhapsody and Rocketman beginning to be made and
released, it may only be a matter of time before, one day, there’s a
Springsteen biopic. Until then, Blinded
by the Light should be considered the ultimate homage to the Boss. It’s got
everything his songs contain: love, youth, escape, longing, pain, change, struggle,
redemption, anger, truth, sadness, determination, family, and, most of all, hope. To know he’s
touched – and had such a profound effect on – at least one life, let alone
many, many others, as shown in a film like this is what I’d consider a glorious
tribute. Like Javid, when I was a teen, I’d been spit on. I’d been pushed so hard,
I’d lost a bit of my balance, sometimes pushed into walls. I’ve been bullied
for something about myself I couldn’t – and shouldn’t
have to – change. And also like Javid, Springsteen’s music talks to me. It
still talks to me. It’s helped me to understand the world and all its
loveliness and ugliness; to be a better person; feel understood; and it’s conveyed
all that I’ve felt and thought, letting me know I’m not alone. That kind of
connection makes any film a success.
