Mothers and Daughters in Spanglish

Spoiler Alert: I am about to discuss the ending of Spanglish, having just seen it for the third time—so anyone who doesn’t want to know “what happens” better cease and desist or accept the consequences.

This spoiler is also posted on my other blog, Dirty Laundry.

Paz Vega and Victoria Luna in Splanglish

Spanglish is a film that provides a whole new angle on the mother-daughter relationship. The movie is primarily about the immigrant experience, but the mother-daughter dyad is a major component. Writer/director James Brooks has set up an almost too obvious contrast-and-compare of the familial pairings—the American Bernice (Sarah Steele) and her mother, Deborah Clasky (Tia Leone), and the Mexican Christina (Victoria Luna) and Flor Moreno (Paz Vega). The character of Deborah’s mother Evelyn is wittily played by a sardonic Cloris Leachman. The ending mercifully throws obvious out the window and saves the film from the realm of cliché.

In the typical immigrant story, the second generation must defect from the first in order to achieve personal success; they must necessarily distance themselves from their cultural roots and, subsequently, their families. In one life-changing summer Christine Moreno takes her first baby steps into the world of American success, and nearly makes it to the starting line–but before the opening shot is even fired, her mother, in an act of supreme confidence and maternal bravery, slams on the brakes.

After spending a summer at the beach home of the Claskis, her mother’s employers, Christine gets a scholarship to Bernice’s fancy LA private school. This comes about from the meddling of Deborah Claski, who wants to “help” the intelligent, charming girl. On the surface it 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 Claski’s, Flor delivers the bad news to Christine: she’s not going to let her attend white bread school.

During their walk and bus ride home, daughter confronts mother with the usual tears and accusations. Christine has more of a case than many daughters in rebellion—this is, after all, about her education—and surely some members of the audience are outraged by Flora’s actions. She won’t budge, however, not even when Christine literally pushes her away with that most American of all clichés, “I need space.” Me, I wanted to cheer when Flor stuck her face into her daughter’s and said, “Uh uh, between you and me is no space!” A few minutes later Flor poses the question at the heart of the movie: Do you really want to become someone so different from me?

For Christine, it’s as if she’s been struck on the head with a hammer: she wakes up and makes the decision that will set the stage for her future, recognizing that she does not want to become other, does not want to leave her mother and her culture behind and jump into 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, refusing to sacrifice their relationship for some dubious better future.

This term, sacrifice, gets thrown around a lot in definitions of the American family experience. It’s a concept I’ve never understood, and am glad to see challenged. I’ve often wondered if my aversion to sacrifice means I’m lacking some essential parental gene–but it just  seemed to me that if every parent sacrifices for the kids, nobody ever gets to live on their own account. Is it ever okay for a parent to live his or her own life? In America not only are individuals expected to sacrifice, but whole generations are supposed to struggle and strive for the one coming up. When does anyone get to relax?

Specifically, when have we ever heard or seen a daughter who wants to be like her mother? Have we ever been shown, in a work of cultural representation,  a daughter whose every move, breath and action is not intended to differentiate herself  from the despised maternal figure? I can’t recall ever seeing a film or play, or reading a book, in which any girl past puberty consciously emulates her mother. Think of  Stella Dallas, a wildly popular story in which a mother parts forever from her daughter so she can marry a wealthy man without her lower-class roots getting in the way. According to the values expressed in Stella Dallas , the mother-daughter relationship is far less important than material gain.

And should a fictional mother prevent her daughter from “bettering” her lot in life, she’s portrayed as deeply neurotic, clinging, and overbearing. But Flor is anything but neurotic: in fact, she’s  worthy of emulation–a gorgeous, smart, kind and loving woman who strives to make her life and her daughter’s life function on a decent level without sacrificing herself to it.

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 fiction, “Chloe liked Olivia.” What would happen if women, especially mothers and daughters, were portrayed as  liking one another, if daughters admired their mothers so much they aimed to be like them? What if American values were more in keeping with Flor’s ?

As another poet once said, the world would split open.

On a lighter note, Tia Leoni is hilarious in Spanglish, an absolute gem and a pleasure to watch. Given the stunning looks of Paz Vega and Victoria Luna, as well as their performances, whoever played Debora Claski had to be something special to hold her own here—and Tia Leoni is.

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Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)

• Chapter 9: Stolen Daughters
• Chapter Two: The Invisible Daughter
• Chapter Four: Other Daughters
• The “Spanglish” Review