Sample Research Paper, "Underground Movements as a Reaffirmation of Humanity," by Caitlin Devereaux

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Typically, underground movements in literature and film, as well as in history, have spurred oppressed masses to revolt and defend themselves. Almost all portrayals of dystopian futures have an underground element, some method of escape from the otherwise inescapable fate we must suffer. Underground movements serve just this escapist purpose in Brazil, Delicatessen, and Thomas Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49. Brazil provides hope in the form of the renegade repairmen led by Tuttle, Delicatessen has the bumbling vegetarian Troglodists, and Lot 49 has its mysterious conspiracy, the Tristero. Given, such movements do not always represent the epitome of social perfection, but underground movements, be they foreboding, incompetent, or somewhere in between, function as proof of humanity in an otherwise cold and depressing world.

Both Terry Gilliam's Brazil and Jean-Pierre Jeunet's Delicatessen have prominent underground movements; these act as proof of enduring humanity in a bleak future. Brazil's underground is viewed by its popular society as a terrorist movement and manifests itself mainly in the character of Archibald "Harry" Tuttle. Tuttle is a far cry from the slick, self-assured conspirator imagined by polite society; he is simply a human being seeking liberation from paperwork and social regulations. In his denial of society, Tuttle proves that humanity is not entirely lost. Tuttle provides one of the rare occurrences of true humanity in Brazil's dispassionate society, proclaiming, "We're all in it together," when in fact the majority of society seems to believe that every man must fend for himself. When Brazil's reluctant hero, Sam Lowry, resorts to a fantasy world in order to escape the society in which he can no longer survive, Tuttle and his band of revolutionary repairmen are the device he uses to escape reality. Sam, strapped down and facing certain lobotomy, creates his own internal world in which Tuttle rescues him and destroys the Ministry of Information. Even in his fantasy world, he constructs a band of revolutionaries who solve his technologically-rooted problems. One of the main characteristics of black humor is that it provides just such an escape from an otherwise devastating futuristic setting. As humans, we must have some reassurance, however vague, that the future can be altered. Tuttle and his underground are Gilliam's reassurance, however twisted, that the future does not have to be as black as he has portrayed it.

The comforting presence of a beneficial, if somewhat inept, underground can be seen in Delicatessen as well, in the form of the Troglodists. These renegade vegetarians are literally underground; they live in the sewers of post-apocalyptic France. The Troglos are a bit less effective than Tuttle; they botch kidnapping attempts, are slow-witted, and, of course, are extremely human. Many reviewers of Delicatessen mention the film's militant vegetarian underground in rather unglowing terms. The Troglodists are criticized as being ineffective and pointless. Thomas Billings, in an online review of Delicatessen, wrote, "They are portrayed as a bizarre and totally incompetent cult . . . Certainly their weirdness is funny at times, though I felt they added little to the film" (Billings). A fellow online reviewer, Ted Prigge, felt that "the rebel underground subplot really never [went] anywhere" (Prigge). These reactions to the Troglodists' ineptitude are understandable; indeed, they succeed in kidnapping the wrong person when sent to save Louison and function mainly as comic relief. However, the Troglos' inability to improve the physical state of Delicatessen's world does nothing to detract from the mental reassurance they provide for Julie. They are her last resort and give her confidence where nothing else will. Salon magazine writer Jenn Shreve seems to support this: "In [a] world . . . where the devastation of the spirit is so complete it seems any trace of human goodness is lost, there are still a few who hope" (Shreve). It doesn't matter that the Troglos are completely ineffectual; like Tuttle in Brazil, they function mainly as a symbol of humanity and salvation, and their ineptitude pales beside the reassurance they provide.

Though The Crying of Lot 49's Tristero is veiled in mystery throughout the novel, it too is a positive manifestation of humanity and decency in a disturbingly sterile world. Initially, Oedipa Maas finds the Tristero discouraging. It makes her realize that the world in which she lives is not as well-defined as she has previously thought. Like Sam Lowry in Brazil, Oedipa realizes that she has been oblivious to certain aspects of the society she has so whole-heartedly embraced. Critic Frank McConnell finds irony in the fact that this underground of repressed social rejects uses the acronym W.A.S.T.E. (We Await Silent Tristero's Empire). He interprets this as meaning "waste-the plastic garbage of an automated, consumer economy and the terrible byproduct of wasted, stunted, and wrecked lives which that economy imposes among its misfits" (McConnell 171). McConnell's analysis seems plausible when viewed in light of the members of the Tristero that Oedipa encounters. In a gay bar in San Francisco, she learns about a strange, seemingly unrelated branch of the Tristero, the Inamorati Anonymous. The members of this strange group use the muted post horn of the Tristero but claim ignorance of its significance. The Inamorati Anonymous is a group of people who have rejected love on the belief that it's "the worst addiction of all" (Pynchon 112). Reinforcing McConnell's claims, the Inamorati Anonymous was founded by a Yoyodyne executive who "found himself, at age 39, automated out of a job" (Pynchon 113), exactly the type of twisted social "byproduct" to which McConnell refers. Indeed, this branch of the Tristero seems rooted in sorrow and social rejection.

However, even the initial discouragement that the Inamorati Anonymous provides Oedipa can be viewed as a skewed form of encouragement. Despite the IA's dismal roots and misguided actions, it yet again serves as evidence of humanity in Oedipa's world. Its members work to liberate others from something they view as an affliction, evidencing a camaraderie, no matter how misguided it may be. Even in this seemingly negative endeavor, the Tristero offers encouragement , an alternative to social norms.

As Lot 49 progresses, Oedipa's reliance on the Tristero, her chance to escape the life society has defined for her, becomes increasingly pronounced. Oedipa views the Tristero as a liberation from her internal prison if only she can make sense of its secrets. [Footnote 1] She compares herself to Rapunzel, reinforcing Lot 49's themes of self-imprisonment and escape. Oedipa tells of her romance with Pierce Inverarity, who seemingly rescues her from her suburban prison. She realizes after his death that "all that had gone on between them had really never escaped the confinement of that tower . . . . and so Pierce had taken her away from nothing, there'd been no escape" (Pynchon 20-21). As she delves deeper into the secrecy enshrouding the Tristero, Oedipa realizes that it may free her from her self-imprisonment where Pierce could not. The Tristero allows Oedipa to end her reliance on society and to become an individual. In this way, it offers Oedipa escape from her fairy tale imprisonment.

In addition to symbolizing hope and escape, the Tristero is also an indication that a morally corrupt America can be changed, can be made to revert back to a time before society lost its soul. Paul Maltby, in his analysis of postmodernism, Dissident Postmodernists, believes that the Tristero will be the catalyst for a miracle, which, according to Jesús Arrabal, Oedipa's Mexican revolutionary friend, is "another world's intrusion into this one" (Pynchon 120). The miracle Maltby believes will occur involves the intrusion of the secret world of the Tristero into Oedipa's dead-end American reality:

In Lot 49, "this world" is a culturally debased late-capitalist society from which a mass of its people are alienated. Yet, in their alienation resides the subversive potential to reverse society 's entropic course by transforming the latent or fantasized existence of Tristero's dominion into actuality. That dominion is the intrusive "other world," a new world struggling to be born. (Maltby 137)

Oedipa's need to accept the Tristero as truth, her need to escape, is clear throughout Lot 49, especially as she becomes increasingly introspective near the end. She considers the possible meanings of the Tristero, afraid that it may be a hoax or a hallucination, but ultimately hopeful that it is indeed "a network by which X number of Americans are truly communicating whilst reserving their lies, recitations of routine, arid betrayals of spiritual poverty, for the official government delivery system" (Pynchon 170). Oedipa clearly views the Tristero as her only means of escape from a pointless existence, the key to a secret America worth living in. [Footnote 2]

At the close of Lot 49, Oedipa realizes that if the Tristero is revealed as nothing more than a hoax, she will not be able to survive the tedium of life. She muses that if the Tristero is only paranoia, "if there was just America, then it seemed the only way she could continue, and manage to be at all relevant to it, was as an alien, unfurrowed, assumed full circle into some paranoia" (Pynchon 182). Oedipa has clearly bought into the hope, whether real or imagined, created by the existence of the Tristero. The Tristero provides both Oedipa and the reader with a way to escape the increasingly oppressive American mainstream portrayed by Pynchon.

Humans are not perfect by any means; this is why the bumbling underground movements in Brazil and Delicatessen are so reassuring. Underground movements in otherwise bleak futuristic settings provide the viewer with a means of escape, proof that humanity will endure against any adversity. This is why Oedipa is so intrigued by the Tristero: it is her only indication that the people around her are not blind drones, slaves to technology. Given, the Tristero is slightly darker and more imposing than the bumbling underground movements of Brazil and Delicatessen. However, despite the Tristero's imposing exterior, it provides hope and escape from a depressing future as do most underground movements, fictional and real.

Footnotes

1. Critic Robert Hipkiss agrees with this interpretation. He believes that Oedipa's suburban surroundings are her own kind of prison. He thinks that Pynchon is "speaking of the tower of ego, the imprisoned self, imprisoned by fear and dislike of the social order, a force opposed by the Tristero" (Hipkiss 11). [back]
2. This theory is echoed by Angela Harris in "Afterword: Other Americas." She acknowledges that Lot 49 focuses heavily on paranoia, but claims that "the deepest subject [is] . . . the longing for another America" (Harris 1154). [back]

Sources Cited

 Barth, John. The Floating Opera and The End of the Road. New York: Doubleday, 1956.

 Billings, Thomas E. "Delicatessen." Internet Movie Database, 1991. (23 Nov 98).

 Frittz, Trond. "Terry Gilliam's Brazil: we're all in it together." (9 Nov 98).

 Harris, Angela P. "Afterword: Other Americas". Michigan Law Review v.95, n.4 (Feb, 1997), pp. 1150-1158.

 Hipkiss, Robert A. The American Absurd: Pynchon, Vonnegut, and Barth. Port Washington: Associated Faculty Press, Inc, 1984.

 Maltby, Paul. Dissident Postmodernists: Barthelme, Coover, Pynchon. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1991.

 McConnell, Frank D. Four Postwar American Novelists: Bellow, Mailer, Barth, and Pynchon. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1977.

 Prigge, Ted. "Delicatessen." Internet Movie Database, 1997. (23 Nov 98).

 Pynchon, Thomas. The Crying of Lot 49. New York: Harper & Row Publishers, Inc, 1966.

 Shreve, Jenn. "Delicatessen." Salon Magazine, 21 March 97. (23 Nov 98).