Screen Machine

Review: Good Hair

Review by Jessie & Maggie Scott

When we think about where this doco ‘fits in’ to the general scheme of things, it is probably most comparable to Michael Moore’s documentaries and Bill Maher’s Religulous, in that Chris Rock is a well-known comedian who uses his persona and comedic wit to go about uncovering cultural myths. In this case, the whole thing is kicked off when Rock’s young daughter asks him, ‘Daddy, why don’t I have good hair?’, which inspires him to go out in search of some answers about African-American female hair culture.

Unlike Moore or Maher, Rock doesn’t take a hard-nosed political stance, or use the format to ‘out’ and humiliate in order to prove his point. Sure, Rock deftly teases out some really sharp political points about racialised beauty. And yes, he really doesn’t seem to want his daughters putting ‘creamy crack’ – a chemical relaxant that both melts Coke cans and straightens frizzy hair – on their heads.

But the strength of the film is absolutely in this personal approach: Rock has frank conversations with black women and men, hairdressers, stars and everyday people, about the intimate details of their hair styling – how much they earn and pay for their hair; what they put in it; why they want it to look straight and silky rather than natural; who can and can’t touch it. It’s easy (and lazy) to sit back and judge, make pronouncements from on high. But the film is all the more enjoyable because it takes the subjective experiences of real people so much into account in its narrative about hair. The form of the event and the sociality of personal grooming is as important as the content. As Maya Angelou says, “Your hair is your glory…and you share it with your family.” Rock continues to probe the idea that it’s ludicrous (racially and economically oppressive) that anyone should feel that their hair is more “natural” after hours in the salon (or hidden by Indian export tresses). But he also recognises that the shared experience, identity, creativity and camaraderie hair culture affords or reinforces is just as relevant. The film allows the issue to be complex. It lets beauty be fun, which it is, as well as complicated and complicating.

Nowhere is the creativity of Good Hair more alive than in the finale at Bronner Brothers trade show, an exporama that has been running since the 1950s. This is where the top stylists specialising in black hair compete for 25 thou (which, as Rock says, was a lot of money back in 2006). They come equipped with entourages of back-up dancers, models, glitzy costumes and snippin’ theatrics – though not much hair cutting actually occurs. It is a sexually charged and ambiguous arena, where the thrill lies in the idea that on that stage, anything can happen. The reigning champion is a white, blonde botoxed man who is quietly confident he’ll win again. Freddy is a lesbian who stages high concept performances that no one understands. A Christian hairstylist with dreads hypes up his team with prayer before the show and Derek J. places his thigh-high-heeled bejewelled boots at the centre of his piece.

Let’s face it, all women must come to grips somehow with unrealistic norms of beauty. Like the white myth of adult Blondeness, the illusion of straight-haired African Americans needed to be debunked. It’s more important that people recognise the labour and expression that goes into grooming than it is to stop people doing it. People shouldn’t feel bound to maintain an illusion – they should be able to choose.

Good Hair is showing exclusively at ACMI until April 21st.

Maggie Scott just finished her first feature screenplay and writes eclectically about pretty much anything to do with the arts because she has a big gap in her knowledge of science.

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