[A/N: Originally posted 6/12/2008. In hindsight, it really was as bad as I said - AK, 18/7/10]
So last night I watched a documentary called A World Of Pain: Meera Syal on Self-Harm. Let me just refer to my notes (yes, I took notes). My word, I seem to have scrawled the words ‘patronising bitch!’ down at one point or another. I think that was about a quarter of the way in, after the phrase, ‘What makes [self-harmers] cross the line? Could it be something to do with our mental health?’.
I don’t mean to suggest, of course, that you shouldn’t explain the basics of what self-harm is and why people tend to do it, but when it takes you 15 minutes to get there, and most of those 15 minutes have been talking about Meera Syal, that’s probably a bad sign.
I’m not out to do a hatchet job, because I really wanted to like this documentary. It’s just a pity how appallingly bad it is. It’s an earnest piece of middle-class hand-wringing with no clear idea of what it’s talking about and all the subtlety of a baseball bat to the kneecaps. Plus, they actually used Jeff Buckley’s cover of ‘Hallelujah’, which should give a general idea of both the tone and the level of imagination at work here. Also, as I find I have written here, ‘The Smiths! Fuck’s sake!’.
Anyway, the first bit tries to explain why self-harm is more common these days, what with the impending Mental Health Crisis Doompocalypse Of Death. We have the revelation that teenagers now are perhaps feeling a tiny bit more pressure academically and socially, as well as finding out about Meera’s book, Meera’s TV adaptation of the book, Meera’s birthdate, what Meera’s horrible friends think about it, and the wonderfully revealing sentence (as Meera is talking about her adolescence), ‘if I had a problem, I just opened Jackie magazine’. Which is nice.
We also touch on why self-harm has become more generally known about, and it turns out it’s all Diana’s fault: ‘since Diana’s confession [to having self-harmed], it seems like self-harm has become mainstream [...] I don’t remember celebrities displaying their apparent [words cannot do justice to the tone this word is delivered in] self-harm scars like Amy Winehouse’.
Um. Just so we’re clear? I didn’t start self-harming because of Princess Diana. Or Amy Winehouse. And come to think of it, I don’t believe self-harm has become mainstream; the looks I get when I go out in short sleeves would seem to indicate otherwise. And it’s not as if self-harm has become more known about because of any larger trends in the spreading of knowledge between now and the 70s, is it? I mean, just imagine if people could find out about things on some kind of interweb thing. It’ll never happen, though, so clearly it’s all down to the sloane bint.
After all this bollocks Syal finally gets around to talking to actual teenagers, asking them if they know people who self-harm and why it’s (apparently) more common. The same sort of reasons come up: competition and the media (Meera plainly does not like this idea). One very eloquent girl mentions the kind of pressure to live up to the sort of social ideal a lot of the media are in the business of perpetuating. I don’t recall, but I may have mentioned that in an earlier blog post; it’s definitely an argument I can see the merit in, and it’s not as if talking about media responsibility is to automatically assume BBC1 is broadcasting subliminal messages telling people to cut themselves.
The film is generally long on empathy and short on actual detail or facts, so it’s only a small mercy when we finally get round to seeing someone who has self-harmed talking. About half of that interview is comprised of soft-focus reaction shots of the interviewer. Anyway, this girl talks about self-harm as a choice; a not particularly good coping mechanism, but a coping mechanism nonetheless. Obviously, I have a few bones to pick with that idea, but prior to this the view of self-harm is very much of this Terrible Thing That Is Happening To Our Babies And Must Be Stopped, so it’s nice to see some more reasoned views.
Another thing I was going to mention was how unusually specific this film is about self-harmers. First, you pretty much have to be female (takes 57 minutes before anyone even mentions guys who self-harm, and Syal doesn’t talk to any). Secondly, you can’t really be over 19 (The completely-missing-the-point award of 2009 goes to the phrase ‘Self-harm is often associated with angst-ridden teenagers… but sometimes angst-ridden grown-ups do the same’).
Continuing the 60-minute guilt trip, we have another quote; ‘Who else is at risk? Anyone living outside of a secure family unit…’. As if you can’t self-harm if your parents are still playing happy families. Also, those questioning their sexuality, and British Asian women. This is where it gets a bit complicated. I’d like to think there isn’t a cultural or ethnic basis for or propensity to self-harm, but it would seem that the numbers don’t really back this up. Syal goes into some of the possible reasons why British Asian women are disproportionately likely to self-harm, including a possible lack of independence, the culture clash, and different cultural ideals and expectations of women in Asian culture. I can’t really argue with this, mostly because it’s not my place to; in terms of my cultural background, I’m from a curiously schizophrenic mix of middle-class social climbing and working-class Catholicism. Half popery and half pot-pourri, if you will. In any case, the logic in this bit seems sound and it was actually interesting, thus making it the highlight of the film.
By this point, we’re 38 minutes in and we’re just now seeing Meera talk to someone who actually treats self-harm, in the form of a university nurse who looks after students’ health, physical or mental. We find out (again) that it’s all about Pressure. Which doesn’t quite answer the question. If self-harm is more common, which is difficult if not impossible to actually prove, why are more people turning to it specifically instead of other ways to cope with pressure? Are they? None of these questions come up, leaving the whole thing rather superficial. Don’t even ask me about prospective answers to the great big self-harm epidemic we apparently have now.
Syal: Why are more adolescents self-harming?
Nurse: …pressure?
Syal: Oh.
Syal: Well, what can we do about it?
Nurse: You could try actually talking to your kids once in a while.
Syal: Oh.(Not an actual quote, but it might as well have been)
Then we get on to the mistreatment of self-harmers in A&E, which means that Meera gets to use her guilt-tripping reaction-shot superpowers for good instead of evil. Later a consultant is wheeled out to lie about whether or not it still happens.
Finally we’re into the final stretch, and we go to the Bethlem Royal Hospital in South London, where Meera talks to a very articulate and intelligent patient by the name of Louise, about things like harm minimisation and so on. This bit’s actually quite good. And that’s more or less it. Add a few mopey songs, and a director obsessed with contrails because they look a bit like cuts (lines tend to), and that’s A World Of Pain. Watch it if you want to, but don’t expect to learn a great deal from it.
To finish up my ranting and moaning about it, I’m going to get all high-and-mighty and talk about how I’d approach making a film about self-harm. First and most importantly, I would talk a hell of a lot more to people who self-harm and people who treat them. Secondly, I would at least try not to bring my misunderstandings and outright stereotypes into it. And thirdly? Thirdly I would never, ever, ever use ‘Hallelujah’ on the soundtrack.
Last words of advice? Don’t take self-harm too seriously*. It’s not the end of the world.
