"You've only seen Haaz [Sleiman] from the very moment he stepped on screen in the series covered in blood as this... ghoulish kind of killer. He hasn't been that sympathetic. And in this final moment here, you really see his humanity... He's afraid to die. And that's something that wasn't in the script." - Graham Roland, executive producer of Jack Ryan
Ali aims a gun at Jack.
Jack aims a gun at Ali.
Ali's and Jack's first fight. Here, once again, Jack acts in self-defense and is victorious over Ali.
In the scene to the left, Jack engages in his second real physical brawl of the series. Rather uncoincidentally, his fight is against the same opponent - Ali - the younger brother of the show's main antagonist, Suleiman. After tracking Ali down, Jack demands to know where the attack is. But Ali would rather fight (and die) before giving an answer - and he does. In a piercingly reluctant moment of self-defense, Jack quickly trains the gun he had just wrestled away on Ali, shoots, and kills him. The scene speaks to some interesting tropes on Muslim representation - namely, the portrayal of a White Savior being forced to engage in violence for the sake of both his well-being and arguably that of the greater good, the depiction of a Muslim engaging in violence for the sake of maintaining a terroristic scheme, and even going so far as to die for his beliefs which seem to be rooted in irrational aggression, and the ultimate victory of the White Savior over the Muslim.
But perhaps what's more interesting is the thought that went into the making of the scene itself. The behind-the-scenes clip comprises executive producers Carlton Cuse's and Graham Roland's explanation and scene analysis. Roland in particular notes how actor Haaz Sleiman (who plays Ali) has, in the series thus far, been thoroughly associated with violence; in fact, most of Ali's screentime in the pilot is spent being covered in blood. And yet, in his last moments the audience gets a rare glimpse of his underlying humanity, his relatable desperation and fear of dying.
But that wasn't in the script.
That emotion and that connection to and resonance with the audience, the intensity of the moment and the sudden concern for Ali's life, was never intended or planned by the filmmakers. The script, which here serves essentially as a proxy for the larger milieu of Hollywood, could not accommodate the concept of Muslim humanity.
Critics of the show might say that the ultimacy of this scene is simply a regurgitation of the "white hero beats bad Muslim" cinematic trope which lacks any cultural sensitivity or semblance to the truth whatsoever.
Proponents of Jack Ryan might respond with, "yes, but... the fight really serves to humanize Ali. We respect his tenacity, we empathize with his pain, we might even admire his willingness to die for his beliefs. And you can clearly tell how greatly Jack wants to refrain from killing; we can see what anguish he's in afterwards."
That, in summary, is the conversation surrounding Jack Ryan, the series. Advocates and critics of the show enter into a complex back-and-forth boomerang-type conversation full of "yes, but..." statements. Both sides tend to recognize the legitimacy of the other's stance but ultimately argue why the show has either set representations of Muslim peoples in post-9/11 American cinema back a decade or taken a step forward in its approach.
Amidst both this lively conversation and the making of Jack Ryan itself, consultant and Muslim chaplain for Loyola University Chicago Omer Mozaffar stands in the middle of it all. He describes his own ethical dilemma in choosing to consult for a show that, on one hand, ultimately portrays Muslims as villains, but on the other, portrays Muslims as villains with deeply rich backstories and exigencies, imbued with a greater degree of accuracy and sensitivity than most other Hollywood works could even fathom. Mozaffar expresses his appreciation for the producers of Jack Ryan, who made the effort in the first place to find a cultural consultant, and, as Mozaffar describes, "were very sensitive to my comments and made changes accordingly." Such changes were diverse and impactful, from detail-oriented alterations to diet ("no one eats falafel in Pakistan") to overturning larger and more gravely stereotyped character representations, such as the initial choice for the main antagonist Suleiman to have four wives.
Incidentally, Mozaffar's ethical dilemma when called upon to become the show's cultural consultant somewhat mirrors many of Jack Ryan's ethical dilemmas throughout the course of the show. These internal conflicts tend toward opting for a necessary evil for the sake of the greater good. Ryan kills Suleiman at the show's climax (whoops spoiler) in order to prevent him from detonating a bomb that will release the Ebola virus in the east coast. Mozaffar signs on to a show that ultimately portrays a Muslim antagonist against a white protagonist, but is also able to implement significant changes to the script that rehumanize the Muslim characters, and in doing so even sets somewhat of a precedent for future (and ideally, even better) representations in film. Jack acts for the physical welfare of the public, and Mozaffar for their perceptual health, now and for years to come. It's for the greater good.
I think Mozaffar's account is one of the most interesting secondary sources I've come across thus far, chiefly because of his internal conflict of interests. As a consultant, he works for both Hollywood and Islam, advancing the intelligence and sensitivity of the former whilst promoting the perception of the latter. But at the same time, Mozaffar has to reckon with the show's ultimate premise - the white hero overcoming the Muslim villain. His work directly addresses whether representations of Muslims in film can evolve, and if so, to what extent. It questions if Jack Ryan is the outlier amidst a cinematic torrent of cultural insensitivity, but builds up the momentum for scrubbing at this stain of apathy in the (ideally near) future.
As I look into more primary sources, I'll be also looking for this thread, the reaction to and conversation around a series that has made the villains Muslim but arguably not the Muslims villains.
Jack Ryan, both the character and the show, is plagued by a paradox. Jack Ryan is a well-intentioned entity with boy-scout-level morality, seeking to do good without compromise. He is thus distinguished from his peers with a lesser conscience - as a character, from his fellow Americans, and as a show, from its fellow contemporary American film. But by nature, Ryan's intentions run into a wall of paradox. The show has good intentions; it wishes to (at least partially) recharacterize Muslims in American film. But does its inherent nature - as a distinctly American trademark propelling a classical Cold War-American icon into the modern day - inhibit this aspiration? Is Jack Ryan good or is he good strictly because he's American? Is the show's purpose pure or is it tainted by glorifying a character as uniquely moralistic for the sake of nationalistic self-referentiality? Further, and more psychoanalytically, did the show make an effort to cut back on racist tropes because they are wrong or because doing show would shine a kinder light on the character of American cinema, to make it seem less biased? In fact, could the filmmakers have achieved the opposite objective? Does the show's more nuanced composition make the premise of Muslim antagonists more plausible and believable than a more obviously self-absorbed jingoistic work could? As a character initially forged for the purpose of bolstering the perception of the U.S., to what extent can he now bolster the representation of Muslims? Can these two processes occur simultaneously; could they possibly be synergized? Or must one occur at the expense of the other? Do you have to separate the man from the nation in order for the hope of rehumanizing Muslims to be fulfilled?