CC BY
9IRSTI 18.67.91 DOI: 10.52512/2306-5079-2022-92-4-39-46
ANALYSIS OF THE THEME OF MOTHERHOOD IN CONTEMPORARY UZBEK CINEMA
Olga V. Khan Chung-Ang University, Seoul, South Korea [email protected]
Abstract
This article addresses the validity of the maternal discourse in films, as it builds a certain model for young viewers. Cinema is a powerful medium for addressing important topics and encouraging debates about pressing social issues. Movies covering a wide range of sensitive themes help raise the audience's awareness, foster civic consciousness, and ensure public morality and its spread. In societies where a woman's primary duty has historically been defined by her capacity to produce and raise children, cinema is effective for reinforcing and shaping opinions about wome n's social roles and their "natural destiny." Frequently, women are brought into the narrative exclusively through the motherly function or the supposed motherhood—girlfriend or bride. This can also be seen in Uzbek cinema's approach to expressing femininity, which is tied not only to the cultural custom of honoring mothers but also to the peculiarities of the maternal discourse. However, motherhood, mothers, and their portrayal onscreen reveal much more about society, culture, and the messages they transmit have real-life impacts.
Keywords: cinema, film, image of mother, motherhood, Uzbek women, Central Asia
INTRODUCTION
Motherhood and society
Since Uzbekistan's independence, the nation-building process has been accompanied by the idealization of pre-Soviet family relationships, the enhancement of men's roles in the family, and media demands that are primarily aimed at women: the house mistress, the wife, and the mother—this should be the female ideal, while the rest is less important or, as several media resources have argued, even alien to women's fate. According to sociologists Yuval-Davis and Anthias (1989), the control of women and their sexuality is central to national and ethnic processes [1] since women bear the burden of being 'mothers of the nation' (a duty that gets ideologically defined to suit official priorities), as well as being those who reproduce the boundaries of ethnic/national groups, transmit the culture, and who are the privileged signifiers of national difference [2; 8]. In Uzbekistan, the image of a classical mother has long been prevalent in connection with the practice of "traditional" mother-child relationships typical of societies that were engaged in collecting [3]—that is, the dominant style of household did not imply the prolonged stay of the woman outside the home and did not prevent the birth and feeding of children. Women's reproductive function becomes the sole purpose of their existence with the advent of private property. According to "Origin of Family, Private Property, and State" by F. Engels, the approval of a monogamous marriage for women was motivated by men's wish to pass the property to a certain heir.
Control over the female body has historically undertaken various forms, including political, religious, colonial, racist, and masculine. Often, the female body became the primary target of conservative ideology and practice, which is expressed in such a form of violence as "reproductive pressure." It is not unusual when a daughter-in-law is considered "defective" if she failed to get pregnant within the first year, while male infertility and other alternative causes are ignored. Historically, young couples were expected to have children as quickly as possible, and many households still believe that a woman should produce one baby every year. In both traditional and the majority of modern Uzbek families, boys are still favored. The birth of a son as a prescribed guarantee of happiness is imposed on children from a young age; often, relatives tell tales with a certain subtext, such as: "Once upon a time, there was a padishah who possessed great treasures. Even though he was already
39
old, he had no son and didn't know to whom he should leave his property. Therefore, padishah was always sad." In deeply patriarchal families, girls are taught from a young age that the only way to succeed as a woman is to have a son, as the family must have a protector. A family is only complete when a son is born, he does not have to be the first child, but he must eventually be born. Then, the husband and his relatives will be grateful, and the daughter-in-law will gain some status in the family. Yuval-Davis (1997) points out that in social and cultural systems where the social value of women (as well as, usually, their ability to exercise some social power, especially when old) depends on whether or not they have sons, the number of children that women bear can depend on much more thorough and all-encompassing processes of social transformation, especially in relation to what Sonia Correa and Ros Petchesky (1994) have called women's social rights. [4] However, when a woman has only had daughters, things are not so "idyllic" since she does not reach the sought-after status of mother-in-law due to the absence of a daughter-in-law at home. She has no assistance with her everyday chores, and her mother-in-law will continue to treat her as a minor to be supervised. [5; 15]
A series of women's images collected and preserved in various kinds of material and spiritual cultures are evidence of the position of women within a complex social structure and its binding to motherhood. Although recent developments in numerous disciplines of science have offered new dimensions to the study of motherhood, stressing the necessity for specific attention to motherhood in terms of its sociocultural role and the changes that are occurring in society, in the social status of women, in their way of life, in their family orientations, and outside their families, the idea of the natural and biological purpose of women dominates Uzbek society (and despite the fact that, according to Islamic values, "heaven lies at the feet of mothers," the predominant attitude toward women is patriarchal, with a primary focus on her reproductive function). A woman's sexual life is mentioned only in relation to her reproductive function, reducing the positive female image in cinema to wives and mothers. This concept is communicated through cinema at the subconscious level, while the efficiency of psychological impact is directly reliant on the film's content, the promoted theme, the ability to engage the audience and to contribute unobtrusively to the creation of the worldview.
RESULTS
Motherhood as imposed happiness in cinema
In numerous films, the opposition between women and men becomes the opposition of cultural and natural, as in most societies women are inseparable from nature and placed outside of historical and cultural spaces, whereas men are seen as part of the culture, and therefore live in history, create, transcend earthly limitations, and embody the "human." Women's public acts seem to be devalued because women did them [6; 91], and hence it is culturally constructed rather than predetermined by nature [7; 380]. Nationalist projects often rhyme womanhood with motherhood: the figure of the mother tends to overshadow other nonetheless existing representations [8] (such as women-soldiers, women-workers, sportswomen, or women-politicians), and maternity becomes women's unavoidable social role both in society and cinema. The prevailing representation of women in films is a mother, which leaves little room for alternative femininity. Since young viewers tend to internalize cinematic ideas rather than attribute them to an objective reality, female's individuality and independence, which presuppose personal interests and can impede a family's or collective's quest for survival, are in many cases rejected or turn out to be "misunderstood" categories in the media [9; 105]. As a consequence, motherhood holds a key role in post-Soviet Uzbek cinema, with a recurring trend: in the closing scenes of the majority of films, the protagonist transforms into an obedient Uzbek wife, either pregnant or holding a child, whose "primary responsibility consists of getting pregnant and ensuring the stability of a traditional social structure." [10]
Since motherhood is often seen as a duty rather than a choice, many commercial and art films deal with the theme of childlessness (e.g., False Feeling, Stubborn Bride, Angel's Tears, Superbride, 9 Months, Oh Maryam, Maryam, etc.). The repeating appeal to this topic in Uzbek movies is an anachronism from the days when a man was deemed unlucky if he had no heir and no family continuity. Despite undeniable proof that the sex of the newborn depends on the father, it is common that only women are blamed for the birth of girls or the absence of children. Thus, in Patience (Bardosh, 2012), Nozima is unable to conceive for two years after her wedding. Considering the entire family unfortunate and abnormal, all neighbors gossip about Nozima to the point where young spouses want to relocate to another makhallya. A neighbor girl returns a toy given by Nozima, claiming that her mother told her, 'You can't take gifts from a childless woman; it's not good.'
Meanwhile, the concept of male superiority dictates that men are "the heads of the family" and "never fail," whereas nature, heredity, or women are to blame. Conflict expressed in a quarrel or divorce due to the absence of children is one of the most popular themes in modern cinema. In Superbride (2008), when the doctor informs the young couple about incompatible RH factors, the disappointed husband accuses his wife alone of failing to get pregnant. In Angel's Tears (Ko'z Yoshim, 2015), Munisa is blamed for her infertility by her mother-in-law and the entire makhallya for seven years, although her husband Akmal is the infertile one. Since Munisa does not want to "embarrass" her husband, she bears all accusations in silence. Even the doctor who is treating Akmal's infertility tries to convince him to 'try' again with another woman. Analogously, in the first scene of False Feeling (Soxta Tuyg 'u, 2014), the protagonist seeks a divorce from his wife because she has been unable to get pregnant for two years. Thus, local films have succeeded in projecting traditionalist views on a woman's body, as many patriarchal traditions justify women's responsibility to bear children, assigning women with the primary role of a vessel for reproduction, regardless of their desire to become mothers.
Cinema is valuable for education and personality formation not only as a method of recreating reality but also as a means of interpreting it. In this sense, the shaping of female images solely as good mothers intersects with Susan Faludi's definition of "backlash," a deeply conservative media response to feminist progress claiming that women's equality was leading to their unhappiness. In cinema, this tendency is characterized by the narrative, in which the "good mother and wife" triumph over the independent woman, implying that women could only figure in two aspects traditionally offered by the art—"the image of positive and/or unworthy women."[11; 468] Uzbek writers often draw the line of distinction between the model of a 'domesticated' woman with that of a western (modern) woman, ignoring the fact that an independent career woman is not an obstacle to successful family life [12; 38]. Independent careerist women are presented as controversial characters, while the most unfeminine women are the ones clamoring for equal rights. This is partly related to the construction of women as "other" in traditional societies based on the existence of a clear separation of the male and female spheres, whereas women's "otherness" is so complete that their symbolic (procreative) function for the nation is much stronger. In the cinema, a woman is also first rated as a future mother, while her professional achievements are directly devalued. Late Life (Kechikkan Hayot, 2011) is one of the most illustrative examples in its genre because it focuses on professional and successful but single women, who have no kids and hence are missing out on life's greatest joy. The protagonist is a hard-working entrepreneur named Shahodat, who holds a Ph.D. and speaks three languages, but at the same time, she is portrayed as an aging woman who could not marry by her 30s. Shahodat's wealthy aunt, who can 'afford a costume from Prada and perfume from Chanel', sighs heavily: 'I can consider myself an exclusive person, yet I am lonely.' So, she finds it necessary to educate her niece: 'You want to show your superiority over men? It's all bullshit. I am sure that everything you have achieved, you will gladly give up on pregnancy. No matter how divine you are, you are still a woman at heart'. Faludi (2006) describes how, in the 1980s, the press offered drawings of fictional single women and tales of "composite" or "anonymous" single women—almost always depicted alone, hugging a tearstained pillow, or gazing forlornly from a garret window. McCalls described the prototype this way: "She's the workaholic, who may enjoy an occasional dinner with friends but more likely spends most of her time alone in her apartment, where she nightly retreats as her own best friend." [13; 111] Similarly, Late Life depicts a scene with Shahodat exhausted from a day of work and standing alone at a window as rain metaphorically falls outside.
The processes of globalization—economic, political, and social—also put conflicting pressures on women's fertility. On the one hand, women are actively encouraged to work, and different types of contraception have become commonly accessible; in the early 2000s, Uzbekistan launched a family planning program and a birth-reduction policy. But at the same time, rising ethnic and religious fundamentalist identities and political movements tighten control over women and increase opposition to any reproductive rights in the name of 'custom and tradition'. [14; 48] In the latter case, some films are quite straightforward in expressing the patriarchal ideology in shaping the purpose of women and are instructive in guiding independent women on the "right path," including lessons on family planning. Feminist critics have called attention to the fact that social roles involving public space and social roles performed in the private sphere are markers of human sex, are defined as naturally occurring (biological), and are transmitted even in films. Therefore, in Crazy Love (Bu Telba Muhabbat, 2015) Farkhad declares directly to the clever and successful owner of a bridal gown salon, 'We need you (women) as moms,' undermining all her achievements as an entrepreneur and business lady.
Depending on the nature of the employment, women's participation in show business and the entertainment industry is regarded as small, if not shameful. In I am a Star (Men Yulduzman, 2012), a countryman Normat refers to the successful singer Lola as a 'Barbie doll' who is 'unsuitable for farming' and reminds her that she is 'the future mother.' The daughters of the protagonist-widower make fun of Lola, but sometimes their jokes are not entirely innocent: Lola falls into the dirt as a result of girls' pranks, while elderly women in the village once again express gender stereotypes: 'Stars are lonely, they don't have real families, while housewives have angels who look after them.'
The idea of martyrdom on the way to becoming a mother
Often, films about motherhood convey the idea of martyrdom and challenges that a woman must overcome before being rewarded with the main gift—pregnancy. As Dissanayake notes, "the concept of suffering is pivotal to the discourse of film melodrama in Asian cultures. We need to bear in mind the fact that most Asian cultures valorize human suffering as a pervasive fact of life and that salvation is a liberatory experience emanating from the insights into the nature and ineluctability of human suffering. Hence the metaphysical understanding of suffering becomes the condition of possibility for participating in the meaning of life." [15; 4] And, since the birth of a child is the most meaningful part of a woman's life and the substance of her existence, education of the nation and passing on societal culture to the next generation are part of the purpose of life that a woman must achieve through pain. For instance, in False Feeling (Soxta Tuyg'u, 2014) Saida, who cannot conceive during the two years after her marriage, is chased by a destined series of misfortunes: her husband seeks a divorce, her father dies, and only then does she discover her pregnancy. In a similar fashion, many films feature the triad "childless heroine - suffering - child."
However, The Stubborn Daughter-in-law (O'jar Kelin, 2012) shows the most illuminating shift from endless suffering to giving birth to a child, as well as drawing attention to the concept of social pressure on young women. The film tells a story about a childless couple, Sherzod and Dilnoza. Since Dilnoza has been unable to give birth for four years, her mother-in-law, Sherzod's colleagues, and even Dilnoza's father have blamed her. From the outset, the film is devoted to criticism and debate over the protagonist's worthlessness, making Sherzod's relatives question, 'Is a lifeless tree needed in the house?' The male colleague of Sherzod stresses his superiority over him by stating, 'I am a father of two children, although I married before you,' and even Dilnoza's father tells his wife, who is unhappy with her son-in-law, 'Thank Sherzod for living with your barren daughter.'
Dilnoza silently bears criticism, but her look alters proportionally to the level of resentment she feels. With each new rebuke directed at her, the girl's appearance changes: if Dilnoza is dressed in a daughter-in-law's national dress with a headscarf in the first scenes, in the middle she appears without a scarf and with loose hair, and finally in the end of the film, Dilnoza goes to meet her friend in a minidress. Taking into account Dilnoza's position within the family, her clothing can be seen as the only accessible form of self-expression and rebellion rather than a reflection of her emotions; a peculiar protest is also expressed in the clothes that the protagonist wears at home: instead of the usual daughter-in-law outfit, she walks around the house in a bright tunic and leggings with an animalistic print. Dilnoza's "audacious" behavior is a sort of bifurcation as some prolonged intime process of radical system reorganization, triggered by even the slightest push in the proper direction—in this case, reprimands—resulting in a certain effect. But even in this situation, makhallya neighbors interpret Dilnoza's behavior in their own manner: 'Dilnoza has changed a lot, this must be a result of childlessness.' According to the principles of the genre, the girl undergoes the complete cycle of misery, first facing widespread condemnation, then losing her father and brother, by the end of the film, she undergoes severe surgery and only then becomes pregnant. In the final sequence, Dilnoza is smiling and holding a baby in her arms.
As motherhood is viewed as the ultimate and primary goal of a woman's life, in certain films — and in particular, in 9 Months (9 Oy, 2011) and The Flaw (Majruh, 2010)—maternity or the desire to become a mother is presented as a miracle. In 9 Months, the story revolves around two school teachers, Bakhtinisso and Lola, who are both unhappy in their different ways. Bakhtinisso was forced to marry a cousin, and as a result, the couple has three children with vision, epilepsy, and limping disorders. Now that the woman is pregnant with her fourth baby, she plans an abortion, but the doctor discourages her from getting one, while Bakhtinisso's mother opposes her daughter's divorce from the unloved husband, who is having an affair with another woman. In
contrast, Lola is unable to reproduce, and the hospital treatment is ineffective. Students at school make fun of Lola's infertility, and on top of that, both her mother and mother-in-law insist on a woman's divorcing her husband. In despair, Lola calls herself 'childless' and 'worthless' asking her spouse, 'Why do you still want me? I am an egoist.'
One day, women's husbands bring their wives to a healing spring, where Bakhtinisso and Lola accidentally meet, and from that moment on, their lives are mysteriously governed by the law of the looking glass engaging both women in a whirlwind of unexpected events. In the finale, the women see each other again at the party, and Bakhtinisso reveals her intention to give birth; at that very moment, she loses an unwanted child, while Lola falls pregnant—now, she is carrying Bakhtinisso's child. Thus, the metaphorical exchange conveys the idea that the child is given to the person who wanted it the most. And in The Flaw (Majruh, 2010), it is not the desire to become a mother but rather motherhood itself possesses healing and magical characteristics. Sevara has a rare blood cancer, but she miraculously recovers and gives birth to two children owing to the influence of pregnancy on the disease. Observing her daughter's miraculous recovery, Sevara's mother proclaims, 'God alone protects mothers.'
The film Oh Maryam, Maryam (O Maryam, Maryam, 2012) differs from the series of similar works since it focuses solely on the sorrow and self-sacrifice of the protagonist. The main protagonist is Maryam, who was born out of wedlock, is married off against her will at age 16 to an adult man Erkin. Despite being forced into marriage, the girl falls in love with her husband. She plays the role of a submissive wife and washes her husband's feet, but in a drunken state Erkin criticizes Maryam for her inability to produce a child, labeling her as "illegitimate." Maryam, feeling sorry for her husband, takes extreme measures and encourages her friend Dilnoza to become Erkin's wife and bear his child. However, the childless Maryam soon becomes a burden for the newly established family. At the climax of the film, Maryam prays to God for death, and her heart stops beating. The suffering and pathos inherent to such plots are reflected in the medic's mourning for Maryam: 'She was not strange, but great.' The film carries the popular motif of self-sacrificing, once again foregrounding the archetype of the Central Asian woman as a self-sacrificing creature devoted to her family—an image that is the basis of the Muslim understanding of a woman.
Contemporary narratives in Central Asia voluntarily merge the figures of the woman and mother, with the latter being elevated as the embodiment of a healthy and pure nation, as many films close with a symbolic sequence of a happy family with a smiling mother and child. However, while political authorities and popular culture highly regard mother figures as sacred and inviolable, the majority of financial support for maternity, healthcare, and family supplies provided by the socialist state has been eliminated or reduced to a minimum.
Unworthy mothers
While the mother's portrayal is typically positive or praised, the unwillingness to have children is ridiculed, and the childless heroine is portrayed as either miserable or dumb for refusing "nesting fashion." In the film Temptation (Nafs, 2011), Abdurakhmon lives a simple life with his obedient wife in a remote mountain area. After making a pact with the devil, he awakens in the body of a famous musician he admires. The man not only enjoys a superstar career in Tashkent but also marries the famous and attractive singer Sevara after falling in love with her. However, Sevara openly expresses her refusal to have children. Enjoying the pinnacle of her career, she offers surrogacy in an attempt to compromise. Sevara's fame and ambitions border on foolishness, portraying her as a glamorous "Barbie" in a minidress lacking moral principles and totally out of conventional standards. Several intrafamily conflicts are depicted in the film, but after Sevara's refusal to reproduce, Abdurakhmon returns to his former life and first wife, from whom he immediately receives news of pregnancy.
If Temptation satirizes reluctance to have children, such films as The Killer of Her Child (Bolasining Qotili, 2021) criticize a woman's attempt to control her body. Dilnoza who is uncertain about her family's stability decides to get an abortion on her own. Upon learning of Dilnoza's actions, a relative scolds her, 'You do not deserve a child, and you are unworthy to become a mother. You should be ashamed.' While the rights of women to have an abortion are being questioned in public discourse, the cinematic "unworthy" mother is
punished by having her first child drowned in the river. Payback for Treason (Xiyonat Girdobi, 2014) illustrates another payment for the parents' sins, where protagonist-villain Oydin is metaphorically penalized for her deeds by the death of her only daughter. This film is also notable for focusing on the concept of the child's need for exclusive care of the biological mother as well as on the special bond between the mother and her child. To make amends, Oydin agrees to donate her daughter's heart to a girl named Zebo suffering from a terminal illness. Zebo recovers after some time and accidentally meets Oydin on the street. Since she was given Oydin's daughter's heart, Zebo rushes to the woman and calls her 'mother', ignoring her biological parents. Here the primordial principles in the definition of "ours" come into play: "Who is your biological mother?" Such a conclusion is permeated with a primordial sense of objectively provided reality and a concept of natural closeness-based bonding.
Single mothers
According to the patriarchal definition of the family and the traditional view of family happiness, only the mother who had given birth to a child while being married—in a complete family—had a happy ending. One probable explanation is that Uzbek patriarchal society disapproves of both divorce and childbirth outside of wedlock. Often, a divorced woman is treated as a second-class woman, and if she has children, her chances of remarrying are quite low. If happy mothers receive healing from an incurable disease, the career success of their husbands, and a warm attitude from their husbands' relatives at the film's end, then single mothers as a rule meet a tragic end: they go insane (Separation (2012)), die alone (Oh Maryam, Maryam, 2012), or are murdered (Sorceress (2011), False Feeling (2014)). Although such films represent society attitudes, the repeated patterns may indoctrinate the audience with specific perspectives, anxieties, and value systems.
In films, single mothers and women who get pregnant outside of wedlock are tricked by their lovers or boyfriend's family. So, in Sorceress (Jodugar, 2011), the protagonist's father drowns his mistress after learning of her pregnancy; in Oh Maryam, Maryam (2012), Maryam's mother dies alone after being abandoned by her lover and his relatives; in Separation (Hijron, 2012), the protagonist is convinced that her child was stillborn, leading to her insanity. In False Feeling (Soxta Tuyg'u, 2014), Yodgora cohabits with Daniyar without knowing he is married and becomes pregnant soon after. When the girl discovers Daniyar's marital status, she confronts him, and during the quarrel the man accidentally kills her. Oftentimes, a single mother faces not only ostracism but also direct humiliation. In Fatima and Zukhra (2005), a single mother is gang-raped after becoming a prostitute so that she can support her children. When a woman agrees to accept rape compensation, she is tripped up by men and smashes her nose. There are no films in which a single mother is presented as a happy or self-sufficient woman; usually, she simply dies or is killed. This is quite an alarming fact since cinema is being considered a means of individual and social transformation, which contributes to the formation of the audience's outlook, including their attitudes towards pressing social issues.
CONCLUSION
There is no denying that screen art plays a powerful, pervasive, and complex role in shaping young minds. However, the impact of the film is not immediate; rather, it builds up over time. If a girl is raised in strictness and forced to do only what is necessary regardless of her preferences and needs, and if this is also conveyed by the media, likely, she will not develop the ability to think independently and instead will obey the established norms. Even a brief analysis of works of domestic literature, painting, and folk culture reveals the concept of mother figures as de-erotized women. The values of motherhood also influence how women should act as wives: the ideal wife acts as the "mother" to her husband, surrounding him with love and understanding, providing him with home comfort and emotional support in his personal and professional life. As a result, her female individuality is suppressed, giving way to a singular perception of herself as a mother. Although many people believe that Uzbek films are educational, the fact that positive depictions of women and their roles in the narrative are mostly limited to the mother image casts doubt on the validity of this discourse.
References
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Анализ темы материнства в современном узбекском кинематографе
О.В. Хан
Университет Чунг-Анг, г.Сеул, Южная Корея
helgafrey@naver. com
Аннотация 45
В это статье рассматривается обоснованность материнского дискурса в фильмах, поскольку он создает определенную модель для молодых зрителей. Кино - это мощное средство для обсуждения важных тем и поощрения дебатов о насущных социальных проблемах. Фильмы, охватывающие широкий спектр чувствительных тем, помогают повысить осведомленность аудитории, развить гражданское сознание и обеспечить общественную мораль и ее распространение. В обществах, где исторически главная обязанность женщины определялась ее способностью производить на свет и воспитывать детей, кино эффективно укрепляет и формирует мнения о социальных ролях женщин и их "естественном предназначении". Часто женщины вовлекаются в повествование исключительно через функцию материнства или предполагаемого материнства — как подруга или невеста. Это также можно увидеть в подходе узбекского кинематографа к выражению женственности, который связан не только с культурным обычаем почитания матерей, но и с особенностями дискурса материнства. Однако материнство, матери и их изображение на экране раскрывают гораздо больше об обществе, культуре и месседжах, которые они передают, оказывая влияние на реальную жизнь.
Ключевые слова: кино, фильм, образ матери, материнство, узбекские женщины, Центральная Азия
^a3ipri езбек киносындагы ана такырыбын талдау О. В. Хан
Чунг-Анг университет^ Сеул, Ощустш Корея
helgafrey@naver. com
Аннотация
Б^л макалада фильмдердеп анальщ дискурстьщ д^рыстыгы карастырылады, ейткеш ол жас керермендер ушш белгш бiр модель жасайды. Кино-мацызды такырыптарды талкылаудын жэне езекп элеуметпк мэселелер туралы пiкiрталастарды ынталандырудыц кYштi к¥ралы. Сезiмтал такырыптардын кец аукымын камтитын фильмдер аудиториянын хабардарлыгын арттыруга, азаматтык сананы дамытуга жэне когамдык мораль мен онын таралуын камтамасыз етуге кемектеседi. Тарихи т^ргыдан алганда, эйелдiн басты мiндетi онын бала тудыру жэне тэрбиелеу кабшепмен аныкталган когамдарда кино эйелдердiн элеуметпк релдерi мен олардын "табиги максаты" туралы пiкiрлердi тиiмдi ныгайтады жэне калыптастырады. Кебiнесе эйелдер энгiмеге тек аналык функция немесе ана болу — кыз немесе калындык аркылы катысады. М^ны езбек киносынын эйелдгкп бiлдiру тэсiлiнен де керуге болады, ол тек аналарды к¥рметтеудщ мэдени эдет-г^рпымен гана емес, сонымен бiрге аналык дискурстын ерекшелiктерiмен де байланысты. Алайда, ана болу, аналар жэне олардын экрандагы бейнесi когам, мэдениет жэне олар жетшзетш хабарламалар туралы шынайы емiрге кебiрек эсер етедг
ТYЙiн сездер: кино, фильм, ана бейнеа, ана болу, езбек эйелдер^ Орталык Азия
ИНФОРМАЦИЯ ОБ АВТОРЕ
Хан Ольга Валерьевна - PhD докторант Университета Чунг-Анг, г. Сеул, Южная Корея. Адрес: 84 Heukseok-ro, Dongjak-gu, Seoul, South Korea; [email protected]
АВТОР ТУРАЛЫ АППАРАТ
Хан Ольга Валерьевна - Чунг-Анг университетшщ докторанты, Сеул, Ощуспк Корея. Мекен жайы: 84 Heukseok-ro, Dongjak-gu, Seoul, South Korea; [email protected]
INFORMATION ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Olga V. Khan - PhD student at Chung-Ang University, Seoul, South Korea. Address: 84 Heukseok-ro, Dongjak-gu, Seoul, South Korea; [email protected]
Редакцияга тYCтi / Поступила в редакцию / Received 16.11.2022 Жариялауга кабылданды / Принята к публикации / Accepted 27.12.2022
