What does it mean to be "working class," or "German" or "married"? In the absence of social dictates, we are inherently ourselves, the messy emotional and intellectual wiring that makes up an individual. As we grow into society, we begin to learn what behaviors to shun and what affects to adopt. We assume, to a greater or lesser degree, the expectations of a set cultural framework. Like the politics of the soul, "cultural gerrymandering" shapes who we are expected to be, not who we really are. But what happens when the nation ceases to exist, or the culture is outmoded, or the institution collapses? More importantly: what happens if you're complicated?

Cinema has long explored this theme of being a multi-faceted individual within a tightly enforced cultural milieu. Billy Elliot, Wings of Desire, and In The Mood for Love all hinge on this concept of fundamentally, almost righteously, not fitting in. Each of these films meditates the characters are confronted by brick and/or concrete walls, a material that reinforces the concept that there is No Way Out.on characters who are boxed in by prevailing cultural beliefs, and find the essential expression of their soul to be nearly impossible or forbidden. In each instance, the characters are confronted by brick and/or concrete walls, a material that reinforces the concept that there is No Way Out.

Future ballet star Billy Elliot grows up in a working class town that is losing its work, thanks to 1980s British redundancy policies. The framework of the working class mindset is based on unalterable laws: You're a worker, you don't aim higher than your station. Or in Billy’s case, you're a boy, you don't dance the ballet. Billy's struggle to be a dancer is not just about breaking gender expectations, but breaking through the rusted ceiling of class expectations. He lives in a cultural pocket that traces its roots back to the industrial revolution but finds itself simply outmoded in the rapidly changing world. Billy's desire to be a ballet dancer is therefore thought to be ridiculous within his cultural district, but he's not about to don a football jersey and pretend he's okay with it all. In a frenzied sequence, Billy kicks and struts and flails artfully against the brick walls of his working class estates, physically rebelling against this outdated mindset.

But oppression isn't just for the working class. In Wings of Desire, Wim Wenders' existentialist masterpiece set in late 1980s Berlin, we are allowed to eavesdrop on the thoughts of almost everybody via suit-jacketed telepathic angels. An esteemed writer/philosopher wanders down to an open field that used to be the thriving, pre-World War II Potsdamer Platz, but is now bounded by the Berlin Wall on one side and a ratty, abandoned chair on the other. As the writer and his angelic sidekick walk along the perimeter of the former Platz, the writer laments the loss of a particular kind of communal vibrancy, an untroubled national soul that is obviously gone but also grimly discouraged from ever coming back by the presence of The Wall. This is literal cultural gerrymandering, the preservation of a bleak ethos in eleven-foot They eye each other near flyer-tattered cinderblock, circling in a kind of delayed erotic orbit.high installments. More subdued than Billy Elliot’s frantic physical violence, the writer does not kick the wall, but takes a seat on the chair and gazes at it forlornly; his advanced age makes his loss wistful, not urgent.

Although it seems unlikely that a concrete wall could simultaneously be sexy and oppressive, such is the case in Wong Kar-wai's In The Mood For Love. A man, Chow, and a woman, Su, both married to other people, fall in love with each other in 1960s Hong Kong. An affair isn't just frowned upon; it's forbidden. Their attraction, and the futility of trying to avoid it, is constantly framed against the imposing, concrete walls of their apartment complex and surrounding city. They eye each other near flyer-tattered cinderblock, circling in a kind of delayed erotic orbit. They sit alone in their apartments, separated only by a wall. This is partly why the conclusion of the film, which sees Chow visit Angkor Wat to whisper his forbidden love into a wall for safekeeping, is both gorgeous and heartbreaking. He has at last acceded to social pressure; by whispering into the wall, instead of avoiding it altogether, he is finally conforming to the pervasive cultural norms that surround him.

Each of these films is set in the 20th century, a time we collectively think of now as being somewhat culturally segregated. Ironically, the 21st century has encouraged us to live within an ever more conscripted virtual universes, even as we walk or drive or fly through the big, unfiltered Offline. In a way, we are participating in a widespread socio-cultural gerrymandering, whereby we belong to ever more delineated districts of the self. We spend hours each day on various self-selecting social media networks; the sites we visit and the online searches we perform are tailored to fit our algorithmically-derived "preferences." This isn't necessarily progress. The more time we spend with people who think precisely like us, the less flexible we become to having discussions that may challenge our beliefs, leading us to an inadvertent conformity. Perhaps the cinema of the future will feature characters kicking not against walls, but touch-screens.