documentary

The Skin Quilt Project

mandy — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Without the preservation of historical text, artifact, and art, history can slowly fade from memory. Stories of survival can easily become short-lived memories as they are passed from one generation to the next before they are forgotten. For Black African American women, their history has been and continues to be woven together in quilting. The Skin Quilt Project is a documentary featuring various quilters, artists, academics, and historians discussing the necessity, purpose, benefits, and impact of Black African American women quilters and what their artistry does for their families and communities.

The film begins with the issue of skin color among African Americans and the discriminatory “trick down racism” that began with slavery and eventually bled into African American communities to set up its own caste system. Artists and quilters talk about the process and representation of creating images of Black women in their art and the significance or insignificance of the skin color of their subjects. As the documentary deepens, the topics become more complex and emotional.

There are two themes explored in the film: the process of quilting and the quilts themselves. The Skin Quilt Project goes beyond skin deep as it gains testimony about the relationship between the artist and community, artist and their work, artist and history, story and survivor. It’s more than just preserving cultural legacy; the quilts themselves are works of art, tangible testaments to the diverse life experience of Black women in the United States.

The process of making the quilts is binding experience, not just between the quilter and the quilt, but also between the artist and the community in which it is made. Many quilters find acceptance, camaraderie, confidence, and affirmation of their skill level by quilting together. It also provides challenge to take a project to the next level. This in-depth sharing of knowledge and craft is essential to many of the artists. The experience is not only for the artist’s physical artwork, but as many women attest, quilting feeds the soul and is part of the “visual, Negro spiritual” identity.

While the stories and commentary of The Skin Quilt Project are clearly important and interesting, the format of the documentary did not share the rich diversity of the quilts or the artists. No narrative voiceover to direct the film or text dividers to signal a new focus. The documentary relies heavily on the spoken word to engage the audience, but with a few audio kinks in the beginning, it’s difficult to phonetically understand what is being said. The ongoing and unbroken stride doesn’t offer much creative opportunity to appreciate the different insights of each interviewee.

For those interested in the role of African American women, quilters, and the critical role artists play in our social history, The Skin Quilt Project is a fine demonstration of the radical work that can be accomplished by needle and thread.

Written by: Lisa Factora-Borchers, April 14th 2011

Floored

annette — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Allen Smith

Typecast Releasing

What do you get when you cross a documentary film about the supply and demand frenzy of the Chicago Stock Exchange with a borderline Marxist, feminist film critic? A whole lot of screaming. But that’s really just happening on screen during Floored, the new movie from director James Allen Smith (My Name is Smith), which presents Chicago traders and their associates telling stories of how it felt to be in “the pits” during the “glory days” before the boom of Internet trading and the recession of late, risking their clients’ (and often their own) money. As for the room where I was sitting, there was silence and a yawn. This liberal wasn’t shocked or amused by a showcase of the distinctly capitalist obsession with money.

Smith does everything by the book: he knows who to interview, and where, and how. It’s not enough that the men who used to trade tell us about how much they love money (one couldn’t be away from the floor on vacation with his wife and children because he missed the possibility of acquiring greater wealth too much); we must see their other obsessions: cigarettes, booze, status symbols (Rolex watches, fast cars, large homes, decorative companions such as models and porn stars, etc.) and phallic symbols (guns, golf clubs, cigars, etc.). We must visualize their aggression to understand how their circumstances were; and only then can we understand how even the most successful traders turned out looking and sounding as foul as Mickey Rourke—on his worst day.

“It’s just not any fun… unless you can die,” one former trader says of hunting. But is he really just talking about hunting? He could as easily have said, “It’s just not any fun… unless you can go broke.” These men–and an estimated four women–of the trade are gamblers. They get a high from risking big and winning big. They get off on fear and anticipation. And when they think about winning and losing $100,000, they’re not thinking the things your average 9-to-5er is when he or she goes off to work: how will I pay my utility expenses, my taxes, my mortgage bill; will my health insurance cover my doctors visit/prescription drugs/surgery, etc.? There’s too much loud, naked—and yes, male—aggression in the air to be concerned with anything other than shouting, pushing, waving and clawing one’s way to fortune. The emphasis in stock trading wealth acquisition is less about how much you can spend at the end of the day, and more about how big a pile of cash you’ve managed to hoard.

Of course, there’s a token female trader, who has (fittingly) made a graceful transition to electronic trading. She poetically mentions Darwinism when she talks about the shift. (You’re forced to picture apes foraging for food, grunting and beating their chests before the glow of computer monitors.) And it is, of course, a female psychotherapist who helps the “guys” evolve into electronic traders, even after they feel like they’ve lost their mojo. The Internet has robbed them of the game, many feel. It’s “the most vile invention in the world” that allows “evil” people to cheat at trading. As the film depicts, computer trading is certainly more sedate than open outcry on the floor.

Could the juxtaposition of self-contained, successful women against a pile of sweaty, angry and ultimately unhappy male former stock traders be a little too conveniently giving viewers the sense that men are predisposed to aggressive behavior and ruin in its wake? Yes. But as anyone who’s ever walked by the boys’ locker room after a crushing defeat on the football field knows: boys will be boys. (That is to say: masculine boys will be masculine.)

Floored doesn’t really offer up anything new or exciting, but it does confirm the essentialism we collectively already subscribe to. A better movie, Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, confirms the same information, condemns the ethics of unscrupulous capitalists, and keeps you glued to the screen.

Written by: Rachel Moehl, April 13th 2011

Love Translated

barbara — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 20:00:00 +0000

Directed by Julia Ivanova

Interfilm Productions

Love Translated follows a group of men from North America and Europe as they tour the Ukraine on a trip organized by an international dating service that links male clients with “letter order brides.” Over the course of their ten-day trip, the men travel to several cities, judge a beauty pageant of women who have joined the agency, attend social events, and go on “one-on-one” dates (accompanied, normally, by a translator). The film opens with men telling stories of their experiences (or lack of experiences) with women in their own communities, accompanied by a voiceover from an agency representative exhorting the men to be reasonable and keep in mind that they are looking for a partner, “not a statue to hang on the wall.”

Julia Ivanova, the film's director, writer, and editor, does a skillful (and sometimes humorous) job of juxtaposing the men’s views of who the women are and how they will behave with the women contradicting these statements. One man says, “There’s been this transition through feminism and a number of other movements in the United States that have altered how women look at themselves and it has, I think, robbed them of some of the identity they once took great pride in.” The woman he is on a date with replies, “Our women want to have it all; a husband, children, money and their own business. The woman is the head of the family. The man is just an accessory.”

All of the issues that normally come up when the topic of mail-order brides is discussed are on display: the somewhat primitivist notion that the women will be untainted by feminism and, therefore, more ideal; the objectification of women’s bodies; the unequal power dynamics. As much as some or all of the men may be sincere in their desire to find a true life partner, they have also come to the Ukraine because it is, as one man says, like a candy store for middle-aged men. In the absence of the ability to speak directly due to language barriers, the men rely on the women’s looks and letters. The letters have, at the very least, been translated by someone else, but have possibly also been written by someone else. Despite (or perhaps because of) the power that the men have in the situation, there is also uneasiness. Many express concern that the women are using them for money, gifts, and/or a visa.

This uneasiness comes to a head in an uncomfortable scene. A client is displeased because a woman he has been on several dates with expected to receive flowers more often than he would have liked. He physically blocks her ability to sit down and join the group, pointedly ignores her, and explains that he is going to blow smoke in the face of the person who should be punished. His date looks like she is about to cry and becomes conciliatory. By the end of the night, we see them walking hand in hand into a hotel elevator. While it would be unfair to judge all of the participants from the actions of these two individuals or even judge the individuals from the one interaction, it is an uncomfortable reminder of the type of isolation that the women could potentially face if they did follow the men to a foreign country.

Ivanova is impartial in her portrayal of both the male and female participants. Although the film is filled with uncomfortable and awkward moments, the explicit involvement of the documentarian is rarely evident. Instead, Ivanova is confident enough to let the story unfold on screen, supplementing long scenes of the men talking amongst themselves and some awkward—and often silent—dates with individual interviews with the male and female participants.

Despite the uncomfortable and sometimes disturbing subject matter and the long history of subjugation and objectification that are impossible not to consider when viewing it, Ivanona’s film is compelling, watchable, and even—perhaps most surprising of all—entertaining.

Written by: Erin Schowalter, March 18th 2011

Orgasm Inc.

barbara — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 20:00:00 +0000

Directed by Liz Canner

Chicken & Egg Pictures

The orgasm. Feminists laud it, good lovers work hard to give it, pharmaceutical companies make it a business model. The inability to experience an orgasm is thought to be as devastating as the inability to delight in the joy of wine, sunrise, spring flowers, and other wonderment. But this is hardly an overstatement. Last week in London, I had the sheer privilege of attending a hugely popular talk by a doyenne of second wave feminism, Shere Hite. Her most well-known publication, The Hite Report, was a groundbreaking feminist version of the Kinsey report, a comprehensive study on female sexuality in '70s America that overturned all taboos of its day.

Hite contends that the traditional model of sexual intercourse privileges male pleasure and disregards any sense of pleasuring women to the point of orgasm. Not climaxing is tantamount to self-abnegating one self's right to wholeness, and women have long been denying their selfhood by committing to the patriarchal rituals of sex, argues Hite. She does have a point of course about the significance of pleasure, but her assertion that the “lack of sexual satisfaction is another sign of oppression of women” poses serious implications on how women must rethink sex. Woe betide the women who feel inadequate when they have difficulty getting sexually aroused, much less with orgasm during intercourse.

And so the many women who were once frustrated, frigid and unfulfilled are now medically certified as casualties of a new epidemic—female sexual dysfunction (FSD). But in a pill-popping culture such as the U.S., help is at hand and pharmaceutical companies are quick to exploit cultural expectations and women's most intimate insecurities. In Orgasm Inc., by first-time documentary film-maker Liz Canner, we are treated to the dizzying unravelling of pharmaceutical businesses devoted to the “female Viagra” and its role in creating, as it were, female sexual dysfunction (FSD). Canner is initiated into the shams and often shambolic world of drug companies through an invitation to edit an erotic video used during a clinical trial conducted by Vivus, a company dedicated to developing a cream for sexual arousal.

But when Canner delves deeper into Vivus's business plan, some things are amiss. Women on both active drug and placebo appear to be equally aroused when subjected to erotic videos, but Vivus goes ahead anyway pushing to get themselves on the market. Not that Vivus's drug was initially designed to treat male impotence really mattered, as the researchers placed their bets on a hunch that it can turn women on as well. It appears that the business of discovering a cure for the purported female sexual dysfunction is masculinist and penis-centred at best, one that is isolated as a problem related to the sexual organ and a matter of hormonal imbalance. There is little reference to how women get on with their partners in the bedroom, the happiness or lack of it in relationships, history of abuse, and lack of self-esteem. Furthermore, cultural expectations which are mistaken as "universal" sexual norms prescribe that sex without orgasm is a sign of abnormality.

Canner interviews other pharmaceutical companies that have also been founded on dubious science and run by “research” consultants who aren't able to explain in definitive terms what FSD is and react as if they are assailed by trick questions. When promoted by drug company-backed doctors and scientists who frame sexual inadequacies in often obtuse and intimidating language, lay persons beset with perceived medical disorders are like putty in their hands. The stage is thus set for a no-nonsense competition—a race—to win FDA approval and multiple million-dollar glory.

Soon companies dropped one-by-one off the race like flies due to unconvincing science, including a strong contender, Intrinsa, a trans-dermal testosterone patch. It did not, however, stop Instrinsa from being sold in the European Union. Fallacies poised to eternally discredit FSD notwithstanding, very few could stand in the way of the monstrously indomitable spirit of pharmaceutical companies. Like Hite's grand manifesto, much of drug research posit that desire and pleasure are like a switch within an autonomous body. I raised my hand to ask Dr. Hite about women who were unable to experience orgasm yet live happy and fulfilled lives, to which she struggled to offer a coherent answer other than there are no two ways about how important sexual satisfaction through an orgasm is.

Suffice to say, I felt equally dejected by her response and the outcome in Canner's thought-provoking film as the mystery of female sexuality is thrown further into abyss. How helpful is the medicalisation of perfect sexuality when desire, pleasure, and fantasy are made to fit a disease model, a model designed to reinforce crude normal/abnormal typologies? Yet we are besotted by medical science but unaware of its cultural and moral underpinnings that are adept at demonising “bad” bodies. Canner's film peels away much of the objectivity purported by pharmaceutical science, sexology, and medicine, and invites us to reassess the social values of health and happiness in radically new ways.

Written by: Alicia Izharuddin, March 9th 2011

First Person Plural

alicia — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Deann Borshay Liem

Mu Films

Imagine having three different names and three different birth dates. Deann Borshay Liem asks the viewers of her documentary film First Person Plural to do just that as she tells the story of her adoption in 1966 from Korea by American parents living in California. The film traces her childhood in America and desperate drive to assimilate perfectly into American culture, which—to all who looked at her—would say she accomplished quite successfully.

Yet, upon moving out of her parents’ house, Liem becomes haunted, literally, by memories of her past in Korea, a past that included a mother, father and four siblings. After the ghost of her father startles her by appearing in her car’s passenger seat, Liam knows that she must return to Korea and discover the truth about her adoption.

Once there, she meets her mother, brother, and sisters (her father died when she was an infant) and finds out that her real name is Ok Jin and that her identity had been switched with a girl named Cha Jung Hee (whose father had claimed her within the orphanage just weeks before her adoption was finalized). The remainder of the film chronicles her decision to have her American parents meet her Korean family because she believes this is the only way that she can hold both families together in her mind simultaneously and not have to choose between them.

The film, running at sixty minutes, follows a steady and even pace, intermixing photos and home videos from her childhood along with interviews with her American father, mother, sister and brother, and footage of the meeting between her American and Korean families. Beyond the film’s technical proficiency, its emotional impact is its greatest strength.

Her subjects are candid as they recount their reactions to her adoption and their current relationship to her, and the authenticity with which they express themselves is both refreshing and moving. For instance, Liem’s American family—in their well-meaning attempt to reassure her that she was a “real” member of the family—repeatedly dismisses the significance of her past and given name. Throughout the film, her father, mother and sister each assert that Liem’s “real” name is Deann or Cha Jung Hee, not Ok Jin, shrugging it off as a technicality. Liem’s dismay at this reaction is palpable.

Perhaps most touching is Liem’s difficulty discerning who her “real” mother is. Both of her mothers are gracious and supportive of their daughter as she struggles with this decision, and Liem comes to the realization that the only way to become closer to her Korean mother is to acknowledge that she is not, in fact, Liem’s mother after all. The scene in which Liem’s Korean mother tells her that she only gave birth to Liem and that she should do everything possible to make her American mother happy is heartbreakingly honest. Overall, the film touchingly explores the nature of identity, memory, and family, as Liem struggles to fuse her three names and two families into a cohesive whole.

While glancing over Mu Films’ website, I discovered that Liem has followed up First Person Plural with her latest documentary In the Matter of Cha Jung Hee, released in 2010. In it, she returns to Korea and the orphanage out of which she was adopted to track down the girl with whom her identity had been switched. Given the quality and power of First Person Plural, I’m sure that joining Liem on this next phase of her journey to piece together her identity will be just as rewarding.

Written by: Dr. Jennifer A. Smith, February 14th 2011

Holy Kitchens: True Business

brittany — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Daljit Singh

Junoon Hospitality

Punjabi chef Vikas Khanna is known for bringing great Indian food to discerning New York City diners. Although he surely has his hands full with his new restaurant Junoon, Khanna is working on an arduous extra-curricular project—a series of short documentary films about the worldwide connection between spirituality and feeding the hungry.

The series, Holy Kitchens, will explore different religions’ beliefs and practices regarding serving the needy through feeding them. The first film, True Business, is about Sikhism, but Hinduism, Islam, Buddhism, Christianity, Zoroastrianism, and Judaism will all be featured in upcoming films.

True Business follows Khanna as he returns to his childhood home of Amritsar, India. In the film’s brief thirty-seven-minute run time, the chef takes us through a history of the Sikh religion, including the belief behind langar, the practice of serving free food to the public. The first guru, Guru Nanak, started the tradition in sixteenth-century India at a time when people were deeply divided by religion, gender, and caste. The notion of sharing food with people regardless of their beliefs or social position was a radical concept at the time. Arguably, it still is.

Today, langars thrive on several continents. Khanna focuses on the langar in Amritsar at the Golden Temple, but he also showcases langars in the United States and South America. Khanna’s travels show that wherever Sikhs live, they offer langars to bring people together and serve their communities. Langars worldwide serve a staggering amount of people, as many as 50,000 a day in some kitchens, which means huge-scale food production. The best part of True Business is watching the few scenes that show this process—how the meals get to the table. At the langar in Amristar, volunteers pile made-from-scratch flat bread in five-foot-tall stacks, laboring over hot cooking stones to prepare tons of food for strangers.

Between depictions of the international langars, the film shows some grainy but still impressive footage of Gurdwaras (places of worship) and other urban scenery in India. Khanna uses very little narration, but does feature several interviews with scholars and leaders, including Deepak Chopra, reflecting on the history and significance of langars as a practice.

The film could do with a little more organizing to give background and structure for people who aren’t familiar with Khanna’s career as a chef or with langars, but overall True Business does paint a picture of the roots and community mindedness of Sikhism. It will be interesting to see what approach Khanna takes to other religions, with which he might not have a personal history, in the films that have yet to be released.

Written by: Hannah Moulton Belec, February 13th 2011

My Normal

priyanka — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Irving Schwartz

When artists use the word 'normal' to title their work, they usually mean to imply that they’re going to show us something arguably abnormal. In the case of My Normal, the fringe behavior in question is BDSM: bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism. This kind of sexuality involves one or more people in positions of power, who inflict pain or humiliation on a subordinate or subordinates.

But really, how does that differ from most marriages these days? (Just kidding.)

Writers Renee Garzon and Adam Sales believe they’re doing something revelatory with this story about a lesbian dominatrix who dreams of simultaneously enjoying a monogamous relationship, a lucrative career in BDSM and artistic freedom as a filmmaker; but who can’t seem to juggle all her balls at once. “The various controversial scenes and subjects touched upon in this film were ones Renee and Adam knew well from (firsthand) experience,” the film’s Web site explains. “They were greatly inspired by the underground NYC (New York City) scenes that are often spoken about but rarely seen.”

Unfortunately for them, we have seen these things before in movies and television. Other than a rather shocking description of a client getting a dildo lodged in his anus and subsequently requiring hospitalization, which is spoken of but not seen, there’s very little 'controversial' or 'underground' material exposed. Movies like Looking for Mr. Goodbar and Secretary, as well as television shows like Sex and the City and The L Word have taken us here before.

And it is highly problematic for a movie, which by its very nature occupies a visual medium, to spend more time talking about allegedly abnormal behavior instead of showing it. (Not that I’m clamoring for a glimpse at a dildo-obstructed anus…) The film is dialogue-driven and uses very little cinematic language to tell its story, which is at best contrived and at worst insincere. Actor interactions begin with lines about back story rather than words of familiarity, the kinds of things people who see each other every day say to one another naturally. Amateurish direction and editing employ clumsy establishing shots and empty transitions. The actors look great—too glossy to be representing the vulgar side of NYC as chronic recreational drug-users—but are generally stiff and awkward in their delivery. Ty Jones, who plays a drug dealer/would-be screenwriter, gives the most natural performance of the film (he’s definitely one to watch out for in more mainstream—and by that I mean expensive—cinema).

Perhaps this subject matter is better served by pornography or documentary, each of which would be a little of both. My Normal feels a little too… well, normal. Check out this film if you’re looking for a gentle introduction to BDSM. If you’re in the know, skip it.

Written by: Rachel Moehl, January 28th 2011

If It Ain’t Cheap, It Ain’t Punk: Fifteen Years Of Plan-It X Records

annette — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Joe Biel

Microcosm Publishing

If It Ain’t Cheap, It Ain’t Punk is a sweet, well put together documentary film that captures the spirit and feel of the do-it-yourself, underground punk scene that has grown up around Plan-it X Records in Bloomington, Indiana. The film began as part of a filmmaking workshop at Plan-it X’s weeklong festival in Bloomington in 2006. In sixty concise minutes it documents the fifteen-year history of Plan-it X records and of the growth of the do-it-yourself, underground punk movement that it has helped foster. The film includes live footage of bands such as Operation: Cliff Clavin, Ghost Mice, Defiance, Ohio; Against Me, Soophie Nun Squad, Japanther, and This Bike Is a Pipbomb. It also includes interviews with important figures in the Plan-it X universe such as Chris Clavin, who runs the label, and Hannah Jones from Ghost Mice and Operation: Cliff Clavin, as well as many participants in the Plan-it X festival.

The tone of the film is positive, light, and respectful. It showcases the relaxed, friendly atmosphere created by the bands and fans and their commitment to the politics of do-it-yourself economies, punk community, and radical activism. It is clear that the filmmakers are a part of the scene and close to many of their interviewees. They capture the scrappy aesthetic of patched shorts, wild hair and silk-screened t-shirts and the sense of playfulness that infuses the scene through kickball games and quarry swimming, as well as participants’ dedication to freely exchanging skills, ideas, and resources.

The filmmakers also make a conscious effort to explain the scene to those who may not be familiar with it. They try to contextualize its emergence within the history of do-it-yourself hardcore, pop punk, and the ease of communication and information dissemination facilitated by rise of the Internet. While this makes for a balanced documentary, it also is where the film falters. It’s unclear whether the film is made for an audience that is already familiar with Plan-it X and will thrill to seeing their community captured on camera or if it aims to explain this sub-culture to a wider audience.

Because it is unsure of its audience, If It Ain’t, It Ain’t Punk’s only fault is that it does not analyze the scene very deeply. While the range of commentators includes men and women in nearly equally numbers and the filmmakers are sure to include some voices over the age of forty, including a very sweet dad who has come to the festival with his son, there is a lack of analysis about who exactly is able to participate in this sub-culture and feels welcome. Most of the faces are white and most of the bands are male and the demographic of participants is overwhelmingly young, most under twenty-five. While this is unfortunately inevitable in many rock-oriented scenes, because the filmmakers are so seeped in the culture of do-it-yourself punk, they would be in a good position to critique it while not loosing what makes it so special: the friendship, fun, and political commitment that the film highlights so handily.

Written by: Eleanor Whitney, January 7th 2011

Sin by Silence

mandy — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Olivia Klaus

Women Make Movies

There are not many US citizens who do not recognize a pink ribbon as the rallying fight against breast cancer. Even more so for the red ribbon, as it raises the voices of the AIDS epidemic. However, most faces would not correctly identify the cause of the purple ribbon: domestic violence. A purple ribbon is probably a little too uncomfortably similar to the purple bruises a women suffers every nine seconds, according to the film Sin by Silence, which documents the heart-twisting story of incarcerated, battered women serving maximum sentences for killing their abusive partners.

Sin by Silence chronicles the movement of the Convicted Women Against Abuse (CWAA), who unexpectedly find a healing sisterhood in the isolating walls of prison and used their collective strength to bring personal, familial, and judicial change in their lives. Uncontrived and starkly original, the moving narratives are enough to leave the viewer in near distress. The preliminary question of how each woman survived quickly turns into arrows targeting the legal system that punishes already beaten, raped, and tortured women with hefty prison sentences. Their crime? Battered person syndrome and refusing to be killed by their spouses.

Throughout the film, these women prove much more than mishandled, husband-killers. They are emotional, insightful human beings caught in a frighteningly narrow judicial system that fails to comprehend the effects of repeated and brutal intimate partner violence. It will be impossible to view the prison industry and its supposed rehabilitation efforts the same way again.

What will most move viewers is the unwavering support and courage these women lend each other in their collective cry for freedom. Their commitment to education and truth telling transcends their own pain and the bars that ostracize them from society. Sin by Silence is a deeply important film that will leave a probing mark of disturbance on the conscience of anyone who watches it.

Written by: Lisa Factora-Borchers, January 4th 2011

Monica & David

barbara — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Directed by Alexandria Codina

HBO Films

One of the many things people take for granted—Americans especially—is free will. Basic human rights. When you are able-bodied, physically able to take care of yourself, the ways to access free will seem limitless—there are plenty of things you are able to participate in, such as having a job, living on your own, and preparing your own meals. In Monica & David, novice filmmaker Alexandra Codina documents the wedding and first year of marriage between Monica and David, two adults living with Down’s syndrome.

The titular Monica is Codina’s cousin and it is clear to see why the filmmaker was interested in filming the couple. The best moments celebrate the tenderness between the couple whose love for each other is more than apparent through constant physical affection, pet-name-calling and emotional support. They exude a genuine excitement about spending their lives together and take pride in calling each other husband and wife. In an especially touching moment, Monica shares a letter she’s written to her birth father, who left when she was very young, and David sits next to her holding her hand and offering soft words of encouragement.

Codina’s footage offers a personal glimpse into issues around independence, identity, and care-taking: how we construct who we are in relationship to who we are to others. The dependent relationship in the roles of parents and children is highlighted by Monica’s mother, Maria Elena, and step-father, Bob, who are sincerely trying to offer the couple autonomy but cannot quite loosen their grip. Having both lived in their parents’ homes, as a couple Monica and David move into a separate wing of Maria Elena and Bob’s house, the parents who appear to be more financially equipped to support the couple. A discussion of financial privilege and women’s work would have been effective here, but Codina fail to flush out these issues. There is a brief mention of Maria Elena’s experience as a single mother who worked her way up from an airline flight attendant to VP of the company so that she‘d be able to provide for her daughter.

Overall, had Codina given more attention to the experiences of Monica and David’s mothers raising their children, it may have made for a richer film. Both hardly twenty years old when their children were born, the women immediately faced resistance from their doctors. Maria Elena recalls the doctor walking in to her room at her first ultrasound and announcing “Your child is a mongoloid,” while David’s mother was persuaded to give her son up for adoption. Here Codina misses an opportunity to bring this experience into a larger dialogue surrounding reproductive rights and our nation’s pro-natal “family values” narrative. Perhaps this drawback points to the flaw in researching your family, but the lack of subtext is ultimately the flaw of the film.

Written by: Alicia Sowisdral, December 22nd 2010

William S. Burroughs: A Man Within

brittany — Fri, 17 Dec 2010 12:00:00 +0000

Directed by Yony Leyser

Inc., BulletProof Film

Growing up, I latched on to the writers of the Beat Generation for dear life. I loved them all, from the poets and women writers who lived in their shadows, to the heavy hitters like Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and of course, William S. Burroughs. Truth be told, Burroughs was always the least accessible to me growing up. Whereas I identified with Ginsberg’s spirituality and Kerouac’s bruised sensitivity, Burroughs just seemed downright bizarre. From his three piece suits and demented banker looks to the nightmarish scenes that played out in his novels, I’ve always struggled to identify where he fit in with the Beats. That’s just the thing, though; Burroughs didn’t fit in, and in Yony Leyser’s directorial debut, William S. Burroughs: A Man Within, we learn that he was just as alien to himself as he was to society.

Anyone at all interested in Burroughs’ story will find Leyser’s film intriguing and for those unfamiliar, it will certainly provide an excellent overview of one of the most important writers to come out of the movement. As someone in the film says, Burroughs was probably profoundly mentally unstable, but for many disaffected youth, this will only make him seem more interesting.

As a feminist, I make myself uncomfortable with my profound love for writers like William S. Burroughs. Yes, he was subversive and groundbreaking, openly queer at a time when no one even discussed homosexuality, but he also shot his wife in the head, had a penchant for sex with young boys, and really, really loved blowing shit up with guns. As Leyser perfectly illustrates, Burroughs was unclassifiable; he fit into no mold, no box. He was a walking, talking contradiction.

Burroughs was older than Ginsberg and Kerouac, but they managed to get their most groundbreaking works published first. Despite their head start, Burroughs would prove to be the most enduring figure, becoming a counterculture icon during his later years. He was, after all, the Pope of Dope, a title bestowed upon him after decades of heroin abuse. That said, Burroughs may have been one of the most productive, functioning addicts of all time. As we learn in A Man Within, Burroughs was also considered the Godfather of Punk because of his close proximity to New York’s iconic rock club CBGB’s, his Crawdaddy! magazine column, and the way young musicians flocked to him. Towards the end of his life it wasn’t unusual for bands like Sonic Youth to make the trek to his Lawrence, Kansas home for a visit. Even at the age of seventy-eight, Burroughs was punk as fuck, collaborating with equally troubled soul Kurt Cobain on “The Priest They Called Him.”

All of his life, William S. Burroughs was an outcast, even in the burgeoning literary scene he helped create. Leyser’s documentary suggests that there was a lot bubbling under the surface of Burroughs’ stiff façade. He was a man capable of intense, perverse love, which he illustrated in a number of interesting ways, such as severing the last joint off his left pinky finger as a way of impressing a man he felt deeply for.

This was Burroughs, supremely self-contained and wholly unstable; a scheming, thieving addict and a functioning member of society; a respected writer and a lover of young, male hustlers, many of whom were not quite adults. Burroughs was the type of man you either accepted or were told to fuck off. I have to admit, I really admire him for that, and like all bad influences, you can decide whether or not you let them into your life. After all of these years, I’m still quite under the influence of William S. Burroughs, and I’d even say that Leyser’s documentary only intensified my urges.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, December 17th 2010

Coexist

tina — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Directed by Adam Mazo

Amazo Productions

Coexist is a documentary that seeks to provide insight into the reconciliation process in Rwanda after the 1994 genocide. The sheer scale and complex nature of the conflict provides a unique glimpse into how individuals and their communities recover from horrific experiences and the documentary questions whether reconciliation is even possible under such traumatic conditions. Recently, Rwanda was recognized for its stable political environment and for achieving one of the highest economic growth rates in the world. Through the voices of Rwandans, Coexist provides a means of examining how social and political reconstruction has been managed.

The documentary provides the context for which the genocide took place. Major ethnic groups were at the center of the genocide, despite there being little difference between the groups. Coexist does not highlight Rwanda’s colonial history. It is, therefore, unable to explore how this experience shaped political struggles in the nation. The documentary attributes the intensity and sheer scale of the genocide to fear, without providing a historical context of Rwanda. This deprives the viewer of vital insights into the extreme violence unleashed during the 1994 genocide. To its credit, Coexist does shed light on the role that the elite, at the national and local level, played in triggering and sustaining the genocide through the voices of victims and perpetrators.

The Adam Mazo-directed documentary also focuses on the nature of the state-backed reconciliation process which has required, among other things, the reintegration of perpetrators into communities. Touching on very sensitive issues, the voices of victims and perpetrators provide a very graphic take on a chapter of world history that continues to traumatize the population of this African state.

What strikes me as interesting is that the reconciliation process is depicted as being insulated from public debate. Coexist demonstrates the resilience of the victims and juxtaposes this against a latent resistance to the reconciliation imposed by the Rwandan state. The documentary succeeds in directly confronting the nature of the repressive Rwandan state. For instance, Coexist does illustrate how the Rwandan state has managed to maintain a façade of resolution in the midst of flashes of violence and political repression. This is further reinforced by a state-backed narrative glossing over the violence the (now ruling) Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) rebel army unleashed on unarmed civilians during the conflict. The added fact that reprisal attacks continue on genocide survivors, who either testify or act as judges in the traditional Gacaca courts, illustrates that reconciliation is still uncertain.

Due to the scale of the genocide, the path to peace does imply that victims would have to tolerate some of the perpetrators. The question that remains to be addressed is whether the approach adopted provides a long-term resolution. The role that political struggles over property played in the genocide also received some attention in the documentary, but the issue was not examined closely. As a result, Coexist left me wondering if the distribution of power and resources in Rwanda has the ability to secure stability and peace for current and future generations.

Coexist attempts to universalize the message of tolerance in the midst of conflict resolution, but the lack of a reflection on Rwanda’s historical experience, which has shaped political struggles, deprives the viewer of understanding the depth of the conflict. The dilemma left for future generations to confront is how to repair the damage wrought by violence and Coexist succeeds in emphasizing the role tolerance must play in this process.

Written by: Hibist W. Kassa, December 14th 2010

Raging Grannies: The Action League

priyanka — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Directed by Pam Walton

Pam Walton Productions

If you’ve been to a demonstration during the last two decades you’ve likely seen them: Bold, sassy, elders calling themselves The Raging Grannies. Mixing street theatre with costuming, their zany hats, political buttons, and boisterous, if often off-key, singing sets them apart from other protesters. They’re fun—and they defy stereotypes about what old women can and should be doing.

Whether the grannies are reliant on motorized wheelchairs or are healthy enough to dance in the streets, these feisty dames have not only captured media attention, but have become an irrepressible presence at rallies and political events throughout the U.S. and Canada. Since the founding of the first Raging Granny group in 1987, they’ve opposed war and challenged the isms that stymie human progress. Sometimes, this involves writing new words to such familiar songs as "When The Saints Go Marching In." At other times it involves militant resistance and many of the grannies have risked arrest to assert their will.

They’re a great subject for a documentary.

Pam Walton’s thirty-minute film starts off well, zooming in on an all-Caucasian band of rebels from California’s Bay area. In fact, the film opens with a shocking revelation: The National Guard Surveillance Unit spied on the Grannies during a Mother’s Day protest at the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, DC. Although we’re not told the year of this monitoring—or if the group sued the government to stop it—the Unit’s 2005 dismantling is championed. As viewers take in this information, however, it quickly becomes clear that the film is flawed, giving us a glimmer into something that transpired while, at the same time, not providing enough information to fully explain what took place and why.

This happens repeatedly and makes Raging Grannies less inspiring than it should be. While the film introduces numerous intrepid women—some of them activists for fifty-plus years and others who are new to political organizing—the interviews are rushed and we get little sense of the participants and what motivates them. It’s a question of scope. The film simply tries to cram too much into too short a time frame. We see the Grannies marching in DC, sitting-in at the local office of Congressman Mike Honda, being interviewed by FOX Television’s Bill O’Reilly, picketing at the Romic Waste Disposal Plant in East Palo Alto, and demonstrating at the California offices of the Occupational Health and Safety Administration. Rather than an in-depth analysis of strategies and tactics—or a look at the ageism and sexism endemic to all-too-many social change efforts—the camera sprints from subject to subject.

This limits the film’s usefulness, especially if it is shown to people who have never been to a demo or seen the Grannies strut their stuff. Indeed, viewers unschooled in the day-to-day machinations of community resistance will need an expository supplement to Raging Grannies—perhaps a speaker or book list—so that they will be able to make sense of the women’s activities. That may be okay, but had the film said more about less, a wider audience would have been able to benefit from seeing the Grannies in action.

That said, by turning the spotlight on elderly women who refuse to be quiet and docile, Raging Grannies reminds us that Margaret Mead was right: Sometimes small groups of people acting together can make a real difference. As Granny Ruth says, “We take a licking but still keep ticking.” And they do—ticking off the powerful and having lots of fun as they challenge authority and shake-up the status quo.

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, December 8th 2010

Dear Pyongyang

mandy — Fri, 26 Nov 2010 16:00:00 +0000

Directed by Yonghi Yang

Typecast Releasing

Yonghi Yang and her parents are Zainichi, meaning a Korean who lives in Japan. During the division of Korea in 1948 and the war that followed, the Zainichi took sides just as those who dwelled on the peninsula did. Yang’s parents had never been to North Korea, but were so enamoured of communism and the country that in 1971 Yang's father sent his three teenage sons to live in Pyongyang, the capital, as part of the Zainichi “Return Project.” This emigration occurred between the 1950s and 1970s when “Returnees” hoped for a better life in the “fatherland.” This better life never materialized, yet Returnees were forbidden to go back to Japan.

What Yang’s father's decision regarding his sons meant and still means to the family, and how her father now feels about his decision, form the core of this remarkable documentary (much of it shot in first-person POV, a rare occurrence in cinema). Yang interviews her septuagenarian father several times in homey circumstances. He jokes, laughs, sings, banters with his daughter, and gracefully accepts being made fun of. Yang teases out superbly this non-ideological side of her father. His decision about his sons was appalling—frightening in its implications of how political ideals distort the mind. Yet he’s likable and so loves his wife, daughter, sons, and grandkids that it’s almost possible to forgive the tragic mistake he made that his sons live out to this day.

An important thread of the story is Yang’s fortune compared to her brothers’. She was the youngest child, and only daughter, and so remained in Japan where she listened to the Beatles, took up videography, and decided that she had the right to choose her own career. By contrast, the brothers and their families lived in the pinched, highly controlled, and stagnant environment of Pyongyang. Footage that Yang shot as a schoolgirl when she visited her brothers several times over the years is deftly incorporated into the present-day journey to Pyongyang of her and her parents, and plays a crucial role in this contrast.

I won’t reveal the outcome of the narrative, but suffice it to say that Yang’s father's love for his daughter doesn’t fail when she needs an important answer from him. Criticisms? Well, toward the end, Yang’s camera shoved in her father’s helpless face shades into a passive-aggressive assault.

The film is DIY to the max, so its technical aspects can be roughhewn. Yang apparently shot the present-day footage on a consumer-quality digicam. The limitations of this kind of equipment and shooting do crop up. Sometimes the image is overexposed or underexposed. Occasionally the camera work is deliriously shaky. Sometimes the dialogue is not synched properly, and sometimes it’s obscured, for example, by wrapping paper being scrunched because the mic isn’t well placed.

Yet Dear Pyongyang—a sad and ironic title—tells so compelling a family tale with so many political ramifications that its production flaws don’t matter a whit. This “little” film has a big mind and heart. Though it often seems as if it were made for six dollars—all right, make it ten—it’s worth a dozen megabuck Hollywood blockbusters.

Written by: Neil Flowers, November 26th 2010

Take It From Me

andrea — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Directed by Emily Abt

Pureland Pictures

Take It From Me makes an emotional statement even more than a political one. This documentary film chronicles the time period after the passing of the 1996 Personal Responsibility Act, which placed a five-year limit on public assistance. Emily Abt, the producer and director, is a former social caseworker in New York City. She offers us the daily lives of four women who are struggling against great odds to raise themselves and their children up out of poverty.

Abby is a nineteen-year-old mother of three who has been turned down for public assistance six times due to reasons varying from her age to her parents making too much money to qualify. Her sons have been placed in foster care until she can get an apartment. Yet without public and housing assistance, she cannot pay for it with her paltry earnings. It is heartbreaking to watch as her sons suffer physical and emotional abuse in foster homes, while Abby’s case continues to get delayed by the courts. She is a loving mother, easy to root for, and it is frustrating to watch her being dragged around by a heartless system.

Iyoka and Louie Riveria are a young married couple with a young daughter, who have suffered a house fire which left them temporarily homeless in a shelter. They are cut off from welfare during the film as Iyoka chooses between public assistance and completing her college degree. Her strength, pride, and desire to offer her daughter a better life is admirable. Iyoka worries about not being able to afford health insurance or daycare for her daughter. Louie shares it is difficult to feel like a man while they are experiencing that “no one is on their side.” By the end of the film, they are separated as the strain of their financial situation is too much for their relationship.

Teresa has been out of work for three years and has gone on multiple job interviews in that time. She is facing the threat of having her very small public assistance funds taken away from her at any moment. Her nineteen-year-old son lives with her and suffers from an undiagnosed mental illness. Teresa’s life is consumed with frugality, stretching the amount she gets as far as she can when most of it “only goes to cover the phone and electric bill.” The filmmakers lose touch with Teresa as she refuses to talk to them anymore after her son has an extreme reaction to their presence. In her last interview, Teresa candidly tells the camera that without the welfare money, she is sure that she and her son will die.

Valentina is a recovered alcoholic and drug abuser and mother to at least four children. She has been on welfare for twenty-eight years and offers an inspirational story of recovery and perseverance. Raised in foster care, abandoned by a drug addicted mother, Valentina is proud to have kept her promise to her own children that she would never leave them. She works cleaning pots for $5.50 an hour, yet she also dreams of getting her GED and a better job. She is ready to get off of welfare and is also realistic that even working full-time, it is only with the help of her local church that she is able to make it. One of the most inspirational scenes in the movie is when she encourages other recovering addicted mothers to take it one day at a time, and think of their children first.

The film effectively makes a point about the shadow side of the American dream and how public assistance creates dependency without empowerment. It also shows the tragic impact of our inability to provide for all of our citizens by meeting their needs, nourishing and taking care of their children, and supporting the empowerment of women, especially single mothers.

Written by: Jillian Vriend, October 31st 2010