Independent Lens presents: The Longoria Affair

You could be fooled into thinking Latinos have only had voting rights in the U.S. for the last decade or so, what with the ongoing hand wringing and analysis by political pundits over which party controls "the Latino vote" (as if their respective cultures haven't already been overgeneralized enough). As it turns out, Latinos and in particular Mexican-Americans have played a vital role in American politics for more than half a century, and, as I was surprised to find out from The Longoria Affair, John F. Kennedy won the popular vote in the 1960 U.S. Presidential Election thanks in large part to Latino voters - years before the Civil Rights Act and Voting Rights Act were even signed into law by Kennedy's VP and successor, Lyndon B. Johnson.

While this documentary takes its name from U.S. Army Pvt. Felix Longoria, his life (and early combat death) serves as less of a focal point and more of a jumping-off point to explore a hidden era in Latino-American history. After Longoria was killed in action during World War II, the local funeral director in his hometown of Three Rivers, TX, refused to honor the fallen veteran because of his Mexican heritage. Longoria's wife reached out to Dr. Hector Garcia, a prominent physician and Mexican-American activist (and early influence of Al Sharpton?) who "used" this act of discrimination against Longoria as the catalyst for launching a nationwide Latino movement. One of his allies in Texas happened to be then-U.S. Senator Lyndon B. Johnson, and together the two men marched toward history, first making Longoria the first Mexican-American buried in Arlington National Cemetery, then swinging "the Latino vote" almost exclusively to Kennedy in 1960, and, after Johnson assumed the presidency, ultimately laying the groundwork for the American civil rights movement.

The Longoria Affair is a remarkable story about American politics (particularly timely during this election season) that also deftly illustrates the respective character of Johnson and Garcia, two very ambitious, very idealistic, and very stubborn men. Felix Longoria, for his part, may never know that his heroism on behalf of the United States didn't end in his death on a battlefield. On the contrary, that's only where it started.

The Longoria Affair premieres on PBS on Tuesday, November 9, and streams online for free through November 16 (check local listings)

Sound Unseen 11: Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone

Screening as part of Sound Unseen 11 - Sat., Oct. 9, @ 5:00 PM @ the Trylon

Trivia question: What music was John Cusack blasting from his boombox in that iconic scene in Say Anything? If you think it's "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel, you're right - kind of. That song was reportedly added in post-production, while the music that was actually playing during filming was by a band named Fishbone, "one of the most distinctive and eclectic alternative rock bands of the late '80s", according to their allmusic profile.

This anecdote perfectly exemplifies the life of the band: loved by all the cool kids, but inevitably overshadowed by the radio-friendly pop music of the day. I myself knew little about the band, and even less about the world that shaped them, before seeing Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone. It's a great documentary not only because it chronicles Fishbone's career in an interesting way, but because it also appropriately addresses social issues like race and power, and reveals historical nuggets such as the African-American migration to Los Angeles and the birth of the punk scene in the San Fernando Valley.

Sound Unseen 11: Wheedle's Groove

Screening as part of Sound Unseen 11 - Thu., Oct. 8, @ 8:45 PM @ the Trylon

When people talk about "discovering" music, I think they typically mean hearing a song they like in a commercial or at a bar and tracking it down, or reading about an up-and-coming artist and checking out their MySpace page for a free listen. Rarely is the case, I would imagine, when one actually physically discovers the music - as in, buried in a record store after years of neglect. Wheedle's Groove, winner of the Jury Award at Sound Unseen Duluth last summer, is the story of what happens when that music is found, and what it can mean to the people who lost it.

If I were to ask you to list the most influential cities for the emergence of soul and funk music during the 1960's and 70's, I would bet with some confidence that a few places would go unmentioned: Salt Lake City, Minneapolis, Portland, Seattle. But ah, how wrong you would be to omit the Emerald City: Seattle was, shockingly, home to some of the funkiest bands of the era, and involved musical giants like Quincy Jones and Kenny G (yes, that Kenny G). Few people remember this, of course, which makes Wheedle's Groove both extremely depressing and extremely important to the historical records of the city and the genre.

Fall Film Festobonanza, Part 4: Twin Cities Black Film Festival, MPLS Project, & Shamrock Film Festival

What: 8th Annual Twin Cities Black Film Festival

Where: TBA

When: October 15 - 17

What: The Minneapolis Project

Where: The Riverview

When: September 30

What: Shamrock Film Festival

Where: Rosemount

When: October 7 - 9

Even more local movie happenings, as follows:

Taking It Home: 9500 Liberty

 

Has anyone in Arizona talked to these people? 

You may have heard about a controversial ordinance that was recently passed which requires police officers to question any individual they have probable cause to suspect is an undocumented immigrant. You may have heard about the ensuing protests and planned boycotts, and the election year hand-wringing by the involved politicians, and the fiery "man on the street" rhetoric about God and country. 

But this isn't Arizona's Support our Law Enforcement and Safe Neighborhoods Act (SB 1070) of 2010. It's a county ordinance in Virginia from 2007. The same kind of law elicited the same kind of reactions, but without the same level of attention - until now. Indeed, there exists a unique opportunity to see a glimpse of the future by simply taking a look at the past in the fascinating new documentary 9500 Liberty, directed by Asian-Americans (and Coffee Party founders) Annabel Park and Eric Byler. The film is coincidentally rolling into theaters across the country this month, including in Arizona on July 27 - only two days before SB 1070 goes into effect.

If you've been paying attention to the Arizona dilemma (and if you're an American of any color you should be, since this will affect everyone), you owe it to yourself to watch this engrossing film and then spend some focused time deliberating and discussing it. What 9500 Liberty confirms, not surprisingly, is that there are no easy answers to the problem of illegal immigration. Moreover, it underscores how much of this debate - on both sides - is driven not by rational logic, but by emotional panic.

It becomes apparent while watching 9500 Liberty that the Arizona bill will be a trumpeted success in some aspects and a humiliating failure in others. The trick will be learning how to navigate between the rhetoric and the reality while maintaining a big picture perspective on the future of the United States. At the end of the day, and as it has for every controversial social change this country has experienced, this question remains begging: What will adapt first - laws or people? The American Constitution or the constitution of America?

Getafilm Gallimaufry: A Prophet, Fish Tank, Robin Hood and More

[Note: This series includes scattered thoughts on various movie-related topics. I was looking for a word that started with the letter "g" that means collection or assortment, but lest you think I'm some elitist wordsmith, know that I'd never heard of "gallimaufry" and I don't even know how to say it, but it was the only other option the thesaurus provided aside from "goulash" (too foody) and "garbage" (no).]

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A Prophet (A) 

A Prophet is the first must-see film of 2010. Maybe that's not saying much considering the caliber of movies that have been released in this first quarter. How about this instead: A Prophet is one of the best crime sagas in recent memory, and, along with last year's Lion's Den and Hunger, it has helped usher in a new era of harrowing prison dramas (the last truly memorable one being what, The Shawshank Redemption?).

Written and directed by Jacques Audiard, whose last film (The Beat My Heart Skipped) was highly acclaimed but unseen by me, A Prophet boasts impressive verisimilitude for a completely fictional story. Maybe it's not surprising considering former convicts were hired as extras and advisers, but Audiard himself has admitted that prison life is rarely depicted in French film and television. French citizens are apparently clueless about what goes on behind prison walls in their country, so it doesn't take much convincing to accept this story as reality.

Indeed, life on the inside is reflective of life on the outside: the old French/European power structure is fading as new immigrant groups - particularly Arab Muslims (that term should not sound nearly as redundant as it does) - are arriving and establishing their identities as the "new French". Symbolically speaking, this film is urgently relevant (it won nine of the record 13 César Awards for which it was nominated); cinematically speaking it is a masterful showcase of acting, cinematography, pacing (even at 150 minutes), suspense, music, action and, most importantly, global insight.

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Sacked from The Blind Side, Forcing a Fumble

Hmm, it's not my eyes playing tricks on me - that is a Best Picture nomination... 

I've made the joke before that the best part of some bad movies is when the end credits begin scrolling, representing the end of the torturous affair. While this was certainly true for The Blind Side, what made matters much worse was the fact that the end credits went on to suggest what the movie should have been in the first place: a documentary. I actually became emotional viewing the photos of Michael Oher's real-life family because I finally experienced the true weight of the story. It was not the heavy-handed afterschool special it resembled during the whole running time, but actually someone's life - and it deserved a much better treatment.

HBO Presents The Black List: Volume Three

Portraits © Timothy Greenfield-Sanders

Next Monday, February 8, HBO will present The Black List: Volume 3, a documentary project conceived by photographer Timothy Greenfield-Sanders (who is white) and film critic Elvis Mitchell (who is black) in which numerous African-American leaders share their "stories and insights on the struggles, triumphs and joys of black life in this country". (The name is a reclamation of the term "blacklist" - in this case it denotes an honor.)

I have not seen either of the first two volumes, though both were well received by critics. Seeing the trailer and a few clips, it would appear Volume 3 also offers what the Washington Post's Tom Shales noted about Volume 1: "This is television that matters, and that very rare thing in current TV, reality that's real. " I would expect nothing less from an interviewer like Mitchell, having recently attended a discussion he had with the Coen Brothers in which he almost got them to take off their masks. 

My guess is that the film will unfortunately be dismissed by most people as something only African-Americans would be interested in, but from what I've gathered these are candid, self-aware, thought-provoking first person accounts that deserve some consideration in the "postracial America" of the Obama era (the same could be said for Chris Rock's Good Hair last year, which also deserved an audience much larger than it received). Here is a preview and list of the interviewees for Volume Three:

Taking It Home: Invictus

("Taking It Home" is an alternative review style in which I share my thoughts on a movie's themes and how they may relate to my life, while focusing less on the acting, writing, technical aspects, or even plot of the film. It's a collection of the ideas I took home, "because the movie experience shouldn't end in the theater".)

More influential than any stump speech a politician could make... 

While watching Clint Eastwood's Invictus I was reminded of a little-seen documentary a few years ago about the space race. The astronauts interviewed in In the Shadow of the Moon gave fascinating and inspiring accounts of their experience with the outer limits, but the most lasting impression I have is their description of what was happening back here on Earth. As we Americans are reminded every summer, after years of competing with the Soviets to get a man on the Moon, the United States reached the finish line first, on July 20, 1969. We would go on to dominate space exploration for the next generation and ultimately to the present day.

But what wasn't clear to me until In the Shadow of the Moon, and what was reinforced by Invictus, is just how much collective pride a population can gain from what is, on the surface, a meaningless competition. Despite the social and political turmoil of 1969, for example, the United States experienced a brief period of pure, unadulterated joy because we beat the Soviets at a massive global game (more interestingly, according to the film, this American achievement was celebrated around the globe, and goodwill toward the United States peaked at a level not reached again until 9/12/01). The triumph of the South African National Rugby Team might pale in comparison on a global scale, but Invictus still portrays the Springboks' 1995 World Cup victory as an event almost as important as the moon landing - and ultimately more important than the U.S. Men's Hockey Team's 1980 "Miracle on Ice" (most recently revisited in 2004's Miracle).

You may be thinking, "Come on, sports are unimportant in the grand scheme of things and a distracting waste of time and money that could spend on much more important issues!". Tell that to Nelson Mandela (in fact many of his advisors did, as we see in the film). To take nothing away from Mandela's achievement as a black man being elected president in a racially segregated country after half a lifetime in prison, the Boks' World Cup victory was just as important to his political success - even more so, if I may be so bold.

Taking It Home: Precious

("Taking It Home" is an alternative review style in which I share my thoughts on a movie's themes and how they may relate to my life, while focusing less on the acting, writing, technical aspects, or even plot of the film. It's a collection of the ideas I took home, "because the movie experience shouldn't end in the theater".)

The most tragic "happy" ending you'll see in any movie this year...

Sitting through Precious in a movie theater is about as torturous a cinematic experience you can get these days outside of a Saw film. It is the most foul-mouthed, stomach-churning, disturbingly violent film I've seen in 2009, and despite the fact that little blood is actually shed, its characters (Precious in particular) are, along with the audience, beaten to unconscious submission during 110 minutes of unrelenting emotional violation at the hands of director Lee Daniels.

Yes, Precious delivers a knockout, battering us with so much vile depravity that we leave the theater unsure of what we're even supposed to feel, and unable to immediately understand that the abuse has been inflicted on us not to educate or evoke sympathy, but to make a tragic ending appear relatively uplifting. It's been called "unflinchingly gritty" and "brutally realistic" and all kinds of other hyperbole (most are accurate), but the most explicit truth in this film is left out: Precious Jones is dead.

REVIEW: Milking the Rhino

Picture the last nature documentary you saw about the African bush: bilbao trees, tall grasses, lush jungle, parched desert, and wildlife ranging from impalas to elephants, zebras to giraffes. If it's anything like the last one I saw, the animals appeared to be living in an untouched paradise.

"The reality is that if you just turn the camera around, you have people that live just next to this wildlife," explains a national park director in Milking the Rhino, a fascinating documentary filmed over three years about the tumultuous relationship between humans and animals in post-colonial Africa. Produced by Kartemquin Films (Hoop Dreams, The New Americans) and directed by David E. Simpson, it is a content rich film that should forever change the way you watch a nature documentary or, if you can afford it, participate in an African safari. As one of the year's best and most thought-provoking documentaries, it's hard to even know where to begin talking about all of the issues raised in Milking the Rhino. So while I'll attempt to lay out some of its key points, I really recommend that you take the time to sit down and watch it.

Taking It Home: Good Hair

("Taking It Home" is an alternative review style in which I share my thoughts on a movie's themes and how they may relate to my life, while focusing less on the acting, writing, technical aspects, or even plot of the film. It's a collection of the ideas I took home, "because the movie experience shouldn't end in the theater".)

Maintaining "good hair" really couldn't be any worse for you...

Chris Rock's Good Hair is kind of like one big weave: it's fun, it looks great, and it moves naturally, but you really don't know what actually exists at the roots, underneath the gloss and sheen. Framing the documentary with a Morgan Spurlock-like "I'm a new dad and now I have to figure out how to make the world better for my daughter" setup, Rock casually bounces between interviews with hairstylists, people on the street, and Hollywood celebrities. He travels from Beverly Hills to Harlem to India to Atlanta, and makes a lot of people laugh along the way, including the audience.

But to what end, exactly, nobody really knows. The average person will leave Good Hair knowing a little bit more about black people's hair but next to nothing new about racial identity in American culture, which is what the film so easily could have explored with just a little more investigation. Maybe it's unfair to blame Chris Rock for not probing further, though, since the only thing more audacious than a black man making a film about black women's hair in the first place would be a white man making a film about black women's hair (which isn't quite as curious as the reality of Jason Griggers in this film, a white man venerated as an expert sylist of black women's hair).

Class of '84 Blogathon: The Gods Must Be Crazy

[This remembrance is brought to you as part of Joe Valdez's Class of '84 Blogathon at This Distracted Globe, a celebration of films from on the 25th anniversary of what many people consider the best film year of a generation.]

There are few movies that define the period in which they were made as much as the bizarre docucomedy The Gods Must Be Crazy. The story was officially set in the present day of the early 80's, but the footage of the generic city where "civilized man" lived, and even more so the music that backed this footage, inadvertently trapped the movie in a very, very specific time period (check out the first 10 minutes I've included here to jog your memory).

The Gods Must Be Crazy was actually produced in South Africa in 1980 but not shown in the U.S. until 1982, and even then in very limited release. Positive international word-of-mouth ended up bringing the movie back to the U.S. in 1984, when it opened in wide release and pulled in $30 million at the box office. So despite its birthdate I'm including it here because 1984 was the year it really made its impact in the United States.

Flyway Film Festival: Reviews of Selected Shorts

I've really only come to appreciate short films in the last few years, almost entirely because of the theatrical screenings of the Oscar nominees every February. In fact I think I'd rather watch La Maison en Petits Cubes, last year's Oscar winner for Best Animated Short, again than the much-lauded Up (which I nonetheless did like). Anyway, my point is that shorts aren't the amateur and/or unimportant productions I may have once thought they were; many filmmakers even make a career out of short films.

There is an almost overwhelmingly high number of shorts playing at the Flyway Film Festival this weekend, and I've been fortunate to get a peek at several of them. Unfortunately one of them that I was really excited for, Surprise!, didn't play in my region-limited DVD player, so I can't say anything about it other than that it sounds like a promisingly boffo French comedy: "As an attentive husband, Pierre has prepared a surprise for his wife Brigitte's birthday, but a series of harmless incidents (like a draft, a sun beam reflected off a window) brings the next door neighbor into his bed just as Brigitte walks through the door." Maybe not high-minded comedy, but if handled the right way these set-ups can be hilarious.

So while I haven't seen Surprise!, here are some words about four shorts that I have seen, in alphabetical order and including video when I've found it available.

REVIEW: Forgiven (B)

Paul Fitzgerald's Forgiven explores a familiar story with a familiar lesson, but it stands apart from most character dramas because of the boldness with which it approaches some pretty thorny subjects: racism, American politics, murder, capital punishment, corruption, betrayal, redemption and, of course, forgiveness. In fact one of the film's weaknesses is a sense that perhaps it bit off more than it could chew, resulting in a narrative that plays like a television series condensed into 81 minutes. At the same time, however, this breadth of focus is also one of Forgiven's strengths because it illustrates how interconnected many of this social issues are.

After receiving a pardon from the Governor of North Carolina mere moments before his execution for a murder conviction, Ronald Bradler (Russell Hornsby) finds himself suddenly back in society, aimless, jobless, and very near to hopeless. He had maintained his innocence of the crime to the execution gurney, and now, angry about the years he lost on death row and the social stigma attached to his identity as a convicted felon, he's seeking retribution. His primary target is the former D.A. who prosecuted the case against him, Peter Miles (Paul Fitzgerald, who also wrote and directed the film). The timing couldn't be worse for Miles; he is in the home stretch of a U.S. Senate campaign and can't afford any skeletons in his closet aside from the drug and alcohol abuse he's already admitted.

The real seed of Bradler's frustration is the implicit role he felt his race played in the case - until he learns of known evidence that could have cleared him just weeks after the trial. When Miles denies any wrongdoing and brushes off Bradler's meeting requests by telling him to "move on" and "get on with your life", well let's just say things get out of hand quickly.

Forgiven arrives at a time in this country when accusations of racism and power are beginning to enter almost every national conversation. About education, about health care, about taxes, about unemployment and, most recently, about civility. I'm a little surprised prison populations and the justice system haven't received any attention in 2009, but if Forgiven hits the right chord it has the potential to be a catalyst. I don't think that's Fitzgerald's motive, however, so it's unfair to peg Forgiven as an "issue" movie, but rather one that attempts to test a viewer's sympathy for its characters as they stumble through a difficult situation - a situation that requires conditional forgiveness for unconditionally terrible crimes. Fitzgerald and Hornsby offer strong performances, but the acting in general is a bit uneven, with a few strained, emotional outbursts that unfortunately reminded me of the overacting in 21 Grams.

And while I ultimately found the ending to be a little more disturbing than it may have been designed to be, I think that caused Forgiven to linger for a few days, challenging me to consider the motives and justifications of its character's actions. I'm blessed not to have yet experienced a "wrong" in my life that would beg the question of forgiveness at this level (i.e., rape, murder, war crimes, imprisonment, etc.), but this movie in some way makes me consider how I would act under such circumstances. And in doing that - in asking challenging questions and not necessarily offering easy answers, Forgiven achieves its goal.

Grade:
Writing - 8
Acting - 7
Production - 8
Emotional Impact - 9
Music - 5
Social Significance - 5

Total: 42/50= 84% = B

Forgiven is currently available on Amazon's Video On Demand, and can also be added to your Netflix queue in advance of its DVD release.

REVIEW: District 9 (B)

How it pains me to not be writing a "Taking It Home" review of Neill Blomkamp's District 9, a movie that I fell in love with at first description earlier this year, but became less and less and less excited for as the date neared and I realized that what I thought was going to be about a tale of South Africa was really a bam-pow sci-fi flick about aliens (in South Africa, yes, but about aliens nonetheless).

As clever and "cool" as it was, at the end of the day this movie offered much less meaning and insight than what I originally hoped for, or even what I expected from the brilliant first 15 minutes (or, had I seen it beforehand, what I would have expected from the film's inspiration, Blomkamp's Alive in Joburg).

But still, on a purely cinematic level I'm still tempted to call District 9 one of the most entertaining movies of this so-far lackluster year, and one that I'd much rather watch again over Star Trek (what happened to all of the "Best of 2009" cries for that, by the way?). Yes, District 9 is a well-acted, mostly fast-paced story framed in a unique setting, and the visual effects and use of CGI are the best I've seen since The Golden Compass a couple years ago. Whether that last point means awards are in order, we'll just have to see - but if so they'll be the only awards the movie deserves...

Grabbing you right from the get-go with the currently trendy and rather unnecessary fake documentary/verite style, District 9 introduces us to an alternative Johannesburg in 2010, decades after a mysterious UFO stopped in mid-air over the city. In it were countless weak, starving aliens (heretofore known as "prawns", the derogatory term applied to them), who were initially treated with compassionate care but soon wore out their welcome when it became obvious that they were stranded for good. Like proverbial in-laws.

The prawns were thus forced to live in District 9, a set-aside area of the city cut off from social services and human society. As with the black population only forty years ago, they were treated with hostility and hatred by pubic officials like Wikus van de Merwe (Sharlto Copley), a bureaucrat's bureaucrat heading up a Multi-National United (MNU) prawn relocation unit. He mugs for the camera and shows us District 9 like an excited child would show us his treehouse; his idea of an adrenaline rush is torching a shed full of prawn eggs.

As Wikus leads an effort to relocate the prawns to District 10 (a newly constructed refugee camp far from the city, and the likely location of the guaranteed sequel), an accident causes a DNA transfer in him that will in the course of about a week turn him into a prawn - if he survives at all. The remainder of the movie, then, is the story of Wikus vs. the prawns vs. a nasty bald-headed villain (nasty because he's bald-headed) vs. cannibalistic Nigerian gangsters lording over District 9 vs. the MNU front office vs. the world.

In short, it ends as a brilliantly rendered, eye-poppingly well-designed, visually intense action-packed extravaganza that has maybe something to do with humanity's relation to aliens, but almost nothing to do with apartheid, South Africa, the United Nations ("MNU"), or, let's be honest, reality. This whole thing is a set-up, and I'm not falling for it.

How exactly would a bulletproof vest protect against alien weaponry?

I shouldn't be discussing this movie without at some point explaining my fascination for the country in which it's set. As I may or may not have shared before, The Power of One is unconditionally and unquestionably my favorite movie of all time. It's the movie that, when I saw it for the first time as a boy, forever changed my view of the world, myself, and movies (which I would not really devote myself to for another decade). Not surprisingly, since then I've been automatically captivated by anything dealing with the extraordinarily rich history and culture of South Africa (fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, I still have the heavy-handedness of Clint Eastwood's Invictus to provide my South Africa fix in 2009).

Understanding this will shed some light on why I was disappointed by how quickly District 9 abandoned its fantastically juicy set-up and devolved into an alien action thriller (with an ending and villain identical to Daniel Craig in The Power of One, no less!), leaving all kinds of political and racial themes on the table for another, likely worse movie to examine. As Blomkamp, a white South African who grew up in Johannesburg, admits, "No allegories, no metaphors, nothing. Just science fiction in Joburg...There's no message, per se, that I'm trying to get across with the movie. It's rather that I want to present science fiction, and put it in the environment that affected me."

Ahhh, fair enough, I guess, but it still stings to hear him add in another interview that he backed off on exploring the social issues because it "wouldn't be entertaining on a popcorn level." Come on, man, don't leave me hanging with a tease like that. Just because Peter Jackson got excited about Alive in Joburg and wanted to show off his CGI prowess, it didn't mean you had to abandon all of the meaning. Well, maybe it did since he was footing the bill, but still, the lack of thematic depth in District 9 and the cliche-ridden finale that left us puffed up for a sequel was not what I was expecting following the terrific first 15 minutes.

Why not talk straight about the fact that a white South African anti-hero doesn't learn his lesson about prejudice? Why not talk straight about the fact that the South African blacks are mistreating the prawns in the same way that they themselves were treated for generations? Why not explore the existence of the MNU as the operating arm of a massive, global military-industrial complex? Why not have one of the prawns rise as a Nelson Mandela or Steve Biko-type hero? Wouldn't be "popcorn"-friendly, I suppose, so best to leave all that background stuff securely in the background.

Alive in Joburg - now that would have been a cool movie...

But enough with the whining and moaning, because of all the action-packed summer movies that allow you to shut off your brain for a while, I suppose I should be glad that District 9 is the only one I've seen. I'm guessing, for example, that it features much better acting than Transformers 2, Harry Potter, or G.I. Joe. Sharlto Copley was a real find to play the part of Wikus, and although I won't compare his acting chops to Daniel Day-Lewis, I think he'd be a fine choice to actually play Daniel Day-Lewis.

And so, the acting and the action and the awesomeness allow District 9 to stand out in its genre, even if it never rises above its genre. I think that's where I'd like to end up with all of these schizophrenic thoughts, on the bright side of things. I didn't care for the execution of District 9 but I loved the idea, and I acknowledge that somewhere in there is the potential for meaningful discussion, even if it's tucked away and eventually out of sight behind goo, guns, and gadgets.

Grade:
Writing - 7
Acting - 9
Production - 9
Emotional Impact - 8
Music - 5
Social Significance - 4

Total: 42/50= 84% = B


And now...fun with nitpicking, because any movie considered the best ever deserves a closer look:

- District 9 is an original story, alright, but maybe only because no one has successfully combined the following movies using this formula: Star Wars + Children of Men + E.T. + Independence Day + The Power of One + Black Hawk Down + Jerusalema + Flight of the Navigator + War of the Worlds + Contact + Iron Man + Cloverfield

- Is it reasonable to believe that 1 million aliens with superior intelligence, strength, technology and weaponry would not be able to free themselves from their oppressors, or at least establish themselves more forcefully as legitimate immigrants? I don't think so.

- Come on, his name was "Christopher Johnson"? No explanation? From what I know about District Six, people were not given WASPy names as part of their forced relocation, but somebody correct me if I'm wrong.

- Why did it take 20 years for Christopher and his son to find a can of fluid on the ground? What was that, anyway, and how was that the key to their salvation? Way too convenient for my taste and it led to the only eye-rolling moment I had of the movie, when Christopher had to tell Wikus about the rarity of the stuff in the canister.

- Speaking of which, Wikus' ability to fluently communicate with Christopher was about as nonsensical as Luke Skywalker's ability to communicate with R2-D2.

- If the prawns and humans were having inter-species sex for so many years, why would Wikus be the first person to survive a DNA transfer? Is he supposed to represent a "chosen one"? I don't like that idea.

- Regarding the portrayal of Nigerians as cannibalistic savages (otherwise known as the "Armond White issue"), Blomkamp says in that earlier interview: "Sure, I'm totally aware of that. I know those buttons are going to be pushed. Unfortunately, that's the reality of it, and it doesn't matter how politically correct or politically incorrect you are. The bottom line is that there are huge Nigerian crime syndicates in Johannesburg. I wanted the film to feel real, to feel grounded, and I was going to incorporate as much of contemporary South Africa as I wanted to, and that's just how it is." So, wait, you're telling me that Johannesburg is swarming with cannibalistic Nigerians who sell cat food, have no regard for life and generally exist as evil scum in human form? "That's just how it is"? Hope they get things in order before the World Cup...

- I'm not understanding the way in which the carcasses in the MNU laboratory were handled. Sometimes people are wearing masks, sometimes things are in bags, sometimes it's just an open room. Is this place sanitary, and wouldn't there be a host of alien diseases that humans couldn't withstand?

- The prawns are not being exploited or harvested or enslaved by the humans, right? They're a cancer that people want to get rid of and everybody knows it. So why wouldn't everyone - humans and prawns alike - be committed full time to simply finding the fuel that would allow them to return home, no hard feelings on either end? If a guy parks on your front yard after running out of gas, would you both just accept that the guy has to live there for 20 years, and would you both never consider the idea of, hmm, finding more gas?

- In operating the prawn gun/robot/walker thing, did it become an actual extension of Wikus' body? If not, why did bullets hitting the metal exoskeleton disable him so severely? Wouldn't he have been protected in that?

- If the fuel they had left was enough to power the mothership, why waste time trying to get the little pod ship off the ground? Doesn't seem like that pod was very fuel-efficient.

- When Christopher is beaten by the MNU agents upon his arrest, why is his battered head and eye oozing with red blood? I thought everything that came out of them was black? Seems like it was a cheap way for us to see Christopher as a human. In fact, maybe he was a human - yes, he was formerly a human and underwent the same transformation as Wikus, right? It sure seemed like he became much more human (especially on an emotional level) as Wikus became more alien.

- Speaking of which, could these prawns have been any more anatomically similar to humans? Their bone and muscle structure, their vocal communication, their upright, two-legged gait, their digestive systems (urinating), their sexual organs (urinating while standing?), their heads and hands - for all intents and purposes they were simply primates with thick skin. Is that the extent of the diversity of intelligent life in the universe?

- When the MNU headquarters are blown up from within and the incident is passed off as a "terrorist attack", how does the spokesperson get away with simply saying they've taken care of it, it's no big deal and it's contained? Wouldn't this be the equivalent of the Pentagon being bombed?

- Hey, all you Slumdog Millionaire haters, answer me this: District 9 was filmed on location in the shantytowns of Joburg, and you can bet your self-righteous dollars that many of the people we see in these slums are still mired in abject poverty. Should Neill Blomkamp be chastised for portraying this gritty reality, and furthermore be held responsible for lifting anyone featured in the movie out of poverty? Why not? What's the difference?

REVIEW: Goodbye Solo (A-)

"A Pakistani guy, a couple of Hispanic kids, a Senegalese guy, even William, who feels even more like an outsider in Winston-Salem than Solo—that’s a huge part of the meaning. These are three American films by an American director named, Ramin Bah-what? Starring who? Yeah, these are three American films starring three American people made by an American guy. And if you don’t believe it, look at the last election."

- Ramin Bahrani in an interview in Reverse Shot, Issue 23

Despite the general consensus that "change" in America arrived on January 20th, 2009, Ramin Bahrani has done his best in Man Push Cart, Chop Shop, and now Goodbye Solo to show us that change actually arrived quite a while ago, not evidenced by the person in the White House but the person in the house down the block from you. He's attempted to expose us to the "new" America, the immigrant America, the Bahrani America, and insofar as I'm the only member of my family born here, my America, too.

That's one way to look at Bahrani's films, and it can lead to effusive, perhaps blindingly positive praise on my part, or wary, perhaps unfair charges of "immigrant chic" on the part of others (I really appreciated the conversation, Fox). To the extent that Goodbye Solo is made in the same general style as his last two films and showcases the same general characters, the same general praise and criticism may be applied.

But I think another way to view Bahrani's films, particularly Goodbye Solo, is to remove the immigrant factor and simply examine the relationships between the characters (which Bahrani himself did for nearly an hour following its premiere at the Walker on April 3rd, and then even longer to the people who wanted to personally chat with him). The relationships in Goodbye Solo are unlikely and unbelievable until you realize, on further examination, that they are completely likely and surprisingly believable. Yes, Bahrani again finds hope in the bleakness that many filmmakers celebrate, but what's so great about bleakness anyway?

Solo (Souleymane Sy Savane, nicknamed "Solo" in real life) is a Senegalese cab driver in Winston-Salem, North Carolina (Bahrani's hometown). From his incessant chattering, scanning eyes, and flirtatious banter with the cab dispatcher, we know that he is a lively, spontaneous, happy-go-lucky guy: a male version of Poppy Cross, as well as the stereotypical foreign-accented cabbie who never knows when to shut up. When he picks up a fare in the form of an obviously suicidal grouch named William (Red West), Solo finds himself flustered to the point of desperation; he'll do and sacrifice anything to persuade his new friend to change his plans. On the surface, this friendship between starry-eyed immigrant and cantankerous misanthrope is right out of Gran Torino. It's a spin-off, the parallel story of Walt Kowalski's war buddy who lives in North Carolina.

But William is not Walt, and Solo is not Thao, and while this relationship is also one based on protection, there's more maturity, intimacy, and respect developing under the surface. The two characters still learn the typical lessons from each other about the importance of family and yada yada yada, but it's window dressing for a story that's essentially about people looking for reasons to live, and ways of living. Over the course of several weeks, Solo has to learn to accept William's plan (for practical purposes as much as anything else since he's supposed to drive him to the jump-off point at Blowing Rock), and William has to learn to accept Solo's care and comfort. They complement each other because they know that the other one has something they don't; Solo experiences William's freedom and independence, William experiences Solo's family. Neither of them know how to access these things without each other.

Ramin Bahrani talked a lot about love in the discussion following Goodbye Solo, particularly how love means giving people permission to make their own decision even if you don't agree with them. That's a nice sentiment and it's well established in the film, but it's not the primary reason I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it because, as A.O. Scott lucidly noted last month, "these people and their situations are nonetheless recognizable, familiar on a basic human level even if their particular predicaments are not."

It's that idea of understanding through vicarious living that inspires me, both between the characters in the film and between the viewers and the characters. The originality and purpose of Bahrani's style can be argued, but I think his motives are pure, his films are honest, and, as evidenced by Goodbye Solo, his voice is consistently refreshing.

Grade:
Writing - 9
Acting - 10
Production - 9
Emotional Impact - 9
Music - 4
Social Significance - 5

Total: 46/50= 92% = A-

REVIEW: Medicine for Melancholy (A-)

While I'm admittedly no expert on analyzing film trends, I'm confident enough calling myself an observer of them. It would appear that over the last 18 months, for example, a New Wave of American independent filmmaking has begun in earnest.

Somehow, while Hollywood barrages us with mindless action blockbusters and unnecessary sequel upon unnecessary sequel (I can understand franchises sequels like Transporter 3 and even Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, but Get Smart 2 and Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2 - what is happening? ), an eclectic group of American filmmakers is still successfully churning out some of the best independent film of the last decade.

A DNA test would show these films from 2008 to be fraternal twins, if not identical: Ballast (Lance Hammer), Chop Shop (Ramin Bahrani), Wendy and Lucy (Kelly Reichardt), In Search of a Midnight Kiss (Alex Holdridge), Frozen River (Courtney Hunt), and The Pool (Chris Smith) - and those are just the ones I've seen. Their shared traits: two or three principle characters, a bare bones plot about current social issues, a subtle and possibly nonexistent musical score, stark cinematography, and decidedly untidy endings. Of course they're also all quite good (four of them were in my Best of 2008 list, and Wendy and Lucy might have snuck in had I seen it earlier), making the fact that they received so little attention even more disappointing.

Barry Jenkins' Medicine for Melancholy unfortunately seems headed for the same quiet fate. A late 2008 arrival that may find more of an audience in 2009 on DVD and in limited release, it's a deceptively loaded film that, likes its characters, quickly sheds itself of stereotypes in carving out its own niche in the romantic drama genre. Meditative and unhurried, Medicine for Melancholy strikes a comfortable balance between lighthearted comedy, passionate romance, thoughtful drama and, of all things, cultural identity and social justice. It's like Before Sunrise with a conscience.

Unlike the contemplative pair of Jesse and Celine, however, Micah (Wyatt Cenac) and Jo (Tracey Heggins) meet under less romantic circumstances: shamefully in each other's arms after an inebriated one night stand. The next day, Sunday, starts out with a painfully awkward breakfast at a local cafe (they learn each other's names) followed by a uncomfortably forced conversation in the cab ride to their respective San Francisco apartments. Jo is in a serious relationship with a white guy, which aside from irritating Micah simply makes him all the more determined to win her over.

These issues around race are thoroughly explored while hardly discussed at all. Yes, Micah is vocal about his frustration with the history of socioeconomic segregation in San Francisco and that people of color are always patronized in the "indie" scene and that African-Americans make up a minuscule percentage of homeowners in the city, but he never preaches, and neither does the movie. In the hands of the brilliant Spike Lee, for example, Medicine for Melancholy would have become tiresome and likely abrasive. Barry Jenkins uses a softer touch, fortunately, and lets the camera and the city do the majority of the talking. The color is symbolically washed out from the film and we learn as much about the characters and their thoughts on race relations not by what they say, but by what they wear, do, eat, and listen to. Alex Holdridge used technique this to a lesser extent in In Search of a Midnight Kiss, and his beautiful shots of L.A. were more pretty than profound. Jenkins, on the other hand, is doing it with a lot more thought and for much more meaning.

There's little mystery as to how Micah and Jo's relationship will progress throughout the day (even though Jo asks in the form of a declaration, "This is a one night stand."), but Medicine for Melancholy isn't a romance in the traditional sense anyway. Cenac and Heggins provide Micah and Jo with real weight and emotion, and although this may be partly because we've never seen them before, it's all because they do an excellent job naturally settling into their roles. Amusingly, their acting is a little shaky at the beginning, but then again so are the characters themselves as they work their way out of an awkward situation. Is it by design? With as much careful thought as appears to have gone into the other aspects of Medicine for Melancholy, I wouldn't be surprised.

Finally, I'd be remiss not to mention the soundtrack at some point, if only because people who are into indie rock (I'm only marginally so) will probably consider it a gold mine. I don't recognize any of the songs and only two of the artists - Tom Waits and Wyatt Cenac (who plays Micah) - but you should know by now that I'm game for any song that fits the right scene, and it should come as no surprise that Jenkins succeeds with the music as well as he does everything else.

I saw Medicine for Melancholy more than three weeks ago and it's yet to begin to fade into the recesses of my movie memory. On paper it's obviously the type of film I would love (tell me you're surprised at my grade), but it's still been "stickier" than I expected, and it's the best type of movie in that sense because I find myself still connecting it to real life. There's a sense that, like the other American Independent New Wave movies from 2008, Medicine for Melancholy taps into some universal human condition that we're all able to relate to despite differences in race, class, gender, and other seemingly obtrusive social divisions. You might not see yourself in these movies, but you see yourself in them.

Grade:
Writing - 9
Acting - 9
Production - 10
Emotional Impact - 8
Music - 5
Social Significance - 5

Total: 46/50= 92% = A-

Taking It Home: Pray the Devil Back to Hell

As Margaret Mead famously stated:
"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world.
Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."

Today in the Liberian capital of Monrovia, International Women's Day will be celebrated with the country's premiere screening of Pray the Devil Back to Hell. Anywhere else this would simply be an inspiring and appropriate event; in Liberia it signifies a fateful union of history and impossible hope, something akin to an alternate inauguration in which Barack Obama would not only be sworn in on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, but on the very same day as Martin Luther King, Jr.'s historic address.

On this date just six years ago, Liberia was in the midst of a horrifying and destabilizing civil war. The capital of Monrovia was threatened on all sides by rival militias eager to oust megalomaniac Charles Taylor, and it appeared the situation would resolve itself in the natural way: brutal bloodshed followed by a tenuous transitional government.

And then something bizarre happened. A group of women staged a type of coup on their own terms, essentially ending the war without firing a single shot. Two years later, they helped elect Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf as the new President - the first (and so far, only) woman to ever be elected to the position on the entire continent of Africa.

This is the story told in Pray the Devil Back to Hell, and its premiere in Monrovia today - to be attended by President Johnson-Sirleaf as well as many other Heads of State - will be preceded by a ceremony honoring the courage, leadership, and tireless work of not only the women in the film, but of all women who have fought and continue to fight for justice around the globe.

The documentary (which won the award for Best Documentary at the Tribeca Film Festival last year and was later shortlisted for an Oscar nomination) is as shocking as it is uplifting. How could a group of women end a war and disarm a nation by simply being stubborn in their demands for peace? How could that actually work in a country where women are routinely abused and mothers are killed by their own young sons as part of their initiation as child soldiers?

Pray the Devil Back to Hell offers no easy answers to those questions, not because of any flaws in the filmmaking (though there are some) but because the circumstances of the peaceful resolution seem so impossibly simple. These women said "enough" and the war ended. They turned the country upside down and sent a historic ripple throughout Africa.

Is there more to it than that? Yes, but the other variables (international support, internal disputes among the rebel armies, etc.) don't seem to have been nearly as essential to achieving peace as the stalwart work of these women. Indeed, the driving factor was the shameful scolding handed down by the mothers of Liberia, as if to say, "Stop horsing around, boys - someone's going to get hurt!"

I don't mean to be patronizing; this was a dangerous and extremely complex situation that is still difficult to understand, and for a country that has such a fateful relationship to the United States, most of us know surprisingly little about Liberia. To that end, Pray the Devil Back to Hell is actually a bit lacking. You could leave knowing almost nothing about the country's history prior to 1989, save for a brief text introduction in the first minute.

But the documentary isn't meant to be an extended history lesson, and if you know anything about Liberia or about non-violent protest in general, you should come away with a profound sense of hope. The country has yet to fully recover - both physically and mentally - from the years of strife, but the peace has surprisingly lasted long enough in this African country to see its female president attend the premiere of the film in its capital city, and that is an astounding actuality.

Pray the Devil Back to Hell will soon screen in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, where civil war has claimed the lives of over 4 million people since 1998. Whether that nightmare can be ended by a group of idealistic women remains to be seen, but sometimes hope gets its foot in the door and the world changes.

It took the women of Liberia years of thankless campaigning to achieve their mission (with no guarantee of success, it should be noted), and today they can celebrate with a kind of joy that few people will ever experience.

What did you take home?

300 Words About: The Class

The class portrait of a new millennium...

I don't know how to judge The Class as a movie because I didn't see it as a movie, but as an eerily familiar depiction of my own years spent teaching multicultural 13 year-olds at an inner-city school. Despite the existence of a screenplay based on a "novel" (more like a memoir), to me The Class is a documentary more than anything else. Real students, real teachers, real school, real issues, real life. That's what I've taken away in the two weeks since seeing it: the challenges of a rapidly globalizing world are real and they're urgent, and there are no easy answers on how to bridge today's cultural norms with tomorrow's.

This fact was apparently lost on the guy sitting behind us in the theater, who muttered, "What's the point?" as the credits rolled, adding that the movie had "no redeeming qualities". The point, I would argue, is that the world is changing around us and it will be to our benefit to begin focusing on the future instead of the past as soon as possible. The U.S., like France, is going to change much more rapidly in the next 50 years than it has in the last 50 years, and it will require cultural adaptation on the part of everyone from every background.

Although I admit that the cultural makeup of the class seemed a bit more symmetric than I think you'd find in most places (these students in the movie all attend the same school, but I've found nothing saying the group in the movie comprises an actual class), it's certainly true that the number of cultures and ethnicities represented under the roof of one school is almost exponentially increasing, even in places as seemingly monocultural as Minnesota (see: Gran Torino).

Some would argue that the students in the class - tragically true to life - didn't actually learn anything throughout the year, but I would strongly disagree. They learned about other cultures and, perhaps more importantly, they learned about their own. And while understanding the universals of culture might not help them pass the 9th grade, it will most definitely prepare them for the future.

With any luck, these exchanges happening at schools around the world will prevent the development of Walt Kowalskis in future generations.