April 2005

Keep Not Silent (Ortho-Dykes) (Israel, 2004, Director: Ilil Alexander, 52 minutes): This film takes us into very strange ter­ritory, fol­lowing the lives of ultra-orthodox Jewish women who happen to also be les­bians. Most of these women are not able to live openly, so the film­maker had to film very dis­creetly, blur­ring faces or filming behind cur­tains, so even the visual lan­guage of the film spoke of the way these women had to hide. But it was not all gloomy stuff. One woman, Ruth, the mother of six chil­dren, has an arrange­ment with her hus­band that she can visit her lover each night and even spend the night twice a week. Their rabbi told them that as long as they can keep the family and mar­riage together, Ruth’s les­bian “affair” was not a sin.

Not so for poor Yudith, who seeks to live openly. Her rabbi tells her that her beha­viour is wrong, flat out. Still, she wants to have a reli­gious cere­mony to cel­eb­rate her com­mit­ment to Tal, her lover. Her brother and sister are sup­portive and the cere­mony is attended by many friends, but Yudith still cries because her mother and rabbi father would not come.

A sens­itive look into the lives of women under enormous pres­sure to keep very silent about their sexu­ality. Many are devoted mothers of large fam­ilies, and will not risk exposure for fear of the social con­sequences their chil­dren and hus­bands will face. The spir­itual ten­sions involved in remaining reli­gious in these cir­cum­stances are also hinted at, though are not as fully explored as I would have liked.

More inform­a­tion on the film here.

8/10(8/10)

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Battleground: 21 Days on the Empire's Edge

Battleground: 21 Days on the Empire’s Edge (Canada/USA, 2004, Director: Stephen Marshall, 84 minutes): Most of the doc­u­ment­aries pro­duced about the Iraq war (and also, for that matter, the Vietnam War) have really been about ourselves. Our motives, our politics, our guilt. What Stephen Marshall has done in Battleground is let us see the war from the per­spective of ordinary Iraqis. This is even more remark­able when it’s noted that Marshall, one of the founders of the Guerrilla News Network, admits that much of his pre­vious work was “agit­prop”, slanted and polem­ical. That this film, shot over three weeks in late 2003, is so bal­anced is thanks in part to a little bit of serendipity.

On the plane to Jordan, Marshall sits next to Farhan (or “Frank” as he now calls him­self), a beefy Iraqi-American on his way back to try to find the family he left behind after the first Iraq war. Heeding the encour­age­ment of the first President Bush after Iraq’s army had been pushed out of Kuwait, Farhan joined other Shia Muslims in rising up against the regime of Saddam Hussein. But when Saddam began air­strikes against the rebels, the Americans did nothing, and 100,000 Iraqis per­ished. Farhan was lucky. He was shot and tor­tured, but man­aged to get out of the country with the help of some American sol­diers. Fearful of reprisals against his family, he spent 13 years in America without making con­tact and now he’s returning, not knowing even if any of his family are left alive. This storyline alone would have made a com­pel­ling and heart­breaking film, but Marshall weaves Farhan’s story throughout the film, including sev­eral tear­fully joyous reunions.

There is also Raed Jarrar, an engineer (and incid­ent­ally, one of Iraq’s most famous blog­gers) mon­it­oring the pres­ence of depleted uranium in American shells used against Iraqi tar­gets. With his Geiger counter, he goes from place to place trying to warn people away from areas of con­tam­in­a­tion, but with little suc­cess. Poor Iraqis melt down the shells and tank wrecks to sell for scrap iron. Contaminated scrap iron.

Then there is the female trans­lator who longs for a return to the days of Saddam, arguing with the Egyptian busi­nessman who thinks the American defeat of Iraq will help it join other “losers” like Germany and Japan into devel­oping into an eco­nomic power­house. And the American tank com­mander who cyn­ic­ally pre­dicts that the war isn’t about demo­cracy or oil, but about geo­pol­it­ical stra­tegic interests, “over the next fifty to a hun­dred years.”

One thing stood about all the Iraqis in the film. Like any other cul­ture, and espe­cially one with thou­sands of years of his­tory, the Iraqis are a very proud people. The worst thing about the cur­rent occu­pa­tion is that it is humi­li­ating for the Iraqis. First they were humi­li­ated by Saddam, and now by the Americans. This is some­thing that the American army doesn’t seem to under­stand yet, how powerful this feeling is, espe­cially when it becomes a ral­lying point for the insur­gency. Even though there are lots of polit­ical, ethnic and reli­gious fac­tions in the country, they may yet unite around a shared sense of humi­li­ation, and then things could get even uglier.

All in all, this was a riv­eting journey into a war zone. And instead of focus­sing on the explo­sions, as our simple-minded media have been doing, the film feeds the hunger of viewers like me to see real Iraqis, living their lives under such incred­ible pres­sures. There are all kinds of opin­ions, from full sup­port of the Americans to out­right hos­tility, but people are eager to speak their minds. One of the film’s most moving moments came near the end, when a man said (in my rough para­phrase), “The Iraqis are not the enemies of America. America should stop cre­ating enemies for itself and instead create friends. You can never feel safe in the world if you don’t create friends instead of enemies.” I only hope this film helps even a little bit.

Watch the trailer for the film here.

10/10(10/10)

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A Decent Factory

A Decent Factory (Finland/France, 2004, Director: Thomas Balmès, 79 minutes): In this doc­u­mentary, Finnish cell­phone giant Nokia sends its recently hired Ethics and Environmental Specialist to China to audit one of its sup­pliers’ factories. But instead of a mani­festo on the dangers of out­sourcing and glob­al­iz­a­tion, we get a much smaller film about cul­tural dif­fer­ences. Well, it’s not exactly that simple, either. I guess this one just didn’t catch fire for me the way I thought it would. Sure, the Finns find labour law viol­a­tions. But in the pres­ence of the factory’s European man­age­ment, they tend to focus on small things (some chem­icals are stored near the toi­lets) and gloss over the bigger issues (not a single employee at the factory has signed a con­tract). The truth is that the entire Chinese man­u­fac­turing sector oper­ates by very dif­ferent rules than the Europeans are used to. I looked for­ward to hearing the aud­itors inter­view the mostly-female employees of the factory, but when they do, they dis­cover the sort of com­plaints made by factory workers every­where: their super­iors insult them, the cafet­eria food is bad. The truth is that none of them actu­ally com­plain about the low wages, or the forced over­time or man­datory deduc­tions for food and acco­mod­a­tion. It seems like they are con­tent to live in single-sex com­pany dorm­it­ories. Things that seem to hor­rify the pro­gressive Finns don’t seem to faze most of the Chinese.

So, at least by focus­sing in so tightly on one factory, I think it’s impossible to look at the bigger issues involved in glob­al­iz­a­tion and the migra­tion of jobs over­seas. Many of the issues seem to involve more than just eco­nomics. There is a lot of cul­tural dis­con­nec­tion going on as well.

That’s not to say I’m an apo­lo­gist for unfair labour prac­tices. There are wide­spread prob­lems with almost all of China’s factories, hinted at by the film. Most factories keep at least two sets of books; one to show the gov­ern­ment and aud­itors like Nokia’s, and one more accurate set. And the issue of gov­ern­ment cor­rup­tion is not even mentioned.

So, even though the film failed to address these issues in a larger con­text, it was still an enlight­ening visit to a place where most of the world’s man­u­fac­turing will be done in the future, if it’s not already being done there now.

7/10(7/10)

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Beneath the Stars

Beneath the Stars (Sweden/South Africa, 2004, Directors: Titti Johnson and Helgi Felixson, 105 minutes): The film fol­lows Frieda Darvel, one of Cape Town’s many street kids, as she pur­sues her dream of leaving the streets for a singing career. At the begin­ning, things look bright. Frieda has been selected for South Africa’s “Popstars” TV show, and makes quite an impres­sion on the nation. But all the offers of help (apart­ment, voice les­sons, recording con­tracts) come to nothing and pretty soon, Frieda is back on the street, sniffing glue with her boy­friend. Though there is a sort of family for Frieda here, there is no future. Many people try to help her, but we’re left feeling uneasy when one of her early backers secures funding for a “reality show” on home­less teens, and when it falls through, simply dis­ap­pears. In fact, I felt uneasy a lot of the time watching the film, because if people recog­nize Frieda at all, they imme­di­ately demand that she sing for them. Although she clearly loves to sing, it becomes obvious that for many she is just a per­forming animal and they have no real interest in her as a person. The line between helping her and using her was even a bit fuzzy when I began to think about the film­makers. That is, until the story took a bit of a twist.

After being invis­ible for the first two thirds of the film, sud­denly dir­ectors Johnson and Felixson quite lit­er­ally enter the frame and invite Frieda to come back with them to Sweden for three months. A reluctant Frieda finally agrees and it is in Sweden where she is finally able to kick drugs and make a real com­mit­ment to staying off the street.

She returns to South Africa with some trep­id­a­tion, but at the film’s end, she is living in Cape Town and begin­ning to create an inde­pendent life for herself.

The film is gen­er­ally quite effective with the excep­tion of a couple of things. I thought the middle dragged a lot, with far too much footage of sleeping street kids. The misery of their lives was well apparent by this point in the film and it slowed the pace down unne­ces­sarily. Secondly, due to the epis­odic struc­ture, the film felt a bit dis­jointed in a few places. We see Frieda with dif­ferent hair­styles in suc­cessive scenes and it makes it unclear how much time has passed. All in all, a powerful film and one that shows that that the per­sonal involve­ment of the film­makers is not always a bad thing. The film reminded me a little of Born Into Brothels in that respect.

8/10(8/10)

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The Cross and Bones (Canada, 2005, Director: Paul Carrière, 69 minutes): Drumheller is a town in the Alberta Badlands where a lot of dino­saur bones are buried. It’s also the site of an annual Passion Play put on by area churches. The dir­ector tries, some­what clum­sily, to get the sparks to fly between the “Creationists” and “Evolutionists” but it’s just not that inter­esting. The film is also burdened by cheesy voi­ceover nar­ra­tion and an even cheesier soundtrack. Worse, the fellow who plays Jesus in the Passion Play is a smarmy real-estate agent from Calgary. The only person I found remotely sym­path­etic in the whole film was the guy who plays Jesus’ under­study, who is the only Christian shown who is not con­stantly singing crappy wor­ship songs, mug­ging for the camera or saying dumb things about sci­ence. He simply says he’s a human being with faults, too, that he doesn’t have it all figured out, but that he wants to learn “to love people like Jesus Christ did.” But he sort of gets lost behind all the freaks. Did I men­tion there were also bikers? No, well, it’s not like they really added much more to the mix. A dis­ap­point­ment, con­sid­ering the extremely clever title.

6/10(6/10)

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