Doc Soup

Sons of Perdition

Editor’s Note: Sons of Perdition kicks off the 2010–2011 Doc Soup season on Wednesday October 6 at 6:30pm and 9:15pm at the Bloor Cinema. Tickets are still avail­able as of this writing for the 9:15pm screening.

Doc Soup is a monthly doc­u­mentary screening pro­gramme run by the good folks at Hot Docs. It gives audi­ences in Toronto, Calgary, Edmonton and Vancouver their reg­ular doc fix each year from the fall through to the spring, leading up to the Hot Docs fest­ival itself.

Sons of Perdition (Directors: Tyler Measom and Jennilyn Merten): Polygamy was out­lawed in the US and banned by the main­stream Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints more than a cen­tury ago, but an off­shoot of the Church called the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (FLDS) con­tinues to prac­tice it in a few isol­ated set­tle­ments in the American (and Canadian) West. The centre of FLDS life is the border-straddling com­munity once called Short Creek and which now com­prises Hildale, Utah and Colorado City, Arizona. Still called “The Crick” by its inhab­it­ants, it’s an insular com­munity in which everyone’s lives are gov­erned by the dic­tates of FLDS Prophet Warren Jeffs. Before his arrest and impris­on­ment on sexual abuse charges in 2007, Jeffs lived in a huge house with as many as 80 wives and an unknown number of children.

By their very nature, poly­gamous com­munities are unsus­tain­able over time as men are forced to com­pete for wives, and this has led to the phe­nomenon of “lost boys” or “sons of per­di­tion.” These are usu­ally adoles­cent boys who have been exiled from their com­munity; some expelled by the Prophet for petty viol­a­tions (watching movies, talking to girls), others simply leaving on their own accord. Most don’t go far.

Sons of Perdition gives us a glimpse into the lives of three of these lost boys who leave Colorado City around the same time. Sam is 17 and seems determ­ined to make some­thing of his life, des­pite his lack of formal edu­ca­tion. Joe is also 17 and is expelled for watching a movie in the com­pany of his exiled brother. Bruce is just 15 when he decides to leave, after his father falls out of favour and has his wives (including Bruce’s mother) and chil­dren taken away from him. All three end up in nearby St. George, Utah, just 30 miles from their fam­ilies, where they crash with various other exiles at first. Needing a stable address to get into high school, Sam flirts with the idea of having him­self adopted, but opts against it when the pro­spective family treats him like a poten­tial crim­inal. It’s very clear that away from their fam­ilies, these boys are really strug­gling. To make things worse, most have rudi­mentary edu­ca­tions and are barely lit­erate. They know little about the rest of the United States, never mind the rest of the world. Something as mundane to the rest of us as a Catholic church is a brand new world to them. “Catholics believe in Jesus?” Bruce won­ders. “I guess so…” replies Joe. “Sweet.”

Eventually all three are taken in by a wealthy young couple, Jeremy and Sharla, who quickly become sur­rogate par­ents. But their motiv­a­tions are a bit of a mys­tery and after Jeremy sur­prises the trio with a drug test and finds the res­ults not to his liking, he throws them out. Although the boys protest their inno­cence, we have seen them indul­ging in some enthu­si­astic drinking, smoking and cussing earlier in the film. Literally damned to hell by their Prophet, they are just as likely to act out as they are to pine for their mothers.

Luckily, the film­makers fol­lowed the boys for more than two years, and by the end of the film, there have been some encour­aging devel­op­ments. But there are def­in­itely going to be huge holes left in the lives of these young men. Without con­nec­tions to their fam­ilies and to the com­munity where they were raised, and with a huge cul­tural deficit that makes it nearly impossible for them to make friends out­side of the small com­munity of FLDS exiles, their lives will always be dif­fi­cult. These lost boys, though now free to choose their own lives, have lost a lot that can never be recovered.

I appre­ci­ated the fact that the film focuses on boys. The media has been full of stories about the abuse suffered by girls and women in these com­munities, and Sons of Perdition never down­plays that. Indeed, there are seg­ments where women tell their stories as well. But the untold story has been these boys, who though ostens­ibly more free within the sect, have very few pro­spects for a happy and ful­filling life. Their futures are just as much sub­ject to the whim of the Prophet. The tragedy is that for a com­munity that claims to put so much value on family (look at all those chil­dren!), they routinely sep­arate chil­dren from par­ents and spouses from each other, sub­ject only to the whim of the Church lead­er­ship. As Sam pon­ders his newly-independent future, he laments. “I don’t think reli­gion should ever come between family — family should be your religion.”

Official site of the film

8/10(8/10)

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Soundtrack for a Revolution
Editor’s Note: Doc Soup is a monthly doc­u­mentary screening pro­gramme run by the good folks at Hot Docs. It gives audi­ences in Toronto, Calgary, Edmonton and Vancouver their reg­ular doc fix each year from the fall through to the spring, leading up to the Hot Docs fest­ival itself.

Also, with this post we wel­come a new voice to Toronto Screen Shots. Drew Kerr is the brother of reg­ular con­trib­utor Jay Kerr and will be helping with our 2010 Hot Docs cov­erage and hope­fully beyond.

Soundtrack for a Revolution (Directors: Bill Guttentag and Dan Sturman): Soundtrack For A Revolution revisits the story of the American civil rights move­ment from the 50s and 60s, cov­ering familiar ter­ritory, but adding the fresh ele­ment of having music from the era per­formed by mostly con­tem­porary artists. One look at the roster of acts (not­ably Joss Stone, John Legend, The Roots, Angie Stone, and Wyclef Jean) imme­di­ately gave me reser­va­tions, since I’m not much of a fan of today’s r&b music. I found most of the per­form­ances, how­ever, to be enter­taining and moving. The goal of dir­ectors Bill Guttentag and Dan Sturman (who both won an Oscar in 2003 for their doc­u­mentary short Twin Towers) was to use these acts as a gateway for a younger audi­ence into learning about the story behind this important time in American history.

The musical per­form­ances, as strong as many of them are, end up taking a back seat to the com­pel­ling modern day inter­views with the people who were dir­ectly involved, the “foot sol­diers and leaders.” Prominent fig­ures such as Congressman John Lewis, Julian Bond, Ambassador Andrew Young, and Harry Belafonte all offer their recol­lec­tions of the exper­i­ences they endured, cov­ering sig­ni­ficant periods and moments in the move­ment such as the lunch counter sit-ins, Rosa Parks and the Montgomery bus strike in Alabama, the Freedom Riders who tried to integ­rate long-distance bus travel in the South, the 1963 March on Washington, and the assas­sin­a­tion and funeral of Martin Luther King. The inter­views are intercut with still images and archival footage, some of it restored spe­cific­ally for the film and every bit as dis­turbing and shocking today as the first time you saw it, providing a powerful, if some­what brief sum­ma­tion of the time. The film clocks in at only 82 minutes and a healthy por­tion is used for the music, so only so much can be covered. Only a brief descrip­tion of the back­ground on some of the songs is given, so they’re really given their own voice through the per­form­ances. The songs are mostly freedom songs that evolved from slave chants and the black church, providing a vital func­tion in uni­fying the oppressed as they stood up to their oppressors. “Will The Circle Be Unbroken”, “We Shall Not Be Moved”, “Eyes On The Prize”, “Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around”, and “We Shall Overcome” are just some of the num­bers that are fea­tured in the film.

The doc­u­mentary, which was also exec­utive pro­duced by actor Danny Glover, was short­l­isted this year for the doc­u­mentary fea­ture Oscar nom­in­a­tions (15 films are short­l­isted and only five are selected for the offi­cial nom­in­a­tion). It didn’t make the final cut, which is a shame, because it’s cer­tainly worthy.

Official site of the film

9/10(8/10)

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Last Train Home
Update — January 2011: I’m happy to report that KinoSmith is releasing the film on DVD in March 2011. Order your copy here.
Editor’s Note: Doc Soup is a monthly doc­u­mentary screening pro­gramme run by the good folks at Hot Docs. It gives audi­ences in Toronto, Calgary, Edmonton and Vancouver their reg­ular doc fix each year from the fall through to the spring, leading up to the Hot Docs fest­ival itself.

Last Train Home (Director: Lixin Fan): China is argu­ably the world’s most important eco­nomy at the moment and the past fifty years have seen incred­ible changes, polit­ic­ally, eco­nom­ic­ally and socially. Many film­makers have emerged from the country, including a number of excel­lent doc­u­ment­arians. Chinese-Canadian Lixin Fan can proudly stand among them with Last Train Home, just his first fea­ture film as director.

In my lim­ited exper­i­ence, to make a great film about China, you must encom­pass the country’s vast­ness, both in terms of geo­graphy and of pop­u­la­tion, but also be able to focus in on indi­vidual stories. In this case, we are intro­duced to the Zhangs, a family of migrant workers, just as the par­ents are about to make their yearly journey home to their vil­lage to cel­eb­rate Chinese New Year. Along with 140 mil­lion other migrant workers, this is often the only occa­sion they get to spend time with their chil­dren and par­ents. Making their way from the indus­trial city in which they work to their vil­lage in the coun­tryside is an exhausting and stressful multi-day journey of more than 2,000 kilo­metres. Traveling by train, bus and ferry boat, they arrive exhausted and are able to spend only a few days with their son Yang (10) and daughter Qin (17), who have grown up under the care of their grandparents.

Despite the eco­nomic real­ities which make it neces­sary for fam­ilies to be divided this way, the Zhangs feel they are doing it so that their chil­dren will have better lives. They con­stantly badger their chil­dren about their grades, per­haps because they really have nothing else to talk about. Daughter Qin is reaching the stage of adoles­cence where she begins to rebel against her par­ents. She com­plains that they’ve essen­tially aban­doned her and her brother and a few months after they’ve returned to the city, she drops out of school to become a migrant worker her­self. The boredom of rural life for a teen­ager looks very dif­ferent from the per­spective of her par­ents who have been away for 16 years working in hor­rific con­di­tions just to provide their kids with this pro­tected upbringing, but that’s lost on Qin, who wants the “freedom” of working in a factory.

While this is a crushing blow for her par­ents, who wanted to see her finish her studies, by the next year, they’re ready to travel home again for the New Year hol­iday. They’ve been pres­suring Qin to return to school, and it looks as though she’s reluct­antly agreed. But this year’s migra­tion is affected by a snowstorm which knocks out the elec­trical grid and delays the trains for days. The scenes of huge crowds pushing each other are har­rowing. While the trip home is a huge hassle at the best of times, it become a ter­ri­fying ordeal when sched­ules don’t run smoothly. When they finally board their train, it’s clear that Qin is not speaking with her par­ents, and she spends the whole trip in sullen silence.

Things come to a head during the hol­iday, and Qin’s insolence leads to a phys­ical con­front­a­tion with her father. Eventually, like all par­ents, they resign them­selves to let­ting Qin go her own way, hoping that son Yang can finish school and sup­port the family. In the mean­time, they return to the city again, back to their mono­tonous factory jobs.

My syn­opsis makes this sound like a fic­tion fea­ture, and for all the intimacy the film­makers achieve, it might as well be. It’s helped tre­mend­ously by some very crisp editing, as well as some sweeping cine­ma­to­graphy of the lush Chinese coun­tryside. Last Train Home suc­ceeds in cap­turing both the epic scale of the changes sweeping today’s China and their impact on the indi­vidual fam­ilies strug­gling with them.

Two addi­tional notes. First the dis­claimer: my com­pany (Kinosmith) is the Canadian dis­trib­utor for this film. And second, the film is headed to the Sundance Film Festival, where it will com­pete in the World Cinema Documentary Competition.

Here is the Q&A with dir­ector Lixin Fan from after the screening:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (ver­sion 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest ver­sion here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Duration: 15:48

Official site of the film

9/10(9/10)

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October Country
Editor’s Note: Doc Soup is a monthly doc­u­mentary screening pro­gramme run by the good folks at Hot Docs. It gives audi­ences in Toronto, Calgary, Edmonton and Vancouver their reg­ular doc fix each year from the fall through to the spring, leading up to the Hot Docs fest­ival itself.

October Country (Directors: Donal Mosher and Michael Palmieri): Photographer Donal Mosher has been cre­ating photo-essays of his family for many years. When cine­ma­to­grapher Palmieri saw them, he sug­gested they make a film. From that simple idea came this lovely, haunting por­trait of a troubled American family. Mosher’s family live in Ilion, a small town in upstate New York, and the film covers a period of one year, begin­ning and ending with Hallowe’en. The title and Hallowe’en theme fit per­fectly, since this is a family that seems haunted by the ghosts of the past.

Patriarch Don is an emo­tion­ally remote Vietnam vet, strug­gling with what he wit­nessed (and per­haps par­ti­cip­ated in). He’s com­pletely estranged from his sister Denise, a lonely Wiccan who has always found solace in other worlds. Don’s wife Dottie seems to be the centre and the rock of the clan, loving everyone even when her hard-bitten wisdom is ignored, which is pretty much all the time. Her daughter Donna, who has become a grand­mother in her thirties, sees her own daughter Danael making exactly the same mis­takes that she once made. Then there’s Desiree, just entering her tur­bu­lent teens and won­dering if she can escape the cycles of des­pair that the rest of the family seem doomed to repeat. Making occa­sional appear­ances (when he’s not in jail or partying with his friends) is Chris, Don and Dottie’s foster son, who has returned their patient love by rob­bing them on more than one occasion.

In this remark­ably intimate film, each family member speaks openly about their troubles, and their efforts to break out of their destructive pat­terns, but some­thing always stops them. It doesn’t help that their town is eco­nom­ic­ally depressed, with the only steady jobs avail­able at the local gun plant. Wal-mart is not only their only place to shop; its parking lot has become some­thing of a town square, where everyone gathers to watch fire­works. Danael escapes one violent rela­tion­ship with her baby’s father only to fall into another one. Her choice of men is as lim­ited as her choice of career. The older mem­bers of the family smoke rue­fully and shake their heads.

And yet. For all the gloom in the film, we can’t help caring deeply for each member of this admit­tedly dam­aged family. They are artic­u­late, honest, and often funny, and we root for them, even when we know that nothing much can really change. Palmieri’s camera catches numerous moments of beauty in the Moshers’ lives, and Dottie admits that even with all the town’s liab­il­ities, it’s still her favourite place to be.

Mosher and Palmieri have allowed us into the lives of people who make up a much larger pro­por­tion of the pop­u­la­tion than movies and tele­vi­sion would ever lead us to believe. Their lives are hard, but not without meaning. The one curious omis­sion in the film is Donal Mosher him­self. It would have been much more inter­esting to see his inter­ac­tions with his family, espe­cially con­sid­ering that he’s one who did “get out” and make his way in the larger world. You’ll hear some of his reas­oning for not appearing in the film in the audio Q&A, but for some­thing that started out so per­sonal, he seemed determ­ined not to impose his own feel­ings onto the film.

October Country is brave and unflinching. It’s inter­esting to note that the film­makers gave the family mem­bers final cut of the film. Their hon­esty and elo­quence in the midst of their troubles dis­play some of the best qual­ities that human beings can embody, and the film is a beau­tiful por­trait of these imper­fect lives.

Here is the Q&A with dir­ectors Donal Mosher and Michael Palmieri from after the screening:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (ver­sion 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest ver­sion here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Duration: 14:31

Official site of the film

8/10(8/10)

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The September Issue
Editor’s Note: Doc Soup is a monthly doc­u­mentary screening pro­gramme run by the good folks at Hot Docs. It gives audi­ences in Toronto, Calgary, Edmonton and Vancouver their reg­ular doc fix each year from the fall through to the spring, leading up to the Hot Docs fest­ival itself.

The September Issue (Director: R.J. Cutler): Vogue’s September issue is its largest and most important of the year, and work begins on it almost a year in advance. R.J. Cutler and his small crew were granted unpre­ced­ented access to the pro­cess of put­ting the whole thing together.

The film begins with Vogue’s Editor in Chief Anna Wintour opining that fashion intim­id­ates a lot of people, and there­fore those people mock it. She could very well have been speaking about her­self. Infamously lam­pooned by Meryl Streep in the film The Devil Wears Prada (based on a memoir by a former Vogue intern that por­trays Wintour as a bit of a tyrant), Wintour has a repu­ta­tion for mean­ness and ici­ness that has always seemed a bit undeserved to me. In fact, I’ve always had a bit of a crush on the so-called “Ice Queen.” My wife worked for sev­eral years as a copy editor at a fashion magazine here in Toronto, and her stories have made me feel a lot of sym­pathy for Ms. Wintour. She seems to be someone who doesn’t suffer fools gladly, and the world of fashion seems over­pop­u­lated by fools.

Cutler’s film has only con­firmed my opinion of Wintour, although there are com­par­at­ively few fools on dis­play. When she’s asked late in the film what her greatest strength is, she unhes­it­at­ingly replies, “Decisiveness.” It’s what has pro­pelled her and Vogue to the top of the notori­ously fickle fashion world. She is an editor, someone who is called upon every day to decide between com­peting cre­ative work, and that calls for a cer­tain ruth­less­ness. Fashion is cre­ative, but it’s also a busi­ness, and without someone making hard decisions, Vogue would cer­tainly falter.

We meet two other types of people in The September Issue. The cre­ative and gen­er­ally hard-working people who act as writers, editors, pho­to­graphers, art dir­ectors and designers. And then there are the syco­phants, the air-kissers and ass kissers. The latter type is refresh­ingly more absent than I’d feared, but the examples on dis­play (the buf­foonery of André Leon Talley, the spine­less­ness of design dir­ector Charles Churchward) add a healthy dose of humour to the film, even if we’re cringing as we’re laughing.

The film actu­ally spends more time with Creative Director Grace Coddington than it does with Wintour. The fire to Wintour’s ice, Coddington is a former model who has has worked with Wintour at Vogue for more than twenty years. Despite the fact that she was ini­tially hos­tile to the film­makers, she ends up opening up the most to them, and her pas­sion, cre­ativity and candor warm up the film con­sid­er­ably. One gets the sense that her ongoing battles with the editor over photo shoots are an integral part of what makes the magazine so con­sist­ently excellent.

But back to Wintour for a moment. As she talks about her English upbringing and the achieve­ments of her sib­lings (“What I do amuses them, I think”), what comes through to this Canadian is reserve and per­haps shy­ness (why do you think she wears the sunglasses so often?) rather than any sense of hos­tility. I think Americans are simply a more gregarious people than most, and so her gen­tility comes across as some­thing more sin­ister. She’s con­sid­er­ably more relaxed around her daughter, Bee Shaffer, and the scenes showing her sup­port of young designer Thakoon also showed me a more tender side.

I found The September Issue hugely enjoy­able, both for the inside look into the work of so many people coming together to create the magazine, and also for the revealing por­trayal of the dynamic between a few of the people sur­rounding Anna Wintour. Although she barely lets her guard down, the little bit she does show dis­pels the myth that she’s heart­less. If any­thing, it shows that she’s just incred­ibly busy, and her effi­ciency is a sur­vival tactic. The film has only heightened my respect and admir­a­tion for her. Which is just a fancy way of saying that my crush is not only intact, it’s increasing. When she does finally retire, I des­per­ately hope she’ll write a memoir. Maybe she can call it, Yes, I Wear Prada. You Gotta Problem With That?

The September Issue opens in Toronto on Friday October 23 at the Varsity Cinema.

Interview with Grace Coddington about the film

Official site of the film

9/10(9/10)

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