corruption

Inside Job

Inside Job (Director: Charles Ferguson): Based on dir­ector Ferguson’s last film, the mas­terful No End in Sight (review), I expected Inside Job to be meticulously-researched and yet com­pel­ling enough to appeal to a main­stream audi­ence. Having the film nar­rated by Matt Damon will surely help attract a wider audi­ence, no small feat for a doc­u­mentary exam­in­a­tion of a dif­fi­cult and poten­tially very dry subject.

We begin the film in Iceland. Strangely enough, my wife and I were actu­ally vaca­tioning in Iceland in September 2008 when its banks began to fail. This tiny country’s fin­an­cial industry had become severely over­ex­tended, lending amounts many times the value of the country’s GDP, and its reck­less­ness led to polit­ical tur­moil and an eco­nomic reces­sion that is still being felt. Little Iceland was the “canary in the coal mine,” warning the rest of the world what was about to happen, but it was entirely too late to stop the disaster.

The film­makers lay most of the blame at the feet of the big invest­ment banks (Morgan Stanley, Goldman Sachs, Bear Stearns, Citigroup, etc.) who cre­ated new invest­ment products based on extremely risky mort­gage debts. By rewarding exec­ut­ives based strictly on sales, they encour­aged a “food chain” of lenders to extend credit to people who had a very high risk of defaulting. When this did indeed happen, these banks simply could not recover, since they’d lent out many times more than the value of their own hold­ings. Cynically, they had counted on a gov­ern­ment bailout, which is exactly what happened. The same busi­nesses who decried gov­ern­ment “inter­fer­ence” when faced with the pro­spect of more reg­u­la­tion now turned to the gov­ern­ment to bail them out of their own risky behaviour.

According to Ferguson and pro­ducer Audrey Marrs, they set out to make a non-partisan look at the crisis, and just like in No End in Sight, both Democrats and Republicans come out looking bad, but in their gen­eral dis­dain for any sort of fin­an­cial reg­u­la­tion, the Republicans look worse. Tracing the roots of the problem to a flurry of dereg­u­la­tion under Republican President Reagan in the 1980s, Ferguson also indicts the Clinton admin­is­tra­tion for playing along throughout the 1990s. Perhaps the most infuri­ating and baff­ling person in the film is the man who prom­ised change but who has failed to deliver it. Barack Obama seemed to have put his finger on the prob­lems in the largely self-regulated (ie. well-nigh unreg­u­lated) fin­an­cial ser­vices industry during his pres­id­en­tial cam­paign. But when it came time to choose the mem­bers of his gov­ern­ment, he filled key pos­i­tions with the same old cronies who had benefited from the status quo. It’s no sur­prise, then, that no sig­ni­ficant reform has occurred, even after almost two years of Obama’s presidency.

A very inter­esting part of the film is Ferguson’s explor­a­tion of massive con­flicts of interest within the aca­demic com­munity of eco­nom­ists. There is very little sig­ni­ficant debate around the cur­rent policies of opposing reg­u­la­tion in the United States. This is rein­forced by the fact that most busi­ness school pro­fessors make the bulk of their incomes doing con­sulting work for the big invest­ment banks and fin­an­cial firms. That they never seem to dis­close these rela­tion­ships is dis­quieting, to say the least. Meanwhile they are edu­cating tomorrow’s busi­ness leaders to main­tain the status quo, even as that system’s risks have been exposed again and again.

Although the film is a pretty standard talking-heads and archive footage doc­u­mentary, it’s livened up in places by some inspired music choices. It also helps that a few of the inter­viewees are left twisting on the hook by Ferguson’s ques­tions. Their dis­com­fort eli­cited laughs from the audi­ence, but it’s also dis­turbing that men with such important pos­i­tions in the country’s (and by exten­sion, the world’s) eco­nomic insti­tu­tions come across as either liars or morons.

If I can level one cri­ti­cism at Inside Job, it’s that the film is very light on showing the effects of the eco­nomic melt­down on average people. There is one seg­ment, per­haps a minute long, when a woman whose family was victim to the subprime mort­gage crisis shares her sad story, but she was the only one. Perhaps Fergusion didn’t want to pull the heartstrings too much, but it really helped take the issue out of the abstract world of num­bers and bring it down to harsh reality. When the losses are being cal­cu­lated in the hun­dreds of bil­lions, a dose of everyday reality is needed for everyone.

Official site of the film

Here is the Q&A with dir­ector Charles Ferguson, pro­ducer Audrey Marrs and fin­an­cial journ­alist Gillian Tett (who appears in the film) from after the screening. They are intro­duced by TIFF doc­u­mentary pro­grammer Thom Powers.

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Duration: 14:30


[Invalid Link] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2DRm5ES-uA

8/10(8/10)

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Casino Jack and the United States of Money

Casino Jack and the United States of Money (Director: Alex Gibney): If you like your polit­ical intrigue mired in the cess­pool of cor­rup­tion and gov­ern­mental incom­pet­ence then look no fur­ther than Casino Jack and the United States of Money, the latest doc­u­mentary from dir­ector Alex Gibney (Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room and Taxi to the Dark Side). Casino Jack… exam­ines the rise and fall of Jack Abramoff, the Washington super-lobbyist who is now fin­ishing up a four-year prison sen­tence after being con­victed of tax eva­sion, fraud, and con­spiracy charges. Abramoff and his crooked deal­ings are the focus, but Gibney also takes a peri­pheral view of the strange world of high-powered lobbying.

The film lays out a fairly dense land­scape of quickly-paced polit­ical facts and fig­ures, with a whirl­wind of inter­views involving former Abramoff asso­ci­ates, out­siders, and journ­al­ists who exposed his abuses of power. The central figure him­self is con­spicu­ously absent (for the most part), aside from the numerous archival clips and pho­to­graphs shown. Extensive inter­views with Abramoff were, in fact, con­ducted for the film, but prison rules pro­hib­ited him from being recorded. The film doesn’t suffer greatly from his rel­ative absence, and his side of things is provided through a voice-over from actor Stanley Tucci (actor Paul Rudd also con­trib­utes a voice-over for Michael Scanlon, a former Abramoff associate).

Abramoff is a very col­ourful char­acter — it’s no sur­prise to learn that a fea­ture film about him is due later this year, star­ring Kevin Spacey. The title being used, Casino Jack, has become a matter of dis­pute between its film­makers and Gibney. At age 12, after watching Fiddler on the Roof, Abramoff con­verted to Orthodox Judaism. Later years saw him obtain a law degree, become chairman of the rad­ical College Republican National Committee (a group of “free market extrem­ists” united by the Reagan Revolution that also included future Republican heavy­weights Karl Rove, Grover Norquist, and Ralph Reed, who espoused belief in min­imal gov­ern­ment and unreg­u­lated cap­it­alism), and even­tual ascen­sion to right-hand man to prom­inent Republican and one-time House Majority Leader Tom DeLay. DeLay, after his own fall from grace, could most recently be seen evis­cer­ating what little remained of his repu­ta­tion by appearing on “Dancing With The Stars”. Abramoff’s polit­ical career arc is inter­rupted by a ten-year stint as a Hollywood writer and pro­ducer — his most, uh, note­worthy credit is Red Scorpion, the schlocky 1989 Dolph Lundgren vehicle. His Hollywood past is humour­ously alluded to in an email shown at the begin­ning of Casino Jack…, where Abramoff writes to Gibney, “No one watches doc­u­ment­aries. You should make an action movie!”.

The lobbyist’s down­fall is care­fully dis­sected, providing an impressive exam­in­a­tion into Abramoff’s biggest blunder: the sys­tem­atic bilking of American Indian tribes who got into the casino busi­ness and needed his influence-peddling to sus­tain their oper­a­tions. Incriminating emails point to the cal­lous greed at the heart of his motiv­a­tion, including one where he laughs at their obli­vi­ous­ness to his fraud­u­lent billings by stating “stupid people get wiped out”. Other mor­ally dubious polit­ical deal­ings involve Abramoff’s lob­bying on behalf of sweat­shop owners in the Northern Marianas Islands (a US ter­ritory), a mis­guided attempt to con­vert the islands into a land of flour­ishing cap­it­alism, and a shady busi­ness deal involving a floating casino oper­a­tion known as SunCruz Casinos that involved the former owner being murdered. Abramoff’s ability to carry on the way he did, for as long as he did, is per­fectly summed up by a quote from a former dis­graced asso­ciate: “Jack Abramoff could sweet-talk a dog off a meat truck”.

It can be a chal­lenge to absorb everything coming at you and not be over­whelmed by the story’s wide scope, espe­cially with a run­ning time of two hours. Gibney wisely inserts some clever graphics, film clips (including Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and Patton), and recog­niz­able songs (including “Enter Sandman”, “Watching The Detectives”, and “Burning Down The House”) to dilute all of the heavy politi-speak hit­ting the viewer and alle­viate the oppressive ser­i­ous­ness of the film’s sub­ject matter. Getting through Casino Jack… may be daunting for some, but it is a sobering eye-opener into the world of lob­bying and the pro­found influ­ence it has on American politics.

Official site of the film

7/10(7/10)

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Necrobusiness

Necrobusiness (Directors: Richard Solarz, Fredrik von Krusenstjerna): Business is booming for the under­takers of Lodz, Poland. Thanks to an ingenious scheme, a couple of them have cornered the market on burials. That is, until the plot begins to unravel and they turn on each other. In this unique film, we follow the journ­alist Monika Sieradzka as she uncovers more and more layers of this luc­rative and ulti­mately chilling con­spiracy. As the film begins, nebbishy hos­pital mor­ti­cian Jacek Tomalski is on trial for attempting to hire a hit man to kill his rival, Witold Skrzydlewski, two-time city coun­cillor and owner of a chain of funeral homes, flower shops and mor­tu­aries. Then a third man, the mys­ter­ious Wlodec Sumera is implic­ated in the con­spiracy. Ostensibly a florist, he looks more like a trained assassin, though his role is never quite clear.

Sieradzka begins to find more dirt the more she digs. She uncovers a huge system, whereby Skrzydlewski pays off para­medics to deliver bodies dir­ectly to him, bypassing the hos­pital morgues. Due to gen­erous gov­ern­ment funeral sub­sidies, the funeral homes are also likely to benefit by having bereaved fam­ilies sign over these pay­ments dir­ectly to them. As the film goes on, it gets even worse, as evid­ence is uncovered that some para­medics were pois­oning patients in their ambu­lances to raise the body count. Additionally, an ambu­lance dis­patcher is implic­ated for delaying ambu­lances in order to increase the chances of deaths occurring.

Although our sym­pathies lie with Tomalski at the begin­ning, espe­cially since he seems to be the victim of police entrap­ment, we come to dis­cover that the two men were once close, and that both had been profiting off the system for years before they had a falling out. By the end, there are no good guys left, and the pro­sec­u­tions are still ongoing. Estimates of the number of sus­pi­cious deaths top 20,000, so the local courts will be busy for many years to come.

There are some flour­ishes in the film­making, including gor­geous black and white anim­ated opening and closing title sequences, a jaunty soundtrack, and a ludicrous number of crane shots. Yes, this film might be the first time I was even aware of a crane shot in a doc­u­mentary. However, not as much atten­tion was paid to some of the basics of struc­turing the film. Viewers are thrown into the story head­long, and are not given any indic­a­tion who the female journ­alist is, or who she works for. There is a female voi­ceover in English, which is from her per­spective, but it’s doubtful it’s actu­ally her speaking. I also felt that the bravura cine­ma­to­graph­ical touches clashed with the more con­ser­vative shots of the courtroom material.

Nonetheless, Necrobusiness may have you thinking about making your funeral arrange­ments early. And as the decept­ively charming Skrzydlewski jokes in one scene, you may want to remember to tip your para­medic well if you ever have the mis­for­tune to be in an ambulance.

7/10(7/10)

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

Manda Bala (Send a Bullet) (Director: Jason Kohn): First-time dir­ector Jason Kohn’s film was a con­tro­ver­sial winner of the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance this past year, and after seeing it, I can under­stand why. It’s a travelogue of sorts, whisking us around Brazil to talk to police, politi­cians, pro­sec­utors, busi­nessmen, vic­tims of kid­nap­ping, and even a kid­napper him­self. The film’s tagline is “When the rich steal from the poor, the poor steal the rich” and the basic out­line is that it’s a film about a cul­ture of theft. We see all the pre­cau­tions the rich are forced to take to avoid the ransom kid­nap­pings that are now wide­spread in cities like Sao Paolo. They buy bul­let­proof cars, they take heli­copters and con­tem­plate implanting micro­chips under their skin. We hear from a kidnap victim who had both of her ears sliced off, a common tactic of the kid­nap­pers to show how ser­ious they are. Kidnapping is such a growth industry that now plastic sur­geons have developed ways of cre­ating new ears from rib car­tilage. On the other hand, we’re intro­duced to cor­rupt politi­cian Jader Barbalho, whose graft included the estab­lish­ment of frog farms to launder gov­ern­ment grant money. Recurring images of the frogs, including a mem­or­able sequence of one frog devouring another, seem to work as a crude meta­phor. With a pop­u­la­tion of 20 mil­lion, Sao Paolo’s res­id­ents are just as crammed together as the hap­less frogs, and the res­ulting anarchy is almost inevitable.

Kohn’s film is full of start­ling and often beau­tiful imagery, and his con­scious decision to shoot on film and in ana­morphic widescreen tells me a lot. Along with a jaunty soundtrack of Brazilian samba, the gor­geous images look better than they have a right to. I caught myself asking whether a film about such ugli­ness had a right to look so pretty. And I think that’s where my problem with the film lies. It feels like a carefully-constructed object that was planned around aes­thetic, rather than moral, con­cerns. It looks great, but I’m just not sure there’s a real heart to the film. Many of the director’s choices seem cal­cu­lated to dis­tance the viewer from the hor­rors he’s observing. For instance, Kohn made the decision to forego sub­titles in many of the inter­views, including the kidnap victim’s. Instead, we hear the dia­logue in Brazilian Portuguese, and then hear the trans­la­tion in English from the trans­lator, who is also in the frame with the sub­ject. It’s a strange effect. As well, there is no attempt at any ana­lysis of the prob­lems of Brazil, other than a throwaway line about how the Portuguese estab­lished Brazil simply to plunder it.

I remember hearing as a young stu­dent about how Brasilia was designed from the ground up as the new cap­ital of Brazil, and the film does convey some of the tar­nished futur­istic optimism that was coming out of the country in the 60s and 70s. Kohn described the film as a kind of “non-fiction science-fiction” film, and I think he does a pass­able job of con­veying the feeling that Sao Paolo’s sin­ister land­scape may soon seem very familiar to the rest of us.

But I’m still con­vinced that this is more an exer­cise in style than substance.

7/10(7/10)

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