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environment

Dreamland (Draumalandið)

Dreamland (Draumalandið) (Directors: Þhorfinnur Guðnason and Andri Snær Magnasson): My wife and I had the very good for­tune to visit Iceland in September 2008, mere days before the col­lapse of their banking system. Since we were there par­tially to cover the Reykjavik International Film Festival, we were invited to a recep­tion by the won­derful people at the Icelandic Film Centre where we saw clips of films in pro­gress and were able to meet the dir­ectors. One of the most inter­esting pro­jects we saw was Dreamland, based on the best-selling (at least in Iceland) book by Andri Snær Magnasson. I was able to speak to him that day and looking back, his sense of urgency as he warned of the short-sightedness of Iceland’s politi­cians was eerily pres­cient. The ensuing eco­nomic col­lapse has had rami­fic­a­tions around the world. So you can ima­gine how eager I was to finally see the fin­ished film. Unfortunately, my high expect­a­tions were not to be met.

Dreamland starts out well enough, giving a quick primer on recent Icelandic his­tory since achieving inde­pend­ence from Denmark in 1918. Founded to be res­ol­utely neutral, it didn’t take long to become a cog in the Cold War shortly after World War 2. The gov­ern­ment allowed the US mil­itary to build a base at Keflavik, and that base provided 2,000 jobs until it was closed in 2006. In a nation of just 300,000, this was a major eco­nomic blow, and so Iceland’s leaders went looking for a quick fix. With an abund­ance of clean geo-thermal energy, they decided to offer the sur­plus to the alu­minum industry. Aluminum smelting is one of the most energy-intensive and environmentally-unfriendly pro­cesses in the resource busi­ness, but Iceland’s leaders figured that it would all happen in sparsely pop­u­lated areas. Apart from the envir­on­mental effects, though, Magnasson argues that this kind of megapro­ject actu­ally harms the Icelandic eco­nomy in the long run. He’s turned out to be right.

I’m sure in his book, all of this is laid out and argued in a coherent fashion. The same cannot be said for the film. Early on, we’re warned omin­ously by experts that politi­cians often use fear to con­trol the elect­orate. Iceland’s politi­cians warned that if they didn’t build these megapro­jects, the eco­nomy would not grow and that jobs might dis­ap­pear forever. However, Dreamland stoops to the same fear tac­tics to make its case, and the irony seems lost on the film­makers. Ominous music accom­panies aggressive heli­copter fly­overs of unspoiled land­scapes, and these shots are used over and over and over. Half of the talking head inter­views are with Magnasson, who is only iden­ti­fied as “Writer” and not as co-director of the film nor as author of the book on which the film is based. The other inter­views are unhelpful, with some sub­jects seeming to jump from one side of the argu­ment to the other later in the film. Magnasson also presents a few too many shots of farmers and their fam­ilies who will be affected by the alu­minum plants. One or two farmers would have made his point.

The overall effect is that his few valid points are lost as the film becomes a heavy-handed and mind-numbing polemic. One clumsily-edited sequence attempts to equate the envir­on­mental damage of extracting bauxite (aluminum’s raw material) in India with smelting alu­minum in Iceland, when the two pro­cesses are com­pletely different.

I bought a copy of his book in English when I was in Iceland in 2008, and I’m looking for­ward to reading it, now mainly to see how a respected and intel­li­gent journ­alist could turn it into such a jumbled mess of a film.

Official site of the film

6/10(6/10)

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Waste Land

Waste Land (Director: Lucy Walker): Last summer in Toronto we had a garbage strike, and after a few weeks garbage began being piled up in out­door skating rinks and other city prop­erty. Suddenly our trash wasn’t some­thing we could throw away and forget about; we were living next to it, and it stunk. I sin­cerely hoped that when the strike was settled, people wouldn’t forget the images and the smells, and that it might lead to a more thoughtful approach to recyc­ling, com­posting and other ways of redu­cing the amount of stuff we toss away. I’m sad to say that the cit­izens of our city went right back to our old ways, but it’s always good to be reminded about our garbage. Lucy Walker’s film does that and a whole lot more.

Brooklyn-based but Brazilian-born artist Vik Muniz grew up poor on the streets of Sao Paolo. Now suc­cessful beyond his wildest dreams, he decides that he wants to give some­thing back to the poor of his home­land. Always an innov­ator in using inter­esting mater­ials in his art, he becomes inter­ested in the Jardim Gramacho, Rio de Janeiro’s (and indeed the world’s) largest land­fill. At this massive facility, “pickers” are paid to extract recyc­lable mater­ials from the enormous moun­tains of trash. Like worker ants, they swarm over each new load of garbage as it is dumped. There are 3,000 of these pickers, and they are rep­res­ented by an asso­ci­ation, headed by the cha­ris­matic Tiao. We meet Tiao along with a whole group of pickers who will become par­ti­cipants in Muniz’s most ambi­tious pro­ject to date. He will use garbage to con­struct large-scale por­traits of some of the pickers, posed as if they were in classic paintings.

Along the way, we dis­cover that the pickers have a rich sub­cul­ture, and while some are proud of their work, others long to leave the dump. Many were part of lower-middle-class fam­ilies until unex­pected tra­gedies forced them into a life of scav­en­ging. Many have worked at the land­fill since they were chil­dren, and they claim with dig­nity that they do honest work, and that is better than selling drugs or pros­ti­tuting them­selves like so many other poor Brazilians.

As the pickers col­lab­orate with Muniz on the huge mosaics, he tells them of his plan to sell pho­to­graphic prints and return all the money to them. But quite apart from the money, the oppor­tunity to use the mater­ials they work with every day to create art has a pro­found effect on them. Some find new dig­nity in what they do, while others gain the con­fid­ence to leave picking to try some­thing else. While I was slightly ambi­valent about Muniz using these people as material for his work, Walker wisely includes a scene where he and his wife and col­leagues argue about just this topic. In the end, he feels that doing any­thing is better than doing nothing, and I tend to agree.

One of the very beau­tiful themes of the film is that art is trans­form­ative. Muniz talks about that moment when the raw mater­ials (paint, sand, even garbage) is trans­formed into some­thing dif­ferent. When we look at a painting, for instance, we move closer and fur­ther from the canvas to observe this effect, and with Muniz’ giant trash mosaics, the effect is even more pro­nounced. But quite apart from the lit­eral meaning, we can see that the raw mater­ials of these pickers’ lives are being trans­formed by this pro­cess into some­thing even more beau­tiful than paintings.

Reminiscent of Born Into Brothels, Waste Land will hope­fully have just as pro­found an effect on the lives of at least a few of its participants.

Official site of the film

Here is the Q&A with dir­ector Lucy Walker and pro­ducer Angus Aynsley from after the screening, con­ducted by Hot Docs Director of Programming Sean Farnel:

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: 21:21

9/10(9/10)

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Gasland

Gasland (Director: Josh Fox): When dir­ector Josh Fox receives a letter from a gas com­pany offering him $100,000 to drill on his prop­erty, he’s sorely tempted. Until he starts hearing stories about com­bust­ible tap water and unex­plained health prob­lems from others who have allowed the nat­ural gas industry to exploit their land. Setting out on a per­sonal quest to find answers, Fox travels from his home in rural Pennsylvania to Colorado, New Mexico, Texas and Louisiana to see the res­ults in places where this sort of drilling, called hydraulic frac­turing (or “fracking”) has been going on for years.

The nat­ural gas industry is, pardon the pun, on fire. Touting a vir­tual ocean of nat­ural gas under US soil, gas com­panies have been aggress­ively drilling wells in order to exploit this energy source as quickly and as prof­it­ably as pos­sible. In a bid to become inde­pendent of for­eign oil, politi­cians have acqui­esced to the industry’s lob­by­ists at almost every step. The Energy Policy Act of 2005, pro­posed by then-Vice President Cheney, exempted the oil and gas industry from numerous pieces of envir­on­mental legis­la­tion including the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act. Since that time, fracking has pro­ceeded vir­tu­ally unreg­u­lated, and Fox’s travelogue shows just how ubi­quitous nat­ural gas wells have become.

Despite admit­ting to being the son of lib­eral hippie par­ents, Fox is smart enough not to come across as a spoiled rich kid from the East coast. His con­fes­sional style and banjo playing endear him to both the audi­ence and to the people he visits in the film. These people, for the most part, are average rural Americans, solid Republicans who likely voted in the very same people who gave cor­por­a­tions the right to drill on their land. I’d dearly love to show this film to some of the cur­rent Tea Party act­iv­ists who are cam­paigning for even less gov­ern­ment in their lives. Why aren’t those people pick­eting out­side the offices of EnCana or Chesapeake Energy?

Fox does a good job of explaining the pro­cess of fracking in layman’s terms and per­haps the most shocking thing about the pro­cess is just how much water it uses. Each well drilled con­sumes 1–7 mil­lion gal­lons of fresh water, which is mixed with chem­icals and injected into the earth’s crust to free up the gas. We’re lit­er­ally sac­ri­fi­cing one scarce com­modity to obtain another. To make mat­ters worse (or better, depending on your per­spective), when the res­id­ents’ drinking water is con­tam­in­ated, they’re forced to buy water from some­where else. Privatization of resources is a capitalist’s dream come true, unless of course you actu­ally live in any of these places. And as the film’s graphics show, a huge por­tion of the United States is either being drilled now or will be in the near future. The gas com­panies began in the sparsely-populated western states, but are now moving east. Fox’s home is in an area of the Delaware River basin that provides fresh water to New York City, and drilling may jeop­ardize the water supply of more than 15 mil­lion people.

And even if you’re lucky enough not to live close to a drilling oper­a­tion, some of these con­tam­in­ants have now entered the food supply, as one rancher sadly relates. Farms and ranches depend on water to irrigate their crops and feed their animals, and even if the humans can afford to pur­chase clean water for them­selves, they often can’t afford enough to take care of the needs of their busi­nesses. So we’re all at risk. Even sadder was the rev­el­a­tion that the Bush gov­ern­ment approved drilling on public land. So now even a visit to land under the “pro­tec­tion” of the Bureau of Land Management is likely to be spoiled by unsightly gas wells at best, and pol­luted air, soil, and water at worst.

Luckily, the film strikes just the right tone, and there is enough humour and banjo music to avoid making this a com­pletely depressing exper­i­ence. But Gasland still delivers an urgent mes­sage, and it’s one that we ignore at our own peril.

Official site of the film

8/10(8/10)

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The Age of Stupid

The Age of Stupid (Director: Franny Armstrong): I’ve been fol­lowing the story of this film for more than a year now and was glad to finally be able to see it last night at the Canadian premiere. The Age of Stupid is unique because the cre­ators have used the Internet to crowd­fund the making of the film, and they’re doing the same thing to dis­tribute and pro­mote it. This Huffington Post art­icle applauds the film­makers for enga­ging with the audi­ence dir­ectly and using social media tools to accom­plish a lot on a lim­ited budget. Even if they film was simply mediocre, the amount of work they’ve put into spreading the word will con­tain les­sons for many film­makers trying to get their films seen without the backing of a major studio. Luckily, the film is far from mediocre.

Essentially an envir­on­mental doc­u­mentary, what sets The Age of Stupid apart is its clever framing device and bril­liant editing. Pete Postlethwaite stars as the arch­ivist, a lone figure watching over a col­lec­tion of the earth’s greatest treas­ures in a building high above the Arctic sea. The year is 2055 and he’s looking back at video evid­ence of the envir­on­mental degrad­a­tion that we could have avoided. As he accesses and moves clips around his screen, he won­ders mourn­fully why we didn’t do any­thing to avoid this cata­strophe. In this way, dir­ector Franny Armstrong can show us sev­eral dif­ferent doc­u­mentary threads within a (sci­ence) fic­tional frame­work. The editing is slick and the way in which some of the seg­ments are ordered makes for a powerful and thought-provoking viewing experience.

For instance, one of the threads fol­lows Indian entre­preneur Jeh Wadia as he attempts to launch a low-cost air­line in India. He sees his mis­sion as bene­fi­cial, allowing all Indians access to cheap air travel. But in some of the other seg­ments, we learn that the greatest con­trib­utor to green­house gases is air travel. It’s going to be very dif­fi­cult to con­vince people in the devel­oping world to give up things that we have taken for granted for many years. Another affecting story is that of French moun­tain guide Fernand Pereau, who has watched the gla­ciers in the French Alps melt over the past fifty years. His mournful 82-year-old face has seen a lot of “pro­gress” and as he says, we know quite well how to profit from the earth, but not to pro­tect it.

Even those who are working for change are coming up against obstacles. Piers Guy is working to expand the use of wind power tur­bines in the UK, but he faces oppos­i­tion every­where from people who don’t want the tur­bines to “spoil the view.” His frus­tra­tion is palp­able and is being played out all over the world. In fact, the film itself doesn’t really offer a lot of solu­tions, but it does do a good job of expressing the all-encompassing nature of the problem. Luckily, the film­makers have partnered with many organ­iz­a­tions who are working for change, and have estab­lished another web­site, NotStupid.org which will serve as a con­stantly evolving resource for action.

The film also uses anim­a­tion to take on such wide-ranging topics as resource wars and con­sumerism. I can see this being a must-see for stu­dents, and much less dry than An Inconvenient Truth. Even the title hints at the ample humour in the film, even if it is just to reit­erate how stupid our beha­viour has been. I’m also impressed that the film­makers have made a huge effort to have the film shown in every country in the world. In fact, the Global Premiere is taking place over two days, September 21st and 22nd. This guar­an­tees world­wide media cov­erage and might even help the issue of cli­mate change reach crit­ical mass in the col­lective con­scious­ness of the humans on an ailing Planet Earth.

Note: Last night’s Canadian premiere was sponsored by the Climate Action Network who recom­mended that people sign the peti­tion at KyotoPlus.ca. Another good resource is tck tck tck. The film will have its first public screening in Toronto on Saturday October 3rd at 6:30 at the Royal Cinema as part of the inaug­ural M.U.C.K. (Movies of Uncommon Knowledge) Film Festival.

Official site of the film

9/10(9/10)

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Recipes for Disaster (Katastrofin Aineksia)
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.

Recipes for Disaster (Katastrofin Aineksia) (Director: John Webster): Anglo-Finn dir­ector John Webster decides to put his family (wife and two young sons) on a strict oil diet for a year and to film the res­ults. Ignore the standard archival footage and ser­ious voi­ceover about the prob­lems of cli­mate change; the most inter­esting thing about this film is def­in­itely the family dynamics. Webster’s wife is a reluctant par­ti­cipant and avoids telling her work col­leagues about the exper­i­ment, not wanting to draw atten­tion to her family. She also calls out Webster for his self-righteousness sev­eral times, at one point sar­castic­ally calling him “a real Jesus.”

And it’s a valid point. After Webster bans all oil products, including plastic, from his family’s life, things become very dif­fi­cult indeed. They try to make their own tooth­paste, with pre­dict­ably dire res­ults. They are forced to buy indus­trial rolls of toilet paper to avoid plastic pack­aging. It’s not enough for Webster, who decides they need to throw out nearly every plastic item in their house. In short, his obses­sion makes him less and less sym­path­etic as the film pro­gresses. In the eyes of his family, espe­cially his wife, he becomes well-nigh insufferable.

Luckily, by the end of the film, he’s recog­nized the ridicu­lous­ness of his beha­viour, while still acknow­ledging the import­ance of his cru­sade. After the year is up, the family con­tinue with a mod­i­fied form of their diet, while still allowing cer­tain items such as tooth­paste. Webster had replaced his car with one that had been mod­i­fied to run on biod­iesel, and he con­tinues to drive that. He buys his elec­tri­city from a green source, and equips his cot­tage with solar panels. All in all, he recog­nizes that he cannot change the world all by him­self. In fact, he can’t even change his family without some com­promise. But the film provides an enter­taining lesson in what can actu­ally be done, and it makes its points with self-deprecating humour.

Normally, Doc Soup screen­ings are accom­panied by a Q&A with the dir­ector present. Since it would go against the director’s prin­ciples to fly from Finland to Toronto just to answer ques­tions, he spoke to the audi­ence via Skype videochat. This worked remark­ably well, and showed that he was still attempting to live up to the lofty goals with which he began, to reduce his family’s carbon footprint.

Official site of the film

7/10(7/10)

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