race

Mine
Mine was the December 2009 selec­tion of Film Movement Canada, a sub­scrip­tion ser­vice that brings the best of inde­pendent cinema to your door each month. Though it’s only recently launched here, Film Movement has oper­ated in the US for sev­eral years, and has long been one of my favourite sources of great films. Mine is screening the­at­ric­ally around the US until the end of March 2010 (more inform­a­tion) and will be avail­able through iTunes this month, too.

Mine (Director: Geralyn Pezanoski): Winner of the Audience Award at the 2009 SXSW Film Festival, Mine is a gut-wrenching look at some of the for­gotten vic­tims of 2005’s Hurricane Katrina: pets and their owners. My wife and I are thinking of becoming dog owners, and after watching this film, I’m more con­vinced than ever that pets really do become part of the family.

In the after­math of Hurricane Katrina, thou­sands of evacuees were forced to leave their cats and dogs behind. Shelters wouldn’t accept animals, and in some cases, people left their pets thinking they’d be gone just a few days. We all know what happened. Many people still haven’t returned to the city, and those who did had to wait months. In the mean­time, more than 150,000 animals died. Thanks to the efforts of volun­teers, sev­eral thou­sand were res­cued, but many were shipped to other states, and when their owners didn’t claim them within a few days, some were adopted out to new fam­ilies. This is where the film gets really interesting.

The failure of the gov­ern­ment to adequately respond to the cata­strophe has been the sub­ject of many fine doc­u­mentary films, but in this case, ordinary people around the country stepped in to do all they could to rescue these pets who’d been left behind. Unfortunately, there is a polit­ical edge to some of these “rescue” organ­iz­a­tions, as some of the former owners soon found out. For instance, many dog owners in New Orleans don’t have their dogs spayed or neutered, whether for fin­an­cial or cul­tural reasons. Among the rescue com­munity, this is con­sidered irre­spons­ible. As well, many of the res­cued animals turned out to have heart­worm infec­tions, some­thing that can be pre­vented with med­ic­a­tion. Again, prob­ably due to fin­an­cial hard­ship or simply ignor­ance, many New Orleans res­id­ents hadn’t treated their pets for heartworm.

The end result was that many of the rescue organ­iz­a­tions saw the ori­ginal owners as neg­li­gent, and after treating the animals for sick­ness, they would spay or neuter them and then adopt them out to more “suit­able” fam­ilies in their areas. When the ori­ginal owners were finally able to track their pets down, the rescue organ­iz­a­tions would tell them that their pet had a new family, and the new family didn’t want to give it up.

We follow sev­eral of these heart­breaking cus­tody battles throughout the course of the film. Though it’s only hinted at, race and class are central to how the stories are played out. Since pets are con­sidered prop­erty under the law, it should simply be a matter of having one’s prop­erty returned, but in the emo­tional bat­tle­field of pet own­er­ship, things are rarely that simple. Having already sur­vived the hur­ricane and the loss of their homes and pos­ses­sions, the res­id­ents of New Orleans have no money to hire law­yers to pursue their missing pets, so a number of volun­teers help them to find law­yers who are willing to work pro bono on the cases. It’s an ugly pro­cess, and one par­tic­ular phone con­ver­sa­tion (part of which appears in the trailer embedded below) between the owner of a missing dog and the head of the rescue organ­iz­a­tion who got him out of New Orleans sums up the film in a nut­shell. People who love animals can often forget that there is a person attached to that animal. If you care about animals, you cannot pre­tend that that rela­tion­ship never existed.

You don’t have to be a dog lover to enjoy Mine. And even if you think you’ve seen all there is to see about Hurricane Katrina, don’t let that keep you away from this insightful film, which has exposed the class divi­sions of our society more clearly than any­thing I’ve seen in a long time.

Official site of the film

8/10(8/10)

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Prom Night in Mississippi

Prom Night in Mississippi (Director: Paul Saltzman): It’s hard to believe, but on April 19, 2008, Charleston High School in Mississippi held its first integ­rated senior prom. Mississippi integ­rated its public schools in 1970 but in Charleston, they were still holding sep­arate proms for black stu­dents and white students.

Actor Morgan Freeman lives in Charleston. He always thought that it was ridicu­lous that this kind of segreg­a­tion still existed in America. In 1997 he offered to pay for an integ­rated prom of black and white Charleston High School stu­dents. The school turned him down. Director Paul Saltzman approached Morgan Freeman in 2007 and asked him if he was willing to try again. Freeman agreed, the school accepted his offer and Saltzman cap­tured the events leading up to this his­toric occasion.

The inter­esting thing is that all of the stu­dents wanted an integ­rated prom. White and black stu­dents shared the same classrooms so it made sense that they should have a prom with their fellow stu­dents and friends.

The par­ents of some of the white stu­dents were against a “mixed” prom and insisted on con­tinuing the tra­di­tion of having a “white prom.” It turns out that the private “white prom” was kind of “vanilla” and boring. Many of the white stu­dents ended up attending the integ­rated prom and enjoyed them­selves more.

It’s dif­fi­cult to under­stand why racism is still so strong in pockets of the American South to this day. The film exam­ines the tra­di­tion of segreg­a­tion in Charleston and finds that the stu­dents don’t really care about race, but their par­ents do. Many of the white stu­dents know their par­ents are racist but they want to keep them happy, so they just do what they’re told.

I find it amusing that it took a Canadian film­maker from Oakville, Ontario and an Academy Award-winning actor to bring about pos­itive change in the Deep South. The story sounds incred­ible and it is but the dir­ector never finds the ten­sion or drama that could have made Prom Night in Mississippi an incred­ible film.

6/10(6/10)

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Medicine for Melancholy
Editor’s Note: I’ve decided to begin posting my reviews of films screening at SXSW early, hope­fully helping anyone attending make some decisions about what to see. Medicine for Melancholy is screening on Sunday March 9 at 2:30pm, Tuesday March 11 at 5:00pm and Wednesday March 12 at 2:30pm. All screen­ings are at the Alamo Ritz 2.

Medicine for Melancholy (2008, Director: Barry Jenkins): When gor­geous Jo (Tracey Heggins) and goofy Micah (Wyatt Cenac) wake up in the same bed after a party, she’s annoyed and embar­rassed. He’s curious, maybe a little infatu­ated. After a very awk­ward break­fast and a shared cab, they go their sep­arate ways. But Micah finds Jo’s purse in the cab and sets out to return it. Gradually, Jo thaws out and they decide to spend the day together. I haven’t yet men­tioned that both Jo and Micah are black, and maybe the only black people in their circle of indie hip­ster friends. Though it’s not explained, it might be the reason they ended up in bed after the drunken night before.

To Micah, being black in San Francisco mat­ters. A lot. He takes Jo to the Museum of the African Diaspora for a bit of black his­tory. Unfortunately, this is where Medicine for Melancholy begins to taste a little bit too much like medi­cine. Micah’s con­cerns revolve around the scarcity of black people in San Francisco, as well as the rapid gentri­fic­a­tion of neigh­bour­hoods, for­cing the poor and middle class out of the city to the East Bay. Not only does he talk about this a lot, we even get to eaves­drop on a meeting of a housing rights group, which made me feel like the dir­ector had slipped a doc­u­mentary short into the middle of the film.

As we follow the young couple around on the “day after” their one-night stand, we see that Micah is def­in­itely looking for more, while Jo seems con­tent to stay with her rich white boy­friend. The issues involved in their reasons were the most inter­esting part of the film. As Micah explains, black people make up only 7% of the pop­u­la­tion of San Francisco, and being into indie rock puts both of them into an even tinier group. For Micah, this means they should be together, while Jo reacts angrily to that assump­tion. By the end of the film, their rela­tion­ship is left unre­solved, but both of them are still thinking.

Medicine for Melancholy is beau­ti­fully shot in a desat­ur­ated colour palette, making it unique and even paint­erly to look at. Director Barry Jenkins also wrote the script, and worked with a tiny crew, but the res­ults on the screen are pol­ished in a way that few indie films I’ve seen can achieve. Bonus points for a great soundtrack that includes a couple of songs from Casiotone for the Painfully Alone.

The few false notes in Jo and Micah’s rela­tion­ship are prob­ably unavoid­able when working with such a tight time con­straint (the film covers just 24 hours). That being said, I wish the script had fol­lowed the “show, don’t tell” advice that my cre­ative writing teacher used to hammer into my head.

Official site for the film

7/10(7/10)

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