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A new Brooklyn, for a new generation

Kelly Anderson’s My Brooklyn gives us the history of New York’s famous district

Everyone has heard of or seen Brooklyn one way or the other. Some consider it the kingdom of Goodfellas’ infamous protagonist, or as the home of the enticing main character of Spike Lee’s first film, She’s Gotta Have It. Many remember the epic car chase of The French Connection as well. One thing is sure though, most of us won’t ever truly know this neighbourhood as closely as the people in this documentary.

My Brooklyn is a love testimony to one of most culturally diverse neighbourhoods of North America. It also shows an infuriating display of what could be described as brutal gentrification. Kelly Anderson, a Canadian documentary director and New York resident for many years, analyzes for us the contemporary metamorphosis that Brooklyn went through. She explains to us how and why iconic Brooklyn became — notably because of urban-policy gurus (the Bloomberg administration and a few wealthy real estate developers) — another bourgeois-friendly downtown area.

My Brooklyn shows viewers the neighbourhood’s changes in the face of gentrification and commercialization, while its residents face the consequences. Press photo

More precisely, My Brooklyn focuses on the transformation of the previously effervescent shopping district and traditional meeting place for Brooklynites: Fulton Street Mall. Small businesses that were an integral part of a strongly rooted community were ordered to desist and vacate the spot they occupied for 20 years. The proliferation of generic multinational shops replaced the different and more personal businesses that gave its personality to the area. All this for the purpose of “diversifying the range of users” of this shopping area.The possibility for affordable housing was tossed aside to give place to high luxury condos.

Sadly, these transformations made Brooklyn an unfamiliar and harsh new environment. Those who gave Brooklyn its distinctive soul and heart could not live their day-to-day lives anymore.

In this documentary, Anderson shares with us the various reasons for her profound dedication to what her family likes to call home. She also follows the money trail of this major reappropriation of her neighbourhood by the prosperous who left this area during a shameful past of segregation. The result is a thoughtful essay on a vibrant community trying to defend a place they cherish. It is an example of why change is not always for the best. It is also a study of serious economic and social problems portraying the clash of two groups belonging to different classes and races.

The plethora of characters that Anderson makes us meet gives us an outlook of their Brooklyn and the special connections that they have with this neighbourhood.

Anderson gives viewers a detailed but comprehensive amount of information on their history and allows us to understand not only why those people want to keep their Brooklyn like it’s always been, but also how this metamorphosis is mostly the result of greediness.

Another interesting feature of the movie is that it is transparent: the director is on the side of the oppressed. Nonetheless she admits that some of the changes might actually appeal to a part of her and that she was of the first wave of “gentrifiers” in Brooklyn.

Anderson also tries to show us that for some regular people, this neighbourhood needs to be modernized and gentrified — especially if the neighbourhood is expecting to attract another type of customer (by selling higher-end goods). However, sometimes you cannot help but feel awkward listening to those slightly or greatly snobbish interviewees and wonder if they ever went to this area in the first place or if they could ever understand what Brooklyn is really about. What we can be sure of though is that Anderson clearly belongs in this neighbourhood. Her affection for the area transpires throughout the whole movie and almost makes you want to move to this now-extraordinarily overpriced region of New York City. In the end this movie will make you see all those condo projects in a different light, like those that appeared around our own city in the last few years. Are those standardized, unvarying, new buildings better than the old, slightly shady and kitschy commercial edifices from before? Thoughts like these are erected in the movie, and bring the issue surprisingly close to home. We can only hope, though, that gentrification advocates won’t sell the soul of our beloved Montreal.

My Brooklyn premieres in Quebec as part of Cinema Politica on Monday, March 17 at 7 p.m., where director Kelly Anderson will be present. For more information visit cinemapolitica.org.

 

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Deals are not meant to be broken

Parents and their children against riot squads; a collapsing nation fighting for their land; a government denying and trampling fundamental rights to its people. One would assume that we are talking here of a repressive regime. Sadly, it is a description of what goes on in our collective Canadian backyard.

In 1991, Canada and Quebec governments negotiated a historic agreement with the 450-person community of Algonquins of Barriere Lake. The deal has yet to be honoured by the two governments. Press photo

Honour Your Word, a documentary made by Canadian filmmaker Martha Stiegman, tackles the particular situation of the Algonquin community of Barriere Lake. In 1991, a trilateral conservation deal was made between the Algonquins, and the Quebec and Canadian governments, to oversee the land. The agreement remains unhonoured by the governments, resulting in the struggle of the land’s inhabitants to keep their culture alive.

By following two prominent leaders of this small community fighting for what they believe is just, Stiegman makes us share in the everyday life of a family committed to the survival of their traditions.

Pictures of joyful children playing and proud parents fishing or hunting clash drastically with the vision of them facing, without blinking, police forces brought straight from our worst Maple Spring collective memories.

Using cinematography composed of serene images of nature and intimate familial scenes, we come to understand why the Algonquins have been fighting all their life as children, adults and elders for their ancestral lands and customs.

In this film, the director’s approach gives us what we could define more as a collection of profound and heartfelt testimonies rather than a strongly narrated and condemning documentary — such as we have gotten used to those thanks to the Michael Moores of this world.

When compared to today’s high-octane documentaries, Honour Your Word can seem a little monotonous at times. However, its sober style and slow pace fits perfectly the veiled emotions and calm attitudes of its protagonists.

You cannot help but feel empathy for these proud people, but it would have been profitable for both the viewers and the movie itself to balance the documentary with interviews of people on the other side of the barricade. This would have avoided the simple black-and-white dichotomy, in which too many engaged documentaries find themselves entrenched in, for a more nuanced point of view of this sensitive subject.

Nonetheless, the composed and peaceful state of mind emanating from the Algonquin people, even when constantly facing adversity, successfully differentiates this movie from others that usually carry crude depictions of a violent and hysterical First Nation community. Ultimately, Honour your Word is a poetic yet sad story of a powerless but ever-fighting David at war with a merciless Goliath.

Honour Your Word will have its Canadian premiere as part of Cinema Politica. Director Martha Stiegman will be in attendance. The screening will take place on Feb. 10, 7pm in the D. B. Clarke Theatre — 1455 de Maisonneuve W.

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Cinema Politica- Murder: racism and homophobia revisited

In 2008, 15-year-old Lawrence “Larry” King was shot during class. The murderer was Brandon McInerney, a boy that Larry asked to be his Valentine. The incident rattled the community of Oxnard, California, a small town of nearly 200,000. This ignited a national conversation on why racial and gender-provoked bullying exists among youth. Consequently, teachers, parents, mentors and the people in the justice system collectively scrambled to address this unfortunate event.

Still from YouTube

Valentine Road gives us the story behind the headlines. This 90-minute documentary immerses us into the controversial shooting by weaving together a balanced combination of narrative interviews as told by the people related to the young men in question and the case itself. The documentary also features archived television news footage talking about the incident and presents the viewers with scenic views of the town, creating an in-your-face, yet relatable kind of film.

What makes this documentary interesting to watch is how both sides of the case are presented. To illustrate King’s perspective of the incident, the filmmakers have represented him in a hand-drawn animation based on narratives told by the interviewees. The drawings portray King’s character in a nostalgic, light-hearted and respectful manner.

McInerney’s perspective is also told through accounts by guardians, teachers and his defence lawyers explaining how and what might have provoked the boy to commit this hate-crime.

One of several interesting turning points in the film presents viewers with the kind of readings McInerney was interested in before he committed the murder, mainly neonazi and white supremacy articles, as well as drawings made by McInerney himself of a hand clenching the Star of David, dripping with blood.

Putting together these two perspectives helps to assemble the pieces of the puzzle. However, it can also become an emotional watching experience, potentially triggering folks who are sensitive to issues regarding gender and race-provoked bullying.

The culture in which these two individuals lived was hostile to begin with and created a polarizing environment when it came to being, or even mentioning anything queer. California, at that time, was also at odds with state legislations regarding gender issues and their expression. Ultimately, the question remains as to why freely expressing one’s own gender can become a taunting experience, especially for teens that are experiencing a crucial time of self-discovery.

Still from YouTube

Valentine Road has no voice-over narrator per se, and relies on a well-thought out blend of ambient sound, vivid visuals and authentic storytelling making it easy to follow without any sensationalizing, and without being obnoxious.

Through these stories, Valentine Road points to LGBTQ issues still being addressed today from a unique and contemporary perspective. Watching this film has the potential to help push these discussions forward and understand where everyone stands.

However, it is highly suggested to learn more about the incident first online in order to gain a better understanding, as this film goes into a lot of detail into the origins of the main characters. Watching the documentary more than once also helps as there is a lot information to grasp. After all, this is a murder mystery that still needs (and still is in the process) of being solved and put to rest.

Valentine Road will premiere in Quebec by Cinema Politica on Mon. Feb. 3 at 7 p.m. at the D.B. Clarke Theatre — 1455 de Maisonneuve W. A virtual Q&A with director Marta Cunningham will be featured. This screening is a part of Black History Month Montréal. For more information visit cinemapolitica.org/concordia

 

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One woman’s attempt to light up her world

The subject of the documentary, Rafea: Solar Mama, is a Bedouin woman’s quest to reinvent herself as a contemporary woman. Directed by Mona Eldaief and Jehane Noujaim,(The Control Room), this film takes a look at how traditional values often undermine human rights, especially in impoverished villages.

Press photo

The film is part of the global documentary project ‘Why Poverty?’ which uses film to get people talking about the global issue of poverty.

Audiences get a glimpse into the life of Rafea Anad—a Bedouin woman who lives in one of Jordan’s poorest desert communities.

Anad’s daily life is a struggle. She lives in a tent with her four daughters and without modern conveniences.

Her husband is an unemployed polygamist who spends most of his time with his first wife. Anad is 32 years old and has only five years of primary school training.

“A girl is not allowed to continue school past the age of ten. It is considered shameful,” she says.

Anad has a desire to learn and become an innovator, but she has seen this desire extinguished over and over again by the traditions of her culture.

However, things change when Anad is offered the chance to transform her village into being sustainable and self-sufficient when she is asked to attend the Barefoot College in India. Barefoot College’s program trains middle-aged women from poverty stricken areas to become solar engineers, in the hope that they will become agents of change for their communities. Anad thus embarks on a journey that could revolutionize the role of women in her village but her husband’s oppressive nature poses a constant obstacle.

The filmmakers found the perfect hero in Anad. Her beguiling personality is what helps shape the documentary into the telling story that it is. Despite the unfair circumstances she has had to endure her entire life, Anad refuses to have her spirit shattered.

“I know you think I’m a joke and full of hot air but I will prove you wrong,” she says to her mother.

Audiences witness a transformation in Anad’s character. At the beginning of the documentary, she is a victim of her chauvinistic husband’s threats but the experience in India sparks a change within her. She returns to Jordan with a newfound sense of confidence that she can better the situation in her village. Her admirable perseverance is what makes her the undisputed star of the documentary.

Eldaief and Noujaim do a great job of exemplifying the rift in equality between men and women of traditional, remote communities.

Rafea: Solar Mama puts forth shocking words spoken by the Bedouin women that might seem out-dated to our ears.

“It’s a better life for a woman to stay at home with her kids,” says Anad’s mother.

Every scene captured is powerful. One of the most inspirational moments bears witness to the solidarity between the women from different corners of the world, attending Barefoot College. This scene empowers Anad’s mission. It proves that there are many women who share in the same plight, ready to break barriers and defy all odds for a better future.

Rafea: Solar Mama is an inspiring documentary that provides an interesting look into a world so alien from our own Western milieu.

Rafea: Solar Mama will have its Quebec premiere screening as part of Cinema Politica on Friday, Nov. 22, at 7 p.m. at J.A. de Sève Cinema — 1400 de Maisonneuve W.

Other works by director Jehane Noujaim include The Square.  Read the review here (please link to The Square article).

OR: You can hyperlink The Square article to Jehane Noujaim’s name in the article (highlighted in dark green).

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Reacting against nuclear reactors

On March 11, 2011, an earthquake struck off the coast of Japan, creating a devastating tsunami that swept over cities and farmland in the northern part of the country in Tohoku. Recorded as a 9.0 on the Richter scale, it was the most powerful quake ever to hit the country (in comparison, Montreal’s earthquake last fall registered at 4.5 on the Richter scale). These natural disasters subsequently led to a nuclear emergency, as a result of the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Station suffering partial meltdowns and releasing radioactive material directly into the atmosphere. Today, the official count of the dead and missing is above 24,000.

Radioactivists screens Monday Nov. 11 at 7 p.m. in room H-110 – 1455 de Maisonneuve W. Director Karol Orzechowski will be in the audience. Press photo

The cleverly-titled Radioactivists, directed by German filmmakers Julia Leser and Clarissa Seidel, follows the anti-nuclear demonstrations held in Koenji, Tokyo immediately following the tragedy. Organized mainly by a group of activists known as Shiroto No Ran (Amateur’s Revolt) and a group of political musicians from the Human Recovery Project, the protests featured people from all walks of life, gathering more than 15,000 people by the third demonstration. Combining music and visual arts, the atmosphere was festive rather than tense. These scenes were surprising to many Japanese citizens given the country’s lack of a protest culture. In fact, these were the first major demonstrations the nation had seen since the 1970s.

The anti-nuclear movement in Japan has taken great leaps since the first protests highlighted in Radioactivists. In fact, since 2011, the number of protests in Tokyo against the use of nuclear power have dramatically increased, culminating in 2012 with the country’s largest anti-nuclear event yet (gathering more than 75,000 people).

Japan’s history with nuclear power is a fascinating one. Despite the nuclear bombings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II, the country’s reliance on the use of nuclear power reactors has grown steadily since the 1960s. Prior to the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami, Japan generated 30 per cent of its electrical power from nuclear reactors. Thus, when Leser and Seidel turn their cameras towards the endless bright lights in the bustling streets of downtown Tokyo, they implicitly ask: how much longer is Japan capable of maintaining its electric consumption?

Featuring interviews with sociologists, writers, and activists, Radioactivists is thoroughly engaging and intellectually stimulating during its first half. However, the film strays from its narrative focus when the cameras simply follow the protests for long stretches of time. The film’s strengths are showcased most during its aforementioned interviews.

For example, political scientist Chigaya Kinoshita speaks of the initial shock felt by all after the earthquake and tsunami occurred. While the world hailed the Japanese for their so-called stoicism in the face of great adversity, Kinoshita argues that his countrymen simply didn’t know how to react to the situation. It’s safe to say they’re reacting now.

Radioactivists screens Monday Nov. 11 at 7 p.m. in room H-110 – 1455 de Maisonneuve W. Director Karol Orzechowski will be in the audience. The film will be followed by Women of Fukushima. For more information, visit cinemapolitica.org/concordia

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Animal cruelty in the name of science

“It’s sad that I’m only 23 but animal death doesn’t do anything for me,” says one former research scientist early on in Karol Orzechowski’s Maximum Tolerated Dose. The title itself refers to lab experiments in which animals (or “research models”) are dosed with pharmaceutical products and certain chemicals in order to find a physical threshold. However, while many of these scientists have already proven the efficacy of the product, they repeatedly test high concentrations of certain medicines on lab animals until a fatality or a near fatality occurs.

Maximum Tolerated Dose is a hard-hitting look inside the gruesome practices of laboratory experimentation. Press photo.

There are in fact, several facilities specifically designed and created to breed animals such as rodents, macaque monkeys, and even beagles, all in order to supply experimental research. Thus, many of these animals, including monkeys and dogs, are brought into the world for the sole purpose of being used for scientific experiments.

The film does a convincing job in recreating the horrors of such aforementioned animal breeding facilities. For example, the Isoquiem-Interfauna Breeding Facility in Spain specifically breeds beagles, who remain packed in cages all throughout the day, as their cries for help can be overheard echoing in the background, cries which seem to be desperate and helpless.

In one particular experiment, beagles were used to research radioactive tracers, which were injected into them. Afterwards, the dogs were all put down, placed on the operating table, as their hearts were removed and dissected in order to inspect the effects of the tracers.

Dr. John Pippin, a former research cardiologist admits that, “if you subscribe to the notion that this kind of research is essential to advance human medicine, and your career and your life revolves around advancing human medicine, then you come to see it as a necessary evil.”

The sad irony in Dr. Pippin’s story is his own love of dogs. He admits that he would consider killing anyone who would dare hurt his dogs at home, and yet, he consistently went to work every day as a scientific researcher where killing beagles was part of his job.

Orzechowski, known more for his photography, manages to locate and interview a handful of former lab workers and authors on the subject of animal cruelty. The film is told in five separate chapters, as the director focuses on individual lab animals and individual former workers for each segment.

The pulsating, ominous music heard throughout the film has an almost frightening effect. If there is such a thing as a ‘non-fiction documentary horror,’ that which is unimaginable and revolting, then Maximum Tolerated Dosage is it. In addition, the heavy sense of guilt felt by nearly everyone interviewed in the film is accentuated by years of moral justifications on the part of these workers.

An anonymous worker simply puts it, “To the animals, I feel horrible. I could only say that I’m sorry and I will advocate to change this industry.”

It’s never too late to say you’re sorry.

Maximum Tolerated Dosage screens Monday Nov. 4 at 7 p.m. in room H-110 – 1455 de Maisonneuve W. Director Karol Orzechowski will be in the audience. For more information, visit cinemapolitica.org/concordia

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Meet Eufrosina, the woman who fought, and won, her way to the top

“We are not a disease, we are not lepers,” Eufrosina Mendoza proclaims, as the camera focuses on her interacting with people on the streets. Mendoza knows how her people live.

Denied a political voice by government, Eufrosina’s Revolution traces Mendoza’s retaliatory campaign for women’s rights over the years.

Directed by Luciana Kaplan, Eufrosina’s Revolution is a compelling documentary tracing the socio-political journey of Eufrosina Cruz Mendoza, a young indigenous Mexican woman bent on proving herself in the realm of politics.

The 90-minute rundown features Mendoza as a down-to-earth, humane person. Mendoza is there to stick with her people, to her customs, to her traditions. The entire affair started when Mendoza was denied participation in the municipal elections of her hometown in Santa Maria Quiegolani, because she is a woman.

“In the middle of the assembly, some citizens came over to me and said in Zapotec that my ballots had been annulled,” says Mendoza, sitting in her garden.

So Mendoza pulled up her sleeves and began the arduous task of convincing the government that a woman could take over.

“I want to see the women voting,” says Mendoza as the camera locks in on indigenous Mexican women fanning their children or making tortillas over a small fire.

The documentary is special in its subtle tonalities and lack of overt commentaries. Without explicit narration, the camera showcases poverty and injustice. For example, we see a woman looking quizzically at a poster titled “el voto es libre y secreto” (votes are free and confidential), or a small boy looking far into the distance, over the misty emerald green hills.

At other times, moments are fiery. People get annoyed, frustrated, and often you see people questioning Eufrosina’s position. At a municipal meeting, a woman dressed in red exclaims: “I do my part and I am working myself to death!”

Mendoza is a politician, however — and a good one. Her catchphrase “this is not for Eufrosina, this is for the indigenous communities,” strikes a visible chord among her fellow citizens. One elderly fan describes Mendoza as a force of character.

“She is not spreading hatred. She just says let it be, let it be,” says the woman, clutching her hands in a darkened kitchen.

The most endearing part of Mendoza is her honesty and transparency. When the Mexican government promised to build a bridge for her municipality but failed to do so, Mendoza gathered a group of builders and began the job herself. “The bastards!” she cries triumphantly as work begins. Or, sitting at her office, a run-down little room, she says candidly: “The reality that governments don’t help really pisses me off.”

Indeed, Mendoza is quite cynical towards the government.

“You go to a government office, and they stare at you because you don’t wear a suit and shoes,” she says.

As viewers, we are confused: who are the ‘bad’ guys here? Should we consider the Mexican government some sort of ‘evil’? Is the documentary giving us a balanced, nuanced point of view, or is the filmmaker paying too much tribute to Mendoza?

Whatever the conclusion, the fact remains that the documentary is brilliant in its still shots, including beautiful portraits of saddened women, boys playing in the dirt and men crossing a square.

There is a happy ending to this story. In November 2010, Mendoza became the first indigenous woman politician in Oaxacan politics, taking on the position of deputy of the PAN (National Action Party). In December of the same year, Mendoza was appointed coordinator of indigenous affairs of the National Executive Committee of the PAN. Let’s not forget that Mendoza is also behind the Quiego Foundation, which promotes gender equality in the region of Oaxaca.

Shrewd politician or wonderful activist, here’s to you, Eufrosina.

Eufrosina’s Revolution premieres in Quebec as part of Cinema Politica on Oct. 28 at 7 p.m. at the D.B. Clarke Theatre, 1455 de Maisonneuve W. Director Luciana Kaplan will be in attendance. Presented in collaboration with Ambulante.

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Protesting the worst industrial disaster in history

Heartbreaking and moving, this 80-minute film explores the horrors human carelessness creates but also the resilience of those who are left behind to face the fallout. Bhopali is a powerful documentary about the injustices people in India faced after an American company caused a devastating gas leak that killed approximately 30,000 people in 1984.

Press photo

The Union Carbide Corporation gas leak in Bhopal, India, killed around 3,500 people in one night, with the body count skyrocketing during the following days. Countless others were left physically and psychologically shattered—orphaned children staggered through the streets and doctors were overwhelmed with patients poisoned with unknown toxins. Wood became scarce and families were forced to burn the bodies of their loved ones in mass funeral pyres.

Meanwhile, Warren Anderson, the then Union Carbide chairman, quietly melded into the safety of the United States and the factory in India was abandoned.

No cleanup crew was sent to remove the tanks of toxic chemicals. No personnel arrived to detoxify the small lake where the factory dumped its waste—not even when evidence that the leak was caused by numerous ignored safety measures, cut corners and untested equipment, was anyone held responsible.

“People in Bhopal are still suffering, they’re still dying,” said Bhopal disaster campaigner Satinath Sarangi. “And the next generation is getting affected. There are horrific deformations that they’re born with. So the fact is that the suffering hasn’t ended, and the suffering continues and the individuals and agencies responsible for this mass disaster remain unpunished.”

Enter the “water-victim children.” Children born after the disaster are 10 times more likely to be born blind, deaf, have mutated limbs, an unnaturally high chance of developing cerebral palsy and a highly fragile immune system.

The chemicals abandoned by the pesticide company leached into the ground and made the water for three kilometres around poisonous. The local population had no choice but to use the water pumped up from the infected ground to quench their thirst.

Bringing the story to a personal level, editor and creator Van Maximilian Carlson introduces two families directly affected by the disaster. All that is left of the first family, formerly a family of 10, is two siblings. Their parents and five brothers and sisters died during the disaster. Their brother, who had initially survived, committed suicide years later, haunted by the ghosts of that night.

The second family lives on daily wages while they fight to save their 18-month-old daughter as she slowly slips away, likely poisoned by the water her mother drank while pregnant.

“What we have asked for is the cleanup cost,” said Rajan Sharma, attorney representative for the Bhopal plaintiffs seeking compensation in an ongoing court case.

Sharma is also demanding the victims be financially compensated and that Union Carbide, now owned and operated by Dow Chemical Company, funds a medical monitoring system to support future water victims.

“If there is justice in Bhopal, this world will be safer for all of us to live in because it would set the precedent [for companies being responsible for their mess],” said Bhopal activist Rachna Dhingra.

While the film makes you squirm guiltily for sharing a species that also includes heartless corporate scum, Bhopali still gets two big thumbs up.

Endless interviews, personal stories, media footage and professional perspectives are flawlessly woven together into an in-your-face documentary about the worst ever industrial disaster and the horrifying fallout that followed.

Bhopali screens Saturday Oct. 12 at 7 p.m. at J.A. de Sève Cinema located on 1400 de Maisonneuve W.,  in collaboration with the International Campaign for Justice in Bhopal North America, Amnesty International and Council of Canadians Montreal. Bhopal survivor and activist Sanjay Varma will be in attendance. For more information, visit cinemapolitica.org/concordia

 

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Where are you getting what you are eating?

All of Us Guinea Pigs Now? screens Monday October 7 at 7 p.m. in room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve W. The event is co-presented in collaboration with the Festival du Nouveau Cinema. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia. Press photo.

What are the back-door politics behind the food that we consume every day? Where and how are they really produced and what kind of chemicals are used? What are its harmful effects? These are a few of the issues tackled by the film All of Us Guinea Pigs Now? by French director, Jean-Paul Jaud.

According to the documentary, most of the world’s governments have authorized the use of genetically modified organisms (GMOs) after having studied their effects on animals. The film also asserts that these studies usually last for only three months, often too short of a time span to determine the various chronic effects associated with the use of GMOs. However, a secret research study was recently undertaken in France, testing the adverse health effects of a certain type of genetically modified seed and the results were frightening. The rats used in the study were prone to developing cancerous tumors and eventually succumbed to premature death.

The film travels from France to Senegal and Japan, showcasing various groups of outspoken farmers and protesters. In Japan, for example, the major environmental issue is the use of nuclear power, a contentious subject since the 2011 nuclear disaster in Fukushima. In Senegal, we find a group of organic farmers very much against the use of GMOs, a belief which they pass on to the younger generation of food producers.

In the case of Japan, the documentary arbitrarily asks: how can a nation that suffered from the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki during WWII (and the subsequent decades of harmful radioactive effects) allow the explosion of the nuclear plant at Fukushima to occur?

Outside of a few scenes in Senegal and Japan, the film fails to truly remain engaging, especially during the long stretches filmed in France. The director presents ideas that are at best subversive and at worst based on unfounded conspiracies.

For example, according to the film, the International Monetary Fund, the World Trade Organization, and the World Bank are “mercenary organizations working for the U.S. and are the oligarchies and financial muscles of the food-processing industry.” We, as an audience, are expected to simply swallow this as unquestionable truth.

This film feels as if activists have made it solely for other activists, instead of the average filmgoer.

All of Us Guinea Pigs Now? fails to create an immediate sense of connection and compassion, asking questions that have little to do with the topic at hand. While the issue of what goes into our food supply is an important one, it seems that the makers of this film are so obviously vexed, so righteously indignant towards the ‘big bad enemy,’ that they fail to present their argument fully.

All of Us Guinea Pigs Now? screens Monday October 7 at 7 p.m. in room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve W. The event is co-presented in collaboration with the Festival du Nouveau Cinema. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia.

 

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All that glitters is not gold

A gentle voice surveying the vast golden skies and the blue seas opens the film Heart of Sky, Heart of Earth, a documentary on the Mayan resistance in Mexico and Guatemala against the destruction of their ancient homes, cultures, and traditions.

Heart of Sky, Heart of Earth screens Monday Sept. 30 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve West. Press photo.

The Mayan calendar once foretold that the end would bring about a natural change in colour, that the Gods would destroy the people, and the world would begin anew. Yet, this change of colour can already be found in Guatemala, in the form of luscious green rainforests cut down to make room for dull gray gold mines, thanks to the vengeful multinational corporate “gods.” In addition, the suffering masses are the indigenous Maya who reside in Mexico and Guatemala fighting a losing battle against these industries.

Written and directed by Frauke Sandig and Eric Black, this award-winning documentary follows six individuals who all come from different walks of life yet inevitably share the same cultural identity.

It is a culture which embodies the harmonization between man and his natural surroundings, emphasizing the duties towards protecting his environment, the vast forests, and the various animals which reside within it. The preservation of culture is the preservation of one’s way of life. But the preservation of the Mayan way of life in Chiapas, Mexico and in Guatemala, is determined by the preservation of nature.

Unfortunately, more than two-thirds of the Lacandon rainforests have been destroyed in the past 30 years. In Guatemala, trees have been cut down, wells have dried up, houses have been brought down, and people have been severely affected by the chemical use of cyanide all in the name of gold (some by Canadian industries no less). Chiapas, which once held a diverse ecosystem, has now been left as a wasteland. Furthermore in Mexico, indigenous people who rely heavily on cornfields have been struggling against mega-corporations such as Monsanto, who produce cheaper genetically modified corn.

Heart of Sky, Heart of Earth can at times seem like a slow-paced film, especially when it showcases the many complex rituals of the Mayan people. Nonetheless, the filmmakers manage to create a documentary that is both vivid and beautiful, with an expertly-detailed focus on natural landscapes and exotic creatures.

The film also deals with the identity crisis faced by many Maya in Guatemala and Mexico, a struggle between what it means to be Latino as opposed to indigenous; it is a literal, and often dangerous, clash of cultures. It is a struggle based upon the old ways versus the new, what culture once was, and what has become of it today in a modernized world that values profit over preservation. According to Mayan beliefs, everything living that exists on earth must be taken into account along with mankind; humans make only one part of the entire structure. After all, if everything under the sky truly is connected, then nothing should be excluded, forgotten, or destroyed without grave consequences.

Heart of Sky, Heart of Earth screens Monday Sept. 30 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve West. The event is part of Divine Interventions: Documentary, Spirituality, and Social Justice. Directors Frauke Sandig and Eric Black, and special guests speakers will be in attendance. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia

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The right to sexual expression

Screenshot from Scarlet Road

Are intimacy, connection and touch any less different if one has to pay for it? Are they any less different if one is not able-bodied?

Scarlet Road, directed by Catherine Scott, follows Australian sex worker and activist Rachel Wotton as she visits various friends and clients, educates fellow sex workers and travels to parts of Europe. Wotton has been in this industry for more than 16 years. In fact, she admits she’s always been drawn to it. She resides in New South Wales, Australia, one of the few places in the world that has decriminalized the sex industry. At least in principle, they can operate like “any other business.”

John Blades, who has multiple sclerosis and is wheelchair-bound, is one of Wotton’s many clients. The time they spend together makes him feel normal and at ease with himself, like an “able-bodied person within a disabled shell,” he says. The director does a fine job of filming their scenes in a tasteful fashion.

Wotton also travels to Gothenburg, Sweden for the World Congress for Sexual Health in order to talk about her unique experiences and her work for Touching Base Inc., an organization which helps people with disabilities and sex workers in matters of “access, discrimination, human rights and legal issues.” During the conference, Wotton’s ability to articulate her experiences and concrete facts is noted by her audience, a trait which is far different than those who come from a purely clinical and academic background.

Scott also follows Wotton in her personal life. Although Wotton would like to move to Queensland, Australia in order to be with her longtime boyfriend, there are complications because the sex work industry is illegal in that part of the country.

This is a thoroughly engaging film regarding a subject seldom discussed so openly. Scott allows Wotton to share her story through her own words and actions, rarely interfering and focusing both on sexual education and narrative honesty. As an observational documentary, it aims for immediacy between subject and audience. In fact, it feels as though the camera is working as a therapeutic device for a woman who likely faces frequent discrimination in such a stigmatized industry.

Wotton’s happy-go-lucky attitude is particularly endearing. She admits why she chooses differently-abled people as clients, “I like the fact that my job always entails pleasure, making someone feel better about themselves, that they are the centre of someone’s attention and they deserve to smile.”

Scarlet Road screens Monday April 8 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve West. The event is co-presented with STELLA. Rachel Wotton will be in attendance for a post-screening Q&A. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia.

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Arts

The promise of prosperity

Press photo for Land in Revolt: Impure Gold

What is the price of wealth?

Land in Revolt: Impure Gold is directed by filmmaker and activist Fernando Solanas. Travelling through the vast valleys of Argentina, he encounters environmentalists, professors, farmers, politicians, protesters and engineers as he searches for answers in a country fraught with exploitation. The film draws a web of corruption connecting the major mining corporations with some of the most powerful politicians in Argentina, including its current and former presidents.

The film begins by charting a history of exploitation in South America, going as far back as 1650. For instance, over a period of 400 years Bolivia is said to have been “looted” of its rich minerals by Spanish conquerors.

Argentina holds the sixth largest mineral reserve in the world, assessed at over $200 billion US. Thus, large-scale mining operations arrived during the 1990s, leading to increased exploration and a prospective boom. However, as Solanas demonstrates throughout the film, the social and environmental impact of these mining projects have become severe and destructive. Farming families living near these sites witness their animals—essentially their livelihood—dying of contamination while their houses and farms are bulldozed to create more exploration space. In addition, heavy amounts of water are used for mining. This leaves little for the surrounding communities, who often live without electricity. It comes as no surprise that the social exploitation of the mining industry in Argentina has led to widespread poverty, unemployment and malnutrition.

According to the film, the billions of dollars in profits generated from mining rarely comes back to Argentina, as once promised by the government. In fact, the mining corporations in Argentina are tax-exempt from all of their investments. Moreover, village workers are rarely hired as a result of their lack of professional experience. As one environmentalist notes, “they’ll rob us until there’s nothing left.”

However, this film suffers as a result of its uneven pacing. During the scenes at Minera Alumbrera, one of the largest mining sites in Argentina, the director does little to help alleviate the dullness. Lacking both music and quick edits for long stretches at a time, Solanos overestimates the patience and sympathies of a non-Spanish speaking and non-Argentinian audience. However, as an experienced filmmaker, he manages to showcase some wonderful images of his native land, especially the red rocky mountainous regions in the Argentinian valley.

During the final act, we find citizens fed up of their dire situations and conducting major protests against the many injustices allegedly committed by the mining companies in conjecture with the Argentinian government. Despite the violent and shady methods used by the larger powers-that-be to threaten and discourage the protesters, a rising sense of unity among both villagers and city-dwellers is apparent by the end of the film.

Land in Revolt: Impure Gold screens Wednesday April 3 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve West. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia.

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