Tag: cinema politica

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The drying well, the draining of life

Press photo for Last Call at the Oasis
Press photo for Last Call at the Oasis

Water, as a resource, is a fundamental necessity to our existence, yet from China to the Middle East to California, nearly every region of the world is facing a shortage of it. In fact, by 2025, half of the world’s population will not have adequate access to clean water. To make matters worse, less than one per cent of the earth’s water is actual freshwater that is available to drink. This begs the question: how can we ensure, now and in the future, that there will be high quality drinking water for all?

Produced by Participant Media, the same people who brought us An Inconvenient Truth, Food Inc. and Waiting For Superman, Last Call at the Oasis is directed by Oscar winner Jessica Yu. The film deals extensively with this global water crisis and looks at various solutions to help alleviate it, taking audiences across the United States, Australia and Israel during its investigation.

According to the film, California is the very epitome of the global water crisis. The Central Valley, which produces nearly 25 per cent of the food consumed in the United States, is battling the U.S. government over production resources. Farming typically takes nearly 80 to 90 per cent of water consumption in most states, with the other 10 to 20 per cent being distributed to other remaining areas, such as commercial or residential areas, or even for power usage. Considering this, in California’s case the combination of climate change, population growth and groundwater depletion spells major trouble.

When Ohio’s Cuyahoga River burst into flames in 1969 (yes, you read that right), the American environmental movement became galvanized. This eventually led to the foundation of the Environmental Protection Agency and the signings of the Clean Water Act and the Safe Drinking Water Act. However, in 2005, former U.S. vice-president Dick Cheney helped create the so-called “Halliburton Loophole,” which exempted all the major gas and fracking industries in the U.S. from the Safe Drinking Water act. Naturally, this led to highly contaminated and toxic water levels in many parts of the United States, such as Midland, TX., the childhood home of former president George W. Bush. Today, the rise in cancer among many citizens of Midland is reaching alarming levels. As one commentator sarcastically notes, “most people don’t poison their hometown.”

This is an expertly made film: its slick cinematography, fast-paced editing, superb effects and excellent use of music make it apparent that this is about as high-budget and sophisticated as they come among documentaries. One of most effective scenes occurs early on in the film: unsettling images of impoverished citizens from a Third World country fighting for water distributed by foreign aid workers are pinned to contrast to our Western world with water parks, golf courses, car washes and water fountains. As American scientist Peter Gleick argues, “an infinitely growing population cannot be satisfied with a finite amount of water on this planet.”

The various activists, small-time farmers and environmental scientists highlighted in this film exemplify one of Albert Einstein’s most famous quotes: “those who have the privilege to know have a duty to act.” Hopefully the more we know, the more likely we are to do the right thing.

Last Call at the Oasis screens Monday, March 18 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 De Maisonneuve W. As part of World Water Week, this screening is in collaboration with Back the Tap Coalition. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia.

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Do we really learn the lessons from our past?

Press photo for Roadmap to Apartheid
Press photo for Roadmap to Apartheid

Roadmap to Apartheid, while using a lyrical intro with picturesque lands in Palestine and Israel, is immediately contrasted with the reality of life there, which has been for decades the centre of armed conflict. Filmmakers Ana Nogueira and Eron Davidson have provided an introspective of the Israeli-Gaza conflict, by tracing a parallel to the rise and the fall of the apartheid system in South Africa. In this way, they are making the argument that Palestine is living in an apartheid-like system.

The filmmakers have successfully and concisely presented the realities lived by Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. Nogueira and Davidson contrast how it was in South Africa as well as how Palestinians today are living, making it clear even for a viewer that is not familiar with the subject.

Roadmap to Apartheid presents impressive and thoughtfully matched video shots of Palestinians’ everyday life combined with a narrative voice that emphasizes the effects produced by what is seen in those images. The film’s strength is in the way it links the events experienced by Palestinians with corresponding archived materials showing the course of the apartheid system from 1948 to 1994.

The film also includes expert opinions and insights from the world’s leading authorities on both South African and Israeli apartheid including Diana Buttu, Jeff Halper, Na’eem Jeenah, Ali Abunimah, Ziad Abbas, Phyllis Bennis, Jonathan Cook, Jamal Jumá, Yasmin Sooka, the late Dennis Brutus, Salim Vally, Eddie Makue, Angela Godfrey-Goldstein, Allister Sparks and Sasha Polakow-Suransky.

The film presents a continuous transition from the taped material and interviews that smoothly changes into third person narratives. Roadmap to Apartheid is a highly ambitious and interesting project that speaks out about a sensitive subject put in context with another historical conflict.

Roadmap to Apartheid screens Monday March 11, in Rm H-110 at 1455 de Maisonneuve W. at 7 p.m.

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The winter of Russian discontent

Still from Anton Seregin's doc film Winter, Go Away! (2012)
Still from the documentary film Winter, Go Away! (2012)

This week’s installment of Cinema Politica has an appropriate title considering the time of year but, ironically, it has nothing to do with the cold or the icy sidewalks of Montreal’s most bone-chilling season.

Winter, Go Away! (2012), a documentary directed by Anton Seregin, Marina Razbezhkina and Askold Kurov, bears a title that subtly refers to the “winter of our discontent,” felt by many Russian citizens, reluctant to see a third presidential term in 12 years go to Vladimir Putin.

This is an observational documentary, meaning that there’s neither commentary nor music. The filmmakers take a fly-on-the-wall approach. As such, Winter, Go Away! also serves as an exposé of Russia’s shady political dealings.

The directors follow several anti-Putin protesters and other outspoken critics, leading up to the “Rally for Fair Elections” held in Moscow in February 2012, and then culminating with the elections held a month later. On more than one occasion, viewers are brought to understand the burning questions that spur the protestors onward. For instance, during a university lecture he is giving, Ivan Mironov – a writer and activist – asks why anyone would consider voting for Putin, considering his numerous alleged abuses of power. One student simply states: “It doesn’t matter who we vote for, it won’t change a thing.” Taken aback, Mironov replies: “What if it did?” Mironov’s comment makes it clear that questions of this sort are what fuels their hopeful, yet inevitably futile, democratic ambitions.

One of the more amusing scenes in the film occurs when we see a group of dissenters wearing Guy Fawkes masks, quietly travelling by bus and casually reading the morning paper. The filmmakers also encounter the Russian feminist punk band Pussy Riot, an all-female group with political goals whose members hide their faces behind colourful balaclavas. The cameras capture their infamous protest, that of an impromptu performance at the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour, a stunt which lead to their arrests but which also garnered them international headlines.

Nonetheless, the film falters in its inability to provide the viewer with enough background information regarding the various players in Russian politics, often leaving the audience confused. Although the subject matter is highly relevant, in light of Russia’s recent state of internal affairs, the documentary’s execution lacks lustre. Without the proper context, the film doesn’t fully resonate emotionally and the viewer is left watching fiery Russians bicker about matters that they don’t fully understand. The filmmakers perhaps make the most grievous assumption in expecting us, as outsiders, to care from the very beginning.

What you’ll find in Winter, Go Away! is fragmented vignettes of brewing political unrest. Be it through electrifying scenes shot from the heart of chanting mass protests or through stolen instances of police brutality, what’s portrayed is the plight of the average Russian activist, restlessly fighting for his political and civil rights, one day at a time.

Winter, Go Away! screens March 18 at 7 pm in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve W. Director Askold Kurov will be in attendance. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia

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A more humane method of food production

Press photo for Voices of Transition
Press photo for Voices of Transition

When it comes to food, the term ‘fruits of our labour’ arguably doesn’t often apply to the 21st century citizen. While places such as the Atwater Market showcase local produce during the summer months, it’s safe to assume that most Montrealers purchase their food at major chain supermarkets.

Written, produced and directed by Nils Aguilar, Voices of Transition showcases different and more homegrown examples of food production. In “agribusiness,” there’s a systematic tendency that says “bigger is better”; more machines, more production, more distribution and, ultimately, higher profits. However, this approach has had severely destructive effects on not only the people who consume or once produced the food (such as small-time farmers), it hurts our precious planet. In fact, it is estimated that agriculture accounts for nearly 40% of global warming.

Spanning across parts of France, England and Cuba, this film also investigates the increasingly complicated subject of food production; who makes it, how they make it, how much do they make and waste, and what are the socio-economic and environmental implications of large-scale, global food overproduction and distribution. In Europe, for example, the majority of agriculture subsidies go towards some of the most environmentally unfriendly corporations.

However, many are resisting such wide-scale practices by not only boycotting major supermarkets, but also by simply growing their own food. The eccentric Mike Feingold, a British permaculturist, is shown making his own apple juice and cider. His beliefs lie in “earth care, people care and fair share,” which ultimately brings together environmental, ecological, and societal needs. Feingold is a citizen of Totnes, England, one of a growing number of so-called “transition” towns in which the issues of housing, food production, transportation, and energy are creatively tackled by its citizens in unison, as a community. They attempt to remain resilient against any economic unpredictabilities.

The film encourages such examples of local-based food products and production, in which the fate of every citizen is tied to each other’s input and output, placing a great deal of importance on communal harmony. At the very least, inhabitants living in transition areas learn new skills, such as the means to grow their own vegetables.

The film includes a few breathtaking scenes, such as the south of France in all of its picturesque beauty: rows of redbrick townhouses, ancient chapels and endless miles of golden wheat fields where cattle and horses roam. However, many of these very same farmers have been driven out of business while others have been forced to change their business practices to something less than moral in order to comply with multinational agricultural biotechnology corporations such as Monsanto.

By the second half, this film takes a more optimistic turn, exploring how communities meet their own needs, not by building fences, but by sharing space and working together. Total self-sufficiency isn’t the goal. After all, we live in an interdependent planet; self-reliance is the ultimate objective. The film essentially asks whether the world will continue to march on the same destructive path or create a new, more efficient system built on self-preservation.

Voices of Transition screens Monday Feb. 18 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve West. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia

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The disease that demolishes porn stars

Press photo for Inside Lara Roxx
Press photo for Inside Lara Roxx

Porn undeniably holds a sense of fantasy. For many, it’s an escape and a welcomed distraction. Yet, like most industries, there’s also a destructive side to it.

Produced and directed by Mia Donovan, Inside Lara Roxx recounts the story of a young woman from Quebec who sought money, sex, and fame in L.A., only to be left with infamy and an incurable, deadly disease.

In April 2004, a male porn star by the name of Darren James tested positive for HIV. Production in L.A. was temporarily shut down. Three women who had performed scenes with him also tested positive for HIV. Lara Roxx was one of them. She was 21-years-old.

Donovan follows Lara during a five year span, 2005-10, recording her various highs and lows as she deals with her disease. The film begins in a psychological ward where Lara is being treated and follows her back to L.A. where she recounts the details of her foray into porn and ultimately into contracting HIV. Lara alternates between stints in the hospital and living in squalor in a run-down Montreal crack house. Early on in the film, her mother shows the viewer childhood photos and old home videos, contrasting sharply with the stark reality Lara is currently living.

The director travels with Lara to various locations, such as a porn convention in Las Vegas, which she attends in order to raise awareness of the dangers of HIV within the adult entertainment industry. There, she’s joined by famous porn actor Ron Jeremy, who shares some insightful knowledge on sexual education. She also meets Rebekka Armstrong, a former Playmate and an HIV/AIDS advocate, who painfully admits that she was once “completely debilitated by the disease.”

Lara doesn’t initially trust the filmmaker, questioning her motives and friendship. In fact, it’s easy to see why she would be wary and skeptical towards new-found friends.

By capturing her story on camera, the director may be implicitly turning Lara into a poster child for adult entertainment industry-related HIV, a symbol of awareness for the deadly disease. However, the film takes an unexpected turn of events during the final two acts, when Lara is forced to confront her own personal demons.

At times, this film feels uneven. Months go by without a single word between the documentarian and her subject. Yet the filmmaker persists, becoming an active participant in her first feature-length documentary, urging Lara to seek medical help. Moreover, the film also illustrates Lara’s identity crisis, “I don’t know who I am,” she states midway through to the film.

Donovan has a sharp eye for creating wonderful shots, from the dim-lit, run-down streets of Montreal to a picturesque, sunlit beach in California. However, the scenes in L.A. in which Lara visits fellow female porn actresses seem slightly scripted and choreographed. It should also be noted that the film contains graphic nudity. Clips from Lara’s infamous porn film with Darren James are included, creating a highly unsettling effect. In one of the film’s more poignant scenes, Lara confesses, “I love life and it breaks my heart if I don’t respect it. It’s like an indirect suicide. But I never did respect myself.”

Inside Lara Roxx screens Jan. 31 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve W. Director Mia Donovan and Lara Roxx will be in attendance. This screening is co-presented with the HIV/AIDS Lecture Series. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia.

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No house to call home

The People of the Kattawapiskak River / Press photo
The People of the Kattawapiskak River / Press photo

Last week we looked into the dire conditions of post-earthquake Haiti, in which its citizens were not only left homeless, but have since been forced to live in ill-maintained campsites.

This week, we turn our attention to another housing issue, albeit on a smaller scale but one much closer to home. At times, we must remind ourselves that the word “impoverished” isn’t strictly reserved for those living in the third world, it can occur right here in our own backyard.

The People of the Kattawapiskak River (2012) is produced, written, narrated and directed by Alanis Obomsawin, in association with the National Film Board of Canada. An award-winning documentary filmmaker, she has produced over 30 works in a career spanning more than 40 years.

The opening credits illustrate a small town in the midst of a harsh winter. Despite the numerous houses, shacks, cabins and trailers, there’s a deep sense of isolation which seems to define the town itself. During a chilly, late afternoon sunset, a group of children play pond hockey, their laughter ringing loud in the otherwise empty stretch of snow-covered terrain. This quintessentially Canadian image of children playing hockey recurs throughout the film.

The dreadful housing conditions in the town of Attawapiskat have led to unacceptable standards of living, especially when compared to the rest of Canada. Most of the houses were built in the ‘60s and ‘70s and they’re in need of major renovations. Today, there are over 1,700 people living on the reserve, yet as a result of a rapidly growing population, inadequate housing solutions and a lack of funding, there are approximately 1,000 people in need of a home. Sadly, many end up living in overcrowded sheds or tents without electricity, water or heating. In fact, in some cases, 20 to 30 people live in a one family home. These conditions resemble a minimum-security prison. The Kattawapiskak region is located 700 km north of Timmins, Ont. and during the coldest months of the year, the winds reach from -40 C to -50 C.

The director alternates between interviews with residents, news footage and historical lessons. Despite the upsetting conditions of a town in such an unforgiving land, Obomsawin manages to capture the harsh beauties of the region. One of the film’s few cheerful moments occurs in the town’s recreation centre, a place where both the young and the old come to forget their countless troubles, if only for a few hours a week. Normand Guilbeault, a jazz musician from Montreal, provides the slightly ominous music heard throughout the film, employing a double-bass and the steady, rhythmic beat of native drums.

The People of the Kattawapiskak River screens Monday Jan. 28, at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve West. Director Alanis Obomsawin will be in attendance. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia

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Desensitization to suffering

Haiti: Where Did The Money Go? (2011) / Press photo
Haiti: Where Did The Money Go? (2011) / Press photo

They say “if it bleeds, it leads,” but is anyone still watching during the grueling months and years of recovery? As you may remember, an earthquake hit Haiti on Jan. 12, 2010. Roughly 220,000 people are estimated to have died, and a further 1.5 million were left without a home. Before the quake, the country’s population was approximately 9 million. Now, speaking in the past tense seems to be an unfortunate habit in post-earthquake Haiti, which looks but a faint shadow of its former self.

Haiti: Where Did The Money Go? (2011) is written, produced and directed by Michele Mitchell, a former political anchor with CNN Headline News. She and her team travel to Haiti ten months after the earthquake, hoping to find out “what happened to all those good intentions and all that money?”

The film’s opening sequence shows the aftermath of a country in physical ruins, as looming dust quickly engulfs the capital city of Port-au-Prince. In a grand “expression of solidarity,” $2.2 billion was raised globally through private donations which went to non-governmental aid organizations in charge of disaster relief. The cries of help were heard, but were they really answered?

In all, 1300 makeshift camps have been built all across Haiti. The filmmakers showcase Camp Canaan II (5,000 people), Camp Carradeux, (32,000 people) and the most prominent, Champ-de-Mars (16,000 people), located right across from the now-abandoned Presidential Palace.

Yet, as of September 2011, nearly all of those displaced by the earthquake continued to live in shoddy, overcrowded camps hastily built by NGOs in dry and humid areas. Their tarp roofs are held by tree branches, their latrines ill-maintained, and their clean drinking water almost non-existent. And yet, Haiti holds more NGOs per capita than any other country in the world.

This film highlights the systematic mismanagement of funds and the abuse of trust committed by those sworn to help. The lack of communication and lack of coordination results in uneven and arbitrary decisions in relief fund distribution. This leads to unfortunate situations in which a camp is given soap, but no clean water. Yvette Clarke, a congresswoman from New York, boldly states that “Every NGO is its own kingdom,” and that they have in fact “supplanted the government.”

Mark Snyder, who has extensively travelled across Haiti as a volunteer, says that the relief efforts are at the absolute “minimal standards.” Since there are no legal requirements, binding rules, nor any recognized standards in the aid humanitarian world, who can be held accountable?

Mitchell uses concrete facts and figures, anecdotal evidence straight from the ground in Haiti, and interviews with leading journalists, doctors and professors to help illustrate her case. In one particularly infuriating scene, she and her film crew use a hidden-camera to follow several NGO workers to a downtown restaurant where they’re seen happily wining and dining on Bordeaux, steak, lobster and escargot. This restaurant is located right across from a camp. In contrast, 25 year-old Wilna Vital who, despite the billions of dollars raised as a result of the disaster, still lives in a poorly-built camp and she and her children remain malnourished.

Thus there are several uncomfortable questions to ponder, a central one being: to what extent are major disaster relief organizations (such as the American Red Cross) profiteering from the very same disasters they have been built to protect people against?

In Port-au-Prince, amidst the people aimlessly walking on dirt roads, the sound of nearby honking vehicles and others looking straight into the camera, dejected to their fates, the backdrop is reminiscent of a war-torn city. Debris and broken stones litter the streets and the buildings barely stand, nearly crumbled. For many Haitians, the sights and sounds of urban life linger despite the inescapable ruins. One unidentified man wonders why he “always sees the same things, but nothing ever changes.”

Haiti: Where Did The Money Go? screens Monday January 21, at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 De Maisonneuve Blvd. W. This Montreal premiere screening is co-presented by Canada Haiti Action Network & Rézistans Haïtienne. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia.

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The Wisconsin uprising: a democratic fight for workers’ rights

Press photo for Amie Williams' documentary We Are Wisconsin!
Press photo for Amie Williams’ documentary We Are Wisconsin!

What happens when a governor tries to fix a small leak in the roof by burning the entire house down?

Amie Williams’ documentary We Are Wisconsin! takes the viewer on a short path down memory lane, specifically to the 2011 Wisconsin protests held against Governor Scott Walker’s controversial budget repair bill. Less than six weeks into his term, he introduced senate bill SB 11, which included policies eliminating public employee contracts in the name of fiscal responsibility, ending a fifty year Wisconsin tradition of collective bargaining. Major cuts to wages and benefits from public employees were also planned.

The cameras follow six individual men and women who embarked on this historic protest: a nurse, a union electrician, a university student, a county social worker, a high-school teacher and a police officer whose union was actually exempt from SB 11.

The viewer is invited to step into the workplace of various Wisconsin protesters. These poignant scenes are but a glimpse of the time, sacrifice and energy routinely spent at their jobs. In effect, these scenes underline the fact that a termination of collective bargaining rights not only affects unionized, public sector workers, it also affects the people they’re meant to serve.

“The state is broke,” Walker kept repeating at the time, despite the fact that a non-partisan group cited a budget surplus for 2010-2011. By attempting to break the various unions, Walker would be leaving workers vulnerable while also stripping away many of their rights in the workforce. However, much to his dismay, the public reaction in Wisconsin was swift and moral outrage was in the air.

What began as an outcry by a few hundred protesters in the state capital of Madison quickly escalated to thousands of Wisconsin residents descending upon the city. Working-class and middle-class men and women marched alongside students, eventually occupying the state Capitol building for 18 days.

As public hearings were established, a constant stream of people stood ready to testify against the proposed legislation and voice their displeasure. Among these individuals was a former union-hating elderly woman who switched her social and political allegiance after the introduction of Walker’s bill.

In the political spectrum Democrat state Senators also did their part, refusing to attend the assembly meeting needed to pass the bill, thereby delaying the vote. Dubbed the “Wisconsin 14”, they crossed state lines into Illinois.

The film also exhibits how Fox News dishonestly painted the demonstrators as an angry, violent mob. That’s when Mark Roughen, an electrician, decided to directly live-stream the protesters’ peaceful activities inside the Capitol.

In fact, there’s an inspiring scene early on in the film as we witness off-duty police officers, led by Brian Austin, entering the building carrying food and refreshments for the occupiers, while the crowd repeatedly shouts the rarest chant of all: “we love cops!”

In essence, We Are Wisconsin! reminds us that civic responsibility, essential to any democracy, doesn’t simply end at the voting booth. It pours out into the streets in droves of thousands; it not only shouts towards its representatives, it occupies their buildings. It relentlessly makes itself seen and heard with bright signs and deafening noise. It is joyful chaos otherwise known as the democratic process.

We Are Wisconsin! screens Monday, Dec. 3 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 De Maisonneuve Blvd W.

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ACT UP against the system

Still from Jim Hubbard's documentary United in Anger: A History of ACT UP. Press photo.
Still from Jim Hubbard’s documentary United in Anger: A History of ACT UP. Press photo.

Great change often requires a selfless, tireless and collective effort on the part of citizens.

Jim Hubbard’s United in Anger: A History of ACT UP is a documentary which is relevant to our times. The film chronicles the uphill battle faced by the advocacy group known as the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power, or ACT UP. Formed in 1987 and comprised of smaller affinity groups, this organized front demanded affordable health care, social benefits and readily available medication to combat AIDS. This came at a time when systematic indifference and general misinformation relating to the disease were all too common.

Between 1981 and 1987, more than 40,000 people died of AIDS in the U.S. alone. This brought on a sense of mass confusion, sudden loss and total misery within a devastated community suffering from a lack of social infrastructure. Yet various levels of government, public health organizations and pharmaceutical drug companies seemed to remain passive, if not utterly unsympathetic to their plight.

Initially, ACT UP began as a shelter for the marginalized, but the organization quickly channeled their youthful energy to become agents of social change. They were in effect a “combination of serious politics and joyful living.”

This is essentially a documentary about documentarians. ACT UP members were great record-keepers, and they also knew how to sell their ideas and garner public attention. The director uses first-hand footage from the protests, giving the film a sense of immediacy, while the viewer becomes a witness to history itself. This immediacy reaches a crescendo while viewing the footage from the demonstration known as the “Day of Desperation,” which was among the group’s greatest public protests, culminating with thousands of activists marching in the streets of Manhattan and shutting down Grand Central Station.

Whether through public demonstrations, sit-ins, teach-ins or voluntary waves of arrests, the group’s modus operandi has always been civil disobedience, which was inspired by the American civil rights and the women’s rights movements. At its peak, there were 147 chapters of ACT UP across the globe, but today there are far fewer.

One example of ACT UP’s collective stand is known as “Seize Control of the FDA.” While the The Food and Drug Administration typically takes years, sometimes even a decade, to test pharmaceutical drugs before approving them for the general public, patients who were HIV-positive didn’t have the luxury of time. Many of them were ready and willing to do the testing on themselves, hoping for a medical breakthrough or, more likely, a slight respite from the pain.

When the FDA finally allowed the release of the first AIDS drug known as AZT, it cost nearly $10,000 per year per patient. Understandably, few were pleased. In addition, the group’s female members also fought for women’s health issues, such as campaigning for the Centers For Disease Control to change the diagnostic definition of AIDS.

Above all, the words of composer, conductor and activist Rodger Pettyjohn perfectly encapsulate ACT UP’s raison d’etre: “I may not be able to fight the virus, I may not be able to fight the disease, but I can fight the system.”

United in Anger: A History of ACT UP screens Nov. 22 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 De Maisonneuve Blvd. Director Jim Hubbard will be in attendance. This screening is co-presented with the HIV/AIDS Lecture Series Concordia.

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The humanity and dignity of personal living space

Jackie Sumell's art exhibit The House That Herman Built features a life-sized woodworked model of Wallace's prison cell.
Jackie Sumell’s art exhibit The House That Herman Built features a life-sized model of Wallace’s prison cell.

Herman Joshua Wallace holds an ambitious dream: to witness the creation of a lavishly-decorated dream house.

This building would be used as a community centre for the underprivileged youth of New Orleans; it would include gardens, a swimming pool, and various works of art. More importantly, it would serve as a safe haven from the harsh realities of the inner-city streets and the temptations of easy money through crime.

However, like all fine things in life, there’s a catch: Wallace has been been in solitary confinement in a Louisiana state prison since 1972. In other words, he has spent 40 years, 10 months, eight days (and counting) in a 6 x 9 ft. prison cell, also known as “the dungeon.”

Angad Singh Bhalla’s documentary Herman’s House is not a tale of a prisoner resigned to his unfortunate fate, instead it is a story of a gentle and well-spoken individual whose hopes remain high despite all indications to the contrary. His foremost champion is Jackie Sumell, an activist and an artist born in New York, who began corresponding with Wallace more than a decade ago. With the help of Wallace’s sister, Victoria Wallace, Sumell uses her anger, her love, and her creativity to shed light on a man who has spent more time in solitary confinement than any other living American prisoner.

In April 1972, Brent Miller, a correctional officer in Louisiana’s Angola prison, died after being brutally stabbed nearly 32 times. The prison warden quickly charged three inmates with the murder, and they were sentenced to life in prison in solitary confinement. Wallace’s initial prison stint began in 1967 on a bank robbery charge. Wallace remains incarcerated at Angola alongside Albert Woodfox. However, the third inmate, Robert King, was released in 2001 after a lengthy, legal battle. They are known as the “Angola Three.”

Wallace’s motions for appeal have routinely been denied by the Louisiana prison review board, despite the fact that neither the murder weapon nor fingerprints were ever conclusively tied to the three inmates.

In order to raise awareness for Wallace’s struggles, Sumell began working on a major art project. The House That Herman Built has been showcased in over 12 galleries in five countries. The exhibition’s most famous piece includes a life-sized woodworked model of Wallace’s prison cell, down to the exact measurements. Visitors were encouraged to enter the cell and experience the harsh living space firsthand.

This is a powerful film centering around a powerless individual. Bhalla often uses black and white animation and Louisiana jazz music to great emotional effect. The camera is patient, often remaining in focus on the numerous houses he encounters, from Sumell’s majestic childhood home in Long Island, to the modest New Orleans townhouse owned by Wallace’s sister.

As for the central figure, the viewer can only hear Wallace’s voice via telephone, yet, ultimately it doesn’t matter what he looks like. This physical distance actually works in favour of the overall theme. Wallace’s voice floats in and out throughout the film; it is resounding but exhausted, hopeful yet regretful. Physically, he is a near ghost-like figure. After all, no one of any significance has seen him in over 40 years. But spiritually and imaginatively? He endures.

Herman’s House screens Nov. 16 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve. Director Angad Bhalla will be in attendance.

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Through the eye of the director

Press photo for Emad Burnat's 5 Broken Cameras
Press photo for Emad Burnat’s 5 Broken Cameras

Documentaries are probably the best way of getting a true glimpse at a director’s vision. In the case of the film 5 Broken Cameras, to be screened Nov. 12, nothing could be more true.

The documentary tells the story of Emad Burnat, a Palestinian farmer and the film’s director, whose family has been cultivating olives on the land near his village for generations.

Around the time that his fourth son is born, Emad begins filming the changes brought on in his community by the increasing territory infringement of the Israeli development that is being created on the land opposite his village. Slowly but surely we witness how the separation between the people becomes increasingly visible, the Israeli development encompassing more and more of the land that once belonged to the filmmaker’s village.

As violence escalates between the two opposing parties, we witness how Emad, one by one, loses each of his beloved cameras at the hands of injury or tragedy. Symbolism is one of the director’s fortés, and the cameras respectively represent “game changing” moments in the Emad’s life, such as when he gets shot or gets interviewed in jail. He attempts to illustrate the ever-growing disparities that exist between these two groups of people fighting for the respect of their rights and the rights of their people. Eventually the conflict between the two people becomes physical; Israeli troops are brought in to build a wall of steel and wire which eventually becomes concrete in order to keep the two cultures as separate as possible.

The documentary is a beautiful portrayal of how cinematography can serve the people. Though gritty and slow at times the film was understandably praised during its screening at the 2012 Sundance Film Festival, taking home the World Cinema Directing Award.

5 Broken Cameras is, if anything, a reminder that sometimes an image is worth much more than words and that a metaphor, like the wall erected between these remote developments, can carry the history of cultures and conflict beyond our most fathomable imagination.

5 Broken Cameras screens Nov. 12 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve Blvd.

Categories
Arts

What does ‘green’ really mean?

Press photo for Carbon Rush
Press photo for Carbon Rush

In light of the impact of hurricane Sandy, global warming and the environment have once again become trending topics. Which is why Cinema Politica’s screening of Carbon Rush, a documentary by Amy Miller, seems incredibly apropos.

In 1997, the Kyoto Protocol put in place three market mechanisms in order to help industrialized countries reach their greenhouse gas emission targets. These mechanisms were all derived forms of the carbon credits system, in which major companies were allowed to resell their unused quota of permitted emissions to other, more polluting companies.

The documentary delves into the corrupted world of numerous projects that for years, have been feeding off the revenue created by the “carbon credits market” without necessarily improving their environmental standpoint.

The Vallourec & Mannesmann company in Brazil, for instance, has been receiving funding for it’s “Vallourec Project” since 2006, claiming that it’s using renewable energy from eucalyptus plants, which are used instead of traditional charcoal in the production of steel. If managed properly, a plantation of this exotic plant is considered sustainable, particularly because it can be endlessly replanted in the same spread of soil.

The reality of things is a lot more disheartening. The documentary shows the company moving entire villages out of the fertile fields where they’ve been living for decades in order to plant its eucalyptus. The eucalyptus plants are then harvested in order to be burned, rather than being left in nature to encourage environmental development the way the company has promised.

The plants that are burned are then processed in a fabric and shipped off as the final product to countries abroad. At no point in this process do the company’s endeavors become environmentally viable. The burning of the eucalyptus creates massive amounts of carbon and the company’s endeavors not only ruin local agricultural production and living conditions, but also contradict the idea of their supposed green initiative.

The documentary is filled with shockingly corrupt examples such as this one and sheds light on the state of environmental concern on the corporate level, without being overly alarmist.

Carbon Rush screens Nov 8 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110 at 1455 de Maisonneuve.

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