FILM REVIEW: CARTEL LAND

A scene from Cartel Land.

Resistance is a two-way crossing

By Ed Rampell

Matthew Heineman’s documentary is not so much about Mexican drug cartels per se as it is about the resistance to them on both sides of the border. In Arizona, self-appointed, self-anointed border patrol vigilantes led by a grizzled vet named Nailer try to “protect” America from the drug dealers, as well as from undocumented aliens heading El Norte for what they hope will be greater opportunity. Nailer does not want them here.

South of the border, Dr. Mireles leads armed resistance to the Mexican cartels, arming townspeople to stand up to them. Some of the scenes have a Magnificent Seven type vibe. If the vigilantes up north have a right-wing aura about them, as the Mexican vigilantes standup to the cartels, Federales and military trying to disarm and disband them, then south of the border they have a revolutionary feel to them. The film ponders who the good and bad guys really are, with unexpected twists and turns along the way.

This is yeoman filmmaking, done at great risk to the filmmakers, as well as the participants.

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SUNDANCE 2015: THE BLACK PANTHERS VANGUARD OF THE REVOLUTION

A scene from The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution.



Bringing sexy back (those cops do not know how to act)

 

By Don Simpson

 

Stanley Nelson's The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution opens with the story of the three blind men and an elephant to illustrate that the Black Panther Party meant something different to everyone. When the organization was formed in 1966, Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale's goal was to put an end to police brutality against Blacks in Oakland, California with legally militarized patrols. The Panthers enjoyed a meteoric rise to the national consciousness due to the media appeal of black men clad in black leather jackets and berets, brandishing guns in public places like the State Capitol grounds in Sacramento. With this free publicity, their membership grew exponentially and chapters began to pop up around the country.

 

Totally unprepared for all of the attention that they gained, the Panthers seemed destined to self-destruct from the very beginning, especially once they became targeted as a threat by the United States government. Making certain that the Panthers would never become a unified entity with a single, well-respected leader (a "messiah"), J. Edgar Hoover used the FBI's top secret counterintelligence program (COINTELPRO) to destroy the Panthers from the inside. The FBI also knew that if Panther leaders were trapped in prison, the organization would grow increasingly fragmented. This is when the aforementioned analogy to the blind men and the elephant really makes the most sense.

 

Nelson's documentary relies heavily upon talking head interviews to capture the multitude of perspectives (Seale is strangely missing from the interviewees). The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution takes a very black and white perspective when chronicling the Panthers' interactions with the police; though in most cases the Panthers were probably right and the police were probably wrong, Nelson seems afraid to question the legitimacy of the Panthers' actions. For example, Nelson does not care if Newton actually killed Oakland police officer John Frey or not, he merely focuses on the media attention that the "Free Huey!" protests received. That said, Nelson has no qualms about revealing the warts of the Panther leadership -- Newton and Eldridge Cleaver, specifically, are shown in fairly unfavorable light.

 

The timing of The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution could not be more perfect, with police brutality against black populations once again getting media attention across the United States. We are approaching the 50th anniversary of the creation of the Black Panther Party, there is a black President in the White House, but otherwise it seems like very little has changed. Well, okay, the mainstream media's perspective has changed; black militant groups would never be glamorized in the same way that Panthers were in the late 1960s. Now when the media covers protests of police brutality, they focus solely on the supposed violent and destructive acts of the "unruly mob" rather than the purpose of the protest itself. Maybe -- just maybe -- The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution will remind the media that revolution is incredibly sexy and it should be televised. 



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FILM REVIEW: LET THE FIRE BURN

A scene from Let the Fire Burn.

Bloodhound cops

By Don Simpson

 

May 13, 1985 was a pivotal moment in my childhood. I remember watching the local Philadelphia news that evening, mesmerized that a city’s police force would drop two pounds of military explosives onto a city row house, knowing that innocent women and children were inside the building. This was before 24-hour cable television news channels were the norm, so the fact that all three local news stations were so fixated on this event for the evening was equally fascinating. News reporters were broadcasting live from the scene, giving their firsthand accounts of the events. I specifically recall that my 12-year-old self felt like I was watching war correspondents, as explosions, fire and gun fire erupted. There was an unreal level of urgency and mayhem. I had recently discovered the word, "anarchy," and on May 13, 1985, I finally understood what that word meant. This was total chaos, and it was all incredibly frightening to me; but what frightened me the most was, as far as I could tell, the local police force initiated the chaos and they had no control over the rapidly escalating situation.

 

It really was a war. Philadelphia police acknowledged firing over 10,000 rounds of ammunition. The leader of MOVE, John Africa, was one of six adults who died in the fire; but even more disheartening, five innocent children died. In the end, 65 West Philly homes were burned to the ground by the six-alarm fire. Even if the few men inside the MOVE compound were as dangerous as the police would lead us to believe, the working class people who lived in the other 64 homes were totally innocent. So, why did Mayor Wilson Goode authorize this bombing? More importantly, why did he give the infamous command to “let the fire burn”?

 

Admittedly, I was quite naive, especially in the realm of race and politics. Prior to that evening, I had no idea that MOVE even existed. It was not until years later that I began to learn more about MOVE; but the more I learned about MOVE, the more confused I became about the events of May 13, 1985.

 

Founded by John Africa in 1972, MOVE was a predominantly African-American communal Christian society that opposed science, medicine and technology; preferring a Neo-Luddite, hunter-gatherer lifestyle. The confrontations between these anarcho-primitivists and the police became legendary, mainly because it seemed as though no one would ever tell the real truth about any of the events.

 

The years of violent confrontations between MOVE and the police culminated on May 13, 1985, and even though a few local news affiliates were recording everything live, the information available to the public seemed inherently biased. This is where Jason Osder’s documentary, Let the Fire Burn, comes in. Twenty-eight years after Philadelphia became known as “The City that Bombed Itself,” Osder premiered an artfully-edited archival footage documentary about MOVE at the Tribeca Film Festival in New York City. Assembled primarily from news footage and video recordings collected by an mayor-appointed investigative commission, Let the Fire Burn avoids any heavy-handed narration or directorial voice. Instead, Osder presents the audience with a riveting 88-minutes of firsthand documentation and allows us to come to our own conclusions. Regardless, it is difficult to avoid the obvious roles that prejudice, intolerance and fear played in the decisions made by Mayor Goode and the Philadelphia Police on May 13, 1985.

 

This is a part of Philadelphia history that is rarely acknowledged. I hope the reverberations of Let the Fire Burn will haunt Goode for the rest of his life; but, first and foremost, I hope the truth behind these events continues to bubble towards the surface.

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THEATER REVIEW: MADAME BUTTERFLY

A scene from Madame Butterfly.

On the wings of lust

By Ed Rampell

Giacomo Puccini’s 1904 Madame Butterfly is among the most beloved operas of all time, and rightfully so. From our 21^stcentury “post-racial” (as if!) perch it’s easy to get up on our high horses and dismiss this early stab (no pun intended) at depicting interracial romance as being stereotypical, even racist. For instance, in commentary accompanying a Turner Classic Movies screening of Son of the Gods, Robert Osborne criticized this 1930 pre-Code film about racism -- sexual and otherwise -- against Asians in America as “cringe-worthy” and “creaky.” The usually circumspect Osborne went on to disparage D.W. Griffith’s 1919 classic Broken Blossoms, which was actually a plea for understanding and tolerance that likewise starred Richard Barthelmess.

In the same vein some may deride Ukrainian soprano Oksana Dyka’s turn as the title character in Madame Butterfly as “Yellowface” -- a white person impersonating a character of Asian ancestry through cosmetics, costuming, mannerisms, etc., which is also true for other “Oriental” roles performed by Caucasians in this production. Perhaps. Racism is certainly America’s original sin and disg-race-ful, and should always be exposed, wherever it rears its proverbially ugly head. But at the same time, in hindsight, we must not throw out the baby with the bathwater. Griffith richly deserved to be protested and picketed for his vile racism in 1915’s The Birth of a Nation, but his subsequent Broken Blossoms, like his 1916 masterpiece, Intolerance, are motion picture pleas against man’s inhumanity to man, and can be viewed as attempts to make up for the harm he did with his racially despicable Civil War epic. Again, I don’t mean for a second to excuse racism and stereotyping, but I am arguing that we must view works of art within the context of their times. Having said all that --

Meanwhile, back at the review:

The splendid first act of Madame Butterfly ranks with the very best work in all of the L.A. Opera productions I’ve covered. Michael Yeargan’s scenery and costuming are evocative of turn of the last century Japan. The libretto by Giuseppe Giacosa and Luigi Illica quickly reveals B.F. Pinkerton’s (Montana-born tenor Brandon Jovanovich) perfidy and opportunistic streak, as he likens the 99-year lease on his home -- which he has a monthly annullment option -- to his marital vows to eponymous character, Cio-Cio-San. Like the shoji panels at his hilltop house overlooking the harbor, he views his marriage -- arranged by matrimonial broker Goro (Manila-born tenor Rodell Rosel) -- as sliding, lasting only during his brief Naval deployment to Japan, until he makes “real” nuptials with, shall we say, “one of his own kind.” 

The thoughtless Pinkerton confides his treachery to U.S. Consul Sharpless (Philadelphia-born bass baritone Eric Owens -- and BTW, since we’re discussing race specific casting, would the U.S. diplomatic corps have had an African American represent U.S. interests overseas in 1904?).

The unfortunate Cio-Cio-San has had to support herself and her family since her father’s hara-kiri death (her revealing of the blade that did the suicidal deed early in Act I foreshadows what is to happen) by becoming a geisha. Pinkerton is clearly smitten by the charming Cio-Cio-San, and likens the kimono-clad beauty to art, flowers and insects; she refers to herself as a “goddess.” It never seems to occur to either of them (in particular to Pinkerton) that this “Butterfly” is merely human, a flesh and blood being with heart, soul and psyche. Indeed, it turns out Cio-Cio-San is only 15 years old, so by today’s standards, Pinkerton is arguably a child molester, if not a child rapist.

Cio-Cio-San is described as having profound feelings for her white “husband”; perhaps because of her father’s fate, and the limited options available to a young lady in early 20^th century Japan, she seeks to escape social restrictions by “marrying” an American and elevating her status. Cio-Cio-San turns her back on her ancestral religion, incurring the wrath of the Bonze (New York-born bass Stefan Szkafarowsky), who disrupts her “wedding” ceremony, and casts a sort of fatwa upon the two star crossed lovers.

Nevertheless, afterward, when its bedtime without Bonze, lighting designer Stephen Strawbridge illumines the lovers’ marital bed with the constellations in a dazzlingly romantic expression of their passion. The scene captures what, to paraphrase Spike Lee, could be called “bamboo fever,” as East meets West in sexual bliss.

But alas, as Rudyard Kipling put it, “never the twain shall meet.” Act II greatly encapsulates the action, as Pinkerton ships out, leaving behind Cio-Cio-San and, unbeknownst to Pinkerton, a love child. And unbeknownst to Butterfly, her American has flitted away and wed a fellow Yankee Doodle Dandy. As Butterfly pines away for her feckless gaijin (Caucasian), she sings the breathtakingly beautiful aria "Un bel di" ("One Fine Day"), which Dyka delivers flawlessly and movingly (even if it may be politically incorrect for a Ukrainian to portray an Asian, and anatomically incorrect for a hefty 34 year old to depict a slender teen). Well, when that not so mighty fine day does arrive -- and with it, Mrs. Pinkerton -- let’s just say it’s “ciao,” Cio-Cio-San.

What was Puccini getting at 108 years ago? Madame Butterfly is much more than a mere Mikado minstrel show. (Indeed, from 1915 to 1920 Japanese opera singer Tamaki Miura played the part in America and Europe.) Pinkerton’s rank is relatively low; he’s only a lieutenant, after all. It’s as if the color of his skin and racial pedigree was such that it bestowed a social status that outshone that of another suitor, the wealthy aristocrat Prince Yamadori (Korean-born baritone Museop Kim), who tries to woo Butterfly while her unfaithful “husband” sails the seven seas. His American-ness seems to be the allure for the outcast geisha Cio-Cio-San, who has been spurned by her own people and their cultural codes. Madame Butterfly is subject to interpretation, but I suspect Puccini, who so sympathized with countercultural artistes in La Boheme and political prisoners in Tosca, was criticizing racial intolerance, and not interracial love.

Ron Daniels ably directs the production which has some complex mass scenes, and Grant Gershon wields his baton with all the finesse of a musical samurai, conducting Puccini’s effervescent score.


Madame Butterfly runs through Dec. 9 at LA Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave. For more info: (213)972-8001; www.laopera.com.

 

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AFI 2012: THE CENTRAL PARK FIVE

A scene from The Central Park Five

Burns, New York, Burns

By Ed Rampell

In the nonfiction films of Ken Burns, from The Civil War to The Central Park Five, race is a recurring theme, . The latter is the latest and perhaps most contemporary of the history obsessed filmmaker, and it is all about race and racism. As a “Native” New Yorker, of course I was aware of 1989’s Central Park Jogger case, wherein five Black and Latino teens were charged with being part of a “wolf pack” that went on a “wilding” rampage -- as the racist media put it -- brutally assaulting and gang raping a white woman jogging in the Park. The quintet of Harlem teenagers were convicted and served prison time.

Although I moved from N.Y. decades ago, I visited from time to time and stayed in touch with City residents, but somehow I never knew about what eventually happened regarding this case and to the five Harlemites, who are now grown men. Leave it to Ken Burns, America’s TV documentarian par excellence, to bring us up to date with the startling revelations regarding what reallyhappened and what the Central Park Five are currently up to. It’s genuinely astonishing and horrifying. The outcome is one of the worst examples of the press burying, instead of reporting, the news. While the front page stories about rape and mayhem were front page news, subsequent events are submerged on page 12 -- if at all.

Leave it to Burns and his co-creators, David McMahon and Sarah Burns, to exhume this riveting story with a riveting feature length documentary that will have viewers sitting on the edges of their seats, filled with outrage and unable to take their reddened eyes off of the screen. After watching this must see movie, audiences may join the young Rev. Al Sharpton in chanting: “No justice, no peace!” Hopefully, Burns’ doc will help render both justice and peace for the Central Park Five who are, in that ultimate Alfred Hitchcock tradition, literally “the wrong men.”

If you see only one film at AFI Film Festival this year, don’t miss Burns’ bravura The Central Park Five!


The Central Park Five screens: Monday, Nov. 5, 1:15 p.m. at the Chinese 2.

 

  

 

 

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PAFF 2012: DARK GIRLS



On the "set" of Dark Girls.

In the b(l)ackground

By Ed Rampell

Bill Duke is best known to audiences for appearing in highly commercial  action pix, such as Ah-nold Schwarzenegger's two 1980s hits, Commando and Predator, plus Action Jackson, as well as in 1970s TV crime fighting series like Kojak, Charlie's Angels and Starsky and Hutch. The 6'4" shaved head African-American actor is less known as one of Hollywood's working directors, not only of many television programs, but of features, such as the Whoopi Goldberg Sister Act sequel, the made-for-TV movie about the Black Panthers' forerunners, Deacons For Defense, plus 1993's The Cemetery Club. In the latter, Duke raised eyebrows by breaking the mold and directing a mostly Caucasian and female cast led by Olympia Dukakis and Ellen Burstyn.

Now the surprisingly soft spoken Duke is shattering celluloid stereotypes again by co-directing the hard hitting, eye opening documentary Dark Girls, about "colorism" -- not only within the African-American community, but among non-blacks here and peoples around the world. Colorism is a sort of preferential judgment system based solely on skin color and tone, the caliber of hair (how straight is it?) and eye color -- as opposed to assessing individuals on what Dr. Martin Luther King called “the contents of one’s character.”

In particular, as the title suggests, Duke's doc looks at how this phenomenon affects females of color, although it is the first in a trilogy to include Yellow Brick Road (about the "high yellow"/"mulatto" phenomenon of the perception of lighter skinned people) and What is a Man. Dark Girls' interviewees include a number of extremely insightful psychologists, as well as children, teens, adults and elders impacted by colorism, such as African-American women are the least married demographic in the USA by far. Most of the documentary’s subjects are black; many of the onscreen victims of colorism are full of anguish, especially as this form of racism often comes from others of African ancestry. Comic Michael Coylar scores some pithy points about the color barrier couched in wit, while The Help actress Viola Davis insists upon not remaining helpless while racial scorn is heaped upon her.

One of the recurring interviewees is a lighter skinned mom who frets over having a darker daughter who denies her own Negritude and refuses to identify as being black. However, this mother seems completely oblivious to what appears to be her own hair straightening and dying blonde of her locks -- what message does this send to her little girl?

Like Bed Stuy-born Chris Rock’s 2009 directorial debut, Good Hair, Duke fearlessly takes on sensitive subject matter -- call him the “Duke of Curl.” When asked why Duke was "airing blacks' dirty laundry" he replied: "Because it's stinking up the house." Along with co-director D. Channsin Berry, Duke belies cultural cliches and goes where angels fear to tread, by tackling a touchy subject few would deal with (although Spike Lee boldly did in his controversial 1988 musical School Daze). Duke’s well-made nonfiction film anticipates and deals with a lot of my “what about” thoughts, such as, for example, the fact that while Thailand is full of dark skinned people, only the lighter skinned Asians appear on television.

However, I would have liked a brief look at Frantz Fanon’s groundbreaking book about the psychopathology of colonialism, Black Skins, White Masks – especially since Fanon himself was a psychiatrist, as are many of this film’s talking heads. Plus, the doc is totally devoid of any sort of class analysis of colorism -- just as plantation masters benefited by perceived divisions between house and field hands, today’s divided working class profits our corporate overlords. Ever since the Roman Empire, divide and conquer has been the name of the oppression game. Nevertheless, Dark Girls is a major, must see work.

The screening of Dark Girls I attended was completely sold out, and was followed by an extremely lively Q&A with Duke in person.



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FILM REVIEW: CITY OF LIFE AND DEATH

A scene from City of Life and Death.

Flow our tears the testimonies read

By John Esther

As Hitler and company were busy turning Europe into an abattoir their non-Occidental bootstrapping companions in the land of the rising sun marched into Nanjing, China, December 1937 to conquer, rape, steal and kill their purportedly racial inferiors.

Boiling with racial hatred, the Japanese Imperial Army systematically, randomly, wantonly killed thousands of Chinese civilians and soldiers who had already surrendered. As the Chinese city canvas swirls and whirlpools into a fury of reductive madness, a group of Chinese and Europeans are allowed to create a Safety Zone where the sick, sad and surrendered are safe from the sickness, sadism and spurious violence outside the gates. But that can only last so long.

Based on recorded witness testimony, writer-director Lu Chuan (Missing Gun; Kekexili, Mountain Patrol) plays out the atrocities in smart fashion by portraying the madness of fascism, racism, sexism and war from both the Chinese as well as Japanese perspectives, sympathizing with both sides but damningly indicting the Japanese Imperial Army for its unforgivable behavior. In other words: Yes, I see what you went through; you still royally fucked up and you better know it. Stuff does not just happen.

Superior to the 2009 film somewhat covering the same material, John Rabe, the latest film by one of China's most impressive "newer" directors (City of Life and Death is Chuan's third film), is an anti-war film of a higher order, thanks to Chuan's stellar screenplay and direction uncovering the internal and external realities of unfettered violence, the haunting colors by director of photographer Cao Yu, Lai Qizhen's stunning sound design and a cast of wonderful actors including, Liu Ye, Hideo Nakaizumi, Gao Yuanyuan, Beverly Peckous, Qin Lan and Yao Di.

On the other hand, John Paisley as John Rabe gives a terrible performance but, it is interesting to note, he is much older and nowhere as heroic than Ulrich Tukur in John Rabe. Tukur gave a much better performance, too.

But Tukur's performance is the only thing to recommend John Rabe over City of Life of Death. 

 

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