Around Memorial Day Let’s Remember Female Soldiers

Despite a hidden history of female warriors, which in the U.S. dates to the Civil War if not prior, the image of women soldiers, with rifles in their hands and charging on the enemy, is novel for a lot of people.  Academic and other writings indicate that 100s of women fought beside men during the Civil War, while disguised as men.  For generations women have argued for front-line combat roles, and the career opportunities they bode.  Those posts are vital high-profile promotions and careers.

How do we see women in combat?  It’s usually in the movies or TV:  I could remind you of and discuss combat films that remind us of and respect soldiers’ deeds.  “Bourne On the Fourth of July,” “Saints and Soldiers” and “Jar Head,” which depict the aftermaths of the Vietnam, Second World and First Gulf wars, respectively, remind us of how combat affects soldiers.

But where are the women warriors on-screen?  We’ve seen Jessica Biel in “Home of the Brave.”  She portrays an amputee who survived an engagement in the Middle East.   In “G.I. Jane” Demi Moore portrays an Alpha female who undergoes Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training.  The story shows a test case for integrating women into that program.  On TV one of their title characters in the Lifetime channel hit show Army Wives is Col. Joan Burton, a base commander.

While their on-screen stories are not abundant, there are probably a bevy of reasons: a major one might be the proportion of citizens who serve in the armed forces, or how many of those are women.

In true life, while women are 51 percent of the U.S. population, they are 20 percent of military.  Less than one percent of American citizens are soldiers.  While a lot of people may scratch their heads and raise their eye brows at the thought of women under fire, some women find and make homes and careers there.

There’s a telling line from “G.I. Jane” where the Senator who nominates her later says that polling shows male soldiers won’t know how to deal with a female comrade. “Corpsmen would linger over a fallen female,” when according to triage, they needed to move on to a soldier they could treat.  I regret that YouTube may not have that clip.

Greater chronic, persistent, perplexing crises have made headlines about how the “old boy” military traditions and culture of the early 20th century after service women.  There are news and documentary stories of the hardships: documentarian, Kirby Dick (director of “This Movie is Not Yet Rated,” about America’s movie rating system) is coming out with a film about a cultural epidemic of sexual assaults in the armed forces, “Invisible War,” on June 22.

Last Wednesday, two female U.S. Army reservists filed a lawsuit in order to finally permit women to serve in combat positions.  Their bottom-line is that the ban limits “their current and future earnings, their potential for promotion and advancement, and their future retirement benefits.”

Women want to serve.  But the military culture acts like it is of two minds and mouths.  We haven’t yet seen on-screen or other stories where gender is an incidental element instead of a novel one.  This, especially when those women, who have committed to a career, want to advance.

“El Bulli: Cooking in Progress” highlights a movement, but leaves all but foodies in the cold

When one restaurant, El Bulli, stands above all others with its adventurous and experimental food, and becomes world renowned, why not document its story?

“El Bulli: Cooking in Progress” is a pure documentary in a sense; that’s no praise.  While most documentaries are edited to create a story structure and reveal memorable characters, this film avoids that.

The opening shot seizes our attention: the chief chef, Ferran Adrià, is in the dark sucking on a piece of glow-in-the-dark fish on a stick.  That’s cool.  Sadly, it’s also the just about the best part of this documentary.  The film-maker, Gereon Wetzel, omits any sense of artistic direction, or style or purpose.  Maybe you should call it observational movie-making?  He seems to have left the cameras on-location and merely edited the project for time and comprehensibility.  Maybe this is one of those films where a critic outside of the film’s target audience, oughtn’t write about it?

Yep. Cooking in progress (Courtesy: creative commons/flickr)

In a conversation with a different documentary film-maker, Morgan Spurlock, he mentioned someone that Werner Herzog said, “every cut is a lie.”  Well, none of the cuts used here are made in the interests of a story.  It ignores elementary rules of storytelling, which every working film-maker knows and uses to win an audience.

This opens at the Film Society of Mpls/St. Paul on Sept. 23.  The film-making should not be the focus.  It should be Spanish molecular gastronomy, which can transform a diner’s experience, and lift their dining standards.

After Mr. Adrià, the trio of co-executive chefs, Oriol Castro, Eduard Xatruch and Mateu Casanas, are emphasized, but we only get shallow gists of any of them, who they are or why they do their work.

Divided roughly in two, the film shows the testing and experimentation process and then how the chef foursome, and the restaurant team make the successful experiments work for diners.  Their serving process must abide by military precision; their diners consume 30 courses within three hours.

Another obstacle for you: their work is not just technical, but highly technical.  Too much so for those who aren’t either intensely curious, or foodies, or cooks themselves.

The chefs’ challenges might lose most other viewers.  It’s a shame because in a “60-Minutes” segment, from April 2010, one of Adrià’s protégés, José Andrés, who, according to renowned food critics, Ruth Reichl, is the pioneer in America of Molecular gastronomy, shows how exciting molecular gastronomy is!

If food excites you, but on a more common level, I urge you to watch a different, equally esoteric, but amusing story: PBS’ documentary, “Kings of Pastry,” about ambitious, competitive French pastry chefs.  It’s a superior example of a culinary documentary.  It’s exciting: it delivers drama, suspense and personal stories.

What would happen if you recorded your “Life in A Day?”

“Life in A Day” is a documentary directed by Kevin MacDonald.  Video cameras were given to more than 80,000 people and families from more than 190 countries.  Each recorded their lives for a single day, July 24, 2010.  Doing a chronicle like this is a production gauntlet.  A thankless one.

The film begins slowly.  How many people are patient enough to watch the waking moments of a dozen people from across the planet?  It’s not bad, but best bits follow the waking opening.

A teenager shaves for his first time with his dad on-hand

This opens at the Film Society of Mpls./St. Paul on September 2nd.

As happens with the occasional film, this has no plot, nor story, but has characters.  The storytelling method reveals character and characters in ways no other films do. There are people, whose points of view or sections stand out.  The randomness might remind you of the “Visions of Light,” the American Film Institute’s documentary, from 1992, about movie lighting.

A great moment: something is giving birth, but you can’t tell if she’s a mammal or not.  And then the point of view starts to teeter and slumps to the floor.  A man has fainted.  He’s now a father!

The magic comes when the subjects answer any one of four questions like “who do you love?,” “what do you love?” “what do you fear?”  On the part of fear, one woman flaunts her fat boy.  Another mentions loneliness.

“Life in A Day” is worth watching.

“Passione” for John Turturro’s documentary take on Neapolitan music

“Passione” is musical, but it’s not a musical.  This is an independent project of love for actor John Turturro.  Most documentaries share a trait: an agenda, mission, personal or political story.  They employ a narrative structure; not “Passione.”  It’s a movie but has neither a plot, nor a story, nor stars.

It opens at Minneapolis’ Lagoon Cinema on August 19th.

Sparring over love

A series of music videos, with interview sound bites cut in, most of “Passione” has groups or soloists performing in-place.  It documents Naples’ musical passion.  It emphasizes the performances over any expert’s historical points-of-view.

With neither a plot nor an obvious story to recount “Passione” is a series of music videos Napoli-style.  Maybe Italy’s MTV still bothers with its namesake programming unlike in America.

This’s John Turturro’s love letter to Naples, he says, and its music.  Maybe it’s like 1977′s “New York, New York” was for Martin Scorsese, as he has described it in interviews.

A couple of scenes stand out: one, early on, has several women writhe and gyrate on a multilevel building – a striking site – for what seems to be one of the few songs, without an on-screen singer.  Another one, half way into the film, has a trio of disparate sounding vocalists, including Peppe Barra and M’Barka Ben Taleb, take on “Lay that Pistol Down.”  It’s remarkable.  An engaging dissonance, which jars as much as it charms.

If “Lay that Pistol Down” is new to your ears, you might have to be patient, approaching it with an open, sonic palate or just await its finish.  It’s a vocal assault, which is none-the-less compelling if you can go beyond how foreign it might be to your ears.

Ms. Taleb alternates between singing and doing a tribal-sounding shout, the name for which escapes me!  Mr. Barra alternates between singing and rapping, aggressively.  A third vocalist, whose presence Barra and Taleb overshadow, completes a noteworthy trio.

If you like Neapolitan music, or even Italian style or architecture, this might suit you.

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“Crime After Crime” is a moving documentary about a woman’s perseverence, and the sausage-making in “justice”

“Crime After Crime,” a feature-length documentary by Yoav Potash, about a troubled young woman, Deborah Peagler, who was convicted of homicide more than 25 years ago.  This, after having asked neighborhood gangsters to make her abusive lover stop beating and terrorizing her.  While a 2003 California law would only demand six years of her life in prison, her 1983 sentence took more than 25.  This is her story.

This suspenseful true story will show at the Film Society of Minneapolis/St. Paul starting on July 29th.

Ms. Deborah Peagler awaits justice and freedom (courtesy Sundance)

Two lawyers, Nadia Costa and Joshua Safran, stepped up to take her case, pro bono, after a 2003 California law was passed that changed the game for victim/survivors of domestic abuse who are convicted of homicide, and free her.  In doing so they found a sympathetic client, and a District Attorney’s office, run by Steve Cooley, that has committed and is committing “Crime After Crime,” as Mr. Safran described their conduct, to save face and keep careers.

When you picture justice, this isn’t it: not “Crime After Crime.”  It’s a spectacular story, where the themes and stakes will remind some of you of the activist 1970s movie trend with such titles as 1980′s “Brubaker,” 1979′s “…And Justice for All,” and 1975′s “Dog Day Afternoon,” of the underdog.

Winston Churchill, an extraordinary political icon of the United Kingdom, once said that “Democracy is the worst form of Government except all those other forms…”  As it goes with that, so this seems to with justice: she was denied parole at least thrice.  At one point Safran describes how the parole and appellate process work in ways, which ignore or preclude the convict’s promise for doing good.  Ms. Deagler had been an ideal inmate, had earned a two-year degree, become a mentor to junior inmates and served far more time than 2000s laws demanded.  So the case requires Herculean efforts even when the law, precedent and rhetorical are on their side.

Lawyers Josh Safran and Nadia Costa guide Ms. Peagler toward freedom, if not justice (courtesy Berkeley Side)

The Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office does so many things that clash with the public’s interests or Ms. Peagler’s.  It makes you wretch and doubt America’s commitment to justice, or equal justice.  Originally she was sentenced via a legal perspective that lumped women, who lash out is desperation at their abusive husbands or lovers, with those women who kill in cold blood.

The stakes, offenses and perversions of justice, and morals in this story make it a crackerjack whodunit.  What makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand is that “Crime After Crime” trains its crosshairs, more and more, on the prosecutors misconduct.  The DA’s office conceals a pivotal document, uses unreliable and impotent witness testimony and reneges on compassionate agreements.

California's masses support Peagler's cause (courtesy LATimes.com)

“Crime After Crime” boasts as many plot twists and is as fast-paced as a sweeps week episode of “Law & Order.”  In some ways this is similar to 1993′s “In the Name of the Father,” even though that drama, which was based on a true story, exonerates justice in the United Kingdom.  In both stories, convicts languish in prison for crimes, and with sentences, more heinous than the evidence warranted.

Ms, Peagler’s odyssey is even more trying and dramatic than another documentary, POV’s “Presumed Guilty,” from 2010.  That  indicts the Mexican version of justice – and a very non-Western.  That candid and uncomfortable exposé provides excellent and telling comparison to Ms. Peager’s story.

Alongside being a splendid true crime drama, this documentary pushes us to consider several uncomfortable questions: what is justice?  what color is it?  why must it not only have a price, but one that makes our noses bleed?  Finally, what do we expect from it vs. what America’s founders wanted us to expect from it.

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“How to Live Forever,” a baby boomer’s light-hearted documentary on aging, which offers sparse chuckles

America isn’t obsessed with youth, living longer or forever, but it probably seems so.  As fashion expert Tim Gunn has lamented, models aren’t yet fully developed women, and still the masses look to them as a standard of beauty.  In the public’s imagination youth rules.  Young beauty, that is.

101 year-old Buster mugs for the movie

A documentary feature, “How to Live Forever” from middle-aged filmmaker, Mark Wexler, is coming to the Lagoon Cinema on Friday July 29th.  His effort is a look at how we consider age and what do to about it, avoid death and in general try to beat the odds.

The story is peculiar in that Mr. Wexler starts off with funeral director’s convention in Las Vegas; this opening bodes poorly.

“How to Live Forever” almost seems to last that long.  It’s interesting and amusing, but only entertains, amuses or informs once in a while; when you find yourself sitting back in a recliner, nodding off for a bit, and feeling sure that, when you open your eyes, you missed nothing, something wrong.

Mid-20th-Century fitness icon Jack Lalanne is one of the highlights.  Others include a 70-something Japanese male porn star, a beauty competition for women over age 60 and a high school class that visits a retirement home.  That final one is remarkable: the youths confront their own preconceived ideas about how depressing, off-putting or gross old people might be.  But Mr. Wexler also speaks to more than a few 100+ year-old women.  Strangely he doesn’t mix men among them.  When’s the last time you asked yourself what 100 years looks like?  105 yrs?  110 yrs?  Or 114?

What does longevity look like? (courtesy Flickr)

“How to Live Forever” is interesting and sweet, but is also clearly an amateur’s work; it’s long and even indulgent.  It has two vital problems:  Wexler has made an incoherent narrative from his footage.  The point of his story, and what he wants us to find in it, are vague.  If he’s disinterested in a clear narrative, then so be it, but that’ll chafe viewers who expect more.  The lack of organization harkens somewhat to the way the vignette format that Spike Lee used in his autobiographical “Crooklyn;” but that choice worked because the sequences were connected in a nearly explicit way.

Also Mr. Wexler rarely engages or excites as a host; he looks and acts tired and run-down, which seems to be one of his motivations for examining “How to Live Forever.”  He isn’t having much fun throughout the story; that tone, which he set, rubs off on viewers.

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“If a Tree Falls” preaches to the leftist choir as it tells us about a group of “environmental terrorists”

“If a Tree Falls” is a feature-length documentary, by Marshall Curry and Sam Cullman, about a group of environmental activists who go way beyond the call of duty – to a violent edge of it.  They are the Earth Liberation Front. “If a Tree Falls” clearly sympathizes with this group, which the FBI calls “domestic terrorists.”

The Environmental Liberation Front acts (courtesy Oscilloscope Laboratories)

This film doesn’t run down a history of the movement, or even the psychology behind that.  It describes some incidents that led to the domino-effect arrests of a cell.  The film concentrates on the cell’s principal personalities: Dan McGowan, Suzanne Savoie, Jake Ferguson, and one or two other outstanding ones.  This story tells of the offenders on the extreme left, and not the offended.  Those offenders may feel that the mainstream media had taken their foes’ side.  The question of who’s the offended may be disputable.  But those whom the ELF attacked are barely heard.

“If a Tree Falls” may be righteous.  But also self-righteous.  This film shows at Minneapolis’ Lagoon Cinema for a week starting on July 22nd.

A clear bias toward the extreme leaves the film’s point-of-view weak. The bias is about 60-40 or even 70-30 in voices in favor of the extremists or terrorists.  The centrist viewers, who are against violence with this cause, are left with valid, yet open questions. Those centrists won’t be convinced by a tale of how a docile McGowan slipped into this conviction.  Objective, non-partisan voices would keep viewers’ attention.  How will they respond when they find that in fact, with one battle, McGowan, Savoie and their compatriots torched a lumber location based on false information?

Mr. McGowan describes a few cracks in his reasoning and decision-making.  Several voices, including his, explain why he, the focal character, decided that confrontation was a superior, more potent path to waking-up the offenders than mid-20th-Century tactics: marching, singing, chanting, picketing and the like.

Poster image (courtesy of Oscilloscope Laboratories)

Only a few voices discuss the innocents who are bunched in with the worst violators, and hurt.  Only a couple of voices consider the lumber industry’s efforts to do good.  Some of the best documentaries may not carry an agenda, but instead a reportorial, objective point of view.  This one informs, entertains and might enlighten viewers, especially in terms of “preaching to the choir.”  The want for a moderate and balanced voice is disappointing.

With the film’s faults, it’s a good, clear, almost well told story of this sect’s work.  This film is worth watching, but DVD will suffice.

It’s easy to sympathize with the zealots’ desire for faster, more satisfying results: those, which are more progressive and aggressive than typical 20th-Century tactics.  Faster than diplomacy.  But it takes a certain gut and heart to move from the fantasy of revenge to urban or guerilla combat.  I doubt that many or even most viewers share that one with these former ELF members.

“If a Tree Falls” uses interview footage with the characters almost exclusively.  It’s a late 20th-Century story of violent protestors; other than news clips, there isn’t archival or behind-the-scenes footage.  It provides reenactments of specific details shots; it uses animation, in lieu of banal, traditional live-action reenactments of some criminal scenes, in an amusing, playful, refreshing way.

This film poses large ideological, legal and moral questions: who is a terrorist?  What is terrorism?  Does each form of terrorism pose an equal threat.

“Rejoice and Shout” spreads the good news – Gospel’s history

“Rejoice and Shout” is a feature-length documentary, from director Don McGlynn, about the history of Gospel music.  It’s described as a rhythmic, ancestral pillar that African-Americans used to sustain themselves and to keep sane during their centuries in slavery.  It told the audience that, at least at church, beyond the anglo gaze, “I am Somebody!”

One of the Blind Boys groups (courtesy Magnolia Pictures)

A staple of the documentary genre is cutting between archival and interview footage.  This film does that.  It tells an interesting, surprising and entertaining story, omitting any dogma that you might expect.  It runs down the time-line of the genre and its innovations, some typical, others “unholy.”

It shows at the Edina Cinema for a week starting on July 8.  This documentary provides a who’s who of the indelible and most potent Gospel artists, also dredging up memories of folks who time might have forgotten.  “Rejoice and Shout” makes clear that as long as the music is understood as honoring God, then it should please Him and in-turn his followers.

It tells about Gospel music’s pivotal personalities, trends and game-changing innovations, it tells about clashing sensibilities of faith and styles of music.  At the heart of some innovations  is a question:  isn’t it unholy marry rap with gospel, or blues with gospel, or any popular music with that pious one?

Mavis Staples (courtesy Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images)

This story tells us how Thomas A. Dorsey, while ultimately revered, caught hell for having mixed the blues with Gospel, making what some considered heretical.  (Ray Charles had similar clashes when he took those chances.)  It tells us how Rosetta Tharpe, who may be less known than Mavis Staples, inspired the latter to take up the guitar; before Ms. Tharpe did it, Ms. Staples hadn’t known that it was possible.  And without the Dixie Hummingbirds, The Temptations might not’ve been.

Many documentaries are more creative, with editing, location and other choices, and take chances with their storytelling.  “Rejoice and Shout” is a strong, competent film.

“Circo” is a family drama that boils within a tiny Mexican circus

“Circo” is a 75-min documentary, by Aaron Schock, about a family-run Mexican Circus.  This is a very interesting tale of a job on the margins, in a country, Mexico, that’s on the margins of the Western world’s media radar.  In “Circo,” a family, the Ponces, is born into, grows up in and lives and works in its own small, struggling family-run circus.  Compromises, troubles and strained & clashing loyalties make the circus that is the family and its work.

A grand entrance (courtesy Hecho a Mano Films)

The Mexican economy isn’t kind or gentle to this family.  Too many small-scale circuses compete among one another for dwindling and poor audiences.  Ironically the Ponces are among them.

This opens at Minneapolis’ Lagoon Cinema for a week on May 20th.

The circus is surviving, squeezing out enough money for the Ponces to subsist. Theirs is a nomadic lifestyle.  They’re nomadic entertainers in a world that has little use for that entertainment; their story is special, maybe unique.

The mom, Ivonne Ponce, wants her children go to school, to prepare to have choices and careers away from the circus.  Instead the dad, Tino Ponce, was raised holding his loyalty to parents above all (where his dad relies on and expects him to keep the one successful family circus afloat).  His father has three other sons, each of whom is struggling with his own circus.

Ponce daughters preened to promote Circo Mexico (courtesy Hecho a Mano Films)

The children want for a 20th-Century childhood, with playtime, school and neighborhood playmates.  This brand of childhood, before labor laws and longer life expectancies, takes us back the eras when people toiled until their 30s, and didn’t know a playful youth.  There’s a scene, just beside the entry to a trailer, where grandpa trains his youngest grand daughter in contortion; as she cries and wails it brings back images from the abusive training that made parts of Jet Li and Jackie Chan’s training infamous.

This documentary raises several interesting topics about family loyalty, zeal for “old-time” or “by-gone” values, work ethic and child rearing; unto themselves these are worthy of an essay, but not here.  Very few movies deal with any of these in smart or interesting ways, much less all in one story.

“Circo” gives us a gander at a way of living, of working, of loving and is foreign to the U.S.  It’s a well-told tale that deserves to be scene.  Even though the final act is confused about its purpose or how it wants to leave us; it should be trimmed by 15-minutes – it drags.

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“Love During Wartime” is a tense, political “Romeo and Juliet” story for millennials

“Love During Wartime” is a political “Romeo and Juliet” story for millennials.  It’s a documentary from the Sweden and Israel, and director Gabrielle Bier.  This is about two young artists, Jasmin, an Israeli Jew, and Osama, a Muslim Palestinian who have to fight against their home states in order to keep their love.

Assi and Jasmin in love, and against the state

Osama’s nickname is Assi.  He and Jasmin fall for each other around 2007 and want to make it official, against the odds – generations worth of political angst.  She is a working ballet dancer, and former soldier.  He is a visual artist.  Neither of their home countries can comprehend interfaith love.

This was shown during the 30th Minneapolis St. Paul International Film Festival.

The byzantine bureaucracy of each war-weary and wary country treads a paranoid path that reaches Kafkaesque levels of absurdity.  This tense love story is very talky with meager action:  the lovers either talk or argue with each other.  Or Jasmin argues with or confides in her German parents about warring states and the stakes, or Assi does likewise with his friends.  Assi and Jasmin struggle, loving and living separately for several months while waiting for either Israel or Palestine to treat them as people in love instead of wartime talking points.

Jasmin and Assi (courtesy Mpls St. Paul Int'l Film Festival)

Each of them visits the other under temporary permits.  One time is in Germany: Jasmin wants him there so they may marry and he may become a citizen because she already is.  And then he may start working.  Just then he holds a student visa, lives off of her, and aches to work.

To some extent “Love During Wartime” resembles Richard Linklater’s “Before Sunrise,” from 1995.  Except that the levels of political and social angst leech the fun from Assi and Jasmin’s love.  Those tensions lift their romantic stakes, and the drama, above the banal ones that were involved in “Before Sunrise.”

This documentary is interesting and worth watching, although maybe it’s only “fun” for those viewers who really dig this.

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