analogzombie Blog

Under discussion:

Manda Bala  (2007)

Is a cold blooded gangster capable of becoming Robin Hood? When a government fails its people, does kidnapping the rich and holding them for ransom qualify as barbaric? Does a Senator who embezzles billions of dollars, yet manages to use their connections to escape justice deserve to remain in power if his people will it so? Manda Bala (Send a Bullet) is a look into a society that is in near collapse. It’s politicians look out only for themselves. The good and noble of the system run into numerous road blocks in their vain attempts to hold those in power accountable. The poor see no future except for crime. The middle class view the whole situation as somehow fated, and the upper middle class are looking to protect themselves by any means available through their privilege. Such is modern Brazil. From The City of God to Favela Rising, tales of the woes of the Brazilian people have become bankable subject matter. Manda Bala hones in on one very specific issue and uses that national experience to illuminate the lives of a cross section of modern society in Sao Paulo.

            Jader Barbalho, a powerful senator from the impoverished area of Para, is the core focus of Jason Kohn’s film. Barbalho came to power by dominating his region through the control of radio, television, and other media outlets. By bribing the populace with food, building materials and medical goods, he has found a way to maintain his position. In the late 1980’s Brazil developed a plan to help the poorest of it’s citizens. SUDAM was to be a grand investment project that would develop homegrown industries and small businesses with the intention of braking the cycle of poverty. The money never filtered down to the people that needed it. Through an elaborate series of faux companies, and laundering fronts, Jader Barbalho managed to steal over $2 billion in the course of a decade. Many of the companies Jader was responsible for investing the government’s money into only existed on paper. Others, like the frog farm the film spends a lot of time with, were fronts. Actually costing only $300,000, Barbalho pumped nearly $3 million into it.

            In a country in which elected officials are protected from prosecution in criminal courts can anyone expect someone like Jader Barbalho not to become a bandit? So to in such a place, can one honestly expect the poor and disenfranchised slum dwellers not to turn the tables on the rich and create a cottage industry out of kidnapping? These are the ideas Manda Bala raises. Through interviews with representatives from every facet of society Kohn explores the topic. Special police who have lost faith in their work, rich men who hide in bulletproof cars, judges who can only laugh at the state of events, and kidnappers using their ill gotten gains to build waterlines and health clinics in the slums, the film delves into the heart of their motivations and desperations. It is truly a sad state of affairs, but Manda Bala never over reaches itself. The film never proposes any answers. It merely shines a light on one of the greatest financial scandals in modern politics.

It’s clear that Kohn is styling his film after the social conscious and entertaining films of Errol Morris. While he does capture the flow of Morris’ narrative, and the maestro’s penchant for colorful characters, one thing is missing from Kohn’s effort, namely the entertainment. While Manda Bala is insightful, sometimes humorous, and very timely, it manages to be bland for long stretches. The use of voiceover translation works in places, but more often than not, the speaker would have been better served by more traditional subtitles. It seems that translators weren’t always available as there are parts of the film in which subtitles are used exclusively. The immediacy of the images and body language of the interviewees are better conveyed in this fashion, and Kohn would have done better to stick to this method. It is the sometimes disjointed nature of speaker to translator, cut to imagery and stock footage, and then back to speaker and translator that can bring a sense of urgency to the translation that is not met by Kohn. It is these languid pauses of information that are Manda Bala’s greatest misstep.

Slight misgivings aside, the film works. It works amazingly well. It would have been easy, and familiar, for the filmmakers to present the SUDAM scandal in a PBS style. The engaging personal interviews, rich South American color palette, and countless instances of humor work to disarm the viewer and give pause between revelations. Sometimes these pauses lean on the boring, but when they are executed well the effect is subtle. Between laughs the absolute terror and exasperation of all those involved begins to sink in. Understanding what happened is one thing, understanding the circumstances that would allow such a thing to occur, is different, and much more important. Director Jason Kohn manages to pull all his loose threads into a coherent and comprehensive look at the ills of a society in which the SUDAM scandal could happen.

Under discussion:

You're Gonna Miss Me  (2005)

The 13^th Floor Elevators are one of those bands you know, even if you aren’t aware of it. Emerging from Austin, Texas in the 1960’s, before it was the absolute Mecca of North American Independent Music, the band quickly rose to prominence in the turbulent landscape of San Francisco. Holding down dates at the Filmore, the 13^th floor Elevators helped to craft and define what we know today as Psychedelic Rock. Like most movements, adherence to the philosophies espoused by those at the center of the height Ashbury scene required a little give and take. In this sense, the band, and lead singer Roky Erickson, took all the LSD they could find. After all the pioneers of psychedelia, who would be massive influence on everyone from Janis Joplin to the Beach Boys had to practice what they preached. As Kevin McAlester sees it, this massive drug use, while not the supreme cause of Roky’s decent, was the point at which it all began to fall apart.

            “You’re Gonna Miss Me” is not so much a rock biography, as a portrait of Schizophrenia. It just so happens that in this instance the man in question is not just a nameless face at the bus stop, or a haggard pan handler. He happens to be one the most influential rock musicians of the last fifty years. If anything McAlester forces us to rethink our perceptions of the men tally ill, and homeless, by giving this, decidedly ragamuffin, character a history.

            Filmed in 2004 and 2005, the film finds Roky living in Austin, completely removed from his music, and trapped in his psychosis. His mother is his primary caretaker who seems to indulge his neurotic whims. She has her own personal psychological demons to deal with. It’s obvious that Roky’s mom is the seat of a lot of the instability in the lives of her children. Her ramshackle abode mirrors his own. The scattered trash and clothes of their homes is a reflection of their cluttered minds. In one of the most poignant scenes of the film, Roky comes home to take a nap. He wanders from noise emitting electronic device, to noise emitting electronic device finally coming to rest in a recliner. As he places dark sunglasses over his face the hum, buzz and whine of innumerable televisions, radios and oscillators fill the air. To this cacophony he announces “Okay, I’m taking a nap now.” His mother merely slips out the front door, leaving her son without medication.

            Fortunately for Roky, the rest of the family does not feel the same way. While many of his siblings have led self-destructive lives in the wake of his success, Roky’s youngest brother, Sumner, has emerged from strange upbringing to be a member of the Pittsburgh Philharmonic and moderately well-rounded. About halfway through, the film becomes Sumner’s story, as he attempts to wrest control of Roky from his mother. While this would seem a perfect chance to take the documentary into an exploration of a family coming apart, McAlester instead focuses on the healing that a life with Sumner can offer Roky. This is precisely the type of narrative choice that elevates this film beyond an HBO special.

            The film nuances the real characters of Roky, Sumner, and their mother without ever feeling like it’s openly mocking them. These are very eccentric people, all of them. There are a few instances in which you can’t help but laugh at them, but these are always of their own creation. You get a sense that the director’s camera was just lucky to catch them at these moments.

One can only imagine the amount of time it took for the Erickson’s to open up to the film crew. In the film a British rock writer who is working on a biography of the band visits Roky. It’s obvious that he has been working closely with the other members of the Elevators. He fails to illicit even the tiniest bit of confidence from his subject though. Of course his time with him was brief, and McAlester must have spent months, if not years with Roky. It is this dedication to his subject that ultimately comes through in “You’re Gonna Miss Me”. The film is as deep a portrait of a tortured soul as has ever been committed to film.

Under discussion:

This is England  (2006)

    I may have grown up a continent away and a decade removed from the events in This Is England, but I know a few things about skin culture. Obviously, so does Shane Meadows. He captures the turmoil of working class 80's Britain and the rivalry between the two Skin factions; Primarily the more militant and zenophobic National Front and what would become the SHARPs (Skinheads Against Racial Prejudice). The SHARPs were a direct reaction to the ferocious racism and nazi iconography that crept into the scene.

    All of this is neatly contained within a poignant and touching coming of age story. A proper follow up to Dead Man's Shoes, This Is England is an illuminating window into a neglected facet of English society. The film is about a fight for the soul of Britain, told through the fight for the soul a young fatherless boy. A grand achievement.

    I just received the excellent new Eclipse Kurosawa collection. Kurosawa was my passport to Japanese film. I'm sure I saw Seven Samurai at some point, but the first time I became aware of one his films was in 2002 during the traveling retrospective at  the High Museum here in Atlanta. SInce then I've devoured every Kurosawa book and Criterion release. So much so that Donald RItchie has become a personal hero.

    For the longest time Kurosawa's early works have remained almost unavailable here in the States. Reading about Scandal In The FIlms of Akira Kurosawa, or importing The Idiot is all well and good but to have the chance to own the five pre-Drunken Angel films that formed Kurosawa's bedrock is a dream come true.

Under discussion:

The Orphanage  (2007)

Finally, a film that is genuinely creepy, that isn't Asian, and doesn't rely on gore or blood. It does cover the jump scare pretty well, but it's mood is so well maintained throughout that I'll forgive it that minor horror convention. It's one of the best ghost movies in a year with several other notably understated freak outs (the Mist, 1408). I wonder what sort of condition the project was in when Guillermo Del Toro got involved? His name definitely carries weight, it is the only reason it's gotten any kind of major release here in the States, after all. Or maybe it isn't, I'll have to look into that.

Suffice to say, you could find a lot worse ways to spend your movie money. 

Under discussion:

Out of Balance  (2007)

    These days you can throw a rock and hit any number of anti-Bush, anti-corporation, or environmentally conscious documentaries. Some are better than others, but most are completely horrid. Out of Balance: ExxonMobil’s Impact on Climate Change falls somewhere in the middle. The film attempts to tackle an extremely huge issue by focusing on one company’s history of irresponsible and often abhorrent business practices. The central point of Tom Jackson’s film is that Exxon is so mega-large that they alone have the industrial might to negatively affect the entire Earth. What’s even worse is that the corporation actively seeks to block environmental legislation and fund pseudo-scientists to act as the voice of skepticism on the issue. The film makes some large claims and assertions about just how evil Exxon truly is and, for the most part, they ring true.

            Jackson trots out the familiar torrent of scientists, authors, and politicos to help explain the science and make his point. None of them carry massive weight on their own, but collectively they create a very cohesive image of what the planet is going through, how it’s happening, and who’s making it happen. The film spends a large amount of its time on the general topic of climate change. From it’s science and history, to possible future effects of continued global warming, every facet imaginable is covered. This forms the bedrock of the film and allows Jackson to explore the real villain.

            Special attention is paid to the history of ExxonMobil aka Standard Oil, It’s legacy of monopolistic business practices (John D. Rockefeller), and environmental disasters (Exxon Valdez). This back story is disturbing enough but the film really hits its stride with the investigation of the company’s funding of hack science meant to create a debate around the idea that A) climate change is occurring, and B) that humans are responsible for it. It’s the “jury is still out” line of thinking on the subject. This perception is absolutely key to the strategy of oil corporations and their continued record profits. As global temperatures rise, CO2 levels keep in step, and so do oil profits.

            The only real flaw of the film is the budget. Production values are extremely low. Stock footage is used throughout like any documentary, but the quality varies wildly. Often extremely dark and grainy, transitions can be jarring. Furthermore, the scientists and other talking heads are done disservice by the use of PowerPoint title graphics. I can’t believe no one told the filmmaker to just use a title dissolve instead of the extremely ugly fly in style. It’s amateurish at best. Still, these are middling problems, and they don’t detract from the core message.

The sad underlying truth of any business enterprise is that ethics in the corporate world only extends as far as the law. A company’s role is to make a profit, period. Out of Balance asserts that no entity has ever embraced this philosophy as much as ExxonMobil has. I for one, agree with that assessment.