The Boys from Brazil

I realized this week that every movie that I watch that has violence, provides me with some sort of implicit social commentary on the nature of violence. If this were intentional, it seems like peace would be easier to achieve. If the Hunger Games trilogy is so popular, shouldn't we be seeing a peaceful revolution developing right in front of us? Some part of me thinks it is on the horizon, that somehow generations are being formed that will shift global consciousness towards peace and reconciliation. Or maybe I'm too hopeful for my own good.

Yesterday, I watched Red Dawn (1984), directed by John Milius, and starring a young Patrick Swayze and Charlie Sheen, and at the end of it felt like I'd watched a commentary on present-day Afghanistan. Young people are driven out into the wilderness during an attack on the US, and they become like cave-dwellers in the mountains, paranoid and hungry, willing to kill anyone who crosses them, even their closest friends. Isolation mixed with fear can produce some pretty nasty consequences.

Today I watched The Boys from Brazil (1978), directed by Franklin J. Schaffner. World War II themes combined with 1970s era South America? It sounds like a recipe for my perfect movie. Also, Steve Gutenberg was pretty hot as a young twenty-something ;) It answers the strange and wonderful question, "Should you kill baby Hitler, if you knew he was Hitler?" Fascinating movie about social engineering and evil intent.

I guess the more violence I see, the more senseless it becomes. Perhaps that's just my special brain working. I don't know any better; it's the only one I've ever had :)

Wasteland.

Joanne Sibley watercolor print - She often paints the Caribbean area.

Wasteland (Almega Projects, 2010), a documentary largely conceptualized by artist Vik Muniz, is about trash and landfills in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. It's interesting in many ways because of Rio's focus on general cleansing (e.g. running gangs out of the slums) as they prepare for the 2016 Olympic Games. The documentary focuses on the people who work and survive on the landfills, recycling all of that which can be recycled (as Rio has no separate recycling pick-up services), and even using the food to feed themselves (in very impressive, and non-disgusting ways, I will add).

This film sat on my Netflix queue for ages, as it seemed like something I would like (i.e. it was about trash, and my fantasy destination: landfills!), but I never got to it. Every time I considered it, I felt depressed, and found something funny to do instead.

Eventually, I watched it. It was that moment, when you've been waiting to do something for ages, but just waiting for the right moment. And it was beautiful, full of real human experience and emotion, and the deep raw-ness of working with trash, of being trash, and what that means to a person's soul. It's a beautiful film, both emotionally and aesthetically. Philosophically, it brings the hidden secret world into view, and exposes it for the truth it truly brings to the world and the human experience: those who live off the landfill are the most beautiful people you can find.

I don't know if the experience of these filmmakers could be recreated across the world in other landfill worker colonies, but I'm glad that they took the time to really see the people they researched. They made something beautiful in a dirty, ugly place. They found beauty that was already there.

"The Hunger Games"

 

In an attempt to avoid spending the evening staring at my bedroom ceiling, I went to see The Hunger Games with my friend and her eldest son.

I haven't read the books, for a couple reasons. The first time I heard about the series, and asked about the premise, I was horrified. Later, I spoke about the books with a different friend, and discovered the philosophical nature of the series. Sufficiently impressed, I decided to read the books over the summer during my decadent book-reading marathon which will commence soon after graduation (Obviously only after I've sobered up and begun sleeping in my own bed again--Ha! As if).

The movie was wonderful, and powerful, and disturbing. The crowd was awful, and horrible, and emotionally disabled. They laughed when they should have cried. I wept all the way home. I wept for our world, where violence is normal, and a brilliant concept like Hunger Games is misunderstood by the masses as some kind of thriller series.

I am saddened by the state of our world, where a film whose cinematography gave me a migraine could draw such delighted crowds, and so many mothers with children. I feel like I should take off all my clothes, cover myself in ashes, and shave my head. I feel like nothing I ever do is sufficient. There will never be enough. The beast of greed is insatiable.

The forgetting

So last night, I watched The Forgotten (2004). It's been on my "want to watch" list since it came out, but I was never feeling in the right mood. It's not worth trying to find a synopsis, or read the reviews. This is an experience film, a thinking film.

This is what I got out of it: We, as humans, live our lives to survive, and sometimes survival means forgetting the suffering and pain that we have experienced. We do this because it's easier. We do this because pain is painful.

But to truly be human, to accept our humanness, is to accept the pain, and not wish it away. It is to feel the full depth of our emotions and feel the horror of waking up each day with the same loss we went to sleep with.

Being human is a painful thing. There is constant loss, and the easiest way to survive is to forget and move on. We forget with alcohol, with drugs, with sex, disassociation, and a myriad of other things. Forgetting is ideal. We pray to forget. There was a time in the past few months when I considered forgetting, when I was encouraged by loved ones to forget. But each time I thought about that prayer, I said [to God], "I'd rather feel the pain, than ever forget the beauty."

I have been told that my "recycling ethic" is about more than surfacey stuff, that in addition to bottles and cans and old clothes, I also refuse to throw away my past. I refuse to stop acknowledging that my past happened, that my life has happened exactly as it has. It isn't pretty, but it's real; and I would rather feel it than ever give it up, because in the giving-up, I throw away parts of myself. And some of these parts are inextricably linked to beauty.

So I choose to not forget, even when it hurts. Because I don't ever want to be without the things that made me, me, no matter how ugly some of them are.

3. The Chilean Coup of '73

Now to be fair, I am also equally fascinated by the Argentinean coup of the same decade (1976). And unlike yesterday, I will outline this love through film.

1. Missing: Jack Lemmon. Sissy Spacek. Disappeared people. Directed by Costa Gavras. Amazing. This is based on a non-fiction book of the same name, and is not explicitly about the '73 coup as it doesn't name names of the oppressors. It does, however, make clear the U.S. involvement in the matter, which is despicable. You can learn more about the disappeared here. It's interesting to watch an American film about U.S. citizens in Chile. It makes we wonder if that is why I cared to begin with. It really is difficult to overcome that intrinsic apathy towards people different from oneself.

2. Waking the Dead: Billy Crudup. Jennifer Connelly. This isn't a true story, but centers on the Catholic Church's response to Chile in the midst of the coup. It focuses on this through one particular American couple who disagrees strongly about the rightness of the interference. Is it right to smuggle people into the U.S.? Is it right to interfere in another country's disturbance? Note: Graphic sex.

3. Imagining Argentina: This is a film that is difficult to believe was even made. It is beautiful in so many ways, but incredibly raw and ugly at the same time. I commend the actors for their willingness to portray such an important topic: the disappearing of 30,000 Argentinean citizens by their military government between 1976 & 1983. This is also a book, which I own but have not yet read. Note: Graphic sex and torture.

War is ugly. I think that my own interest in South American coups might be linked to my own familial background and oppression. It's very difficult for me to talk about and think about my own family's suffering at the hands of a military dictatorship, but it's a whole lot easier to talk and think about things that are less connected to me and my life.

Note: The above photo is of the inland Amazon river shore. It was the closest I could get to Chile in my own photo collection.