The Dominion - film

A Poetic Ascent

Moira Peters — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 05:18:42 +0000

Shugendo Now is a film for the cynic

TIDNISH, NS—I’ll be honest that from the tag-line, “Everywhere you go, you can find a holy mountain,” I was worried Shugendo Now might be yet another addition to the never dying trend of self-help theory for the serenity seeking urbanite. Instead, this documentary film by Montreal-based Jean-Marc Abela and Mark Patrick Maguire is both exotic and relevant. It tells the stories of several unlikely eco-pilgrims: a night club owner, a construction company manager, a disheartened office worker and a “rogue-monk”, Kosho, who takes on a landfill for industrial waste.

Maguire's ethnographic fieldwork in Japan in the summers of 2002 and 2003 inspired the film. But, even if you are not a folk religions enthusiast, I think you will be intrigued by the obscure Japanese folk religion Shugendo, and the age-old tradition of mountain devotion of the yamabushi mountain monks. Filmed in 2007 the film documents the annual July 7 pilgrimage of the yamabushi and their urban followers in the Omine Mountains. Not to be confined to comparative religion classes, nor, thankfully, in spite of the risk, sloshing around in a swamp of spiritualist clichés, the film is a call to a new kind of personal and community empowerment.

“As with food issues,” Abela reflected over a bowl of fruit in August in Montreal when we met to talk about Shugendo Now, “it is so hard to consume in a responsible way. Once you accept these contradictions you can move on.”

No stranger to food issue activism, Abela has made videos for Montreal’s Santropol Roulant rooftop garden project and is a believer in the practice of permaculture. Like the film's rogue monk protagonist, Abela, a self-proclaimed coureur des bois archetype (according to Wikipedia an individual who engaged in the fur trade without permission from French authorities) is critical of lifestyles that are not in tune with the environment: “In Canada, I see people who live in the country but who live high-energy lifestyles. There’s a disconnect there. And with activists, I’ve seen people burn out.”

So, why is a film like this important for Canadians to see? “Going to nature is a universal thing” says Abela. “And with activism, there has to be a connection [to nature]. So one thing we added to the film was a discussion of monoculture forests because in Japan, especially after WWII, the rice fields which had been replanted with fast growing cedars are telling us something about the huge impact we’ve had on nature. And I asked myself, isn’t this what we’re doing to our own forests in Canada?”

As Abela suggests, throughout the world, governments are actively promoting the expansion of large-scale monoculture tree growth, despite the serious social and environmental impacts. In New Brunswick (on whose border I am writing this article) the Acadian forest “ceased to exist” as a result of harvesting for shipbuilding in the 1800s, according to J. Loo and N. Ives in their article in The Forestry Chronicle, "The Acadian forest: Historical condition and human impacts." Currently the average forest age is approximately 55 years and consists overwhelmingly of white spruce, a species regenerating on abandoned farmland. As the Chronicle documents, over time, the Acadian forest and its distribution of species has become less diverse, resulting in lower overall ecosystem diversity.

It is easy to leave this film feeling inspired, but I always approach a documentary film with the understanding that the truth behind what is said is as potent as what is not shown. Do the eco-pilgrims maintain their promises to practice sustainable business? Do they continue to embrace their new-found connection to nature? I was moved by the film's slow and beautiful exploration of the pilgrims' journeys toward spiritual reconnection and environmental awareness, but it was hard to stifle laughter as they desperately lit up at the summit. Likewise it was hard to stomach the fact that, while women are allowed to participate in the practice, they are forbidden to set foot on the top (having climbed a fairly significant mountain myself, I can’t imagine being denied this hard-earned prize).

However, should we embrace Shugendo Now's call to take a more balanced approach to environmental actions, to become empowered as individuals and less fanatic about the actions of others, then perhaps this kind of tension is integral . Ultimately, what I took away from this film is that even the busiest, most consumerist among us have a deep human need to recognize the sacredness of the environment, a truth the film addresses in a subtle, palatable way. And while the environmental message of the film may be its “heart,” the great strength of Shugendo Now is its camera work, recalling another beautiful film, Rivers and Tides, the documentary by German filmmaker Thomas Riedelsheimer of the British nature artist Andy Goldsworthy (who lives in Scotland). In fact, Goldsworthy’s words could serve as an alternative tag-line for Shugendo Now (for the cynics among us): “I don’t think the land needs me, but I need it.”

The best way to view this film? I suggest donning a sweater and projecting it on a bed sheet, on an autumn balcony, with the wind and the city sirens providing a very fitting, if contrasting, soundtrack. The directors have applied to several festivals but if you would like to host a screening or order a DVD please send them email at shugendonow@gmail.com or visit the website.

Meaghan Thurston has worked in Montreal, Halifax and Guatemala and currently resides and studies in Edinburgh.

Shugendo Now Trees

Shugendo Now Buildings

Copper Ore, Silver Screen

dawn — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 10:47:08 +0000

<cite>Under Rich Earth</cite>

TORONTO–Under Rich Earth (Bajo Suelos Ricos), which world-premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival this year, is a documentary about the very small town of Junin in the Intag valley in Ecuador. It is also a film about the very large – and Canadian – mining company (Ascendant Copper) that wants to move into the valley and build a mine.

The film documents Ascendant sending hired thugs to threaten and intimidate the anti-mining townspeople, while the government in the capital city of Quito responds sluggishly, and the Chairman of the company leaves phone messages saying that nothing is wrong and that the majority of the local people fully support the project.

Which turns out to be at least partially true.

The town of Chalguayaco Alto, down the road from Junin, is pro-mine – and this difference leads to some heated violence and animosity between the two towns. Two journalists from French Press Agency (AFP) were held in Chalguayaco Alto, along with representatives from the regional council of Cotacachi. Director Malcolm Rogge says: "The risk of physical harm was very real and I took all precautions necessary to preserve my security while getting as much of the story as I could."

In addition, Ascendant Copper, while they granted an interview with General Manager Francisco Veintimilla, refused to allow on-camera interviews with the CEO or Chairman of the company.

Given these circumstances, it's more or less understandable if the film feels a little bit one-sided at times.

The filmmakers were obviously incredibly close to their subjects, so much so that they were entrusted with recordings of local radio broadcasts and camcorder footage of some of the illegal attacks on mine protesters, as well as photographic evidence.

Incorporating this material into the movie is a great technique for corroborating the Junin people’s story of what happened there, and documenting the actions of the armed paramilitaries who were sent into the area to intimidate those against the mine. The use of this “found” material, however, also serves to further embed the eye of the film in the community of Junin, and distances the audience further from the pro-mine perspective.

The limited perspective available to the filmmakers contrasts with the 'objective observer' tone of the film.

"I think it would have been difficult for any non-Ecuadorian journalist with a camera to maintain the perception of neutrality during that time," said Rogge.

It might have been helpful if the viewer had some idea of this and the reasons behind it (American filmmakers, and European and North American human rights observers, had been in the anti-mining community the previous year). As it was, questions about how the filmmakers discovered this story, found these people and gained their trust so completely are left largely unanswered by the film itself.

Questions of perspective aside, what’s incredible about the movie – other than the cinematography itself and intimate access into people’s lives – is the structural device Rogge uses.

He starts the film with camcorder footage of an armed shoot-out between pro- and anti-mining factions, then moves back in time to fill in the story up to that point, and then forward past it. This cyclic structure lends momentum and drive to the film, which helps provide a clear sense of narrative while simultaneously presenting the different events and accounts of events in the film.

But most remarkable of all is the outcome of the documented struggle: the mining is disallowed, setting a historical precedent, helping to shape Ecuador’s national policy and inspiring other communities to fight against global mining companies.

For once, the people triumph, and the film – which belongs so deeply to these people – is a triumph too.

Matthew J. Trafford works with deaf college students and writes in Toronto.

MSIFilmReviewWoman

MSIFilmReviewOfficials&Military

Rambo!

dru — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 06:47:00 +0000

First_Blood.jpg

An interesting treatment in Reason traces the political ins and outs of Sylvester Stallone's Rambo franchise. In light of the fact that Rambo fights alongside US-funded Mujahideen in Rambo III, this excerpt is mildly amusing.

the word "Iraq" appears nowhere in the movie, and neither do "Al Qaeda," "Islam," "9/11," or "bin Laden." The writer/director/actor told Ain't It Cool News that he did this because "the idea of Rambo dealing with Al-Qaeda, etc. would be an insult to our American forces that are actually dying trying to rid the world of this cancer. To have at the end of a 90 minute movie the character of Rambo seizing Osama bin Laden in a choke hold then dragging him into the Oval Office then tossing him in the President's lap declaring 'The world is now safe, Chief' would be a bit insulting." I don't doubt Stallone's sincerity, though World War II-era GIs didn't seem to mind the fact that Superman, Captain America, and the rest were fighting alongside them in the comic books. Personally, I wouldn't have minded seeing some of the Afghan heroes of Rambo III return as villains in Rambo IV, but that might push the franchise into areas that Stallone would rather leave alone.

Artists Against Apartheid.

Stefan Christoff — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 07:04:33 +0000

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Part of the 5th international week of action against the apartheid wall, initiated by the Palestinian Grassroots Anti-Apartheid Wall Campaign, to oppose Israeli occupation and ethnic cleansing and to support the movement for boycott, divestment and sanctions.

Leading up to ‘Palestinian Perspectives’, an evening of film screenings at the Cinéma du Parc in Montreal on November 29th, to commemorate 60 years of occupation and to celebrate the Palestinian voice. Featuring cutting edge cultural projects from Montreal & internationally, uniting in expression against Israeli Apartheid.

Performances by:

* Lubo Alexandrov: A Bulgarian-born guitarist, composer and singer, Alexandrov has developed a unique musical style, merging Bulgarian, Turkish and Roma musical traditions. Recipient of the 2007 Juno Music Award for the ‘Best World Album’. http://www.luboalexandrov.com

* Valerie Khayat: Poet, singer songwriter, Khayat has been active in folk, poetry and spoken word circles since 2004. She released her first book of poetry, ”The Road to Vesper”, and her first full length album, ”Resonance in Blue”, in 2007. http://www.myspace.com/valeriekhayat

* Kalmunity Vibe Collective members:

Jason Selman: Performance poet & musician
Mohamed Mehdi: Singer songwriter, poet.
Phenix: Hip-hop artist, poet of the Haitian diaspora.

* Ehab Lotayef: Writer, photographer, poet, activist and engineer.

* DJ Kandis: Middle Eastern, international beats, music from DJ Kandis.

Screening two films from the ‘Beyond Blue & Gray’ documentary project of Eyes Infinite Films, with an introduction by series producer Nirah Shirazipour:

¡Salud! tells the story of Cuba's medical internationalism

dru — Fri, 14 Sep 2007 21:21:36 +0000

Film Review

[This article originally appeared in Seven Oaks Magazine]

Michael Moore’s Sicko, an incendiary expose of the for-profit health care system in the United States, generated some predictable backlash from right-wing pundits. More than anything else in the film, what tended to get them especially enraged was the role of Cuba in the documentary.

After comparing and contrasting the US system with health care in Canada, Britain and France, Moore delivers the coup de grace by taking a number of 9/11 rescue workers to Cuba to get treatment for work-related illnesses that the U.S. system would not cover. These scenes feature friendly Cuban medical professionals providing free, quality care to the sick 9/11 heroes so shamefully neglected by their own government. Contrary to the hysterical claims of Moore’s critics, these acts of generosity were not mere propaganda set-ups; in reality, the provision of free treatment for the 9/11 workers only scratches the surface of Cuba’s exemplary medical internationalism.

Director Connie Field’s Salud! picks up from Moore’s Sicko with a documentary that examines Cuba’s long and elaborate history of exporting the gains of socialized medicine. In addition to telling an inspiring story that has received next to no mainstream media coverage in the western world, Salud! also presents an important debate, counterposing two very different philosophies as to what it means to be a physician.

Field’s documentary begins with some of the basic history of the Cuban revolution. The dire state of health care, especially in the countryside, was a factor in bringing about a mass movement and fuelling support for the guerrilla army that toppled Batista in 1959. In the early 1960s, free health care became a right for all Cubans, and a rapid process of training new health professionals was undertaken. Within only a few years, Cuba began to send brigades of medical volunteers to allies and various needy Third World countries. The extent of Cuba’s “doctor diplomacy,” as it has been called, is truly staggering. Over the past five decades, more than 100 000 Cuban medical professionals have served abroad, often in the most remote, isolated and impoverished locations.

Salud! covers a lot of ground for a medium-length documentary, highlighting the accomplishments of Cuba’s doctors in The Gambia, South Africa, Central America, and Venezuela. To its credit, the documentary lets the story unfold primarily through the observations of the doctors and patients themselves, supplemented by some experts in the field, such as the innovative and tireless internationalist Dr. Paul Farmer.

The segments in Africa are particularly poignant. We see experienced Cuban doctors literally reduced to tears by the extreme poverty and suffering of their patients. In The Gambia, the Cubans have helped to build a basic health care system from the ground up, beginning with simple measures to reduce the scourge of malaria. In many cases, following their community health model, Cuban doctors live in small villages that have never before had the benefit of medical attention.

In South Africa, while many of the local doctors and private practitioners live like kings, the country’s health care system is stressed beyond its limits by the AIDS crisis and a lack of personnel and funding. In one scene, we see a Cuban physician who has “defected” from his compatriots’ team in South Africa. Now in private medicine, the born-again capitalist happily shows off his mansion and boasts of his new lifestyle in “a white neighbourhood”. A Cuban medical official explains that only roughly 2% of all of their internationalist physicians have left to pursue this more lucrative type of medicine. South African and other African health officials, for their part, complain of a much higher percentage of “brain drain” with their graduates, as they watch helplessly as doctors are lured by contracts from North America and Europe.

In Venezuela, too, the film demonstrates the clash of medical philosophies between the Cubans and the local physicians. When the government of Hugo Chavez initiated community health clinics in the poorest barrios, Venezuelan doctors refused to sign on, so the government called in thousands of willing Cubans to do the job. Now, for the first time, the barrios around Caracas have doctors living and working in poor communities.

The last segment of Salud! covers the incredibly ambitious efforts of Cuba to offer free medical training to students from throughout Latin America, Africa, and – believe it or not – even the United States. Some of the most delightful interviews in the film are with these young students. In two notable cases – a young man from rural Honduras and a dynamic young woman from a barrio in Caracas – the students tell of being inspired to become doctors after witnessing the selfless efforts of Cuban doctors in their communities.

The thousands of students receiving medical training in Cuba represent a real hope for developing a ‘New Doctor’ for the 21st century, not driven by a desire for money or social status, but instead motivated to serve those in need and live as an equal with those in his or her community.

Salud! is an important documentary, and not just because it deals with one of the great and almost unknown accomplishments of the Cuban revolution. The film also confronts crucial issues about our collective right to health care in a world where so many still die needless, preventable deaths because of the greed or indifference of others.

» ¡Salud!: Official Site

Images from Salud

Tadamon! Solidarity Night.

Stefan Christoff — Mon, 03 Sep 2007 23:25:59 +0000

tadamonsouthimage.jpg

A cultural benefit event for Tadamon! Montreal...

Friday, September 7th, 8pm
La Sala Rossa
4848 St. Laurent
Montreal.
Entrance: $5-15

Tadamon!

* Montreal Launch of the film ‘Roads Through Palestine’:

Screening / Launch of a film by Brett Story, with a piano score composed by Stefan Christoff. A cinematic journey through the roads of occupation and resistance in the West Bank of Palestine.

Including performances from.

300, take II

dru — Sun, 25 Mar 2007 03:05:49 +0000

Here's a letter I sent to the two corporate-owned alt-weeklies in Montreal. The Mirror didn't print it, and while I confess I haven't picked up the Hour yet, I'm not holding my breath.

* * *

Dear Hour,

During a visit to New York last week, I went to see the movie 300 on its opening day. The consensus among the New Yorkers I spoke to was that the timing of the movie was "septic," its appearance coinciding with the Bush administration building for an attack against Iran (with Harper and the Canadian media close behind). There, it seemed obvious that a movie that depicted pasty-white greeks slicing up their attackers--veiled and masked Africans and Arabs led by an eight-foot tall dark-skinned king wearing eyeliner, facial piercings, and sporting a throaty lisp--was politically and ethically problematic. The racism and homophobia permeating this movie were never in doubt.

300

dru — Wed, 21 Mar 2007 02:58:50 +0000

John Powers: "When I found out that 300 had been turned into a film and was due to be released this winter I described its timing as "septic." The comic book was a retelling of the story of Thermopylae - a story that has been used to psych up populations for war in democratic nations since year one of the French revolution. The original story, of warrior idealists protecting Greece against a huge Persian army, was a familiar one from childhood. Making a film from the story I grew up with now, with the US and Iranian administrations playing chicken with nukes and threats of attacks, would seem like tragically bad timing.

Revival House

hillarybain — Sun, 18 Mar 2007 19:20:12 +0000

The many lives of Toronto rep cinemas

If it had happened in a movie, it would have felt contrived. Like some second-rate screen metaphor, the marquee of the Revue, Toronto’s oldest movie theatre, came crashing to the ground on February 18, 2007 — a theatrical climax to the real-life recent death-spiral of repertory cinema in Toronto. It started in the city’s north end with the closing of the Capitol (1998), the York (2001) and the Eglinton (2002), all subsequently converted into corporate event theatres by an “entertainment consortium” of four Toronto investors. Next came the literal collapse of festival favourite the Uptown in 2003. And in July 2006, the trend moved south with the closing of four of downtown Toronto’s best-known rep theatres, all owned by Festival Cinemas, including the Revue.

Yet the crowd of locals that gathered the following day to pocket souvenir bulbs provided an equally potent symbol for an encouraging twist to the story of rep cinema in Toronto. It turns out that the recent spate of closings has had positive repercussions. Since June 2006, the Save the Revue committee has been galvanizing the High Park-Roncesvalles community and it’s just one example of several initiatives that have been popping up around the city to perpetuate alternative, independent cinema. Through projects that focus on community-based support, localized initiatives, alternative programming and a belief in Canadian filmmakers and audiences, Torontonians are turning water into wine and making the most of the closures, determined as they are to keep alive vintage movie houses and the appreciation for classic, indie films they promote.

Repertory cinemas, also known as “revival,” “art-house” or “second-run” cinemas, are generally older, single-screen, independently-run movie theatres that provide alternatives to the fare offered by corporate, multi-screen and, more recently, “megaplex” theatres, which predominantly specialize in first-run, blockbuster, Hollywood movies.
Indeed, strength of programming is traditionally what has kept rep theatres going. Cinematheque Ontario, situated in the Art Gallery of Ontario’s Jackman Hall, is an institution of Toronto alternative cinema because of its “carefully curated retrospectives” specializing in vintage and foreign films. Regular speakers also do much to provide an historical and artistic context, and thus boost appreciation for more challenging films. Scott Gilbert and Bre Walt, who recently reopened the Poor Alex, expect that a similar commitment to programming will turn this former cabaret theatre, located in Toronto’s Annex neighbourhood, into a successful documentary film house. The plan for the “student-owned and operated worker co-op” is to have a program that focuses exclusively on documentaries dealing with political, social and environmental issues.

But at a time when a whopping 73per cent of North Americans prefer watching movies at home over going out to the cinema (according to a 2005 poll conducted by the Associated Press), meaty programming alone is not necessarily enough to keep a rep cinema open. Theatre D Digital, a post-film production company dedicated to promoting Canadian cinema, is leading the way when it comes to giving rep theatres a new lease of life by recognizing the creative ways they can be used to give a vital boost to Canadian cinema. In 2002, they bought — and saved — the Regent, a 1920’s theatre on Mount Pleasant Road, converting it into post-production space for Canadian filmmakers. They have added state-of-the-art digital audio and high-definition video projection to a classic cinema space while keeping the original 45-foot screen. As a result, not only is the company preserving the Regent’s heritage and physical space, it’s also invigorating the filmmakers who, as Theatre D co-founder Dan Peel told the Toronto Star, “love working with the happy ghosts.” And they didn’t stop there. In June 2006, the company added the 68-year-old Royal, a former Festival Cinemas theatre in the heart of Little Italy, to their post-production roster. Another Art Deco gem, the Royal reopened in December 2006 after extensive renovations and now provides local filmmakers with facilities for everything from editing and sound mixing, to public screenings. Best of all, both the Regent and the Royal have reopened as rep cinemas at night, with a focus on home-grown features.

For Terry Burrell, such neighbourhood cinemas are not only the places to go to see interesting movies, but also familiar faces. Since June 8, 2006, Burrell and the other members of the Revue Film Society have been getting hundreds of people to sign petitions and donate money through their Save the Revue campaign. The community has responded with gusto, producing more than $30,000 and negotiations are currently underway between the Revue’s owners and a nostalgic, Liverpool-born local who plans to lease the space to the society upon purchase of the theatre. Burrell’s vision for the reopened Revue is as: “a community space on par with Roncesvalles Village’s best community centres, public schools and churches.”

While the fate of the Revue remains in limbo, the only alternative for west-end cinephiles is the Queensway. Run by Cineplex Odeon, it’s an exemplar of the modern “megaplex” cinema. Visible from the highway, accessible via two service roads, the theatre has a sprawling parking lot and houses 18 screens. Arcades, movie merchandizing and fast-food signs blitz moviegoers with flashing lights as soon as they enter the monumental foyer. Though a single megaplex like this one can seat some 5,000 people, it is oddly a place both of anonymity and security — the endless distractions allow for mental escape and the coliseum-style seating works to isolate individuals from any sort of shared experience.

The alternative focus on a communal experience sets rep theatres apart. And it could be what ultimately determines their fate. Scott Gilbert, who has recently opened the Poor Alex as a community centre during the day, says the doc film house has little hope of surviving without local support.

Movements like Save the Revue attest to our desire for the sense of community that these small neighbourhood theatres offer. So does the analogous outcry heard in cities across Canada when such theatres close. The response that erupted after the July 2006 closing of Montreal’s famous English-language Cinéma-du-Parc, since reopened, is one well-publicized example. Perhaps the situation in Canada’s moneyed-Calgary represents another trend in alternative theatre. The western boomtown is home to what looks like the Cadillac of Canadian art-house cinemas: the Uptown, another recently renovated Art Deco-style treasure.

The Revue Cinema

Megaplex Theatre

hillarybain — Sun, 18 Mar 2007 19:17:15 +0000

All across Canada, independently-run movie theatres are being shut down and replaced by corporate “megaplex” theatres, which predominantly specialize in first-run, blockbuster, Hollywood movies.

The Revue Cinema

hillarybain — Sun, 18 Mar 2007 19:12:52 +0000

The Revue theatre has become a symbol of the fight to save alternative, independent cinema in Canada.

Resistance and Hezbollah

dru — Wed, 14 Mar 2007 21:07:11 +0000

There's a screening on Tuesday in Montreal's Mile End of what looks like a pretty interesting documentary about Hezbollah.

Advertising. Free to decide.

dru — Tue, 13 Mar 2007 20:13:04 +0000

ForeignOffice.com has a montage of the advertising and news clips that were part of the background and scenery in the film Children of Men.

(via Greg.org)

[film] Iraq in Fragments

dawn — Fri, 02 Feb 2007 15:15:37 +0000

Iraq in Fragments, James Longley's three year project, is a beautiful, poignant document that brings the viewer in for a close look at Iraq and it's people.

Coming soon to Calgary, Toronto, Regina, Saskatoon, Edmonton, Ottawa, the Peg, and more.

The Good Shepherd

dru — Mon, 08 Jan 2007 13:09:06 +0000

WSWS film critic Patrick Martin has a decent political critique of De Niro's CIA flick:

Nowhere in the film does De Niro touch on the principal impact of the CIA internationally: the destruction of hundreds of thousands of lives and the trampling on the democratic rights of (literally) hundreds of millions of people in Europe, Asia, Africa and Latin America. His Guatemala is a country where the CIA organizes the overthrow of the government without a visible bloodbath. His Congo is an exotic locale for romance and spycraft, not a place of civil war and ruthless struggle for control of vital natural resources.