Five Broken Cameras (2011, dirs. Emad Burnat & Guy Davidi) 80
It has some stiff competition, however, as literally just on the other side of the fence is Five Broken Cameras, which paints the West Bank occupation from a Palestinian perspective. Through the eyes of first-person cameraman Emad Burnat, we witness the struggle of his family and his close-knit village of Bil’in to preserve their way of life and protect their land against encroaching Israeli settlers and soldiers. In terms of what is depicted on the screen, their protest tactics are almost entirely nonviolent from beginning to end -- there is an instance of brick throwing after a peaceful protester is shot and killed -- and within the film is framed the idea that the simple act of recording these events as they play out is a cripplingly effective form of nonviolent protest.
People don’t want to be recorded when they know that their words and actions could come back to haunt them later, and this may be one of the most powerful developments of journalism over the last 100 years. Throughout the film, Emad's cameras are repeatedly broken, then repaired and/or replaced. In two instances they are shattered by live ammunition, perhaps saving his life in the process. Stubbornly turning the other cheek each time he is knocked down, Emad sees capturing this struggle as his way to contribute to the cause, documenting the actions and words of others, notably the behavior of the opposing forces, but mostly of his friends Adeeb and Bassem (aka Phil), who are much more outwardly gregarious and spirited in protest than Emad.
The films winds through with touching images and strong symbolism. Olive branches are often extended in the traditional gestures of peace (much like Flower Power tokens of the 1960s). Ironically, the olive trees that occupy the intermediate space between the Palestinian villages and Israeli settlements are continually used as points of contention and even political tools -- at one point they are all set ablaze by the Israelis in an exhibition of power.
Emad’s family plays a strong role in delivering the emotional impact of the film, especially his relationship with his son Gibreel, who grows along with the growth of Bil’in’s protest movement. Emad makes the point that he doesn’t want to shield his son from any ugliness that might occur; he wants him to grow up being able seeing the truth of matters with his own eyes, good or bad. Gibreel looks on while a goat is slaughtered, and must cope with the various arrests, injuries, and tragic deaths of people with whom he has formed a close tribal bond. Five Broken Cameras hits home as a powerful reminder that there are good people on both sides of this endless turmoil just struggling to maintain a sense of humanity while the world repeatedly rains violence upon them.
How to Survive a Plague (2012, dir. David France) 74
The Invisible War (2012, dir. Kirby Dick) 78
The theme of injustice carries through into The Invisible War, which brings to light the ongoing problem of sexual assault within the US Armed Forces. It is estimated that 20% of female active duty soldiers have been the victim of a sexual assault, a higher rate than occurs in the civilian populace and, as the filmmakers remind us, "they are more likely to be raped by a fellow soldier than killed by enemy fire." First-person interviews recount a handful of harrowing incidents, the descriptions of which are sure to be gut-wrenching in any circumstance. The extra oomph of the film comes first by following through by showing the myriad inescapable after effects of each of these women who are assaulted. (It should be noted, there are male victims, as well.) With victims, crippling depression and anxiety is the norm, and suicide attempts are is not an uncommon occurrence. One of the film's main subjects suffered a chronic nerve injury in her jaw, which the VA will not pay to repair because the injury did not occur in the line of duty.
This gets us to the main issue that the film roots out, which is what appears to be a terrifying indifference to the crimes and an overarching lack of justice. A majority of the perpetrators of these assaults are never punished. In fact in 2009-2010 only 7% of reported assaults resulted in a a serious criminal conviction. Of course, estimates state that perhaps as many as 85% of assaults do not even get reported, in some cases because the person to report the crime in the chain of command is a friend of the perpetrator or the rapist himself. This adds up to a violent, widespread systemic problem that arguably makes the Catholic church's priest scandal seem tame in comparison. This is brave, important filmmaking at its finest. While we are publicly moving forward with openly gay soliders and increased combat roles for women, we must question how far we've really come in the battle for equality when standing policies allow so much to be swept into the shadows.
The theme of injustice carries through into The Invisible War, which brings to light the ongoing problem of sexual assault within the US Armed Forces. It is estimated that 20% of female active duty soldiers have been the victim of a sexual assault, a higher rate than occurs in the civilian populace and, as the filmmakers remind us, "they are more likely to be raped by a fellow soldier than killed by enemy fire." First-person interviews recount a handful of harrowing incidents, the descriptions of which are sure to be gut-wrenching in any circumstance. The extra oomph of the film comes first by following through by showing the myriad inescapable after effects of each of these women who are assaulted. (It should be noted, there are male victims, as well.) With victims, crippling depression and anxiety is the norm, and suicide attempts are is not an uncommon occurrence. One of the film's main subjects suffered a chronic nerve injury in her jaw, which the VA will not pay to repair because the injury did not occur in the line of duty.
This gets us to the main issue that the film roots out, which is what appears to be a terrifying indifference to the crimes and an overarching lack of justice. A majority of the perpetrators of these assaults are never punished. In fact in 2009-2010 only 7% of reported assaults resulted in a a serious criminal conviction. Of course, estimates state that perhaps as many as 85% of assaults do not even get reported, in some cases because the person to report the crime in the chain of command is a friend of the perpetrator or the rapist himself. This adds up to a violent, widespread systemic problem that arguably makes the Catholic church's priest scandal seem tame in comparison. This is brave, important filmmaking at its finest. While we are publicly moving forward with openly gay soliders and increased combat roles for women, we must question how far we've really come in the battle for equality when standing policies allow so much to be swept into the shadows.
Searching for Sugar Man (2012, dir. Malik Bendjelloul) 82
The fascinating part is that within South Africa, a notoriously isolated-and-censored nation, a mythology sprang up about this enigmatic folkhero, about whom there was literally zero biographical information available. Various legends sprang up about how he had committed suicide onstage, either by self-immolation or by shooting himself in the head after a bad show, and this only added to the fascination that people already had with his absolutely stunning, haunting music. In the film, a pair of South African music fanatics set out to find out the truth behind the legend.
With echoes of Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Donovan, Nick Drake, and The Byrds, to name a few, I think it’s time you take a listen to the sounds:
I’ll Slip Away:
Crucify Your Mind:
Just, yeah.
If the music were middling, the film would merely be a curiosity, but he’s unique and his songs are strong enough to stick with you, and inspire a sense of confusion as to why he didn’t gain more traction in the States. If you’ve never heard them before, it really feels like unearthing a long lost treasure.
While it is the least overtly political of the nominees, it still has some underlying messages within its historical context, connecting Rodriguez’s background and lyrics about wandering the streets of Detroit during the late 1960s -- a ticking time-bomb of disenfranchisement and upheaval -- to the political unrest of South Africa’s isolationist government policies, censorship, and apartheid. When you listen his lyrics it’s no wonder that his message struck a chord with a growing movement of people hoping to rid itself of the abuses of an oppressive government.
The doc has some minor faults. Some interviews (purposefully) wind up as dead ends without much insight, leading to a host of unanswered questions. Frankly, there were a slew of paths to the story that they could have chosen to explore more deeply. Overall, however, the music, the journey for a true story, and the inspirational messages hold up to the make Searching for Sugar Man the most enlivening nominee of the year, and the likely frontrunner for the statuette.
Documentary shorts are around the corner. In the meantime, here are a few more tracks to fill yer soul:
Youtube it: Sugar Man, Inner City Blues, Cause
Documentary shorts are around the corner. In the meantime, here are a few more tracks to fill yer soul:
Youtube it: Sugar Man, Inner City Blues, Cause
Or do one better and Spotify the sucker: Rodriguez – Searching For Sugar Man
