Last night Meg and I watched Tha Carter, the new documentary out about Lil Wayne.  I’m always a bit apprehensive about watching documentaries or reading books about musicians I like, ever since I read a bio about Led Zeppelin, because I’m afraid that learning about them will ruin their music for me.  When I read the Zeppelin bio, I was really disappointed to learn that they were a bunch of fucking fools, especially because I read it at a time when all I listened to was Zeppelin.  I had to remind myself, though, that they were a bunch of 20 year old guys who had been skyrocketed into unbelievable success, and that just because they were talented musicians didn’t mean they weren’t still 20 year old dudes (read: douchebags).  Anyway, this time around I wasn’t quite as nervous because, while I like some of his music, I’m not a die-hard Weezy fan.  I downloaded The Carter III when it came out and ended up deleting it from my mp3 player because I didn’t listen to it all that much.  I’m more a fan of his hits than his whole collection.  That said, I recognize that the man’s got some serious talent and this documentary only served to solidify that for me.

It also shed some light on what are some serious addiction issues.  I read online today that he and Young Money have sued the filmmakers because they claim the documentary portrays him in a negative light.  He didn’t come across as a malicious asshole, but he quite clearly has some issues – he’s addicted to cough syrup, which has caused major tension between him and his manager/dj and is reflected in a lot of his lyrics.  Then again, as I did with the Zeppelin bio, I had to remind myself that this guy is only 25 years old, and has reached an insane level of celebrity in a fairly short amount of time, something that seems, from watching the documentary, totally surreal and would have a pretty heavy effect on anyone in that position (hello, Britney Spears?).  But while he isn’t portrayed as a saint in any sense of the word – he’s fucked up all the time, he thinks child support should be abolished, his grill is a thing of nightmares – the doc paints him as more or less a regular guy who has reached a level of success that few people ever do.  And the amount of freedom that comes with that level of success doesn’t seem to effect him as negatively as it has other celebrities (or, perhaps his addiction is nothing new for someone in his position).  He does seem somewhat humble about his achievements – he’s surprised to see a guy on TV wearing a shirt that says “Greatest Rapper of All Time” with his face on it (although he later raps about how he’s the Greatest Rapper of All Time).  The most interesting for me was watching his recording process, and hearing some of the mixtapes he’s made while he’s on the road.  He’s a huge fan of the auto-tune, though, obviously, and it’s pretty clear why (his terrible singing voice is made tolerable by auto tune).  That said, he admits that its his lyrics that make him the greatest, not his singing.

All in all, I came out of the experience of watching the documentary more depressed than anything.  He is a talented guy, but it seems like it’s only a matter of time before his addiction issues get the best of him, affecting his music and his daughter (who is the epitome of adorable and can rap!).  Although it is pretty crazy that, despite being high out of his mind 24/7, he still records nearly every day, and records some amazing music.

Oh Mr. Carter, tell me where have you been.

Meghan showed me the trailer for Paranormal Activity a while ago – she introduced it with “this looks super scary and WE HAVE TO SEE IT.”  She’s into scary shit like that, while I can terrify myself if I think about the basement too much.  Given that her hermano-in-law works with me, I was eventually convinced to join the family trip to the movies to scare the living shit out of myself this past weekend.

The movie certainly was terrifying.  It reminded me of the first time I saw The Blair Witch Project.  It was subtle and realistic and horrifying.  But it was really well done.  Usually I can deal with scary movies by reminding myself how far-fetched they are, or that I can defend myself against knife-wielding strangers, or that I’ll never go on a road trip in an old car in the country at night.  But movies like this, and especially ones that don’t have an overly religious tone, are really effective because of what they leave out.  Paranormal Activity as a topic of interest is huge – there are TV shows about it, books about it, shit all over the internet about how people hear weird noises and have lights turned on and off in their houses without reason.  This movie feeds off of all of that uncertainty and curiosity, but it never shows you what you’re scared of – you don’t see a cloaked demon or a bloody ghost or anything like that, so you’re left to bury your head under the covers at night hoping that your lights stay off and none of your doors open and close on their own.

The movie had only two central characters and was shot on a hand-held camera by the actors themselves.  Apparently it only took $15,000 to make.  I don’t want to give any of it away, but perhaps my experience that night as I lay in bed – too scared to move or open my eyes or get rid of the comforter that had me sweating and afraid that our bedroom curtains were moving on their own – is enough of a guarantee that this movie did it’s job.

On Saturday night a bunch of us went out to see Zombieland.  It was one of the best Zombie movies I’ve ever seen.  If not the best.

What struck me the most was the gore – this is a true zombie flick in that they don’t shy away from brains and splitting heads.  They show you everything.  And you really want to see everything, because that’s what you’re there for.  You don’t go to see a zombie flick for the dialogue or the social commentary or the oscar-winning performances.  You go for the gore, for the stumbling, bloody, flesh-eating undead and the few characters left who are there to kill them.  And this movie delivers.  The opening sequence is jaw-dropping in its honesty when it comes to gore, and hilariously so.  The voice-over narration by the film’s main character – played by the Michael Cera-esque Jesse Eisenberg – makes watching a woman fly through the front windshield of her car, her head smashing against the pavement, almost funny. It was shocking, at first, but it made the film incredibly entertaining.

Woody Harrelson did his macho-loner schtick really well, which worked charmingly with Eisenberg’s “Columbus” who, even though he seemed to be a Cera double, had enough of his own character to distract me from the similarities.  His improvs were great, too – “Oh you almost knocked over your alcohol with your knife.”  The cameo from Bill Murray was, to say the least, amazing (“Do you have any regrets?” — “Maybe Garfield”).  Even Little Miss Sunshine held her own.  This movie didn’t take itself seriously and, even with the somewhat hokey love story, managed to be hilarious and entertaining all the way through.

Go see it.

Last night was the last film of the CCPA’s third series of Popcorn With Your Politics. The screening was a follow-up to Jill Irene Friedberg’s Granito de Arena, called Un Poquito de Tanta Verdad (A Little Bit of So Much Truth) that follows the public schoolteachers of Mexico’s poorest region, Oaxaca, as they fight for the right to public education for their students.

While I arrived at the theatre straight from a training session at the gym, without having eaten dinner, and on less than enough sleep to properly function, I left the theatre rejuvinated at having witnessed what was an incredibly powerful documentary.

The Mexican government has not funded its public education system in 70 years, and many of Oaxaca’s students come to school without shoes, food in their bellies, or enough money to pay for new textbooks and notebooks.  Oaxacan teachers, students, activists, workers, and parents decided to take matters into their own hands and went on strike, asking that Oaxaca’s corrupt governor be removed from office and that their children be given the things necessary to an education – like safe schools and healthy lunches.  When their own radio station was shut down by the state government, they took over 14 other radio and TV stations in peaceful protest, walked 19 days from Oaxaca to Mexico City to protest at governement buildings, and engaged in a three-week long hunger strike.  State police forces were sent to Oaxaca to intimidate and divide the assembly of teachers, students, parents, and supporters of the movement – who were forced to put up barricades of fire and shopping carts to stop the police from raiding their neighbourhoods.  Police forces treated the movement as “urban guerrillas” and retaliated through violent raids, tear gas, the spraying of water and acid, and even assasinations of the people as they marched through the streets or delivered coffee to those manning baricades.

It was through the takeover and use of the media – radio stations and TV stations – that the movement was able to survive and gain momentum.  Watching the documentary was like watching a revolution, thousands of people strong.  It was amazing to see such horrific acts of corruption and what is ultimately military dictatorship happen only months ago in a country not too far from my own.  That said, I realize this type of oppression happens all over the world on a regular basis, but to see it caught on film, and to hear from those involved in the front lines – regular people, regular families, regular children – brought tears to my eyes.

While the revolution is certainly not over in Mexico (Friedberg is currently filming another documentary about the movement), and while Oaxaca’s corrupt governor is still in power, it is so inspiring to see the kind of grassroots resistance to oppression that this documentary illuminated.  And more than anything, this film made it clear to me just how incredibly priviledged I am – I have never had to face the kind of poverty and oppression the people in this film have faced, and I will likely never have to.  I have an education, a good job, and a roof over my head.  If nothing else, becoming aware of and spreading news about the struggles faced around the globe in the name of social justice is the least I can do.

You can read more about the film here.

Tonight is date night, so apartment plans are on hold until the weekend, and tonight we’re going for dinner and to Winnipeg’s indie theatre, Cinematheque, to see Gonzo: The Life and Work of Hunter S. Thompson. I’m looking forward to seeing it as Thompson is one of my favorite writers.  Plus, I need something to wash away the remnants of last night’s Movie Village rental pick: Morgan Spurlock’s Where in the World is Osama Bin Laden?

Spurlock is by far the most ignorant faux-progressive movie-maker I’ve come across in a long time.  I enjoyed his french fries movie, but was then put off of his cutesy ways after seeing his show, 30 Days, in which he pairs up ideological ‘opposites’ to live with one another and, I suppose, come to see the errors of their prejudiced ways after 30 days in another person’s house and city.  In one episode he had a homophobic man go and live in San Fransisco with a gay man.  In another he had a right-wing WASP go and live with a Muslim couple.  I suppose his intentions were good (I guess?) in that he hoped to cure the world of discrimination in kicky, 22 minute television segments, but the whole thing stunk, in my opinion.  The first episode I watched featured Spurlock and his wife/fiancee as they braved the elements of U.S. poverty and went to live in a shitty apartment in inner city Everytown, living off of the meager salary of day jobs in construction and a job in a coffee shop.  While he attemped to illustrate how impossible it is to live on the poverty wages that so many people live on, it all just came across as a couple of rich (this was post-french fry movie, afterall), privileged white people whining about how hard it is to live like the millions of people who live in poverty.  They couldn’t afford a car or cab fare, so after grocery shopping they waited SIX HOURS for a bus.  In six hours I could have walked to meet them and carry their groceries home for them.  Spurlock twisted his wrist at one of his construction jobs, so he went to the hospital.  He was charged an outrageous amount of money for his visit, during which they gave him a tensor bandage and told him to take a Tylenol.  His wife/fiancee got a cold, because they couldn’t afford their heating bill, so they went to the hospital again.  Another outrageous bill for the doctor to tell her “you have a cold.”  Their attempts to illustrate the lack of opportunity available to those living in poverty came across as the awkward fumblings of privildged idiots who have no idea what it’s like to live in the real world.  Who goes to the hospital when they have a cold?  ESPECIALLY when they live in the U.S. and know that they’ll end up with a huge bill if they do?  Nobody.  There was no mention of the resources that are available, and it seemed as though they made phenomenally stupid decisions (like taking the family to the dollar theatre but spending a ton of cash on candy and pop) just to add dramatic flare to the episode.

So, I was a little skeptical about Spurlock’s new cinematic attempt, but Matt was gung-ho to see it so I got on board.  It started out very cutesy – Spurlock’s wife is pregnant and he’s terrified about bringing a child into a world where terrorism has become an international epidemic.  So what can he do to rid the world of terrorism for his unborn child?  Find Osama Bin Laden!  Of course.  Cue self-defense training montage.  Cue language coach montage.  Cue hostage survival and bomb-detection montage.  All set to what sounded like his brother’s garage band singing some ridiculous commercial jingle-esque song that repeated “where in the world is Osama Bin Laden?”.  I was a little weirded out by the emphasis on surviving a hostage situation, especially when they had Spurlock blindfolded and tied to a chair while two men with guns yelled at him (to give him a ‘taste’ for the Middle East?  Uh…), but I’m also pretty ignorant about the day-to-day social climate of middle eastern countries.  I suppose I assumed that it wouldn’t be that necessary to undergo hostage training just because you’re flying to Pakistan to shoot a movie.  But apparently I was wrong.

The film was framed around the notion that Spurlock was engaged in a game – finding Osama Bin Laden – and included video game graphics of both characters (fighting each other, no less, and using moves like Spurlock strangling Bin Laden with his moustache), with screen shots of each new ‘mission’ as Spurlock entered each new country along his search.  At first I assumed it would all be very jokey-jokey, he’d dress in robes, do ‘man on the street’ interviews, and it would all end with the birth of his son.  So, in that sense, the video game aspect made sense.  But as the film went on, and he spoke with more and more people about the current state of the “war on terror” and the effect that the U.S. invasion of Iraq has had on the everyday people of Iraq, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, Israel, Palestine, and Pakistan, it became clear how devastating this war has been for these people, and how adamantly they all disagree with Bin Laden’s actions and the US’s involvement.  But, after each heartwrenching segement – for example, Spurlock visited a school that had been bombed, but hadn’t been given the resources to rebuild as promised by the local government, so the children had to go to school in a building that was missing walls, parts of the roof, and had little to no educational resources outside of the teachers themselves – the video game screen shots came up again, which by about 30 minutes in only served to trivialize the plight of the people who are forced to live in these appalling situations.

As the film went on, Spurlock became more and more the cocky American – or perhaps it simply became more obvious.  In Israel he tried stopping people on the street to talk to him, with his personal, armed security guard standing to his side, and was dumbfounded when nobody would talk to him.  He continued to try and stop people on the street, clearly offending passersby just by being there, and when people starting shouting “Get out of here!  You don’t belong here!” from windows above, he stood and waited, watching as a crowd formed, remarking with a smug laugh to the camera at how amazed he is that he is being asked to leave when all he wants to do is “talk.”  It wasn’t until a huge crowd had formed and people began yelling at him that he finally left.  On his way to his car, an older man stopped him in his path and told him to leave, pushing him, and Spurlock’s security guard lept into action, saving him from the ‘dangers’ of an old man with no weapons and a clear right to be angry at his presense.  It was shocking and embarrassing to watch.

Spurlock eventually finds out that many people think Bin Laden is hiding in the hills between the Pakistan/Afghanistan border, and decides to go there.  He gets a lift from the U.S. military, and they brief him on what it will be like for him to cross the border into Al Qaeda territory (this is vague simply because I was in no state to internalize details like this as I watched the film last night).  Cut to a monologue by Spurlock, as he sits in his hotel room the night before he is to brave the terrorists and ‘get’ Bin Laden, thus saving the world and making it a safe place full of rainbows and puppies for his soon-to-be-born son.  Spurlock looks earnestly into the camera and spits out about three minutes of “why can’t we all just get along?”  It was astounding.  So much so that I shouted “Look to the cookie!” (a la Jerry Seinfeld) after his rant.  From then Spurlock decides, as he’s standing on the border facing a sign that reads “No Foreigners Past This Point,” that it “isn’t worth it” and turns around to go home.  Presumably to be with his incredibly pregnant wife, who has, by the way, been coping with her pregnancy ALONE for the past few months while her hubby skips around the Middle East making sure that the image of Americans as ignorant self-involved idiots remains unchanged.

The final scenes show Spurlock’s wife giving birth, with shots of the new couple looking adoringly at their new son, as Spurlock’s voice speaks of the poverty and devastation that Osama Bin Laden, the U.S. invasion of Iraq, and the War on Terror has caused for everyone in the Middle East.  While the foudation of change is education, he explains, some children cannot even afford to go to school and are forced to live in devastating poverty, making them prey for terrorist organizations.  But, he tells the audience, over images of his newborn son, luckily he can afford to send his kid to school.  The End.

Honestly, that was how it ended.  No call to action.  No suggestions for change.  No criticism of foreign policy.  Here are all of these people living in destitude and who have developed an (understandably) negative opinion of the US…but I just had a kid!  Look, isn’t he cute!  He’s going to go to school and grow up to be a doctor because we live in America!  USA!  USA!  USA!

Quite possibly the most ridiculous attempt at a documentary about Middle Easterners’ perceptions of the War on Terror.  It was as if he was worried that if it became too ‘political’ then he’d lose his audience, so he opted instead to make it jokey and bland, which ultimately trivialized the seriousness of the impacts of global terrorism.  He did nothing to change the negative opinions that the people he spoke with had about Americans, and he went into this project with an air of entitlement that illustrated his utter lack of respect for the fact that he was a guest in these countries.  He seemed genuinely baffled when he didn’t get the cheery hospitality that he expected, which was incredibly ignorant.  He failed to use what could have been an opportunity for awareness and change, and instead made it into a story about Spurlock’s love affair with his ego.

So, basically everyone should avoid this “documentary” like the plague.  Spurlock is officially on my list of idiots I refuse to support.  If you are, however, looking to see a documentary that sheds some real, critical light on these issues in a respectful and powerful way, you should see Michael Franti’s I Know I’m Not Alone.

After awkwardly and heat-scoredly smoking a joint in the parking lot, Matt and I head to Kung Fu Panda 3D at the IMAX.

Me: “Matt, is this 3D?”

Matt: “I don’t know.  Yes?  Yes it is.  Look, it’s 3D.  You can see dimension.”

Me: “Yeah.  You’re totally right.  But I thought we’d have glasses.”

Matt: “Nobody else does.  Maybe it isn’t 3D?”

Me: “I have no idea.”

If you can’t tell if the movie is 3D, it probably doesn’t make a difference whether it is or not anyway.

On Saturday night I picked up Meghan and brought her back to my place. We got ready in our ‘going-out-clothes’ (also drunkenly referred to as ‘hoor-wear’), picked up Deirdre from her place, and made our way over to the Grant Park cinema. After smoking a bowl in the car, we walked in to get our tickets, and pick up one for April, who was working late that night. The lineup was long, and there were lots of people at the theatre – more than I had expected for a 6:40pm movie on a Saturday night. Perhaps it was the narcotics, or perhaps our perceptions were accurate, but the three of us felt as though we were on display, given the looks we were getting from the rest of the theatre-goers. Dressed in a black sweater dress, capri-length tights, and coral ribbon espadrilles, I was a good two feet taller than most of the people there, and felt incredibly ridiculous being so dressed up and surrounded by jeans and t-shirts. I’m sure that it was very clear that we were all going to see Sex and the City.

We had been planning a Sex and the City movie night, followed by drinks on Corydon (Winnipeg’s ‘Little Italy’) for almost a month – it took a while to find a weekend that we were all free. I had heard bits and pieces about the movie from friends who had seen it (see Peter’s excellent review here), so I was prepared for some disappointing moments and offensive lines from the four women that everyone seems to be shitting their pants over these days.

My friends were right. While Sex and the City was basically what you’d expect from a movie based on a TV show – ultimately a 90 minute episode – there were some things that I just couldn’t get past, couldn’t suspend my disbelief to enjoy. And while I realize that hearing negative reviews before seeing a movie will obviously influence the way in which I view the film, I tried my best to watch it with an open mind. I did laugh quite a bit – Kim Catrall’s character was by far the most comical, and perhaps the only one with any redeeming characteristics – but there were so many instances where issues of aging, race, what it means to be a single woman over 30, and the traditional institution of marriage could have really been explored in an effective way, but were instead glossed over or ignored altogether.

Granted, there were some moments I was waiting for – particularly Miranda’s comment, while walking through Chinatown in an attempt to find an apartment, “a white man with a baby – follow him, we want to be wherever he goes” (or something to that effect). But nevertheless comments like that were pretty shocking to hear – how did something so offensive and racist make it past whatever checks and balances a film goes through? Well, actually I can answer that…I’m guessing that those in the production seats on this film are all white? Likely. As they are with most films.

But despite the subtle racism (Carrie buying her black assistant – the horrible Jennifer Hudson…sweet jesus woman stick to singing – all the rich-people accessories that seem to symbolize that she’s somehow “made it” in the rich, white world of Manhattan), the overall air of hysteria that these women seemed to ooze in every scene (so every single one of their lives crumbles in crisis within a day of one another? Come on. And Carrie, you’re going to blame Miranda for “ruining your marriage” after some offhand remark to the groom seemingly causes him to call it off? Right.), the thing that irritated me most was the horrible editing! I turned to Meghan at one scene near the beginning of the film in which Samantha, dressed in a white shirt and gold skirt, is on the phone with Carrie, and before I could point out to Meghan the horrifically noticeable yellow pit stains, she said to me “Are those fucking pit stains?!” Good god! Why can I see this? Why would someone wear a shirt that badly stained let alone wear it on film?

In all seriousness, though, the editing that irritated me even more was the airbrushing/photoshopping of the women’s faces, necks, and under their eyes. In the few interviews that I had seen with these actors, the point that was driven home was the fact that the movie’s producers allowed the women “to age” – Kim Catrall’s character has a 50th birthday in the film – and how this is apparently a big step for women actors over 40. Well, yes, they allowed you to age. Of course – but you also don’t look like a typical 50-year-old, Kim. My mother doesn’t look like you. My mother also doesn’t subscribe to Botox or any other wrinkle-defying treatments. But when you watch the film, and you can see the blurred out necks and blurred under-eye areas on these women so obviously, it really counteracts the whole argument that these women are “allowed to age.” I wasn’t so shocked that their images were doctored, but rather that it was done so poorly that I could see it! While I know little to nothing about cinematic effects and the like, given the kind of technology that produces at least realistic-looking shit shows like The Ruins, why was this so poorly done? Not for lack of resources, I’d imagine.

I’m glad to have seen the film, but I was disappointed with its message. Like Peter pointed out in his review, these women are really pathetic role models for young women and girls. While the situations that these women found themselves in could have been explored and discussed in a productive way, they weren’t – instead each woman (mostly Carrie and Miranda) just let their issues fester until they patched things over with a Manolo Blahnik. Miranda’s marriage is crumbling and while the film could have examined (what I would argue is) the mainstream notion that the woman is responsible for maintaining the emotional equilibrium and the sexual satisfaction of her male partner in heterosexual relationships, there was but a few comments from Miranda to that effect. In the end it was up to her to get over whatever anger and frustration she had and take her husband to counseling. I could go on about this for hours.

To top it all off, the consumerist agenda to the film – which was structured like a commercial – was overwhelming. The montage of wedding dress shots coupled with each designer’s name whispered lustfully in a voice over by Carrie was enough to make me want to scream “get on with it!” at the screen. The upper class, privileged lifestyle of these women was over the top to say the least, and hardly attainable. So if it’s not difficult enough to emulate these women physically – all of whom are very thin and traditionally beautiful and feminine – then young women now have the task of attaining their lifestyle, with jet setting and giant closets abound.

Despite all of these downfalls, the film did have some funny moments – Charlotte shitting herself, Samantha pissed off after her sushi experiment, and Carrie getting tangled in balloon ribbon while trying to storm out of a restaurant. Samantha was probably my favorite character, not because of the ‘charming slut’ persona that she’s so famous for, but because she chose her own needs over what seemed traditionally the ‘right thing to do.’ I respect that. Plus, she’s sassy and has a sharp tongue, but isn’t cast as a ‘bitch’ like so many other strong-headed women are in mainstream media.

Overall, worth renting, if only to examine the state of ‘progressive’ women on film. Or to see a high-strung white lady shit her pants.

I reviewed the film Granito de Arena for The Uniter this week. It’s the third installment of the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives-Manitoba’s first film series, called “Popocorn With Your Politics.” I have been wanting to get more involved with the CCPA-MB for a while now, and figured this was a good way to help out. I was at the second film last month and thought it might be a way to draw more people to a good cause. This next film is very powerful.

Granito de Arena
Jill Friedberg, 2005
60 mins.

As the old proverb goes, give a person a fish and they’ll eat for a day; teach a person to fish and they’ll eat for a lifetime.  “But what if they sell the river?” asks Eduardo Galeano, well-known Uruguayan author, as he explains the plight of public education in Mexico as schoolteachers fight against privatization.  In the powerful documentary, Granito de Arena (Grain of Sand), Seattle-based documentary filmmaker Jill Friedberg (This is What a Documentary Looks Like) explores – through interviews, archival footage, and at-the-scene footage of protests – the 30 year struggle for the right to public education that has seen the closing of schools and even the assassination of teachers fighting for the free education of their students. 

 Since the Mexican Revolution of 1910, all Mexicans have the constitutional right to a free and secular education.  That right is being undermined by the Mexican government’s attempts to privatize education – a move that would render education a privilege, leaving the poor to work in sweatshops, McDonalds, or Walmart.  With funding from the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund as their only resources, public schools are obligated to comply with the stipulations in programs that promise “quality” and “excellence” in education.  Hiding behind the guise of benefiting Mexican students, these implementations, such as standardized exams, the heavily scrutinized results of which determine a school’s future funding, are in reality strategies to privatize education.

 The funding provided by the Mexican government, under President Vincente Fox, is also determined by schools’ complying in the so-called “Quality Schools” program, which includes rigorous, racist, and class-biased standardized tests administered by private testing agencies.  If a school manages to produce results good enough for the Fox Government, the funding they receive goes toward the very basics: text books and school repairs (such as, in one particularly eye-opening scene, functioning bathrooms), that should be provided by the state in the first place.  Without any funding, schools are left to call on the parents to pay for electricity, water, and school supplies – ultimately, a tuition for public school kids.

 While the film is indeed powerful, the first half covers a great deal of background information.  Those without knowledge of the workings of organizations such as the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund may find themselves somewhat overwhelmed.  Yet, the film’s message becomes clear: without the mobilizations of the democratic teacher’s movement in Mexico, education may very well have been completely privatized by now.  Interviews with leaders of the movement, as well as footage of teachers and parents protesting in mass numbers, paints a clear picture of both the aggressive political climate in Mexico and the much needed outcry against the Fox Government’s push toward privatization.  The last section of the film provides some criticisms of the democratic teacher’s movement, namely that some teachers have begun to focus too heavily on the political and union issues, and have lost sight of what is truly at the heart of the matter: the communities and classrooms that are affected by the threat to a free, secular education.  What must remain central to the struggle for public education is an education that supports the needs and cultural growth of the community.  It is through the mobilization of social solidarity across borders that this can be best achieved.

 As Eduardo Galeano puts it, education is inextricably linked to all other aspects of life, and public education must address and cater to the lives of those communities it serves.  What good is it to be taught how to fish, if the river’s been sold and you aren’t allowed to cast your line? 

 Granito de Arena is a film for anyone interested in public education and global political solidarity.  It is being shown at the Park Theatre on Wednesday, November 21^st, at 7:00 p.m. as the third of the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives – Manitoba’s three-part film series, “Popcorn With Your Politics.”  Admission is $8, or $5 with a student ID.

The Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives-Manitoba has started showing film series, and I met Dad at the Park Theatre on Wednesday for the second film of their first series: Popcorn With Your Politics. The film was Iraq for Sale, and despite barraging my friends with emails, I couldn’t convince any of them to drag their sorry asses out to see it with me. But even though I went alone, I am so incredibly glad to have seen the film – it was mind-blowing. Absolutely shocking.

The film (produced by Brave New Films, see the film description on their site, here) is a “strategic documentary” that explores the American companies that have been making millions of dollars from the privatization of the war in Iraq. Companies like Halliburton and Blackwater have been awareded million- and billion-dollar contracts (‘awarded’ as in there was no contest or bidding whatsoever) from the U.S. Government for everything from private armies to supplying U.S. troops with water and food. The problem is that not only are these contracted hirees from U.S. companies not held accountable, but the companies themselves care little about the welfare of their employees and put their lives in danger in order to carry out their contracts. Private contractors are hired as interrogators in Abu Ghraib, pulling civilians off the street for random interrogations that result in heinous torture and appear to be conducted simply because U.S. security companies see a way to make some money. Contracts obtained to provide food and water to the U.S. troops are seemingly just cash cows, as the water provided is often contaminated with pathogens as providing clean, safe water is too costly.

The companies awarded these contracts, like Halliburton, operate on a cost plus system, which basically means that the contractor gets a percentage of the overall cost of the operation – ultimately amounting to: the more you spend, the more you make. Personnel working in the U.S. Army and those hired as contractors both testified to the fact that when a piece of equipment breaks down, Halliburton burns it and orders a new one. Computers, machines, vehicles, even huge, $80,000 semis are destroyed in “burning pits” if they so much as get a flat tire, because Halliburton knows they can simply buy another and reap the financial benefits in the end.

The people hired are seen as disposable, and sent out on the job into hostile territory if that’s what needs to happen to fulfill a contract. Some of the men hired to drive gas tankers recounted stories of roadside attacks, where they were shot at and had to listen over their truck radios as their buddies died in their burning trucks, when the U.S. military wouldn’t even send out their soldiers for fear of attack. The people killed were civilians. Truck drivers! It was heartbreaking.

I could barely contain myself when I got home from the movie that night, recanting nearly the whole thing to Matt, who sat opposite me, blinking. The whole thing just got me so fired up – about half way through the film I thought to myself “I need to join a group, or protest, or make a sign” – anything! I suppose that was the point of the documentary. Afterwards there was a Q&A with an Iraqi man who works in Winnipeg for an organization that helps new immigrants adjust to Canadian life. He was very knowledgeable, and, it turns out, I knew him from…a past life, so to speak. That was a little odd, but interesting nonetheless.

It seems odd to me that people can so easily dismiss the fact that we are in war times – I mean, I’m not excusing myself in that statement – but I suppose the media has made it easy for Westerners to ignore what is happening overseas. I was reminded of this when I saw Across the Universe on Friday with Matt, Neil, and Darlene. Why are the 1960s revered as the time of revolution? It’s almost as though the 60s are glamorized as this period of free-lovin’, long-hair-growin’, LSD-trippin’, multi-coloured-poncho-wearin’ activism that is somehow not applicable to today. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to sport a poncho, but honestly – we are going through essentially the same turmoil, just within a different context. There is an unjust war going on right now, troops are dying, Iraqi civilians are dying, and all for what? Money? Oil? George Bush’s ego trip? Don’t tell me that the same enthusiasm and determination that is glamorized in movies like Across the Universe isn’t needed today. Whether the media chooses to report it or not, this shit is still going on and it’s not going to stop itself. Just think: if this is left to fester unnoticed, what else will we let the capitalist pig-dogs get away with?

Now, if you need me, I’ll be making flower crowns and macramé picket signs.