“We thought we could control our destiny” – Lumumba

Raoul Peck’s film Lumumba provides the audience with the portrait of an impassioned young man who implores his countrymen to recognize that the “imperialist “Belgians have “exploited [Congo] for eighty years”, but that through forget[ting] our divisions”, unification, therein independence, can be achieved (Lumumba).
Unfortunately, the director does not provide enough insight into the nuance of the protagonist to determine if he would have been successful in keeping Zaire from falling apart. There are inferences in the film that suggest Lumumba can become quickly enraged, as exemplified in his Independence Day Speech. While his efforts can be applauded, his behavior appears to actuate the ensuing chaos. Yet, he has the foresight to recognize his mistakes, as well as the elements that impact his efforts, “Yes, I, too, made mistakes…we thought we controlled our own destiny, but other powerful enemies were pulling the strings” (Lumumba). Thus, one could assume that Lumumba would have the fortitude to create a democratic government, but without the ability to analyze future events, it is impossible to conclude that he would have unified Zaire.

“Every survivor wonders why he is alive” – Phillip Gourevitch

“The best reason I have come up with for looking closely into Rwanda’s stories is that ignoring them makes me even more uncomfortable about existence and my place in it” (Gourevitch 19).

This statement, coupled with the horrific statistics [i.e., seventy-five percent of the Tutsi population, which comprises only fifteen percent of the Rwandan population was murdered by the Hutus] related to the Rwandan massacres which “decimated’ the population, compelled me to continue my journey through Philip Gourevitch’s book, We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families.

The writer provides not only a detailed account of the 1994 killings, but the events that precede and are subsequent to these events. Thus, this historical data, which includes a discussion of “race science”, John Hanning Speke’s Hamitic myth, and an intimate exploration of the balance of power between the Hutus and the Tutsis creates a landscape which enables the reader to begin his/her journey through this horrific situation as well as view the aftermath.

Terry George’s film, Hotel Rwanda plucks the highlights of Gourevitch’s work in an effort to maintain contact with a broad audience. He touches lightly on global politics, although the insertion of political voice-overs and the UN representation via Colonel Oliver provides a fair understanding of the sentiments for the viewer. Clearly, Gourevitch delves deeply into Madeline Albright’s reactions, as well as the impact of the human rights and relief efforts once implemented in his book, but the forum is best left to a literary perspective or a documentary film format. The historical background of the two groups is revealed by the director in a discussion between Jack Daglish and Benedict on the “difference between the Hutu and the Tutsi”. It is a simple definition, which is strongly punctuated by the responses of two women who look exceedingly similar. One identifies herself as a Tutsi, while the other responds that she is a Hutu. While both of these important aspects could have been embellished, it would be difficult to include all of the “stories from Rwanda”. The experiences of Odette Nyiramilimo, Jean-Baptiste Gasasira, Bonaventure Nyibizi, as well as Gourevitch’s Dian Fossey story are not only fascinating, but provide insight into the cultures, the atmosphere, and the unfortunate events. In addition, Gourevitch profiles Pastor Elizaphan Ntakirutimana who, purportedly, acted as a génocidaire in the Mugonero massacre. The writer’s investigation, not only provides the details that led to the deaths of these individuals, but led him to Laredo, Texas, where he substituted “chaos” for the term, genocide in an interview in which he maintained his innocence before being arrested twenty-four hours later.

These stories, as well as all of the historical and personal data, are important. However, through a focus on Paul Rusesabagina, his family, and the residents of the Hotel des Mille Collines, the director entices the film audience journey down the path of the reader, and in doing so he/she gains an understanding of the victim and the survivor who continuously wonders “why he [she] is alive”.

“A Life of Desperation Can Lead to an Act of Desperation” – Paradise Now

The ‘Counter-Petition’ initiated to support the Academy Award nomination of Paradise Now in the Best Foreign Film category is more compelling. The perspective is based, not only on a support of freedom of speech and freedom of expression, but upon the arguments included in the petition to revoke the film’s nomination.
Certainly, it is a tragedy that Yossi Zur’s child was killed in a Tel Aviv suicide bombing. However, the petition indicates that the “movie looks professional…but it is extremely dangerous”. A “professional” format is unimportant, as it is the message that is most significant. Further, the determination that a philosophy is “dangerous”, simply because its alignment differs from your own, is far more precarious.
There also seems to be concern that the Israelis should be completely exonerated [e.g., “That the Israelis are to blame for the brutal killing?”]. The Sabra and Shatila massacres immediately come to mind. These acts were, technically, carried out by the Phalangists, a Lebanese Christian militia, although the group was trained and armed by the Israelis.
Finally, there is the conclusion that the “suicide murderer” is “not human” and that “he” has no doubts regarding this action. The logic is based upon the following contention, “After all, he is willing to kill himself along with his victims”. Seemingly, anger should not be the determinant for humanity and/or uncertainty.
Interestingly, as Jamal prepares Said for his mission he proffers, “You are the one who will change things”. While this refers to the pending martyr actions, the statement has universal applications. In order to change, an individual must have a broader understanding of the world, even when the philosophies are vastly different.
Essentially, it is not the award that is the focus of these petitions, but the suppression of information. The Arab-Israeli conflict provides an important lesson, “a life of desperation can lead to an act of desperation”, thus it is imperative that audiences recognize that Paradise Now is not glorifying murderers, but providing insight.

“I am not a revolutionary” – The Day I Became a Woman

In exploring the reviews of Marziyeh Meshkini's film, The Day I Became a Woman, there were a number of perspectives that were noteworthy.
Jamie Russell’s snippet proffers that the film “challenges the social and religious restrictions that Iranian culture imposes on its female members”, it does so without employing an “overtly political stance”. As an aside, while declaring the film a ‘beautiful gem”, subliminally dissuades potential viewers with the following, “as a Middle Eastern film with a feminine thrust, it’s likely to be seen by the majority of cinemagoers”.
Bob Mondello’s review for NPR, again, asserts that the work is an analysis of women’s roles in Iranian society - “Fascinating, both for what is says and the way it says it”. Additionally, he provides an interesting parcel of information on the construction of the film – the three-part structure permitted it to “circumvent Iranian censorship rules’, as only “feature length films require script approval and production permits”. Thus, these short segments were able to address social issues sans intervention.
A Chicago Tribune article by Mehrnaz Saeedvafa, in her consideration of the “bold subject matter”, includes the director’s perspectives, “I am not a revolutionary...I have not criticized nor made a judgment here…I have only shown what exists in fact”. Her comments echo the cultural restrictions that exist in her country, as well as underscore the movement for change, but she proffers, “we go step by step toward change”, as “things cannot happen overnight because there is a tendency to swing back maybe even worse than before”.
The film, as proffered by its critics, is a quiet assemblage of images into the various stages of life in Iranian society. Perhaps, the tenor is the most engaging aspect of the piece. The stories are subdued, yet, powerful and the resolution is, per Meshkini, “[left] to the audience”.

“A Dangerous Fascination” – Indochine

In Phantasmatic Indochina, Panivong Norindr, makes a valid point when proffering that Wargnier’s film “representation of Indochina exerts a dangerous fascination precisely because it brings visual pleasure” (138). Marouf Hasian, Jr. and Helene A. Shugart, in “Melancholic Nostalgia, Collective memories, and the Cinematic Representations of Nationalistic Identities in Indochine”, note that Norindr “argued’ that the film’s “assemblage” was a “discursive construction that supported financial and political ambitions” (330). In other words, it is “his contention that Indochine uses the frame of a “stormy love affair” to lament France’s loss of “the eastern part of the Indochinese peninsula” (Hasian, Jr. and Shugart 330). Yet, the professors contend that the film’s complexities lie in the character’s interrelationship. For example, Eliane Devries adoption of Camille is symbolic of the colonization of Indochina. The rift that develops between the women underscores the ‘estrangement’ of France and Indochina.
However, Norindr inappropriately assumes that the audience digests the imagery “without questioning or subverting any preconceived ideas about French colonial rule in Southeast Asia” (138). Perhaps, the viewer will not come to the assumption that Etienne is the "symbolic future of the merger between benevolent colonial France and ancient, authentic Indochina overlayed with a veneer of communism” (Hasian, Jr. and Shugart 341), but he/she can easily understand that Camille’s acceptance of Eliane’s western lifestyle is not unlike the Indochinese acceptance of the benefits provided by colonization. This is exemplified by Shen’s concern about the sale of the plantation, “Satait and Kim and me, where go we?”
Undoubtedly, Régis Wargnier “displays...beautiful images”, many of which are “exotic” (Norindr 139), but it cannot be concluded that this is the ‘mere’ essence of the film. It can be considered that the viewer, just as Camille, walked through the “gently moving countryside...the scenery entered [the] body through [his/her] eyes like blood…Now [he/she] has Indochina inside” (Indochine).

“Educated Girls are Different” – Raise the Red Lantern

The onset of Zhang Yimou’s film, Raise the Red Lantern, reveals a discussion between Songlian and her stepmother regarding her arranged marriage. To marry a rich man relegates her to the level of a concubine, to which she responds, “Isn’t that a Woman’s Fate?”
This is an interesting response from a character that is identified as an “educated girl”. She carries her own suitcase, despite the protests of Chen Baishun, the housekeeper, until she meets with the disgruntled maid, Yan’er. Yet, as she descends into this new world she will become, not only disappointed, but despondent.
Red lanterns are raised upon the night of her arrival, which indicate that Chen Zuoqian, the Master, will be spending the might with Songlian, the 4th Mistress. At this meeting he notes, “educated girls are different”. This denotation foreshadows her inability to meld into the ‘family’ structure.
Songlian, perhaps prompted by loneliness or displacement, opens the suitcase that she brought from home. She touches her school uniform, as well as her flute, which is later quietly removed and burned, at the behest of the Master, because “only men play a flute”. Again, her new ‘culture’ is challenging her perspectives.
Chen Zuoqian’s household, per James Berardinelli’s review of the film, “can be seen as a parable for the corruption of modern society in China…an archaic system that rewards those who play by the rules and destroys those who violates them”. Songlian’s strength quickly diminishes, as she is outmaneuvered by Yuru, Zhuoyun, and Meishan, who are symbolic of the “laws of the country” (Berardinelli). Her failed resistance efforts are the catalysts in the death of Yan’er, the murder of Meishan, and her own breakdown. Berardinelli notes, “when an atrocity occurs (as it did in Tiannamen Square), not only is culpability denied, but the entire incident is claimed not to have happened”. Director Zhang Yimou exemplifies this concept, not only in the group’s refusal to acknowledge certain elements [e.g., the “House of Death”], but in the re-education of Songlian, which renders her “barely visible” (Berardinelli).

“Sugar in Milk” – Earth

Zarminae Ansari and C.J.S. Wallia have quite different views on Deepa Mehta’s film project, Earth. The former proffers that the director provides a “dispassionate account which shows both Indian and Pakistani sides equally as victims and victimizers”. Further, while Ansari, in her article “Unforgettable”, considers Lenny the lens through which the audience “sees this historic event”, she acknowledges the “child’s confusion about the partition”. Mehta does indeed provide insight into the Hindu, Muslim, and Sikh roles in this period of India’s development through their portrayal as “victims and victimizers” (Ansari). Conversely, Wallia does not appear to appreciate any aspect of the film, as exemplified in his commentary, “the film’s weak storyline, its limiting viewpoint, its poorly developed characters, and the distorted roles of the different Indian religious communities and the British-produce a dismal picture of the complex background-events of the partition”. Additionally, he proffers that Deepa Mehta has “managed to distort the complex history of the partition” in her depiction of the Hindus and Sikhs, which he concludes is ‘false’ and ‘negative’. I found his perspective to be quite intriguing, as each of the groups, save the Parsis who fostered a level of invisibility, were portrayed in various venues that permitted the audience to see the array of emotions and thought processes that accompanied the changes in the political tenor of their country. The filmmaker did an exceptional job of maintaining a neutral atmosphere through the utilization of the Sethna family. The Parsi family remains, virtually, unaffected throughout the film. When Lenny questions their unaffected status, her mother describes them as the sugar in a bowl of milk, “sweet, but invisible”. Mehta’s direction assumes a similar quality, as her perspectives are disguised, thus, permitting the audience to experience these situations without the dictates of a political agenda – “unforgettable”.

"Time does not wait and the circle is not round" - Before the Rain

The three portions of Milčo Mančevski’s film, Before the Rain; “Words”, “Faces”, and “Pictures”, provide three different venues for viewing, and gaining insight, into the conflicts [i.e., ethnic and religious diversity and nationalism] that plague the Balkan regions.

It is ironic that the director utilized “Words” to identify the initial act of his film. Kiril, a Macedonian priest, has taken a vow of silence. Further, he is unable to understand Zamira, the young woman that he hides in his cell, or her family, as they are Albanians. Thus, he appears to have no cognizance that they are Muslims, which actuates the casting out of the young priest from the monastery.

“Faces”, the second act, is set in London. However, the cultural differences that plague the Balkan regions are evident in this arena as well. The lives of Anne, and her husband, Nick, are, essentially, detached from the Balkan conflicts. Yet, a disagreement between a waiter and a patron in a restaurant results in Nick’s death, which is a random act of violence rooted in the Balkan conflicts. Therein, the impact of these disagreements is global.

“Disillusioned” with life, Kirov returns to his homeland, which is depicted in the film act entitled, “Pictures”. Unfortunately, he does not find solace. Yet, his experiences with Hana Halili, her daughter, Zamira, Zakir, Mitre, and others, provide connectivity between the film’s scenes. His murder, prompted by his ‘blind foolishness’ underscores the level of intolerance by the Albanians and the Macedonians [i.e., Muslims and Christians], as well as the impact of violence on all citizens of these villages.

In three distinct snapshots, the audience is exposed to historical influences of the Nazi movement’s ‘ethnic cleansing’ ideals, the religious intolerance that exists between the various subcultures, and, seemingly, the acceptance of these situations as a way of life. Even Alexsander Kirov, a worldly photographer, seeks to ‘go home again’. While Mančevski’ illustrates that this is not possible, the spherical construction of the stories in his film alludes to the impossibility of change.

Richard B. Woodward, in his article, “Slav of New York”, describes the “structure of the film” as a “Mobius strip”. The image of this continuous elliptical shape echoes a phrase, which Mančevski inserts as graffiti and the accompaniment of the final act of violence, “Time does not wait and the circle is not round”.

Initial Posting

I just received a copy of the film Before the Rain.

I am looking forward to viewing this, as well as the other films in this course, in an effort to broaden my knowledge of contemporary world history.