Central America: Men with Guns

I loved Men with Guns. It is a beautifully crafted film: music, cinematography, acting, directing, and the subject—everything. I like the idea that the locale is not named: though the reviews say the purpose is to refrain from indicting anyone, my reaction is that it indicts everyone.

The film mainly shows a rural population—in contrast to Missing and The Official Story. The most salient feature is a highly xenophobic society. The citizens are extremely wary of strangers, paranoid, frightened, yet resigned to the violence that characterizes their everyday lives. Everyone has a story of death and loss. Citizens hide or they are on the run. Random violence is the norm. Like the title, men with guns wield all the power and there is little that can be done to fight them. The most revealing scene is when a village is ordered to kill six of its own members, and they comply; neighbor killing neighbor as per an order from the army (read: men with guns). The villagers briefly discuss an alternative solution (running away) but return to the conclusion that killing each other is best. Failing to do so means death to everyone, so the six are sacrificed.

Like Missing and The Official Story, violence is random and ongoing. But in the aforementioned films, the central players knew who the enemy was, the forces responsible, and why the violence broke out. In Men With Guns, no one knows why the violence rains down upon them. These are rural populations (Coffee people, Salt People, Sugar people) and they have no understanding of the forces behind the large-sale slaughter of their country man. The perpetrators are simply ……….men with guns.

Dr. Humberto Fuentes is an idealistic, naive man. Like Alicia in The Official Story, he has little knowledge of the instability and violence that plague the country. As he journeys through the countryside—encountering genocides, army deserters, a fallen priest, a rape victim, and a boy orphaned by violence, his naiveté dissolves. Still, he doesn’t seem to become bitter. On the surface, this is a film about a man who acquires self-knowledge from others; lost innocence and lost illusions. But most importantly, it reflects the consequences of America’s (repeated) support of counterinsurgency forces that enable the violence and oppression in Central and South American countries to prevail.

Chile: Missing

I enjoyed Missing. I thought it was interesting subject and the filmmakers turned it into a fairly suspenseful movie. The film was well-made and well-acted.

The director presents Chile functioning under martial law in the immediate wake of a government overthrow. Violence is random and ongoing. Bodies are scattered around the city. The streets are lined with armed military personnel and armed military vehicles. Citizens are picked out and questioned on a whim. Women are told they can no longer wear slacks, but must wear dresses and skirts. A curfew has been instituted and deadly force is used to enforce it. Phone lines are down. Transportation out of Chile is spotty if not impossible. Overall, it's is an environment of fear, violence and uncertainty.

Hr. Harmon’s world view changes dramatically over the course of the film. Early in the film, Mr. Horman seems to have faith in American institutions.  He is convinced that his idealistic, leftist son and daughter-in-law have gotten themselves into some kind of trouble, and he has to fly to Chile to sort out their messes. His son’s arrest seems irritating to him. He believes there has been a misunderstanding, but that everything will be done to correct it and everything will be fine. As long as a person is respectable, god fearing, and polite —all things will be restored to harmony. He believes in justice and due process. Mr. Horman believes what American officials tell him. He does not question their authority.

Ironically he accuses his jaded, quarrelsome, critical daughter-in-law (she had two weeks of run- around prior to her father-in-law’s arrival) of being uncooperative and idealistic. Who’s the idealist? By film’s end, Mr. Horman is resigned to her attitude—actually admires her after his experiences and observations.

By mid-film and to the end, Mr. Horman is no longer polite. His own sense of idealism has been shattered by the details—or lack of details and a few outright lies is fed by American officials. His faith in institutions, due process, and justice is shattered, though the final collapse occurring off screen when his lawsuit against American officials he deems responsible for his son’s death is dismissed.

The filmmaker portrayed the US as rather shady and reticent; less than forthcoming—which is how I interpreted it. American officials appear cooperative, but they do not offer much information. My interpretation is that the Americans were something like an organized crime ring, a spin machine. Mr. Horman is given the run-around—blanket “we don’t know” or “if we can’t find him that he’s not here” statements. Later in the film, Mr. Horman is given contradictory information, and what seemed to be an outright well-conceived lie. It definitely looks like a cover-up. At the film’s end, even as the truth came to light (his son’s body actually was there—and he’s dead), the director does not attempt to redeem American officials. When the Hormans are asked for transport fees associated with the body, the American officials insensitively demand the money up front, at that very moment, in an airport coffee bistro.

Argentina: The Official Story

I liked Official Story, and I agree with the critics that the film has a dark, claustrophobic feel to it. Though I liked the film, it made me feel smothered and warm; kind of like being over-blanketed and sweaty. The film is somewhat boring but it makes its point: Argentina was being governed by a corrupt regime and many suffered losses, with much of its population burying its head in the sand.It difficult to distinguish particulars about Argentine society because the film is mostly hemmed into closed indoor spaces with a lot of close-up camera shots. Nevertheless, the viewer observed a rather complacent society; a society that

did not ask a lot of questions. Not only did Argentine society seem complacent, but was also in denial—a “what I don’t know can’t hurt me” attitude. Since the regime is on the brink of falling—fear is beginning to break out. Paranoia and desperation are felt by the regime’s powerbrokers. Public demonstrations are dramatized. The education system teaches a biased history. Argentina’s youth is being indoctrinated into the regime’s principles. We learn there are dire consequences for those who ask questions or disagree with the current regime: torture, disappearances, kidnapping, and death. We learn that the offspring of subversives have been handed over and adopted out to the regime’s loyal members—thus the thrust of the story. Overall, we have society characterized by a varied mix of complacency, paranoia, desperation, and anger. 

The world view of the main character changes over time as she learns more and more about her child’s origins, her husband’s business affairs, and her country’s corruption. Where she was once comfortably ensconced in an affluent, conservative  lifestyle—herself a history teacher ironically enough—she  learns the world around her, to include her husband, is corrupt. She discovers that she teaches history that is full of holes and skewed, the adoption of her daughter was brokered from death and loss, and her husband negotiates shady financial deals on behalf of a corrupt government. Most importantly, she discovers that she is an actor, a player, within a large-scale scheme of violence, death, and vice. And she feels complicit mainly because she is complicit. I’d like to point out that there is nothing “business as usual” about being handed a baby with little or no explanation of its origins. If someone handed me a kitten, I’d have significant questions: Where is its mother? Where did you find it? Is there anything wrong with it? In other words, I’m not really sympathetic to the idea that Alicia is totally innocent. How can anyone not ask questions about a baby? But that’s the point of the film: Argentina’s complacency and denial transforming into reality.

Somalia: Black Hawk Down

I was surprised that I liked Black Hawk Down as much as I did. I began viewing the film with much bias after reading the reviews ahead of time. I anticipated a not-so-subtle propaganda film—flag waving, Islam bashing, and maudlin American patriotism.  I am a staunch critic of the Bush dynasty—the engineers of Somalia mission. If given the opportunity, I’m stepping right up to have my ticket punched. Reviews of the film were varied, probably much of the divergence due to political leanings. I’m simply going to review the film, pointing out how my points differ from ones provided for our reading.

Is Black Hawk Down a propaganda film—a product of the post 9-11 hoopla machine? Of course it is, but it’s no guiltier of celebrating or underscoring heroic American military involvement than any other “militainment” films that came before it. Propaganda films are not new to American audiences. During WWI, Hollywood offered titles that included Sergent York, 13 Men and a Gun, The Red Baron, and Two Minutes of Silence. WWII gave us Mrs. Miniver, Foreign Correspondent, and Chaplin’s The Great Dictator. The list lengthens as American military history unfolded: Korea, Vietnam, Operation Desert Storm, Somalia, and most recently—Operation Rumsfeld’s Hubris in Iraq. Hollywood realized a long time ago that there is money to be made by dramatizing war. There is nothing new under the camera’s eye.

Larry Chin asserts that our involvement in Somalia was based on a lie, and therefore the film is a lie. He further asserts that Black Hawk Down is the government’s carefully concocted propaganda engineered to stir up our inner war-monger. Mr. Chin: let’s “set things straight” for you. Are you so idealistic (read: stupid) that you subscribe to a belief that the Department of Defense’s machinations are, always have been, and should be perfectly noble? Mr. Smith does not go to Washington—power and money do. The idea, nay, the fact that government pulls the wool over eyes isn’t new nor a singular, magical revelation—so what’s your point? Lie or no, the film is what it is.

                        So what’s the point of this film? Black Hawk Down is a film about heroes without victory, heroes in defeat. Since the film precedes the debacle in Iraq (Operation Flimsy Pretext), we might say the film is more about our unsound involvement in Viet Nam or Operation Oil Profits (Gulf War I) or any other badly conceived, poorly executed shoot-from-the hip military operation in the post WWII era. If the film has any purpose at all, it’s to reveal that American foreign policy isn’t necessarily sound, we don’t always get it right, but that the men and women on the ground should not be criticized for it. We must recognize and applaud their instincts, thorough training, and courage that saved the day—not to mention their asses. It’s what the Marines mean when they preach “improvise, overcome, adapt.” American film audiences are not watching movies to become better policy makers. We’re there to be entertained.

I am hard pressed to believe that the film attempts to glorify America. The film does not offer flattering images; I am reluctant to invest in the idea that the director is conveying a statement that our presence Somalia was an “imperialist intervention, a noble incident of grand significance.” Hardly. What the film reveals is bad military intelligence and poor planning, along with military leadership at a loss as to what to do next. We see American soldiers shooting willy-nilly into crowds and killing civilians—women no less. The fact that we are getting  our asses kicked is hard to miss. But isn’t that the point?

Personally, I think the directors were channeling and likening the heroes in defeat on the grounds of the World Trade Center with the heroes in defeat on the ground in Somalia. Basically, it was about invigorating our sense of victimization. We did that a lot immediately following the 9-11 attacks.

Clearly, Larry Chin discounts what the film truly showcases: individuals responding to and surviving a worst case scenario. I think the film redeems the soldier on the ground executing orders that require a relinquishment of sanity and morality. Now, most might criticize that, but I would ask those individuals, namely Mr. Chin, “Where you there? What would you have done?” I’d also like to point out that military misconduct—if any—is the stuff of military tribunals, not candy-assed painty-waist journalist.

            Does the film make a point? Yes, as stated before, the film is about heroes in defeat; the usual hero manufacture fare. But passed that, overall, it I think it’s a shallow, two-dimensional blockbuster, shoot ‘em up vehicle designed to capitalize on the early 2002, post 9-11 American climate.  Thus, it’s about profits. It’s about box office draw. Remember, it was a tense time in American history. American audiences were tense and Black Hawk Down’s timing assured high dollar box office returns. Victimized Americans were ripe to shell out ticket and popcorn money with Somalia as the perfect venue. We were a captive audience, recent victims of the 9-11 attacks. At that time, we really did not a face or a name to blame for 9-11, but Hollywood gave America a bad guy—at least for a couple of hours. Who cares about historical accuracy—just give the audience something to cheer about. As I have said so often, all film is artifice. If the viewer wants a true account of Mogadishu, then Google it. How many historical films really are accurate? Ridley Scott and Jeff Bruckheimer are not the first to take artistic license. They won’t be the last.

Bottom line, the release of Black Hawk Down was all about the money— but just about everything coming out of Hollywood is. The Mogadishu debacle offered a storyline that was just too irresistible to ignore. It’s the perfect premise for a big-screen special-effects driven film with ancillary opportunities for graphic gore and schlocky scripting the likes of “in the heat of battle, politics go out the window” and “Hey—who’s hungry?’ 

The way Larry Chin converts innocuous statements into inflammatory proclamations  is absolutely ridiculous. One might manufacture an infinite set of subtexts from any line from any movie ever made. More often than not, the screen play—the actual dialogue in blockbuster films, is merely filler between jerky storyline advances and special effects. America laps this stuff up. Why do film critics assume a thoughtful, informed audience comprised of diction teachers, rhetoricians, and grammarians? Why do film critics assume a contemplative audience at all?

Of course the Somalians are portrayed as “crazy black Islamists.” They are presented to the audience as “the enemy”. Unless a director employs a conspicuous device to distinguish Vice (black extremist, Aryan goose-stepping Nazi, long-coated Soviets, black hats, the fat racist southern Sheriff) from Virtue (neatly uniformed FBI agents, white hats, white guys) American audiences really aren’t going to “get it.” In other words, a director utilizes visual devices to convey a story. Directors frequently resort to caricature.

Larry Chin presents the statement that Black Hawk Down is dangerous and those who love the film are dangerous. That reeks of Tipper Gore priggishness. The film isn’t any more dangerous than an Eminem CD. In fact, there are far more dangerous media out there—i.e. The Fox News Channel (“We distort, you comply”). The film doesn’t pretend to be anything else but a film. Fox News actually claims to be credible.

For Mr. Chin, I’ll leave you with this: here’s an AK-47, a band of journalists, and a hostile city with the entire populace trying to kill you. Get in there, and go at it—let’s see how you do. And if you survive the day, tell us about it. Oh, and please be prepared to answer for every move you made while on the streets.  And if you can, tell us the truth.

Chin, Larry. “Black Hawk Down: Hollywood drags bloody corpse of truth across movie screens.” http://www.uncg.edu/-jwjones/world/reado]ing/rvwsbhdown.html . Accessed 15 July 2012.

South Africa: A Dry White Season

I thought the film was quiet and poignant, without guile, pretense, or special effects.  It presented the facts and social norms of South African Aparthied clearly.



Overall, there was a profoundly unequal distribution of wealth, power, and opportunity. The film reveals obvious inequalities between blacks and whites in South Africa. The norms include lack of individual and group power within black populations. The white population considered themselves responsible for the creation and maintenance of anything good and prosperous in the country. The whites seemed entitled to their superiority due their race and European origins. Blacks worked menial low or no skilled jobs while whites were presented as teachers, lawyers, and police officials. Whites perceived blacks as capable of spontaneous and random violence, savage animals with no self-control. They could not understand why blacks were incapable of perceiving themselves as anything but savages and why they could not accept their inferiority as a fundamental truth.  Whites were the decision-makers and power brokers. Blacks had no civil rights or liberties, often arrested and tortured on drummed up charges. Questioning Apartheid almost always meant arrest, imprisonment, torture, and possible death.  Blacks were told where to live and where to go to school.  The film showed the striking contrast been the affluent white neighborhoods versus the poverty stricken environs of the blacks.

Mr. de Toit’s worldview changed dramatically over the course of the film. In the beginning, we see that Mr. De Toit  never second guessed society’s views and institutions He seemed to think the staus quo was right and true. But after experiencing the prevailing injustices of Aparthied close-up, through events unfolding within his own household, he was transformed from a comfortble sense of white entitlement to civil rights advocacy --at the risk of his relationships, his life, and the lives of his loved ones. Not only did his views of segregation change, but his opinion and view of his fellow whites changed as well,  to include his perception of self. Thus, transformations permeated self, society, the nation, and prospects for the future of all South Africans. 

Rwanda: Sometimes in April

I chose to view Sometimes in April because I already viewed Hotel Rwanda. Though Hotel  Rwanda is a great film, its focus is too narrow with the horrifying events of the Rwandan genocide kept somewhat the background. Hotel Rwanda does not reveal the day to day struggle of the man on the street. The true horror of Rwanda is a bit glossed over in the film. The reason for that, perhaps, was to make the film viewable, digestible and sterile enough for American audiences who prefer popcorn Indian Jones blockbusters and mind numbing TV programming. Most Americans have probably never heard of Rwanda. Some may consider the genocide as nothing more than a vigorous housecleaning.

Sometimes in April left me more than stunned. I was flabbergasted and speechless. To comprehend an average of 8500 deaths per day is more than what can be imagined. Sometimes in April does not spare the audience of the rapes, slaughters, body heaps, and infanticides. The film is not easy to watch.

From the film we discern that Hutu feel hatred and resentment towards the Tsotsi. The resentment is a consequence of the Belgian colonists’ beliefs and imposition of those beliefs that Tsotsi (minority population) is a superior race of African; above the Hutu (majority population). When the Belgians left, the angry Hutu sought vindication and vengence, resorting to violence to assert their power. Since that time, the racial violence has unfolded many times throughout Rwandan history.

In the film, Hutu and Tsotsi relations are obviously strained. There is a feeling of apprehension. When the Rwandan president's plane is shot down by rebel forces, all hell breaks out—the violence gets underway. The genocide was fast, sweeping and merciless. No class, gender, or lifestage was spared. If you were Tsotsi, you were dead. Popular participation was recruited thru radio broadcasts and propaganda. Warlords, militia,  and farmers “went to work” each day with the goal of killing Tsotsi in mind.

Sometimes in April implicates the international community for their failure to respond. As the film shows, Rwanda doesn’t have any marketable extractive resources and the United States has no interests there. Thus, the international response was minimal; only Americans and Europeans were evacuated. The film illustrates the prevailing American perception that it was just Africans killing Africans, a sentiment fueled by recent memories of the Somalian conflict and our failed mission there.

It’s hard to observe any clear “norms” in the film because the film’s focus is  the 100 days of genocide. It is observed that the population was required to carry ID cards to indicate one’s race: Hutu or Tsotsi. I observed fairly nice middle-class neighborhoods, good schools, happy kids, friendly neighbors. With the exception of the tension and uncertainty among the film’s characters, the  few minutes of film before the genocide resembled any middle-class neighborhood anywhere. We heard of the characters’  historical consciousness; they had already suffered violence and loss of family members in previous violent outbreaks. We also watched husbands packing up kids and wives while they remained at home to defend.

Palestine: Paradise Now

I think Paradise Now is an extremely important film. It represents a credible, sincere voice for the Palestinian people and their struggles, one that was recognized on platforms the likes of the Golden Globe and Academy Awards. Granted, these aren’t powerful entities, nor are they policy making bodies, but nonetheless, they are vehicles for an important film such as Paradise Now to capture the attention of an international audience.

Palestinian life is bleak. Unemployment runs rampant. Resources are controlled and doled out by Israeli settlers. Palestinians are cordoned off like subclass citizens, segregated from the Israelis. Hatred for the Israelis is extreme—militant. Any Palestinian who advocates peace between groups is considered a traitor and subject to execution.  The removal or elimination of Israeli settlers is foremost in Palestinian thought.

Palestinians live in bombed out, graffiti’d, filthy environs. The Isrealis, in contrast, live among high rises and vacation resort -like conditions. The Palestinians exist each day in lack and poverty. Israelis lead pretty comfortable middle to upper class lives.

Unemployment, anger, and frustrattion with a population that has nothing to lose is a recipe for violence. Thus, acts of terrorism are social norms in Palestinian life. The Palestinians have no other weapon to wield against the Israeli settlers except their bodies, their lives. Hamas selects its suicide bomber candidates and the candidates are honored to oblige. To refuse the honor is to be a coward, possibly a traitor.

Thus, Paradise Now is a film that traces the lives of two young male suicide bomber candidates, and their preparation and execution of an attack. My interpretation of the film's ending is that the attack occurred, though we don’t see it. But the direction of the ending was unambiguous: the suicide bomber appeared unequivocally invested in his task, and totally justified in executing it. The scene was unapologetic. My conclusion is the Palestinian people will continue to fight (as well they should, in my opinion) and the violence will never end.

Does terrorism work? Well, yes—sort of. It drains resources. It puts a dent in a system’s funds and opportunities—so yes, there is some victory and purpose to it.  I don’t think it’s anyone place to make value judgments for the Palestinians. It is not fair to criticize or condemn since we have no common frame of reference.