Documentary – Page 75 – LFM: Libertas Film Magazine

Pappy Boyington Field on DVD

By Jason Apuzzo. This is a melancholy weekend. The ninth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks is upon us – and it is natural, I think, to reflect not only on the victims of that day, but on the people whose lives are continually put in the line of fire in order to prevent those sorts of attacks from happening again. So for this reason I want to tell you about a little documentary that recently came to my attention, called Pappy Boyington Field. You can see the trailer for the film above.

Who was Pappy Boyington? Pappy Boyington is what America was – and I dearly hope still is – made of. He is the sort of man who made this country the most powerful force for democracy and freedom this world has ever seen. If Homer walked our streets today, he is the kind of man the poet would likely write epic poems about. As it turns out, John Wayne more or less did play Pappy in the classic film Flying Tigers, and Robert Conrad certainly played Pappy in the famous TV series Baa Baa Black Sheep.

So in his lifetime, Pappy certainly got his due. And in our lifetime? Let’s just say that remains to be seen. Boyington’s present-day legacy is the subject of Kevin Gonzalez’s fine new documentary Pappy Boyington Field, and certainly Gonzalez’s film takes us great strides forward in understanding and appreciating this extraordinary American.

Gregory ‘Pappy’ Boyington was a Marine Corps fighter ace during World War II, who had the distinction of being awarded both the Medal of Honor and the Navy Cross. With between 22 and 28 kills (depending on the source) Pappy was not quite America’s top scoring ace – that distinction belongs to Air Force Maj. Richard Bong (with over 40) – but Pappy was likely the most brash and daring. Boyington initially flew with Claire Chennault’s Flying Tigers in China (often clashing with Chennault), and later commanded the famous Marine Corps Black Sheep Squadron. Boyington would later become a prisoner of war – a ‘guest of the Emperor’ – before returning home in triumph, after he’d more or less been given up for dead.

He was called ‘Pappy’ because during the War he commanded men who were, for the most part, about a decade younger than he was.

Part of the Boyington legend is that Pappy would actually goad the enemy into coming up to fight him and his men. Over the Kahili airdrome, for example, Pappy and two dozen of his fighters circled a Japanese airfield where 60 aircraft were based. The Japanese took the bait, and sent up a large squadron. In the battle that followed, 20 Japanese aircraft were shot down. Among the Black Sheep? None.

At one point during the war, Boyington’s Black Sheep squadron offered to shoot down a Japanese Zero for every baseball cap sent to them by baseball players playing in the World Series. They received 20 caps – and shot down 20 Zeros … and just kept going. At one point during the squadron’s first tour of combat duty, Pappy actually shot down 14 enemy fighter planes in 32 days. Boyington’s war record is studded with such colorful tales of bravado and triumph.

451px-Pappy_Boyington — One of America's greatest heroes.

Flash forward to today. A group of Marine veterans in Boyington’s birthplace of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, wanted to rename that small town’s airport “Coeur d’Alene Airport–Pappy Boyington Field” in his honor. You would think this sort of thing would be a lock, a no-brainer. When you accomplish the sort of things Pappy accomplished, you would think that naming a small airfield in his name would sort of be the minimum his country might do for him. For all I’m concerned, they could’ve renamed Idaho ‘Pappy’ and I personally would’ve been fine with it.

But we don’t live in the World War II era any more, of course, and so the city fathers of Coeur d’Alene stalled and made excuses. They asserted that it might be ‘dangerous’ to pilots to change the airport’s name, because it might confuse them(!). They hid behind amorphous accusations of Boyington’s drinking and philandering. Essentially they stalled and evaded … for three years. They did so until a variety of media people got involved and took up Pappy’s cause. One key figure in this fight was Fox News’ Oliver North. I won’t tell you how the story panned out.

Pappy Boyington Field is a documentary that tells the story behind the effort to rename the Coeur d’Alene Airport in Pappy’s honor. In so doing, the film subtley tells the story of two Americas: the World War II America in which Boyington was a hero who received a hero’s welcome after his return from the Pacific theater (including a massive downtown parade in San Francisco, and receiving the Medal of Honor from President Harry Truman); and, of course, the America of today … when faceless, politically correct bureaucrats do everything imaginable to erase the memory of this genuine hero. So there’s a melancholy quality to Pappy Boyington Field that is unmistakable. How in hell has our country changed so much, in such a relatively brief period of time?

NA003995 — Receiving the Medal of Honor, from Pres. Truman

Kudos to filmmaker (and fellow USC Trojan) Kevin Gonzalez for putting together this compelling documentary about the fight on Pappy’s behalf. Pappy Boyington Field is a film about the type of old-fashioned, small town activism – precisely the sort of the fueling the current Tea Party movement – that is trying to halt the wholesale erasing of America’s freedom-loving heritage. Except in this case, the activism is coming from Marines, who were simply trying to honor a man whose valor in combat on behalf of his country is already the stuff of legend.

Please pick up a copy of Pappy Boyington Field and watch it. Take some time to learn something about an American hero, who put his life on the line for you. Once you’ve done that, pick up another copy for your local library – and make sure they stock it, so that young people can learn something about their country’s heritage. Demand that it be seen. Make some noise. Little acts like these will prevent our shared history from slipping away.

As a footnote here, I understand that John Woo will soon be doing a large-scale Flying Tigers movie, to be released in IMAX. I think that’s great … but I’m hoping there’s a character named Pappy Boyington in it – and that he gets the props he deserves. Men like Pappy are what made this country what it is – or what it can be, when we continue to live up to his example.

Posted on September 12th, 2010 at 1:02pm.

China’s Great Migration: Last Train Home

By Joe Bendel. Whether you consider it an unintentional disconnect stemming from China’s rapid industrialization or outright hypocrisy, the chasm between official rhetoric and reality is wide and stark in the Communist People’s Republic of China. It might be go-go times in the big coastal commercial centers, but the rural areas are desperately poor. An estimated 130 million migrant workers leave for those cities, working long hours for exploitative wages. They only make one annual return home for the traditional New Year holiday. Considered the world’s largest migration of people, documentarian Lixin Fan examines the taxing ritual through the eyes of one struggling Chinese family in Last Train Home, which opened Friday in select theaters nationwide.

Zhang Changhua and Chen Suqin are second class citizens, veritable illegal aliens within their own countries. Under the government’s restrictive residency laws, they have few formal rights and no access to social services outside their home district. Yet, they have had little choice but to seek work in China’s teeming urban centers. As a result, they have rarely seen the pre-teen daughter and young son they left to be raised by their grandmother.

Mother-daughter relationships can be difficult even under easier circumstances, but the three years Chen and her daughter Zhang Qin have been separated are taking a toll. Yet Chen cannot entirely blame her for feeling abandoned, even while lamenting that she has not been a good mother. Unfortunately, the resentful daughter spitefully drops out of school, becoming a migrant worker herself. It is a bitter turn of events for her parents, who now must face the possibility that many of their sacrifices will have been for naught. They also know only too well the rough education she is in for, especially when navigating the yearly mass exodus.

Sharing an obvious stylistic affinity with the Digital Generation of independent Chinese filmmakers, Chinese-Canadian director Lixin Fan is not afraid of holding long, quiet shots. However, he captured some uncomfortably intimate family drama, while conscientiously refraining from adding outside commentary. Clearly, the filmmaker built up a large reservoir of trust with his subjects. In return, he lets them speak for themselves in their own words, unfiltered and unhurried.

Train is a very personal film, but it is hard to miss the underlying point that approximately 130 million more migrant Chinese workers currently endure similar conditions. Ironically, China’s peasants used to be the PRC’s politically privileged class, but now the laws are rigged against them.

Should digital auteur Jia Zhangke ever remake John Hughes’ Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, it would probably look a lot like this. An unvarnished exercise in cinema vérité that takes on tragic dimensions, Train is a pointed corrective to the uncritical media coverage the Chinese government carefully cultivates. It is all the more difficult to shake, since it is not at all clear everything will ultimately work out alright for the Zhang family. Indeed, such is the nature of life. Uncompromising but deeply humanistic, Train opened last week in select theaters nationwide.

Posted on September 2nd, 2010 at 9:53am.

EXCLUSIVE: Libertas Reviews a ‘Terror Video’

[Editor’s Note: Recently I came across this striking video above, by New York-based filmmaker Richard Mosse. At first glance, I was shocked by what appeared to be a shahid-style terror video made by a Western filmmaker. Watching the video through, however, it occurred to me that this likely was not an actual terror video, so much as a kind of ‘genre’ piece or riff on terror videos. My thoughts then moved to the question of what an expert in this area might think of it. Fortunately I was able to turn to LFM Contributer ‘Max Garuda,’ who works in the field and has access to Arabic translation.]

“A short terror video made in Gaza. Possibly the only such video ever made by non-Palestinian producers. As a result, the representation breaks with the conventions of the Palestinian suicide video genre. In Arabic, ‘shahid’ means martyr, or witness.” – Filmmaker/photographer Richard Mosse, describing his video Shahid.

By ‘Max Garuda‘. The artist’s commentary above alerts the viewer to the existence of a ‘terrorist video genre,’ and that Mosse’s creation breaks with that category. This assertion raises two questions: what is the ‘terrorist video genre’ and what conventions does Mosse’s video contest? (An argument can be made that any film belongs in any genre if anyone can make a compelling argument for inclusion. Or, said differently, film/video genres are not fixed sets of criteria by which categorizations are easily made. Rather, they are fluid, evolving bodies of work, responding to artistic practice, distribution/marketing strategies and audience expectations.)

That being said, why does Mosse desire to characterize his video within the ‘terrorist video genre’ or by comparison to it – especially when the differences that do exist are so significant enough to make a strong argument that his video doesn’t break from the genre, but rather has nothing to do with the genre. But first, a little background on the ‘terrorist video genre.’

As the title might suggest, the most obvious distinguishing characteristic of the genre was originally the provenence of the video followed by content. Generally speaking, only terrorists made ‘terrorist videos,’ which were used to showcase the terrorizing act or transmit a message requiring some expression of authenticity. The terrorist act depends on shock and a visceral reaction by the ‘public’ of the terrorized. A beheading that occurs in the forest is just a beheading; a beheading captured on video and spread globally by broadcast news or the Internet is an act of terror. Videos showing murders, explosions and other deadly acts were created to broaden the impact of the terrorist act. The ‘theater of terror’ is a common framework for understanding terrorism, in which the terrorist’s act must have the paralyzing effect of fear – because the scope of the actual violence is quite limited. Even the 9/11 attacks, with their relatively high death toll, depend on the ‘theater of terror’ effect for their power–changing how Americans (and other countries and their citizens) conduct their daily lives, from intrusive security measures to a simple constant state of fear. Many early terrorist videos operated in this domain.

The other common example of early terrorist videos were simply video-based messages. Whether VHS tapes smuggled out of remote bivouacs to eager news outlets or digital videos posted to websites, the form of the terrorist video was targeted primarily at followers of the movement, to ensure them that the leadership was still alive and in control. Hence, the periodic release of a video of Osama bin Laden exhorting his followers or Ayman al-Zawahiri expounding on a facet of Islamic exegesis that fits his extremist goals. The target of these videos was generally the faithful, and secondly the ‘contested populations’ or those that don’t openly support the extremists but aren’t too convinced of the piety, competence and forthrightness of local government.

More recently, though, we see a fusion of these two goals (theater of terror and strategic messaging) into the genre of the ‘terrorist video’ that Mosse and his collaborators purport to produce. In this newer class of terrorist videos, we usually see direct address of the camera by the producing group, images of their heroes (Bin Laden, Al-Zarqawi, etc.), and sometimes images of their terrorist acts or types of acts the video implies are imminent. Because these newer videos are not as gruesome as the beheading type video, and because they are frequently hagiographic in their treatment of extremist heroes and martyrs, their access to the ‘theater of terror’ is less about instilling fear in a subject population, but rather in making a spectacle of the process of terrorism and thus improve recruitment within the contested population (particularly disaffected youth). Continue reading EXCLUSIVE: Libertas Reviews a ‘Terror Video’

State Sanctioned Theft: The Art of the Steal

By Joe Bendel. Americans expect their property rights to be respected, even posthumously. However, those rights evidently do not apply to when the property in question is especially valuable. At least that seems to be the case in Pennsylvania, where the state government, the city of Philadelphia, and a group of powerful non-profit foundations have in effect legally plundered the priceless Barnes Collection according to Don Argott’s eye-opening documentary, The Art of the Steal, now available on DVD.

Steal opens with the unseemly yet so appropriate video of former Mayor John Street’s news conference, in which he overflows with glee at the prospect of finally getting the Barnes in Philadelphia. All that is missing is a football for Street to spike before doing an end-zone dance. However, this display is problematic on multiple levels.

Albert C. Barnes hated Philadelphia. The self-made entrepreneur and Roosevelt Democrat amassed probably the greatest private collection of impressionist and early modern art. Yet, when he unveiled his collection in the City of Brotherly Love, it was panned by the local press and mocked by the chattering classes. Eventually, Philadelphia realized what they had missed, but it was too late. Barnes had established his Foundation in exurban Lower Merion, where career-defining Renoirs, Cézannes, Matisses, Picassos, and Degases were integrated into a progressive art school, with only limited opportunities for public viewing.

When the childless Barnes passed away, the terms of his will were explicitly designed to keep his collection intact and out of the grasping hands of Philadelphia and its despised Art Institute. However, as the original trustees passed away, control of the Barnes Foundation eventually fell to Lincoln University, a traditionally African American school safely outside the Pennsylvania establishment in Barnes’s day that became state affiliated in 1972. As Argott makes crystal clear, from that point on, Barnes’s intentions no longer governed the Foundation that still bears his name.

One of the unspoken ironies of Steal is that Barnes, the New Dealer and sworn enemy of Nixon confidant Walter Annenberg, was ultimately undone by Democrats like Street and Governor Ed Rendell. At least the governor consented to an on-camera interview, justifying the hijacking of the Barnes on grounds that incontrovertibly contradict the spirit of his will (like the fact that more people will be able to gawk at his collection on the Franklin Parkway). Conversely, representatives of the Pew Charitable Trust, which Argott identifies as the shadowy power player in the takeover of the Barnes, conspicuously declined to participate in the film. (In a further irony, the only political figure in Argott’s film speaking on behalf of Barnes’s intentions is Lower Merion’s Republican congressman Jim Gerlach, to his credit.)

dd-stealintervie_0501208165 — Producer Sheena Joyce, exec. producer Lenny Feinberg, director Don Argott.

Though he is covering the rarified art world, Argott approaches the Barnes case like a criminal investigation, and with good reason. He also memorably establishes the mind-blowing dimensions of the stakes involved, establishing the term “Barnesworthy.” As art-dealer Richard Feigen explains at a supposedly blockbuster Sotheby’s early modern show, most of the work on display that would soon be bought for millions of dollars would not have merited a second glance from Barnes. Though Feigen himself declined to assign a dollar figure to the entire collection, its value would be estimated in court filings at twenty five billion (with a “b”) dollars. This is what “Barnesworthy” means.

Steal is a smart, persuasive documentary that challenges some previously sacrosanct notions regarding the merit of museums as public institutions. While some of the finer points of estate law might sound dry, Argott makes it all quite compelling, pulling viewers through step-by-step with remarkable assuredness.

Unfortunately, the establishment considers the Barnes’ impending move to downtown Philly a done deal, even though the rag-tag Friends of the Barnes group still fights on. Maybe so, but Argott’s film could make it a pyrrhic victory. It is hard to imagine how anyone could willingly step foot in a Barnes bastardized by machine politics after watching Steal, regardless of the significance of the collection within. Highly recommended, Steal is now available on DVD and streams on Netflix.

Posted on August 24th, 2010 at 11:29am.

DocuWeeks LA: LFM Reviews My Perestroika & Summer Pasture

By Joe Bendel. Probably no division of the Academy Awards has more byzantine rules than the documentary wing. Their mandated seven day theatrical runs in both New York and Los Angeles can be difficult hurdles for nonfiction filmmakers to clear. However, every selection of the 2010 DocuWeeks will be officially Oscar eligible once they finish their week long runs at the ArcLight and IFC Film Centers. As is seemingly the case with every documentary series, this year’s DocuWeeks is a mixed bag, but two films in particular offer intriguingly intimate glimpses into lives of ordinary individuals living a world away from the arthouse cinema scene.

Even though he was badly hung-over, he knew there was a national crisis. Though the bleary-eyed Russian did not know at the time the hard-line Communist coup had deposed Mikhail Gorbachev, he saw that Swan Lake was the only program on television. For some reason, the Soviets always broadcasted the Tchaikovsky ballet during periods of internal turmoil. It is telling details like this that connect the personal to the grandly historical in Robin Hessman’s My Perestroika, which screened earlier this year at New Directors/New Films.

A Russophile in high school, Hessman was working for LENFILM, the Soviet film agency based in what was then Leningrad, at the time of the infamous coup. Through her time working and studying in Russia, Hessman developed a keen appreciation for the stoic nobility of average Russian citizens, which is clearly reflected in Perestroika. Using five former classmates as representative everymen, Hessman subjectively presents the last forty-some years of Russian and Soviet history through their reminiscences and home movies.

Yes, there is a certain nostalgia for their childhood years lived under the yoke of Soviet tyranny. However, they are really wistful for their lost innocence rather than the supposed virtues of the Brezhnev era. As becomes clear in their interviews, as the Perestroika generation came of age, it also became quickly disillusioned.

Still, not all of the film’s lead voices are doing badly. An entrepreneur with a small chain of high-end men’s clothing stores, Andrei has done quite well for himself. He is also the most vocal critic of the current Putin regime. While none of the five have led exceptional lives, Hessman had the good fortune to find participants who had been somewhat in the vicinity of great events. Indeed, the experiences of Perestroika’s subjects defy easy classification, at various times lending credence to wide array of political interpretations (though it is hard to find much in the film to justify any faith in Putin’s puppet government).

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Tibet is also changing drastically, which is exactly what China wants. For instance, it has become increasingly difficult for Tibetans not fluent in Chinese to conduct business transactions. Such are the challenges facing a young nomadic family in Tibet’s eastern Kham region as presented in Summer Pastures, an intimate new documentary from Lynn True and Nelson Walker (with co-director Tsering Perlo), also currently screening as part of DocuWeeks LA.

In many ways, Locho and Yama are much like any other parents you would find anywhere else on Earth. Their greatest hope is for their daughter to have greater opportunities in her life than have been available for them. However, their daily chores are far removed from those western audiences will be familiar with, including the daily spreading and drying of manure for fuel that starts Yama’s daily routine. It is a hardscrabble life, but it is what they have always known.

Unfortunately, it is not clear whether the nomads’ way of life will be sustainable much longer. Inflation constantly drives up the price of their supplies, while they seem to have less to show for their labors. Adding further uncertainty, Yama suffers from a persistent heart ailment, yet she keeps working like an ox – in contrast to Locho, who often seems like an overgrown kid herding their livestock.

Even in their remote corner of Tibet, Locho and Yama feel the impact of great macro forces. However, True and Walker focus their sites on their deeply personal family drama, (somewhat timidly avoiding the occupying Chinese elephant in the room). Yet by conveying such a strong sense of the nomadic couple’s personalities and relationship dynamics, Pasture will have most viewers rooting for this family as the film unfolds.

Pasture forgoes filmmaker commentary, instead capturing the nomads’ lives unfiltered, in a style not incompatible with that of Digital Generation Chinese independent filmmakers. Though it requires some patience, it is certainly rewarding to meet Yama and Locho, whose spirit and resiliency the filmmakers capture quite vividly. Both Pasture and Perestroika are difficult films to pigeon hole, but they have more merit than most docs released this year. They are currently screening in Los Angeles, as DocuWeeks continues at the ArcLight.

Posted on August 9th, 2010 at 9:32am.

Watch Disco & Atomic War Now!

Watch more free documentaries

By Jason Apuzzo. A film from the recent LA Film Festival that we loved was Disco & Atomic War. Disco is an extraordinary new Estonian documentary about the so-called ’soft power’ influence of American and Western culture on the minds of Soviet citizens living in Estonia during the Cold War, who were able through clever means to watch Finnish television broadcasts emanating from just over the border. As Disco informs us (in amusing detail), American popular culture – especially in the form of glamorous TV shows like “Dallas,” or movies like Star Wars and even Emmanuelle – was deeply feared by Soviet authorities due to the ideas and expectations such programming planted in the minds of Soviet citizens. This led to amusing co-optings, such as the Soviets creating their own officially sanctioned disco instruction course for TV(!).

You can read the LFM review of Disco and Atomic War from the LA Film Festival, and also read LFM Contributor Joe Bendel’s recent review on Joe’s personal site.

This is documentary filmmaking at its finest, and easily one of the best – and most drily amusing – films I’ve seen this past year. We want to thank the folks at SnagFilms for making the full-length film available for everyone to see, for free. Also: special thanks to SnagFilms for following Libertas on Twitter!

Posted on July 30th, 2010 at 1:58pm.