Friday, April 22, 2011

Cocaine Cowboys


Its hard to imagine just how poignant the “where did it all go wrong” moment must have been when Mickey Munday aimed his flare gun at the oil slick he had hastily created in a last ditch attempt to escape the federal agents who were rapidly closing in. Billy Corbin’s Cocaine Cowboys was the ride of a lifetime, a film so honest and comprehensive (with a major exception) that for much of the film the drug trade took on a human face it sorely lacks. However what Cocaine Cowboys does not show is how the nation’s drug habit and the forces which reacted to it changed much more than the streets of Miami.
            The first part of the film which shows the rise of Munday and Jon Roberts (among several others) gives a glimpse into a world which feels more like a Hollywood blockbuster rather than a feasible truth. The sheer amount of money, drugs, innovation, and success came off more like a college student’s dream life than a historical account of a violent and despised enterprise. It was strange to see the origins of the Miami drug trade which lacked violence (comparatively) being presented by two likable guys.  Watching drug money allow Miami to flourish when the rest of the country was struggling to keep their nose above water begged the question; would I have cared as long as my city was prosperous?
            The Dadeland shooting seems to have answered that question for both Miami and the majority of the United States.  For those interviewed in the film, this was a clear turning point in the narcotics trade in the United States.  The threat of violence had always been very real, but never materialized to a degree near what occurred in the aftermath of the Dadeland massacre. The turning point they all referenced was not simply the increase in violence, but apparently was the first offensive launched by the federal government in the war on drugs. Paul Gootenberg’s article in The Americas which focuses on the Pre-Columbian narcotics trade shatters that assumption, noting that the U.S. had launched a “secret war” on cocaine as early as 1947. (Gootenberg, 134). However the film is correct in defining the post Dadeland period and the advent of Vice-President Bush’s new initiatives as an entirely different level of federal intervention. What the film misses (after all it is focused on Miami) but both Youngers and Gootenberg focus on in their articles is how the War on Drugs has been affecting the South American countries.
            Youngers, in her article Collateral Damage, is especially hostile towards the effects of U.S. policies in Andean countries. Her primary argument is that U.S. policy is not only ineffective, but incredibly dangerous and damaging to Andean countries. She argues that the danger lies in how the U.S. has forced the largely feeble civilian governments to craft policies which favor the power of the traditionally violent and belligerent Andean militaries. (130-131) By the U.S. relying on the military, it is undermining the civilian governments which desperately need to find stable ground for issues that are much more critical than the drug war.
            While Youngers supports her arguments rather well, but it seems that she allows an understandable hostility towards U.S. policy drive her arguments into a territory that is overly simple and ignorant of how complex this situation is for all sides. It would be interesting to see how this article would have changed should it have been written with the current situation in Mexico be taken into account. Her advocacy for law enforcement over military in enforcement of drug policy would certainly have to be rewritten, as the cartels have proved far too strong for Mexican police to compete with.
            One thing is certain though, the War on Drugs cannot continue in its current form. It is a war of attrition that is funded by an apparently insatiable American appetite for narcotics. And as much as the American efforts in the Andean countries seem fruitless, as long as the American public demands action from their government, this long war will continue.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Our Lady of the Assassins


Upon first watching Our Lady of the Assassins it easily provoked an unequivocal thought in my mind, “this is the worst film I have ever seen.” While this assertion has not been abandoned, the film makes much more sense when placed alongside the readings. However this extra light shed by the readings in many ways further damns the film if it is approached with historical purpose. While approaching any film with such a narrow vision of what should be gained is presumptuous on the viewers part, the film did open this door by trying to be something more than the story of one man. The result was a plot which could not decide whether or not it wanted to simply be the story of a man, or if it wanted to be the story of Medillin.
            The primary problem with this film as it relates to this class ultimately lies with the fact that for many, there can be little to no empathy for the situation or the characters. First off, the 800 pound guerilla should be addressed. It is much better to be honest and provoke a true dialogue than skirting around an issue in order to be politically correct. The homosexuality made me uncomfortable and judging by the number of people looking away from the screen all at the same time, I know I was not the only one. However that alone could not have been the only problem because regardless of whatever personal convictions I might have I have never found homosexuality so disturbing. It then hit me as I argued with myself about how it was childish to let a homosexual relationship derail an academic approach to the film. It was not the homosexuality in and of itself, but rather that nature of the relationship and the two men in that relationship which ruined any chance for empathizing with Alexis or Fernando. It was borderline pedophilia with an old man who took advantage of the fact that he could basically purchase “love” of young boys to entertain him and listen to his rather insane rants. The only reason I take time to address this issue is that it undoubtedly detracts from the value of this film for many students, and I am only comfortable saying so after to talking to about a dozen classmates on top of the awkward silence after the film.
            As for the film itself, it failed in its attempt to frame its story, which was very personal while completely reliant on the extreme socio-economic situation in  Medillin. Fernando kept talking of the Medillin of old, as if everything was ok before Pablo and the cartels took power. But Hylton’s essay Evil Hour in Columbia presents a picture of Columbia which was never the peaceful and sleepy country Fernando recollects. These recollections, along with only passing comments trying to explain the violence and motivations of the gangs hurt the film. The violence was utterly senseless, yet while it should have been shocking, the film never really presented any understanding for it. The willingness of so man people to use violence as casually as holding a conversation is an incredibly shocking reality, but it never seems so in the film. It did not help that this film was shown after The City of God, which was masterful in how it allowed viewers to understand the motivations of even the most heinous acts of violence.
            With all of this being presented it was hard not to see Our Lady of the Assassins as fantastical; a story of characters who are hard to care for in a world that has no hint of reality. But this understanding is completely false when placed against the readings. Hylton’s essay is incredibly informative as it allows for this incomprehensible environment to become a historical reality. The conflicts between the conservatives, liberals, populist, and all their sub factions is deeply ingrained in the Columbian story and the sheer scale of these incredibly fluid conflicts allows for students to understand how violence had become such a normal part of life. The massive amount of acronyms which would put the bureaucracy of the United States to shame were constantly engaged in conflict, whether it be martial, economic, political, or cultural (or a combination of some or all). However throughout the conflicts that both Vargas and Hylton explore there was one constant feature that was missing from the film. Whether it was Gomez or Escobar or the dozens of other leaders, all the violence had some semblance of leadership and goals, something that was utterly non-existent in the post-Escobar Medillin. The figures and ideals which had propelled the violence were gone in Alexis’s world, yet the violence had remained as a deeply ingrained part of life.
            The final issue I wished to tackle was how the Church was portrayed in the film. While it was not unusual to see the deep Catholic influences shared by the killers, it was strange to see how the reverence was universal among a population which had been involved in a war which very much revolved around factions on the left which had traditionally seen the Church as an enemy. Hylton’s essay shed much needed light on the subject when it was explained how for much of the various conflicts the Church had fulfilled its traditional role of supporting conservative forces; however during the small period of reconciliation under Gomez the Church had tried to be a institution which worked for cooperation. Also the situation in Medillin during the period in which the film took place was not in the wake of political violence and contention, but in the aftermath of the very economic conflict experienced during the cartels rule.
            Overall Our Lady of the Assassins fails to ever allow for an audience ignorant of Columbia’s history to understand or care about the city in the film because it felt so unreal. In many ways this would be forgiveable due to the fact that the students in the United States were not the target audience. However, there were a few times where the film appeared to be attempting to give a context to the audience, and compared to films like City of God the movie failed in its attempt. Additionally, the characters who are meant to take us through this journey are tiring. Even the educated and reflective Fernando is so tiring in his self-righteousness as well as his unwillingness to do anything about the situation (including the much alluded to and entirely plausible escape) that to care about him or his murderous boy toys  (which are almost to the point of being inhuman, which is likely more of an issue of their portrayal in the film rather than who they were in reality) is for this writer, an unachievable goal. 

Monday, March 7, 2011

The Motorcycle Diaries

                The Motorcycle Diaries is a film that appears to have fallen victim to the complexity of the life and world it wished to depict. On the surface it is a beautiful film that was well acted and for the most part well written. However, many of the decisions made by director Walter Salles and the production team beg the question of what they were trying to accomplish. It is apparent that liberty was taken with the historical accuracy of Ernesto’s character. Much of the complexity which was responsible for making Guevara into the man history knows was conspicuously absent in the film. This depiction of Guevara as a simple everyman was accompanied by an oversimplification of what would transform Ernesto into Che. As a result the film feels poorly defined; stuck hopelessly between a story of friendship and discovery, and a story of finding political conviction.
                The first issue to address with the film is how dumb downed Ernesto is compared to his real life counterpart. The film depicts the young Guevara as a poor, honest, and inexperienced young man who discovers himself and his beliefs on an epic journey. While it makes for great entertainment it unfortunately makes for negligent history. In the essay Point of Departure, Eduardo Elena provides a much more accurate portrait of the man seen in the film. The first sentence of the essay reveals a shocking revelation for those who have only the film and a few paragraphs in a history book as their source of knowledge for the infamous Che. This journey “did not constitute Guevara’s first travel experience, nor even his first trip abroad” (Elena 24). He was an avid traveler, and a man who valued to discovery from a very early age. This choice by Salles was obviously made in order to craft a much more friendly and entertaining story. However, a much more questionable omission relates to Guevara’s development of a political conciseness.
                If you find a person who greatly influenced history is simple, all you have found is a myth. The Ernesto of the film was a very simplistic character. He cared for the common man and the Indian, and did so with compassion and honesty. While Guevara obviously cared for the less fortunate and the plight of the Indians, his views were far from the bottom line presented in the film. Elena’s essay debunks the simplicity of Guevara’s political views by noting that his silence in his journals was not out of indifference but an inability to reconcile the “contradictions of Peronism” (Elena 34). It appears that Guevara had strong political opinions, but he could not fit them within the simplistic systems available to him. These complexities are completely absent from the film, and really do history a disservice.
                Paulo Drinot reveals an more complex issues into the early years of Guevara in his essay Awaiting the Blood of a Truly Emancipating Revolution. Drinot’s essay shatters the depiction of Guevara as a simple everyman who saw no difference between himself and the less fortunate. According to Drinot, during his time in Peru Guevara “clearly [felt] empathy” for the “indigenous people” (102). However Ernesto was constantly guilty of reproducing “highly racist views” (Drinot 102). This is not to take away from the undeniable fact that Guevara was aware of the oppression suffered by natives; but it does represent a much fuller picture of Che Guevara.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Soy Cuba: Propaganda at its Worst






It takes only minutes to make two very accurate conclusions about Soy Cuba. The first thing that should be noticed is just how stunning the cinematography is for a film this old. Before the advent of the steadycam harnesses and complex camera rigs it is rare to see such masterful direction of the camera.  Mikhail Kalatozov, along with the Soviet and Cuban governments, sought to tell the story of everyday people rebelling against the tyranny of the Batista Regime and capitalism.

Evaluating the effectiveness, accuracy, and ultimately the historical value of Soy Cuba presents a difficult challenge. It is not unreasonable to presume that American viewers would assume that Kalatozov managed to create a film that would have been successful in Castro’s Cuba and the USSR. The film is beautiful, has four well told chapters, strong acting, and overt sympathy for the communist cause. For those who have not studied the film in the past, it is important to note that Soy Cuba was poorly received in both countries. Cubans found the Russian’s understanding of Cuban culture lacking while the Soviet population somehow found it lacking in revolutionary appeal. This alone makes evaluation of Kalatozov’s final product difficult. It is obvious that his film did not find resonance with the national identity of Cubans or the perceptions held within the USSR.

Unfortunately, Soy Cuba offers little value as an accurate period piece. It is inherently a propaganda film, which at best is ignorant, and at worst revisionist. It is nearly impossible to take a film which can at one moment abhor violence and the next glorify it. While Soy Cuba was not incorrect in portraying Batista’s Cuba as a corrupt American playground, it obvious inability to attempt an objective portrayal is exhausting.

Many posts have noted Soy Cuba’s accurate representation of the playboy Americans, greedy capitalist, and harsh security officer. Soy Cuba is not incorrect in criticizing these figures, as they certainly existed. Where Soy Cuba looses its validity is how absolute and self-righteous it is. Anyone who knows the history of the Kulaks should have been laughing at the Soviet portrayal of the old farmer burning his sugar-cane. The harsh measures used by Soviet and Cuban security forces were almost a mirror image of the Batista regime. There are countless other examples of how this film falls into the illegitimacy of propaganda.

If there is to be historical value found within the film, this value would be centered around the idiocy of propaganda. It is a dangerous tool used by all governments, and when presented as historical truth its damage to the untrained mind can be catastrophic. Soy Cuba is a masterpiece when it comes to the art of film. But outside its technical merits, there is very little of value. 

Monday, February 14, 2011

Gabriela: The Illusion of Progress


The steamy love story that takes place in Gabriela was in and of itself unimportant to a historical understanding of Brazil in the early 20th Century. The turbulent setting of the film along with the complexities that Gabriela’s relationship represent are far more critical to analyzing the film in a historical context.

The theme of progress was a central point of conflict which drives to political subplot of the film. The small town had come to represent an uncomfortable union of the old guard and those who sought to replace them. While it is interesting that expansion of the harbor represented the goal of the so called “progressive” challenger, what is more important is how little the dynamics changed in its aftermath. The comments made at the ceremony were telling, it was not new, it was just different. As much as those challenging the old guard advocated industrialization, their goals were of a much simpler nature. The ceremony featured the installation of a different face, with the former loyalists doing nothing more than pledging themselves to their new leader.
It appears that industrial progress was more of a political tool than it was an overarching ideal of progress.

The film also shows the infringing modern society on a societal level. The drought had forced an integration of poor and rich in a rather revolutionary manner. Nacib’s relationship with his servant was certainly normal within society, however the ability of that relationship to grow into a formal marriage represented a new openness within Latin American culture. The intermingling of rich and poor was by no means a common occurrence, and the struggles found within that relationship demonstrated lingering societal prejudices. Outside of marriage, Gabriela and Nacib had a simple lustful relationship. But with marriage, Gabriela proved incapable of accepting the societal norms expected of a proper woman. The marriage was of force of division rather than union, and was only reconciled upon the relationship’s return to a primal nature.

Despite the failure of progress to allow for a true union of rich and poor, it did have an effect on the rule of law’s triumph over the archaic sense of honor. It was so frowned upon to not avenge a man’s honor that Nacib feared he would have to flee for not killing his wife. However his temperance was vindicated when he found out that the doctor had been convicted and imprisoned for killing his wife and the man who she was with. It was taken for granted that the doctor need not fear the law. His failure in the court of law was perhaps the most poignant example of progress overtaking the old order.
Gabriela represented a society in the midst of change rather than a society that had changed. The film beautifully portrayed the uncertainty of a community living in revolutionary times and its ability to sense change while failing to understand it.

-Thomas Ingram

Monday, February 7, 2011

Camila: Love and Rebellion

Maria Luisa Bamberg wished to critique Argentine society both during the rule chaos of the mid 19th century as well as the period leading up to the films release. The main character Camila appears to be very much a representation of Bamberg's own beliefs regarding the Church, sexual oppression, and patriarchal society. Her film and the true story on which she based Camila provided a perfect foundation for a potent critique of society.

The questions and arguments Bamberg present were meant for Argentina; yet they are common across both Latin America and Western Civilization. The peril of two young lovers rebelling against an oppressive society was by no means novel. The Church, patriarchy, and totalitarian government fulfill their typical roles as villainous institutions. Yet despite these rather unoriginal themes, Camila was a huge success both in Argentina and the United States.

The reasons for Camila's success in Argentina are very clear. The country was just emerging from the inherent oppressive nature which accompanies military dictatorships. The fact that filming began right after censorship had been lifted obviously allowed the film's message to have a weight it obviously did not enjoy in the United States. The imagery throughout the film; such as the plethora of portraits of Rosa, red banners, military pageantry, and red pennants on the clothing all invoke an overbearing sense of government intrusion. The hopeless story of these two young lovers being pursued and punished by a ruthless government for what seems a minor crime is obviously offensive to a majority of viewers. However, Bamberg was hoping to criticize much more than the tyranny her country had experienced throughout its existence.

The protagonist is without a doubt a feminist heroine. She constantly challenges the accepted norms by voicing her opinion in a society which demands women be silent. Her pursuit of love with a clergyman is in-itself a plea for human passion over Christian values. For many this was a relevant and effective argument. That being said, it must be asked it Bamberg's melodramatic narrative lost a measure of potency due to certain traits possessed by Camila.

While the grievances brought by the film are legitimate, the actions of mindset of Camila seemed naive and overly selfish. Her wish to rebel against society was propelled by an irrational and lustful passion, not an academic or rational awareness of her situation. While it seems clear to Bamberg and a modern audience that Camila should not have to curtail her natural rights and emotions for an overbearing society; such a mindset is ignorant of the reality of Western society. Perhaps if Camila had been more insightful of the gravity of her actions, as Ladislao was, the tragedy would have appeared to be that much more a crime against reason.