Four films, one day

So I went to four films at the Tribeca Film Festival today. Two were exceptional, the other two were very good.

First, at 10 a.m., was The Yacoubian Building, directed by Marwan Hamed and based on the novel by Alaa Al Aswani (who I saw on a panel last week). The film fest described it as:

A record budget, an all-star cast, a script based on a best-seller: Most 28-year-old novices aren't handed this kind of project, especially in Egypt, where the novel's subjects-government corruption, Islamic fundamentalism, homosexuality-are taboo onscreen. But the gamble pays off in this sprawling, compelling, and watchable epic set in a downtown Cairo building that's a symbol of modern Egypt.

Before the film started, Craig Hatkoff, the festival's co-director, talked about how jammed and great the other screenings of the film had been and how happy they were to have it here at the festival. He pronounced the Arabic names well, you could tell this wasn't just another part of the job for him. The movie started... and about a minute in, ground to a halt. They said parts of the first reel had gotten tangled up from the previous showing, so it'd take a little while to fix.

Which was fine, gave me more time to talk to the person next to me, a grad student from Germany who studies human-computer interaction. She was in D.C. for a conference, had come up to NYC to see some friends before going on to Boston; saw the fest was going on, and was going to catch a couple of films. She was really interesting, spoke: Germany, English, Spanish, Portuguese, and Indonesian. And was learning Mandarin. Reminded me of two friends I have who also each speak at least five languages; like them, she seemed like oneof those people who good and interesting things happen to, maybe because they've all traveled quite a bit and have this friendly and open air about them that made it easy for strangers to talk to them. At the same time they all give off this vibe of being intelligent people who think about things, so there's complexity there. (It was funny, before I started talking to her she pulled a sweater and pants outof her backpack and put them on over her dress, all within the confines of a theater seat).

They finally restarted the film--it definitely had high production values, and although it was a little soap-operay, because it was about a culture that I really know nothing about but have some interest in (last year I picked for my book club Naguib Mahfouz's Palace Walk, the first book in his Cairo triology; we all really liked it, so I went on to read the other two books, which I liked as well). After all, Egypt's 80 million people make it the largest country in the Arab world; it's the second-largest recipient of American aid (after Israel, the level of Egypt's aid actually is tied to how much Israel gets), and as the home of the founder of the Muslim Brotherhood it's safe to say that as the 'clash of civilizations' goes in Egypt, so it will in the rest of the region.

This film is definitely a victory for those who support a secular Mideast--it's surprisingly frank about what we think of as taboo topics in the Arab world, both sexually and politically. Hatkoff said at the start that the film hadn't yet received distribution in Egypt--even though the book it's based on has smashed best-selling records throughout the Mideast, and the cast is apparently a who's-who of Egyptian cinema royalty.

I guess in absolute terms the film isn't super-great; it's a little obvious with its themes, and even has an overly-stagey final bloody scene. But taking everything into context, I found it really interesting--people are not the same the world over, and it's always fun seeing national quirks writ large on the screen, not to mention the deeply-lived-in faces of the actors, many of whom looked nothing like Hollywood stars, with their old country faces and bodies. And the woman--saucy, sexy, strong, willful, crazy, beautiful, manipulative, sad, and unveiled in every sense of the word.

Unfortunately I couldn't stay for the Q&A afterwards, had to dash off to what turned out to be one of my favorite documentaries of all time, even without seeing the first 15 minutes of it. It was When the Road Bends...tales of a Gypsy Caravan, directed by Jasmine Dellal (who apparently a co-worker of mine has met, she said she was a bit fussy in person, but perhaps that quality serves a filmmaker well) and shot by the famed Albert Maysles. Description is:

Part concert film and part sociological study, this doc (shot by Albert Maysles) travels between concert venues and cultures to give us an inside look at Romani (Gypsy) music. Dellal follows five top Romani bands during their tour of the U.S. before accompanying the musicians to their home countries, where she captures the joys and struggles of their domestic lives. In English, Spanish, Romani, and Hindi.

Gosh, it was so beautiful and well-done. Maysles on a later panel said the best advice he ever heard was from the photographer Robert Capa, who said most important of all, get close.

And they did. So close to the people in the bands it's at times uncomfortably intimate, in the way that family gatherings can be. But that's how you feel about the bands by the end--they're one big, melded family, and we're lucky to have been able to peep into their world of amazing music (ah, so indescribably emotionally affecting--gypsy music may be woven into our DNA, even if you've never heard it you have, they're responsible--because they were persecuted and forced to always move on--for much of the cross-pollination you hear in the world's music, although very few are aware of that, and even fewer want to give them proper credit).

The documentary also shows all the passion that comes from being driven by their twin touchstones of music and famiy, in a world that for the most part hates, fears and despises them; the dire poverty yet natural beauty of their homelands in India and Romania; and even a bit of the wonderful food that's part of this world, too.

I could write more, but instead have just been telling people to see it, if they can--the director afterwards said they're working out the final details of a commercial release, and also a soundtrack/DVD deal.

The only other thing I'll say is some may leave remembering the images and personalities and dynamics of the gypsies as this literally motley band takes an extended road trip through the heart of America (there are some funny moments, some scenes that make you cringe for America, but more that remind you what a great country this can be). Others may take away the sounds and colors and camera angles and lighting excellence of the documentary.

But I'll most remember the scene when the legendary Esma Redzepova (whose amazing voice is known everywhere but here it seems and who mentions that with her husband she's taken something like 57 kids into her home to raise over the years) says right before she's shown singing at a benefit concert she put on for Kosovo refugees, and in hopes of stopping the soldiers from fighting: that there are some men who cry when they hear her voice, because they understand.

After that, I went to an all-you-can-eat Latino buffet, and had three plates of platanos, rice, chicken, salad, and other assorted non-bland food.

Then, off to see Two Works-In-Progress: The Gates and The Dalai Lama in Central Park. Description reads:

In 1979, legendary filmmakers Albert and David Maysles began shooting The Gates as Christo and Jeanne-Claude began pursuing their dream of adorning Central Park with miles of saffron-colored cloth-a massive, controversial, and ultimately successful public art project. The artists will join Albert Maysles in a discussion of the film. An HBO documentary film. Another Maysles work-in-progress, The Dalai Lama in Central Park, will also be screened.

Even though both works were unfinished and each was only about 20 minutes long, I was surprised at how 'complete' they seemed. The Gates documentary started with film they shot in 1979, when the project was first proposed to the city of New York. It's so interesting seeing how the city was back then--those really were the bad old days, and not surprisingly they run into all sortsof problems--from shouting community boards to clueless but stubbornly adversarial socialites, much of it caught on scratchy period film. With great natural sound; and a whole array of funny and telling side glances and little facial expressions.

The film then jumps to the opening of the project in 2005, made possible by their "good friend" Michael Bloomberg being elected mayor. The video captures the project over its two-week span, everything from crowds of people wandering through the bright orange flapping against a brilliant blue sky, to the hush of still fabric against a placid snowfall. Since I lived a block away from Central Park when the Gates opened I went through it about a half-dozen times, I remember one morning walking toward the Met and passing group after group of European tourists--Germans and Brits I think--and then some Japanese tourists, and thinking how nice that Christo and Jeanne-Claude stuck with the project for over 25 years and finally made it happen.

They talked after the film about how their passion for art and love for each other (and innate stubborness) kept them going; and also how this is par for the course, the wrapping of the Reichstag apparently took about 24 years to arrange, and they've been working off-and-on at their river project in Colorado for two decades as well. Bureaucratic red tape and the innate tendancy of people in power to say 'no' to anything new and seemingly-foreign accounting for most of the delays.

They weren't terribly insightful on the panel, some language barriers and also the fact it was in a huge auditorium got in the way I think; Maysles was on the panel too, I was trying to figure out why he's such a great filmmaker. I think it's because he's very determined, and has no problem getting down and dirty in pursuit of those moments when someone's face reveals all. He seemed like a good-natured traditional liberal, who likes talking to people and listening.

They then screened the Dalai Lama film, which was okay--it bothers me that Americans are so awed by him, I think actually they gloss him with a beneficence outof an ignorance of Buddhism. In other words they attribute to him all the good qualities they've heard Buddhists possess, or in Richard Gere's case they imagine Buddhism to have (he doesn't understand his self-professed faith any more than Madonna knows Judaism, I'm not sure why Gere's seen as an expert on Buddhism--you don't see Madonna testifying in front of Congress on suicide bombers). It's actually patronizing, I think, like oh, isn't he wonderful, he's so exotic and cute, let me touch him for luck. Like how non-Catholics see the pope; the difference being in this country much of the pope's image is shaped by how American Catholics react to him, so there's a much higher level of understanding and whatever holiness is attributed to him is earned and authentic.

At any rate, the second documentary was fine, if it wasn't the Dalai Lama at the center of the shots I'm not sure people would've thought it was all that great. Essentially, he came to New York, 200,000 people came to hear him speak, and not once did anyone ask how come when Tibet was ruled by monks it was literally a feudal society, with a 95% illiteracy rate and serfs (this was in the 20th century!)

I almost went home after the documentaries, but luckily decided to go see Dear Father, Quiet, We're Shooting...., directed by David Benchetrit.

When war crimes are carried out under orders from officers, military commanders, and political leaders who is responsible? This film allows former members of the Israeli Defense Forces-now conscientious objectors-to recount their experiences in both Lebanon and Palestine, and to question the limits of state power.

This was an absolutely tour-de-force; filmmaking at its most basic, using compelling interviews with strong personalities to change people's minds. It pulls no punches from the get-go, with a quote from Martin Luther King, Jr.: "History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people."

As Benchetrit, who's made over 25 films looking at that bundle of contradictions that is Israel from his far-left perch, said afterwards, he's waited a long time to make this film, and although he didn't know it he was really waiting for a pilot. A member of Israel's elite, guardian of the nation, revered in a way that is hard for massive, never-threatened-with-extinction America to understand.

And did he ever find him, Lt. Col. Yoel Peterberg, a square-jawed, archetypical combat pilot who at one point was an elite among elites within the Israeli Air Force. And then, he led a group of pilots who signed a letter refusing to fly combat missions over the Palestinian territories (it was a huge deal in Israel, to get the same punch here our entire joint chiefs of staff would have to resign in protest over something).

Ah, so much in this short film. Besides Petersberg, another decorated Israel warrior--a tank battalion commander--will also be seared into your head afterwards. They speak so directly about how they came to their decision to oppose the very military they've always loved and been loved back by, and are now cast out of with cries of 'traitor' by some, but surprisingly loud echoes of support from others. For the most part the five ex-military men Benchetrit talks to are not your stereotypical anti-war crowd.

They're all remarkably thoughtful, and are honest to the point that Petersberg says he himself may even have committed war crimes, he's not just going to take the easy way out and put it all on the generals and higher-ups who pursued what he calls a cynical and ultimately base 'strategy' that benefitted a small group at the expense of greater Israel and all of humanity. And not to mention the souls of the soldiers who were forced to drop bombs in crowded refugee camps and shoot at anything that moved as they made their way through the warren of Palestinian cities--as the ex-tank commander says, they all the decision to turn to urban warfare meant large numbers of civilians would be killed, but they pretended otherwise and called them 'targeted assassinations'.

Afterwards, probably the most educational and honest Q&A I've ever seen a filmmaker give. Benchetrit in the audience's midst and took about 10 questions, most supportive but a few not, from Americans, Israelis, and Palestinians (all on a Friday night!) He's so tenacious, and has the self-confidence that comes from a lifetime of living and studying his chosen topic of Israel and its people (and neighbors), not to mention the burning passion of someone who knows he's right and all he has to do is get the message out in front of enough people and he can change reality.

Benchetrit is gonna get his chance, his documentary is being aired in prime time on Israeli television later this month. It's gonna create a huge firestorm, in a way that we in this country cannot imagine. At root Israel is small--it's only got 6 million people, crowded into the liveable areas of an inhospitable country that's smaller than New Jersey. All the elites know each other, and since it's only been around since 1948 its 'founding fathers' aren't exactly long-gone.

This family has been forced to get used to Benchetrit's searching self-examinations; but this time, it's different, it's not just his voice and his ilk in the wilderness. As he says, he's been waiting for the pilot; and his documentary is gonna be a torch thrown into the tinderbox that is Israeli politics. Benchetrit said the title comes from a traditional Hebrew lament, a 'what are you doing to me' rather than a term of endearment.

Ultimately, although some Israelis may not see it this way, Benchetrit's documentary is of course a tribute to how great Israel's democracy is. There aren't any other countries in the Middle East, and very few in the world, that go through the kind of self-examination and debate that is woven into Israeli society, under circumstances where it's not just blowing smoke to pass the time, and with the full participation of artists and intellectuals, in addition to the usual military-industrial-political complex.

Heck, how often does a filmmaker get to change history?

Images from The Yacoubian Building, When the Road Bends, The Gates, and Dear Father, Quiet, We're Shooting via Tribeca Film Festival.