Movie Monday: "Cats of Mirikitani," a film by Linda Hattendorf, 2006.

I saw this documentary several years ago and then rediscovered it again this last weekend. The messages of this film, for me, stand as an important reminder not only of significant events in American history, but also as a mirror for our preconceived notions on the stories of the countless homeless.

The film takes place mainly in Manhattan over the course of a couple years, beginning in late 2001. Tsutomu Mirikitani lives along a wall near a Korean Market on McDougal and Prince Street, creating artwork each and everyday. His mobile studio includes pens, crayons, chalk and paints, and his canvases include cardboard and scrap paper. With the events of September 11, 2001 breaking around him, he continues doing what he does best, creating memories through artwork. Shortly after 9/11, Ms. Hattendorf invites Mirikitani to stay with her for a period of time, to avoid the choking dust and debris still permeating the air around the World Trade Center site.

Over the course of the film, Hattendorf uncovers more and more details of Mirikitani’s life, including his birth in Sacramento, California and experience growing up in Hiroshima City, Japan. He returns to the US shortly after the opening of World War II. In his early twenties, and as a lawful US citizen, Mirikitani entered Tule Lake Internment Center in Northern California, where he signs a government document revoking his US citizenship. The film follows not only the story of his relationship with his new friend and documentarian Ms. Hattendorf, but also unveils some of his backstory that led to living on the streets in NYC.

The important messages of this film not only center on the plight of the mobile homeless, which continues to be an issue for social services nationwide, but also a reminder of the dark times in US history and of justice deferred. Far too easy to dismiss the internment of Japanese American citizens during WWII as history and not applicable today, one need only review the rhetoric of political demagogues against our Muslim citizens to realize such events could repeat themselves. Mirikitani expresses his anger and lingering, seething disgust at the events of World War II, and memorializes his experience in the internment camps through his artwork. He neither asks for nor wants anything from the US government, even as Ms. Hattendorf and her team work tirelessly to recover Mirikitani’s citizenship information and secure more public assistance for him in his advanced years.

The latter part of the film is lovely, as Mirikitani and Hattendorf slowly bring his story into the present moment, and realize that he is not alone in this world. Over time, family members are found and Mirikitani sees opportunity to work past what happened, and truly begin to see his life in the present moment.

Nancy Wong via WIkimedia Commons

"Janice Mirikitani in front of the International Hotel in San Francisco, January 1977"

The film is not always easy to watch, particularly at moments when Mirikitani’s cantankerous attitude aims at the filmmaker. I sometimes felt like Mirikitani didn't appreciate some of the kindnesses the filmmaker expressed, but after realizing his long history of being outside normal social channels, I feel more kindness towards his perspectives. Even though he sometimes criticizes the filmmaker’s decisions, once reprimanding her when she goes out to a movie and comes back to her apartment far later than expected, he does so because of worry and care for the young woman. Other moments legitimately made me tear up a little, particularly when the film explores recollections of the camp experience and of lives lost.

I encourage everyone to check out this film when given the chance. It is rather short and moves along at a good pace. It successfully introduces audiences to one story that helps humanize the events against Japanese American citizens during WWII that may only be known through textbooks. It also humanizes the ongoing social issues surrounding homelessness and our own personal notions of just who the homeless are.

Purchase "The Cats of Mirikitani" via Amazon

Movie Monday: "The Mountain Thief," a film by Gerry Balasta, 2010

By Kounosu (Own work (own picture)) via Wikimedia Commons

"The Mountain Thief," a film by Gerry Balasta, 2010.

There are always a few films that speak to the senses on a deep, personal level. Stories of humanity, particularly ones that burst open the small cultural and social bubbles we all find ourselves living in, are particularly powerful and necessary. "The Mountain Thief," I believe, should be required viewing for all college students, "first world" citizens worldwide and professed religious individuals who would seek to know and better the world. "The Mountain Thief" shows viewers what happens when communities are forced, by powers far beyond their own immediate influence, to survive on the garbage of others. These individuals find their sustenance by sifting through and reselling recyclables from the trash of the more wealthy people in the Philippines (but this plays out in so many areas across the world). It shows that conflict and community are possible in even the most trying circumstances.

What strikes me about this film is that all the actors are amateurs. In fact, all of them are scavengers in the Philippines, so this leads to an air of realism unattainable by even the most seasoned professional actors. I encourage viewers to watch to the very end, as the filmmakers describe the real lives and dreams of the actors who took part in this film. While many of their dreams may seem trivial to a first-world viewer, they show just how disparate the bounty of "modern living" is distributed throughout the world. Among a few are to cure a son's club foot, to learn to use a computer, to build a home at the foot of mountain of trash, to learn to read and write. These are things we as Americans take for granted, as an unalienable right as Americans, and things that are largely unavailable and unobtainable to many throughout the world.

The film opens as a Simon, the communities drug addict (he sniffs glue, paid for by stealing from other scavengers) is stealing a small sheet of corrugated metal from another family's makeshift roof. He is found out and runs away through a maze of shanty neighborhoods, running into Ato and Elmer on their way to the makeshift basketball court. He stumbles into Julio and his son, Ingo. They are newly arrived from a war-torn region in Mindanao, where his family owned rice fields that were burned in the fighting. They are seeking to survive through scavenging in Little Hope, the community at the foot of the trash mountain. The film makes no illusions as to the circumstances of these individuals. Survival is their daily aim, and though community exists, most are looking out for their own (and their family's) interests.

One of the best things about this film is that it pulls no punches. It also ends rather ambiguously, which may upset some viewers of modern Hollywood film-making. The film understands its own circumstances and does not give the viewer the satisfaction of a happy ending, particularly because for individuals like this film, there is no guaranteed happy ending.

You may be wondering why this film is even worth watching, as it seems to be a real downer. Well, in actuality, it kind of is, considering it is reality for many across the world. There are lighthearted moments, particularly with Ingo, who listens to the local religious zealot Ato teach about prayer, then acts it out on the highest mountain of garbage, because it is "beautiful up there, and close to the heavens." Ingo and his friend find and enjoy an unopened can of soda, a rare treat.

The film is edited to be rather artistic, as scenes will replay to emphasize the overall narrative, and some scenes will not make sense until later in the film. It reminded me a little of the film version of Gandhi, where the viewer sees the inevitable end of the film immediately, but does not understand the context until watching the entire film.

In the end, this is a very powerful statement on the state of the developing world, and asks the developed world just what our role is in perpetuating this environment. As consumers, do we have a moral obligation to address the "end" result of our consumed goods? This film also reflects on, though not explicitly, the historical circumstances that developed this environment.

Did the independence of the Philippines come too rapidly? Would the Philippines have been better off as a territory for a while longer, until basic infrastructure and stability could be achieved (like in Japan, post WWII?)

Although politics seems to play a small role in the film directly, viewers who know will recognize the handy work of corruption in the Philippines, among politicians and other wealthy families who benefit from others' poverty. But these actors care little for politics and international policy. They are looking for a few pesos to buy a little rice to feed their families for another day.

To see how you can contribute to the Mount Hope Project to help the actors in this film, see "The Mountain Thief" website here.

Stream or Purchase "The Mountain Thief" from Amazon.

Film Review: Not One Less, directed by Zhang Yimou

By chensiyuan (chensiyuan) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) via Wikimedia Commons

Not One Less. Directed by Zhang Yimou, Columbia Tristar, 1999.

Zhang Yimou creates a film showcasing the society Communist China  developed during its career in power. In Not One Less, we are introduced to 13-year-old Wei Minzhi, who must substitute teach in a poor village when Teacher Gao is called to care for his mother. What follows is the challenges she faces, both in teaching students not much younger than her, and the journey she must make to find a student who has gone to the city in search of work.

Many commentaries are critical of its position in Chinese film, claiming it was made as a propaganda piece for the Communist government. What seems to be amiss here is the evidence against such claims, namely Zhang Yimou's many other films. Many, including To Live, contain many symbolic criticisms aimed at the Communist government, either during the Maoist Period or the Reform Period. Furthermore, a number of interviews with Zhang make several of his opinions of government policy known to the reader. It seems a mistake to think a film's meaning can be discerned from a superficial viewing.

Education plays an important role in the film, emphasizing the plight of the countryside's children, as well as acting as a criticism of the PRC's handling of rural reform. The film's focus on chalk shortages (representative of the wider lack of educational resources) as well as the fact that Teacher Gao has not been paid a salary for six months of working reflect the shortcomings of the government's reform plans. The cause of this, Xaoling's article claims, is the government policy where individual villages are responsible for funding the nine years of compulsory education for the area's children. In areas where money is already very scarce, there is little which can be done to raise funding for the schools. Symbols of this failed reform include the sign stating “Education is the Foundation for the Country's Prosperity,” which is plastered on a broken down wall, as well as the nature of the schoolhouse, which has no clock, and must rely on limited resources to survive.

Zhang represents the plight of the children by explaining the song Wei sings to Teacher Gao, then to her students. Though she forgets the official lyrics, her substituted lyrics hold important commentaries on the nature of the State's relationship to its children. Xiaoling comments that the official lyrics represent the State as the sunshine to the nation's “flowers”, or children. Wei Minzhi can never remember the correct words, which Xiaoling believes to represent Zhang's belief that the children would not see themselves as being cultivated by the State when it seems to have abandoned them to their fate.

The “happy ending” of the film shows the TV crew and cargo trucks driving out to the village, carrying loads of donations made by the city dwellers. As Xiaoling says, many viewers may say it's too Hollywood to be taken seriously. On the contrary, this reading doesn't reflect the true ramifications of such donations. What do the students do after the funding and donations run out? Will the city people still remember them, or will they believe they've done their good deed for the year? Upon closer inspection, the film actually is giving a critical commentary on the government, as well as the prosperous people's lack of awareness of the countryside conditions. In some ways it's like applying a bandage to a shotgun wound, treating the symptoms without addressing the main cause. We are left with a few statistics, claiming the reforms and charity have allowed 15% of students to return to school in the countryside. Xiaoling reflects on this, wondering what will happen to the other 85% of the students who won't return. Zhang wants the people to know that there is still much work to be done, most importantly in the way government reforms are carried out in the villages and the countryside.

National responses to the film are surprisingly mixed. What is most troubling is the rather superficial review given by a representative of Beijing Normal University, who claims the film “lacks a strong plot” and laments at how the ending's “happy laughter conceals harsh reality.” These comments reflect the divide between urban dwellers and the plight of the countryside. Furthermore, it represents the lack of understanding, in that the reader claims the superficiality of the ending, which seems to be Zhang's exact point. Other comments, however, reflect the awareness of the situation in the countryside, as represented in Zhang's film, however it also shows the lack of action of the readers. Thought many make the effort to write commentaries on the film, one reviewer tells how they should have written a report after seeing the poverty in the village. The instances of “should have” or “will next time” likely expands beyond one commentator's words. It is the hope that this film will open the audiences eyes to not only the plight of the poor, but also the need for critical government review.

Works cited: 

Xiaoling Zhang, “A Film Director's Criticism of Reform China: A Close Reading of Zhang Yimou's 'Not One Less',” China Information XV.2 (2001):