Collective Soul
Journal article by Elizabeth Mermin; Afterimage, Vol. 23, 1995
Journal Article Excerpt
Collective soul by Elizabeth Mermin The setting was inauspicious, with the line for entrance into the screenings stretching down the hall of mollusks, from the theater doors back to the entrance of Manhattan's American Museum of Natural History. But the 58 entries in the 1995 Margaret Mead Film and Video Festival provided, for the most part, a contrast to the lifeless and uprooted displays that filled the museum. The program, organized by Elaine Charnov, included educational pieces, provocative exposes and manifestos and seductively ephemeral hybrids of documentary and fiction. The festival displayed a spectrum of possible relationships between filmmakers and subjects, illuminating issues of power that haunt documentary and ethnographic film. Although the categorical definition of "documentary" is open to debate, work defined as such is particularly likely to find itself in the center of discussions concerning the ethical obligations of filmmakers to those filmed. Most agree that human subjects of documentaries should not be treated and displayed as museum objects, but the consensus may end there. The festival works provided an array of approaches to meeting obligations of information, ethics and aesthetics. Such issues arose early in the program, with Steve Thomas's Harold (1994), a biography of the Australian Aboriginal opera star Harold Blair, opening the festival. Thomas's director's statement, read by New York University professor Toby Miller before the screening, assured the audience that Blair wasn't "merely other" or "fodder for a white filmmaker," but a talented and committed artist and politician. This sentiment is echoed, in parody, in the film's first moments: over Blair's spot-lit face we hear a little girl say, "look at the black man!" to which an older woman responds, "Hush, dear, that's not a black man, that's Mr. Blair." The audience thus alerted, the biography begins. Harold explores the complicated history of an Aboriginal who becomes a superstar in the most posh of high arts, opera. From the perspective of the tabloids we see Blair live a glamorous lifestyle, marry a "well-bred" white woman and immediately move alone to New York (first to Harlem, then to a Westchester estate) where he has many well-publicized affairs. Interviews with Blair's wife and sister provide another side of the story - one of anxiety, alienation and racism. After Blair returns to Australia, his overtaxed voice and the adoration of the public give way, and he becomes a political and social activist, working with Aboriginal children and fighting for Aboriginal civil rights. Two weeks before Blair dies from a heart attack, and 10 minutes before the end of the film, the audience is informed that Blair has announced to his wife that he's leaving her for another woman. In the middle of a lecture he is giving on Aboriginal rights Blair is suddenly on This is Your Life, and the supporting characters (who have been growing increasingly discontent) appear and proclaim their love for Harold into the microphone. This clip provides both a convenient resume of Blair's life and a rose-colored contrast to the larger documentary that bolsters its authority as a "real" documentary - not just a pretty package for a TV audience. Although Thomas is absent from Harold in voice and figure, his parabolic director's statement indicates a self-consciousness about the ethics of representation. The director's power can work with or against a film, and directors of the festival's films and videos either fore-grounded and justified their assumption of this power or tried to remain invisible. Two issues discussed in the festival symposium "Collective Possibilities" - the representation of disability and serious illness. and the function of international film collectives - together covered a spectrum of possible complications in the relationship between filmmaker and subject.Among the festival's most popular films was When Billy Broke his Head . . . and Other Tales of Wonder (1994), by David Simpson and Billy Golfus - a comic and aggressive manifesto for people with disabilities. Golfus narrates the story of his brain damage (caused by a motor-scooter accident) and subsequent discovery of disabled-rights activism. A well-intentioned but insensitive viewer is represented by Golfus's father, who repeatedly questions why Golfus's friends insist on being so "political." Golfus leads us through this exploration of one of our nation's largest and most invisible minorities, and those featured share his sardonic humor, politely explaining the details of their daily lives and political activism. The film's message is that people with disabilities do not live as or consider themselves "victims." By the time Golfus's father states that he'd rather shoot himself than suffer ... |
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