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10TH SAN FRANCISCO BLACK FILM FESTIVAL (PART ONE)
Peter Wong
Beyond Chron, CA
June 11 2008
To write about the San Francisco Black Film Festival is not to give
hosannas at discovering a previously unknown film festival. This black
film showcase has thrived very well for ten years. Writing about the
festival, then, needs to be a giving thanks for exposure to films
not seen at other local festivals.
"The People's Advocate: The Life And Times Of Charles
R. Garry" reacquaints viewers with one of San Francisco's
most famous (or notorious, depending on your point of view) criminal
defense attorneys. This advocate gained fame during the 1960s with
his vigorous defenses of various leftist personalities, principally
Huey Newton, Bobby Seale, and other members of the Black Panther Party.
Director Hrag Yedalian's documentary takes a "just the
facts" approach to depicting Garry's life. The viewer is
thus treated to period news footage, interviews with Garry's
contemporaries, and a near overuse of title cards. It is suggested
regular exposure to anti-Armenian prejudice (Garry was actually
Armenian) predisposed the future attorney to use his legal skills on
behalf of other discriminated groups.
Former Black Panthers talk about how the attorney understood implicitly
the injustices that the black power group opposed. Garry displayed a
gift for turning the courtroom into a lectern to show Middle Americans
just how clueless they were about black culture. One jaw-dropping
anecdote in the film concerns Garry's questioning potential
jurors on their knowledge (if any) of singer James Brown or the song
"Papa's Got A Brand New Bag."
However, the police outpaced the civilians in the cluelessness race
when it came to understanding the rising leftist movements of the
1960s. Having shinier shoes and newer jeans than that worn by the
typical anti-war activist is not a recipe for blending unobtrusively
into a protest group. Garry successfully exploited police ignorance
in the courtroom through such tactics as getting cops on the witness
stand to inadvertently damn themselves as rat finks.
The attorney's empathy for leftists fighting oppression
eventually turned out to be a mixed blessing. That talent may have
allowed him to vigorously represent controversial leftists such
as Los Siete. But it also blinded him to the fatal madness of the
Reverend Jim Jones. Garry's enchantment with the progressive
dream offered by Jones' People's Temple led to his becoming
a public apologist for the Temple. The act of becoming an unwilling
presence near the mass Jonestown suicides hit the attorney with the
world's nastiest reality check. Yedalian's film states the
attorney never recovered emotionally from that shock.
The material described above is dramatic and humorous and even
tragic. So why does "The People's Advocate" feel so dull
and shallow?
Yedalian makes the mistake of keeping Garry's life mounted on
a pedestal. Treating him as generally flawless undercuts objective
assessment of the attorney's work. The cops who clashed with Garry
over the years or less enthusiastic co-workers at Garry's firm
needed acknowledgment in the film. Such acknowledgment need not be
agreement with their opposing positions. But even non-flattering
appraisals can provide necessary perspective on Garry's
achievements.
How much of the film's emotional shortcomings derived from
its apparent presentational shortcuts (e.g. excess use of title
cards)? It's unclear. But the resulting film does a disservice to
an important participant in some of the 1960s' biggest historical
flashpoints.
"Evolution of the Hill"
The titular Hill in "Evolution Of The Hill" turns out to
be Brooklyn's Clinton Hill neighborhood. But the evolutionary
force discussed in this short film will be familiar to displaced
black San Francisco residents. It's gentrification. Director
Samori Amir Toure allows various Clinton Hill residents a chance
to voice their feelings about the steady gentrification of their
neighborhood. Toure tries to maintain a balance of voices. But the
most memorable pro-gentrification voice belongs to that of the white
cookie cutter condo owner.
More importantly, the film's best line belongs to an
anti-gentrification world studies teacher. This word called
"gentrification" is nothing less than colonialism under a
different name.
"Music is My Life - Politics is My Mistress"
Why wasn't Oscar Brown, Jr. better known outside of American
jazz aficionado circles? His introductory song for the character of
Mr. Kicks came with an infectiously bopping beat that could seduce a
listener within a couple of minutes. Brown worked with such talents
as Abbey Lincoln, Max Roach, and Muhammad Ali. Even in old age, the
jazz musician remained a witty and entertaining raconteur who could
describe old age as "moving into a really bad neighborhood."
Despite these strengths plus the admiration of Miles Davis and John
Coltrane, the Chicago native generally remained more highly regarded
by his musical peers than by the American public.
Donnie Betts' film "Music Is My Life - Politics My Mistress
- The Story Of Oscar Brown" successfully works to re-introduce
viewers to this singular artist's music. It also pairs Brown's
music with a warm portrait of a very funny and perceptive man.
Betts eschews a strict chronological structure for his film. Its
form is instead that of a well-crafted jazz piece, one drifting back
and forth in time following various themes in Brown's life. For
example, the thread tracing Brown's career in electoral politics
turns into deadpan farce. How else could one describe the career
of someone who ran at various times on the Communist, Democratic,
and Republican campaign tickets?
Brown's life turns out to be an object lesson in the vagaries
of heritage and luck. Two noteworthy Chicago theaters and black
neighborhood life proved greater formative influences on the young
musician than his father's law practice. Yet Brown's political
activism turns out to be a spiritual inheritance from his father. The
older Brown had been active in the NAACP and a failed effort to make
the 49th American state a haven for African Americans. The frustrated
promise of Brown's theatrical career becomes an ironic study in
how luck can be an unfaithful lover to the immensely talented.
One is amazed at Brown's musical alchemy on often depressing
realities. His ability to observe and capture just the right detail
does not prevent him from simultaneously exercising his gift for
creative playfulness. A memorable song-story of a Harlem jitney
captures the hilarious unpleasantness of forced seat sharing with a
very odiferous homeless man. The Sisyphean battle with continually
breeding cockroaches turns into a humorous declaration of endless war.
Brown may have entertained people first. But his art didn't ignore
controversies in the African-American community. His "Freedom
Now Suite" collaboration with Roach was one of the first jazz
treatments of the civil rights movement. That collaboration ran into
creative difficulties, though, when Brown played Martin Luther King
to Roach's Malcolm X. The musical revue "Opportunity Please
Knock" was an implicit indictment of American society's
willingness to abandon troubled black youth. That indictment became
more pronounced when one knew that Brown's revue collaborators
were the Blackstone Rangers, a notorious Chicago street gang.
Did conservative opposition cripple Brown's musical career? One
does not appear on a Web list of "treasonous" artists by
keeping politically quiet. Brown's own unapologetic smoking of
a farm's worth of marijuana certainly didn't endear him to
the "just say no" types. Yet bad luck and Brown's own
personal failings certainly played their part. Had Brown taken up
Burgess Meredith's suggestion to adopt the lead role in "Kicks
& Co.," perhaps the musician's theatrical fortunes would have
been far more different.
Betts' film doesn't ignore Brown's painful personal
flaws. The musician's infidelities led to the collapse of two
marriages and some noticeable resentment among his children. The
commercial failure of "Kicks & Co." becomes more painful
when one learns just how much gifted creative talent and financial
resources were lost thanks to Brown's failure of nerve.
In the end, though, Betts' lively delight of a film will spark
renewed interest in a semi-forgotten jazz master. Brown deserves a
higher accolade than being the jazz world blend of Ron Sexsmith and
Rodney Bingenheimer.
(Readers interested in purchasing copies of "Music Is My Life -
Politics My Mistress" are directed to www.musicismylife.info )
(S.F. Black Film Festival continues its screenings from June 11-15,
2008 at the Sundance Cinemas (1881 Post St.), Museum of the African
Diaspora (685 Mission St.), African American Art & Culture Complex
(762 Fulton St.), 1300 On Fillmore (1300 Fillmore St.), Yoshi's
(1330 Fillmore St.) and Cinema 1402 (1403 Fillmore St.). Go to
www.sfbff.org for schedules and to order advance tickets from
www.brownpapertickets.com )
http://www.beyondchron.org/articles/10th_San_Fr ancisco_Black_Film_Festival_Part_One__5762.html
Peter Wong
Beyond Chron, CA
June 11 2008
To write about the San Francisco Black Film Festival is not to give
hosannas at discovering a previously unknown film festival. This black
film showcase has thrived very well for ten years. Writing about the
festival, then, needs to be a giving thanks for exposure to films
not seen at other local festivals.
"The People's Advocate: The Life And Times Of Charles
R. Garry" reacquaints viewers with one of San Francisco's
most famous (or notorious, depending on your point of view) criminal
defense attorneys. This advocate gained fame during the 1960s with
his vigorous defenses of various leftist personalities, principally
Huey Newton, Bobby Seale, and other members of the Black Panther Party.
Director Hrag Yedalian's documentary takes a "just the
facts" approach to depicting Garry's life. The viewer is
thus treated to period news footage, interviews with Garry's
contemporaries, and a near overuse of title cards. It is suggested
regular exposure to anti-Armenian prejudice (Garry was actually
Armenian) predisposed the future attorney to use his legal skills on
behalf of other discriminated groups.
Former Black Panthers talk about how the attorney understood implicitly
the injustices that the black power group opposed. Garry displayed a
gift for turning the courtroom into a lectern to show Middle Americans
just how clueless they were about black culture. One jaw-dropping
anecdote in the film concerns Garry's questioning potential
jurors on their knowledge (if any) of singer James Brown or the song
"Papa's Got A Brand New Bag."
However, the police outpaced the civilians in the cluelessness race
when it came to understanding the rising leftist movements of the
1960s. Having shinier shoes and newer jeans than that worn by the
typical anti-war activist is not a recipe for blending unobtrusively
into a protest group. Garry successfully exploited police ignorance
in the courtroom through such tactics as getting cops on the witness
stand to inadvertently damn themselves as rat finks.
The attorney's empathy for leftists fighting oppression
eventually turned out to be a mixed blessing. That talent may have
allowed him to vigorously represent controversial leftists such
as Los Siete. But it also blinded him to the fatal madness of the
Reverend Jim Jones. Garry's enchantment with the progressive
dream offered by Jones' People's Temple led to his becoming
a public apologist for the Temple. The act of becoming an unwilling
presence near the mass Jonestown suicides hit the attorney with the
world's nastiest reality check. Yedalian's film states the
attorney never recovered emotionally from that shock.
The material described above is dramatic and humorous and even
tragic. So why does "The People's Advocate" feel so dull
and shallow?
Yedalian makes the mistake of keeping Garry's life mounted on
a pedestal. Treating him as generally flawless undercuts objective
assessment of the attorney's work. The cops who clashed with Garry
over the years or less enthusiastic co-workers at Garry's firm
needed acknowledgment in the film. Such acknowledgment need not be
agreement with their opposing positions. But even non-flattering
appraisals can provide necessary perspective on Garry's
achievements.
How much of the film's emotional shortcomings derived from
its apparent presentational shortcuts (e.g. excess use of title
cards)? It's unclear. But the resulting film does a disservice to
an important participant in some of the 1960s' biggest historical
flashpoints.
"Evolution of the Hill"
The titular Hill in "Evolution Of The Hill" turns out to
be Brooklyn's Clinton Hill neighborhood. But the evolutionary
force discussed in this short film will be familiar to displaced
black San Francisco residents. It's gentrification. Director
Samori Amir Toure allows various Clinton Hill residents a chance
to voice their feelings about the steady gentrification of their
neighborhood. Toure tries to maintain a balance of voices. But the
most memorable pro-gentrification voice belongs to that of the white
cookie cutter condo owner.
More importantly, the film's best line belongs to an
anti-gentrification world studies teacher. This word called
"gentrification" is nothing less than colonialism under a
different name.
"Music is My Life - Politics is My Mistress"
Why wasn't Oscar Brown, Jr. better known outside of American
jazz aficionado circles? His introductory song for the character of
Mr. Kicks came with an infectiously bopping beat that could seduce a
listener within a couple of minutes. Brown worked with such talents
as Abbey Lincoln, Max Roach, and Muhammad Ali. Even in old age, the
jazz musician remained a witty and entertaining raconteur who could
describe old age as "moving into a really bad neighborhood."
Despite these strengths plus the admiration of Miles Davis and John
Coltrane, the Chicago native generally remained more highly regarded
by his musical peers than by the American public.
Donnie Betts' film "Music Is My Life - Politics My Mistress
- The Story Of Oscar Brown" successfully works to re-introduce
viewers to this singular artist's music. It also pairs Brown's
music with a warm portrait of a very funny and perceptive man.
Betts eschews a strict chronological structure for his film. Its
form is instead that of a well-crafted jazz piece, one drifting back
and forth in time following various themes in Brown's life. For
example, the thread tracing Brown's career in electoral politics
turns into deadpan farce. How else could one describe the career
of someone who ran at various times on the Communist, Democratic,
and Republican campaign tickets?
Brown's life turns out to be an object lesson in the vagaries
of heritage and luck. Two noteworthy Chicago theaters and black
neighborhood life proved greater formative influences on the young
musician than his father's law practice. Yet Brown's political
activism turns out to be a spiritual inheritance from his father. The
older Brown had been active in the NAACP and a failed effort to make
the 49th American state a haven for African Americans. The frustrated
promise of Brown's theatrical career becomes an ironic study in
how luck can be an unfaithful lover to the immensely talented.
One is amazed at Brown's musical alchemy on often depressing
realities. His ability to observe and capture just the right detail
does not prevent him from simultaneously exercising his gift for
creative playfulness. A memorable song-story of a Harlem jitney
captures the hilarious unpleasantness of forced seat sharing with a
very odiferous homeless man. The Sisyphean battle with continually
breeding cockroaches turns into a humorous declaration of endless war.
Brown may have entertained people first. But his art didn't ignore
controversies in the African-American community. His "Freedom
Now Suite" collaboration with Roach was one of the first jazz
treatments of the civil rights movement. That collaboration ran into
creative difficulties, though, when Brown played Martin Luther King
to Roach's Malcolm X. The musical revue "Opportunity Please
Knock" was an implicit indictment of American society's
willingness to abandon troubled black youth. That indictment became
more pronounced when one knew that Brown's revue collaborators
were the Blackstone Rangers, a notorious Chicago street gang.
Did conservative opposition cripple Brown's musical career? One
does not appear on a Web list of "treasonous" artists by
keeping politically quiet. Brown's own unapologetic smoking of
a farm's worth of marijuana certainly didn't endear him to
the "just say no" types. Yet bad luck and Brown's own
personal failings certainly played their part. Had Brown taken up
Burgess Meredith's suggestion to adopt the lead role in "Kicks
& Co.," perhaps the musician's theatrical fortunes would have
been far more different.
Betts' film doesn't ignore Brown's painful personal
flaws. The musician's infidelities led to the collapse of two
marriages and some noticeable resentment among his children. The
commercial failure of "Kicks & Co." becomes more painful
when one learns just how much gifted creative talent and financial
resources were lost thanks to Brown's failure of nerve.
In the end, though, Betts' lively delight of a film will spark
renewed interest in a semi-forgotten jazz master. Brown deserves a
higher accolade than being the jazz world blend of Ron Sexsmith and
Rodney Bingenheimer.
(Readers interested in purchasing copies of "Music Is My Life -
Politics My Mistress" are directed to www.musicismylife.info )
(S.F. Black Film Festival continues its screenings from June 11-15,
2008 at the Sundance Cinemas (1881 Post St.), Museum of the African
Diaspora (685 Mission St.), African American Art & Culture Complex
(762 Fulton St.), 1300 On Fillmore (1300 Fillmore St.), Yoshi's
(1330 Fillmore St.) and Cinema 1402 (1403 Fillmore St.). Go to
www.sfbff.org for schedules and to order advance tickets from
www.brownpapertickets.com )
http://www.beyondchron.org/articles/10th_San_Fr ancisco_Black_Film_Festival_Part_One__5762.html