Films That Matter

From Walter Mondale on the decks to a serious exploration of a multiracial childhood, Media that Matters fest brings young filmmakers to the fore.

By Geoff Aung, Columbia University
Tuesday July 26, 2005

Let’s be honest: There are films, and there are movies. City of God, for example, is a film, while War of the Worlds is a movie. We at Campus Progress tend to fall on the filmy side of the divide, but we’ve got nothing against Scientology City, I swear. Especially when Hollywood = Wedding Crashers. But despite gems like the latest from the Wilson/Vaughn collective, the truth is we just can’t count on the local Loews to serve up the goods these days. Expensive popcorn, yes; meaningful cinematic goods, no.

That’s where Media That Matters comes in. For the fifth year running, Media That Matters, a part of Media Rights, a non-profit organization that connects filmmakers, activists, educators and youth, has put together a film festival featuring the best from young and even younger filmmakers creating art for social change. As one of the featured artists, Sarah McLachlan says, “Media That Matters is about people making the switch from apathy to action.” Call it reel progressivism.

I’m no hater of grainy DIY documentaries, but the Media That Matters Fest puts a premium on both style and content. In fact, two of the featured films are full-blown animations, and one of the films is a music video. The others don’t slouch, either. The films touch on everything from the failures of the juvenile detention system in California to young farmers grappling with sustainable agriculture to the travelogue of a son with a drug-addicted mother. All of these artists are trying to come to terms with the conditions of our world(s) and the simultaneous pitfalls and opportunities these conditions present. Trust me on that one.

Campus Progress chose a few of our favorite shorts from the festival and talked with their young creators about their subjects and their creative process.

 
Battleground Minnesota

Director: Gabe Chiefetz
Featuring: Shakademic

I never knew Walter Mondale could scratch. Seriously – dude’s got some skills on the turntables. Sen. Dayton rocks it, too, and Governor Pawlenty’s got some rhythmical style of his own. Senator Norm Coleman also makes an appearance in this film that blends hip-hop with electoral politics and youth.

Seriously, Mondale’s on the decks, do you need another reason to watch this film?

But Battleground Minnesota has some serious substance, and Shakademic – aka Chris Johnson – wants to make sure you realize that. “Basically we need to know politics,” Chris says. “In order to make a change, for us to have better lives and live a little more wealthier, in order for us to provide for ourselves and the people around us, then we need to get in and vote.”

One of the challenges inherent in this kind of “get up stand up” campaign is actually communicating it in a way that reaches people and empowers them. That’s where Chris’s hip-hop experience comes into play. As a rapper and producer through his own Verse-a-tyle Records (and a student of Music Business at the Minnesota School of Business), he’s very aware of hip-hop’s ability to move people. He puts that awareness to good use in the film, which features a sampling of his and (co-writer) Glenn Scott’s original music. “I guess hip-hop’s got this type of feeling in it – everything’s just so dramatic,” he says. “It touches. And then if it relates to experiences or something you can relate to, that’s what makes it so powerful.”

The basic message behind the film is relatively simple: Vote. Raise your voice. “You just gotta speak up, or step up,” Chris says. The Battleground team – Chris, Glenn, and Gabriel Chiefetz, the filmmaker – convey that message through a series of often hilarious interviews with serious political players. In a state like Minnesota, which was considered a “battleground” state in the 2004 election, political engagement is critical. Chris puts it concisely: “Basically we need to know politics…Ask questions. If you don’t ask questions you’re not gonna know. You’re gonna be left behind.”

Speaking plainly happens to be Chris’ strong suit. He connects with potential voters at a Bush/Cheney houseparty and interviews with senators, a governor, and, of course, a former presidential candidate (Mondale), he doesn’t flinch and navigates the interviews with remarkable poise. He claims it wasn’t hard: “No, I totally digged it all, you know? Just like they digged me – I like to listen and learn.”

Throughout the short film, the message is overwhelmingly positive. “I don’t like to put out bad messages,” Chris says. “So I guess that’s what makes me an activist – I like to put out positive messages. I don’t talk about nothin’ that’s not gonna help nobody succeed for that day or the following day or throughout their life or whatever.”

Chris’ optimism, of course, is integral to Battleground Minnesota. Unlike so many, well, old people, he has incredible faith in his – our – generation. “I guess it’s just on us,” he says. “We can’t sit around and wait for nobody else…There are people out there who recognize important issues, and a lot of it comes from teens.”

 
A Girl Named Kai

Director: Kai Ling Xue
Featuring: Kai

Even among an incredible field of unique films, A Girl Named Kai manages to stand apart. I can think of several possible reasons for this: the striking photography, the original musical score, and the lack of a narrator all come to mind (subtitles bear the story-telling burden).

Kai is the story of a young Taiwanese artist coming to grips with her gender, her sexuality, and her heritage. The film is intensely personal and incredibly honest, even while it maintains a certain level of poetic distance. Kai has become comfortable with that relationship with her audience: “I feel, being an artist, very privileged – we get to touch people…It’s kind of weird to share such personal stories, but I’m not afraid to share.”

Reactions to Kai have been pretty positive, even if a little on the emotional side – it hasn’t been unusual for Kai to notice audience members crying at the close of her film. But there are some who can’t help but connect the personal nature of the story to a narcissistic impulse. She’s okay with that, but she stresses the universality of her message. “In a way it’s quite narcissistic, lots of people say,” she says. “But at the same time, you share a human condition – we talk about family, we talk about secrets and dreams: Who doesn’t have those things? A person you love, a heart broken. Those are really human things. It doesn’t have to be bound by like ‘Oh you’re queer’ or your gender.”

Her motivations were nothing short of acceptance and tolerance: “If we educate our younger generation earlier, there might be a chance that our society could change.”

Like many of the films in this festival, Kai challenges the status quo, questioning how we interact with society. “They want to make you like a cookie-cutter,” Kai says. “They want to make you a regular cookie. But instead I don’t want to be a regular cookie. I want to be a weird-flavored cookie, like homemade with a special recipe.”

Rebellion is a theme of the film: Kai is also unafraid to challenge her family’s traditional culture. The film discusses Chinese customs, and it wrestles with the interface between modernity and traditionalism. Kai believes, though, that the two are not opposing forces. She says, “In different cultures, for example the Hawaiian culture, people who have both genders, they call them The Spirit One. Same as many native cultures. These people are quite accepting.”

Quoting Terry Fox, a Canadian who ran across Canada with only one leg, Kai says, “Dreams are made if people try.” Evidently, when Kai made this film, she tried.

 
Something Other Than Other

Director: Jerry A. Henry
Featuring: Jerry, Andrea, and Quinn

One of the first things you’ll notice about Something Other Than Other is that it’s extremely quiet. This film – which portrays Quinn’s parents grappling with the birth of their multiracial son – opens with an ultrasound shot of Quinn in the womb. The background noise, which suggests the actual sounds of pre-natal life, plays softly and peacefully behind Andrea’s voice. As the film rolls, she and Jerry converse about their own racial experiences and those they expect for their son.

Jerry A. Henry, director of the film and father of Quinn, wanted to make the film seem quietly private and intimate. He and his wife Andrea chose to use bits and pieces of real conversations – “as if you were peeking in through our bedroom while we were having one of these conversations.” The film actually began as a within-the-family project aimed at allowing Jerry and Andrea to explore their own reactions to having a child. As Jerry says, “The camera is an extension of my arm, an extension of my body.”

As their project evolved, it gradually became an exploration into racial identity. The pivotal moment in the film comes just after the birth of Quinn, when Jerry and Andrea must check the box on the social security paperwork that describes the ethnicity of the child. Jerry’s parents are from the Caribbean, and Andrea grew up in Singapore of parents with East Asian, South Asian, and European roots. It’s clear in the film that they’re upset about having to use a box to describe their son. “I always felt like these boxes were sort of a way to define someone, to stick someone in a category,” Jerry says. “But it would be unfair for me or Andrea, my wife, to call our son Quinn black or asian. He’s both.”

Naturally, they tried to check both boxes. The nurse wasn’t down with that. “When I checked two, she was like, ‘No no no, you can only check one.’ I was like, ‘That’s ridiculous.’ I said, ‘What am I supposed to check?’ and she couldn’t even answer that.”

“He’s not all black,” Jerry says, “and it would be unfair for me to say he is, because that would be denying half of his heritage completely.”

Jerry suggests that the film is meant to do justice (and offer a tribute) to the whole range of Quinn’s diverse, multi-ethnic self. But there’s a more tangible modus operandi at work here, too: “(The film) is a way to help us help him understand who he is. It’s sort of our responsibility as parents to instill in him the confidence he’ll have…I don’t want him to be confused.”

For now, The Mighty Quinn is all of 15 months old and it will be a few more months before he’ll begin to understand Something Other Than Other. When that happens, though, he’ll be mighty proud.

Geoff Aung, 21, is a sophomore at Columbia University, considering a major in American Studies.