Hiển thị các bài đăng có nhãn Emma LaRocque. Hiển thị tất cả bài đăng
Hiển thị các bài đăng có nhãn Emma LaRocque. Hiển thị tất cả bài đăng

Chủ Nhật, 3 tháng 5, 2015

AVENGED - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Redsploitation Payback Thriller with Babe n' arrows


Avenged - aka Savaged - (2013)
Dir. Michael S. Ojeda
Starring: Amanda Adrienne, Tom Ardavany, Rodney Rowland

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Avenged (previously known on the film festival circuits and some foreign markets as Savaged) is an all-new entry in the cinematic lexicon known amongst genre geeks as "Redsploitation".

Compared to the 70s onslaught of "Blaxsploitation" (Shaft, Hell Up In Harlem, Slaughter, the list goes on and on and on), "Redsploitation" is a relatively tiny sub-genre of contemporary B-pictures. They differ from the urban African-American sex-and/or-violence-ridden fantasies in that their scope was limited to the stereotype of noble savages, often in rural (albeit mostly contemporary) locales and always involving the exacting of revenge upon Whitey for his callous treatment of Native Americans.

"Redploitation" always lacked variation in terms of character and plot. African-American characters could certainly have any number of stereotypical roles like gangsters, pimps and dealers, but they could also be cops, rights activists, just plain folk (though facing extraordinary hurdles requiring acts of violence) and in the case of star Pam Grier, she got to be a nurse in Coffy (albeit one who prowled dark corners blowing away pimps and dealers). In fact, women in Blaxploitation could, more often than not, hold their own with the men and not just be victims (the latter being the solitary roles for Native women in Redsploitation).

The grandaddy of the Native American action pictures were Tom Laughlin's hugely popular Billy Jack extravaganzas, but even these male fantasies, initially aimed at drive-ins, grind houses (and now in the days of waning public exhibition venues, DVD and VOD), developed huge mainstream acceptance whereas hardcore "Redsploitation" was linked to independent and/or much smaller distribution/exhibition outlets.

One of the "best" 70s forays into the sub-genre was Johnny Firecloud by William Allen Castleman. Generally better written than most of this fare, it also featured taut direction and a decent, mostly Native American cast. Starring Mexican actor Victor Mohica in the title role, the indignities perpetrated upon Johnny and his people are horrendous, but they pale in comparison to the genuinely satisfying revenge he exacts upon the dimwitted racist White losers: tomahawks, scalping, burying in the ground save for the head exposed to ants and the elements, plus other grim payback delights. Going a few steps further than most films of this ilk like Savege Harvest, Ransom, Thunder Warrior, Scalps and Cry For Me, Billy, Johnny Firecloud doesn't end in an orgy of total mind-numbing violence, but actually veers into the territory of ambiguity and, hence, a bit more reality than the aforementioned.


Avenged, co-produced by the visionary Canadian company Raven Banner with the American auteur Michael S. Ojeda is distinctive for being the most recent entry in "Redsploitation". Its cool blend of kick-ass revenge action with the supernatural and a nice combination of first-rate production values and some genuinely rigorous moviemaking craft, manages to put a whole whack of huger budgeted studio pictures to shame. Director Ojeda seldom favours the ludicrous ADHD-like shooting and cutting which plagues most super-hero and other recent wham-bam effects-laden extravaganzas. His shot selections are smartly considered, efficient and feature a nice variation in focal lengths and point of view choices (as opposed to the reliance upon too many close-ups and few mediums and wides that we see in $200-$300million indulgences). This allows his cuts to be rooted in dramatic action rather than spurred on by empty kinetics.

Narratively, Avenged is fairly straightforward, but with a few oddball deviations which allow us to feel like we're not watching something that's completely run-of-the-mill. Zoe (Amanda Adrienne) is a lithe, babe-o-licious, long-blonde-tressed beauty who decides to drive cross-country to meet up with her African-American boyfriend with the plan of moving in with him. Sounds simple enough, but the cool element Ojeda adds to this mix is that Zoe is challenged with being deaf and partially mute (she can form words, sentences, etc. but they're not always intelligible to those who don't know her). Though her Mother expresses trepidation, her sensitive beau realizes that her trip, as well as the decision to leave home and move into common-law bliss with him, is an important part of her continued journey of empowerment.


As these tales often go, she finds herself in the middle of nowhere (topography similar to John Ford's use of Monument Valley in his westerns) when she's witness to a horrific hit and run murder twixt a truck full of Good Old Boy Whitey Rednecks and a young Native man. Before she can hightail it out of there, she's boxed in and approached by the slavering, inbred White fellas. She's kidnapped and taken to the family's remote "estate" of White Trash decrepitude wherein she's grotesquely tied and affixed to a bed in an old shed with - yuck! - barbed wire.

It should be immediately noted that Ojeda does not sexualize nor salaciously dwell upon Zoe's inevitable gang rape by these scumbags. Thank Heaven for tender mercies. However, plenty of Hell is to follow. She manages to get away, but wrenching oneself from barbed wire bindings is not a pain-free, nor is it a pretty sight. Unfortunately, as she flees into the night, Zoe is mortally wounded with a scatter of buckshot from one of the rednecks and is left for dead in the rocky, sandy hills.


So, you're wondering: Where's the "Redsploitation?"

Oh, ye of little faith, here's the rub. The family of inbreds are descendants of a vicious cavalry commander who wiped out most of the Apaches in the area. Our villains are so proud of this, they worship their great-great-grandpappy's memory with slavish devotion - so much so that they continue butchering Native people whenever they can. Ojeda's narrative then adds the following tasty frisson: Legend has it, that the Chief of the local First Nations people swore eternal revenge upon his killer and all those who followed his family lineage. When a lone medicine man in the middle of the wilderness finds Zoe's battered, bloodied body, he attempts to revive her with some ancient ritual, but in so doing, he revives the spirit of the Apache Chief who melds his soul with Zoe and soon, you've got two spirits in one body that both need to extract revenge.

And believe you me, the vengeance is as sweet as it is stomach churning.


Okay, I've seen a lot of movies in my day and as moronic as the aforementioned spirit-melding may be, I have to admit it's pretty original as far as genre pictures go (though it has a few nods of homage in the direction of The Crow). And, you know, there's also something to be said for the pleasing (albeit ludicrous) image of a hot blonde adorned in feathers and war paint as she hunts down the vicious inbreds one-by-one. This (dubiously authentic) appropriation of Native culture is exploitative, but even as you see the nuts and bolts of this construct, it's perversely entertaining. Still, by using the tragic history of the local Natives is not without more than a few dollops of ethnocentrism if not outright racism, BUT, and this is a BIG "but", the film does go out of its way to utilize and address the stereotypical trappings of civilization and savagery that have been so-long married to Euro-centric notions of superiority as they relate to the inherent "lower order" of Indigenous Peoples. There is a clear awareness on the part of the filmmaker that he's playing with these elements, but in a contemporary context, he's allowing his imagination to run as rampant as all get out, which is certainly a far cry from the naiveté of filmmakers from earlier ages.

In her great book "When the Other is Me", Emma LaRocque provides a detailed analysis of "the dichotomy of civilization versus savagery [which] is the long-held belief that humankind evolved from the primitive to the most advanced, from the savage to the civilized." LaRocque notes that:

"racialized evolutionism has not entirely disappeared from the Western intellectual tradition. In disciplines of anthropology, history, political science, psychology, sociology, religion, and even in earlier Marxist thought, theories on human development were and still are largely premised on patriarchal, Eurocentric and evolutionary ideas about so-called primitive peoples."

Appropriating a tragic history and doing so within the "obviously doctrinaire and self-serving" civ/sav perspective which permeates Avenged, seems somewhat less egregious within the context of a sheer contemporary "entertainment". After all, this is not scholarship, but a piece of pure fiction that is so clearly fantasy, one would hope that even the lowest sub-strata of movie-fandom would assume that the use, or rather, misuse of stereotypical images of Native People is, in fact, ridiculously lacking in veracity.


Then again, our modern world continues to be sadly fraught with ignorance of the lowest order. Given that, even a film like Avenged falls into a strange never-never land of (mis)appropriation. LaRocque's own scholarship presents the interesting findings that "White writers often portrayed 'Indians' as savage creatures who tortured and mutilated White bodies", though clearly, Ojeda's film presents the exact opposite (at least initially). The Whites in his film are the slavering, savage, psychotic violators - not just of a physically challenged woman, but contemporary Native people as an extension of the violent historical genocide of Natives. In this context I'm especially interested in how LaRocque also points out a reversal of "the violation" since "contemporary Native writers also turn the tables on the colonizer to point out White cruelty and contradictions; in effect, to point to White savagery."

I'm not 100% sure of filmmaker Ojeda's heritage, though his surname is certainly rooted in Spanish origin, one which in the South Western (or "Tex-Mex") states can often include Native DNA and cultural roots. Whatever the case may be, he is clearly having his cake and eating it too.

LaRocque admits that prior to being in "any position to critically examine the history and sociology of racism, [she] experienced a sense of shame and alienation from teachers, textbooks, comics, and movies that portrayed Indians as savages." Not surprisingly, her eventual pursuit of 'higher' education revealed how "many university professors and most textbooks presented Native peoples in as distorted and insulting ways" as the aforementioned mediums so that the "racist theme of Western civilization/Indian savagery was ever-present."

Given that Avenged, along with the Redsploitation sub-genre and the litany of literature and cinema over the past century (and then some) have wallowed shamelessly in lies and stereotypes, it's the scholarship which has yielded the most abominable violations of truth. The literature and popular culture of deception has been predominantly American and appallingly buttressed by American academics who support and defend (whilst denying) their racist scholarship within the sickening "star-spangled" flag-waving of "the American expansionist doctrine of Manifest Destiny."

Is it any wonder these stereotypes persist? "The notion" LaRocque argues "of 'civilization' and its antithesis 'savagery' are invariably defined and measured by Euro-White North American standards. It should be needless to point out that such an un-scientific belief is racist because it sets up Whites as superior and non-Whites as inferior."

So how then is (an admittedly) entertaining (albeit blood-spattered) trifle like Avenged dangerous? LaRocque points out that Aboriginal peoples "are still being hounded and haunted by White North America’s image machine, which has persistently portrayed them in extremes as either the grotesque ignoble or noble savage."

Avenged does double duty on this front.


When the "noble savage" medicine man accidentally conjures up the spirit of a revenge-crazed Apache warrior and allows it to morph with the equally violated and angry character of Zoe, she essentially becomes a zombie-like member of the living dead who exacts vengeance that's perhaps even more "savage" than the indignities perpetrated by the White inbred racist rednecks.

The again, I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't admit to gaining a fair degree of satisfaction seeing the White Trash get their comeuppance via bows and arrows, blades and in one pretty spectacular set piece (in terms of filmmaker Ojeda's directorial skill and sheer aplomb), wherein the Apache-warrior-possessed Zoe rips the intestines out of one of the "bad guys" with her own hands, pulling his guts out like a viscous rope that seems to have no end and causing the villain the most horrific (and equally endless) pain.

Thinking upon my own visceral response to this picture in relation to what I acknowledge is "wrong", I still can't help but applaud Ojeda's audacity. He takes us into some very dangerous territory and I'll take that over the commonplace, the fake vibes elicited from "feel-good" entertainments. Avenged dazzles because it yanks us, roller coaster-ride-like, back and forth, this way and that from extreme political, historical and cultural dichotomies.

It's an appalling film, but there is value in its terrible, terrible beauty.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *** 3-Stars

Avenged (previously known as Savaged) is a Raven Banner production and world-wide release available on home video formats via Anchor Bay Canada. The extra features focusing upon the development and making of the film are especially interesting as they place solid emphasis upon director Michael S. Ojeda's considerable craft in terms of placing a visual emphasis upon his storytelling, but also how he works within the exigencies of modest financial resources to create a piece that feels far more imbued with production value than would normally be ascribed to such exploitation items.

Thứ Năm, 31 tháng 7, 2014

ROAD TO PALOMA - Review By Greg Klymkiw - A haunting and lyrical directorial debut by actor Jason Momoa


The great cinematic spirit of 70s existential male angst lives in Momoa's directorial debut.

Father (Wes Studi) & Son (Jason Momoa)
Road to Paloma (2014) ****
Dir. Jason Momoa
Starring: Jason Momoa, Robert Mollohan, Wes Studi, Timothy V. Murphy, Charlie Brumbly, Lisa Bonet, Sarah Shahi

Review By Greg Klymkiw
"The government did not pursue rape charges on [Native American] reservations 65% of the time last year and rejected 61% of cases involving charges of sexual abuse of children..."
- THE NEW YORK TIMES, February 20th, 2012

BORN TO BE wild FREE!
Set against the backdrop of America's continued apartheid and genocide against its indigenous Native Peoples, actor Jason Momoa (Game of Thrones) delivers an extremely promising directorial debut with this powerful and cerebral tale of a young man who has extracted justice on his mother's behalf after the law fails to do so. Robert Wolf (Momoa) has already committed his act of vengeance before the film has begun (we experience bits of it in flashback at later junctures), so make no mistake, this is not a vigilante picture in any sense of the word.

Cleverly utilizing the tropes of westerns, biker pictures (notably Easy Rider) and the 70s genre of existential male angst, the picture (written by Momoa and his co-star Robert Mollohan) centres on the final activities of a man who senses that his own end will result in physical pain, incarceration and possibly even death, but in the days leading up to meeting with fate, he seeks both redemption and the opportunity to scatter his mother's ashes in a sacred place that binds her spirit (and his) to the natural world.

Robert is wanted by the law for murdering the man who trespassed onto the reservation, then raped and beat his mother to death (so severely she was facially unrecognizable). Robert's father Numay (Wes Studi) is a local cop and though he's wracked with guilt for being on the job during the horrific crime, he's even more devastated (albeit silently) that he placed his faith in the judicial system. The system, as it so often does, fails the Native People who live on the reservations. Well, it fails them - period, but that's another story.

The perpetrator is never brought to trial, spends one year awaiting official prosecution, then, like so many other White Men charged with vicious crimes against Native women, he's released. Numay sadly accepts this as the Status Quo. Robert does not. The result is that the long arm of the law, which does virtually nothing for Native victims of crime, spends an awful lot of time, money and resources to hunt down Robert for his "crime". Though Robert's a wanted man, Chuck (Charlie Brumbly), the local F.B.I. liaison twixt the Bureau and the reservation, well-knows the score and has intentionally "fucked the dog" on this matter. Kelly (an appropriately smarmy Lance Henriksen cameo) is one mean-ass Bureau head honcho who wants this "murderer" caught, so he enlists Williams (Timothy V. Kelly), his best agent and an even bigger-and-meaner-ass prick than he is to hightail it down there to extract "justice".

Robert's not too phased about any of this. He's come to town to pick up his Mom's ashes for a 500-mile-long odyssey "in-country" where he suspects he'll be unmolested until he can deal with his Mom's spirit-journey. Momoa, as a director, excels at capturing the spirit, architecture, people and topography of the town outside the reservation. It's a one-horse town replete with crumbling old service stations, a sleazy strip club, a country-and-western bar and a whole lot of rednecks, whores and tough-guys. That said, not a single one of them will tussle with Robert. He's more than earned their respect. The same can't be said for his old buddy Cash (co-writer Robert Homer Mollohan), an alcoholic musician who has a bad habit of picking fights he could only win if he was sober.

Soon, the two men are on their motorcycles and blasting free and clear along the highways of America's Southwest and here's yet another superb sequence beautifully handled by Momoa, the director. With cinematographer Brian Andrew Mendoza, he's created an indelible look at reservation life, small town sleaze and now, the film settles almost completely into a state of zen-sickle-ridin' with stunning vistas, gorgeous sunsets and hell, even Monument Valley (a clear nod to John Ford - the legendary director who both exploited images of Native People and eventually made the necessary amends to render works of genuine power).

What I loved most about this movie is that it has so many opportunities to deliver standard cat-and-mouse thrills, chases, action scenes and unbearable tension. It finally, offers, only a smidgen of that. The movie excels as cinematic tone poem - a tribute to land, freedom and at the same time, an elegy to a world destroyed by colonial forces, one that still suffers under the weight of these shackles of a Status Quo that works only for the "ruling class". Momoa himself knows something about this as his blood mixes two very colonized racial ethnicities - part Hawaiian, part Native American. He not only serves as a terrific leading man (he's intense and gorgeous), but he elicits a whole whack of fine performances from his entire cast - especially Wes Studi, who's great as always. It's also wonderful seeing Lisa Bonet again on a big screen - she's gorgeous and a fine actress - and in his own way, Mollohan as Momoa's sidekick, conjures up the spirit of a somewhat kinder, gentler Dennis Hopper.

Road to Paloma is clearly a deep, profound and reflective work. Yes, it meanders, yes it's sometimes too cerebral, yes, it might have been nice if Momoa had subscribed to genre a bit more vigorously, but this is a world and issue that's too often ignored by mainstream cinema. There is, however, one sequence which delivers the goods on straight-up brutal action and we do get a chance to experience an illegal, hidden-from-the-world no-holds-barred fighting match (similar to the one Walter Hill explored in his 70s - 'natch - classic Hard Times, with Charles Bronson and James Coburn). Momoa also offers a genuinely tense climax. It's as inevitable, as it's shattering and is directed with the kind of panache that suggests even greater things from him.

Shockingly, the film bears the imprimatur of the film production division of WWE - yup, World Wrestling Entertainment. Rather than supporting a straight-up genre picture with one or several of its wrasslin' stars, they've backed the work of someone who's a genuine artist and has made a picture that's actually about something. That said, WWE recently secured the brilliant Canadian film artists Sylvia and Jen Soska to direct a picture, so that they backed Momoa in his desire to create a stunning, poetic movie that's alternately joyous and heartbreaking, is perhaps not too much of a stretch, after all.

In the 70s, a picture like Momoa's would have been green-lit by the studios, but these days, it takes truly independent visionaries to back work by equally visionary artists. Big business as pro wrestling is, there's always been a strange sense of independent spirit to their world. Supporting a movie about the independent spirit of America's Southwestern Aboriginal People seems to have made for a pair of very happy bedfellows.

Road To Paloma is available on a gorgeous new Blu-Ray from Anchor Bay Entertainment Canada and Anchor Bay Films (WWE's partner on the presentation of this film). For those who especially love the 70s-style angst of manly-man work like The Gambler, The Last Detail, Your Three Minutes Are Up, etc. this is a definite keeper. My only quibble is the lack of extra features. There's one deleted scene which is excellent, and interestingly offers something that was wisely omitted from the final film, in spite of its quality. That, however, is it. I'd have loved a commentary track from Momoa, maybe one that was moderated by an academic critic in areas of cinematic representation of Native Peoples. Given the film and the subject matter, this would have been a perfect capper to a really fine film in an exquisitely transferred Blu-Ray. Ah well, who the fuck am I? I didn't produce the damn home entertainment release. Though more and more, I think I should, or at least someone who loves MOVIES as much as I do. [insert smiley face here]

Feel free to order Anchor Bay's Road to Paloma, the great Criterion Collection of 70s male existential angst (America: Lost and Found) and/or some fine literary discourse on Native Issues by Emma LaRocque and others, directly from the Amazon links below (and in so doing, you'll be supporting the ongoing maintenance of The Film Corner).







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Thứ Năm, 21 tháng 11, 2013

EMPIRE OF DIRT - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Terrific Screenplay By Shannon Masters & Superb Performances

World's youngest granny
with petulant granddaughter.
Lena (Cara Gee), a former drug-addicted model is now a single Mom, clean and sober, working as a house cleaner, volunteering in an at-risk-youth-centre and caring for her thirteen-year-old daughter Peeka (Shaye Eyre) in the Kensington Market area of Toronto. In spite of this, a few too many misfortunes catch the attention of a nosy social worker with the typically easy-way-out-and-hardly-helpful suggestion of foster care. The two women hightail it up to North Country and stay with Lena's estranged mother Minerva (Jennifer Podemski). Relationships rebuild, unravel, then come full circle with new hope for all concerned. Lessons are, not surprisingly, learned. - G.K.


*NOTE* I watched Empire of Dirt with my 12-year-old daughter Julia who occasionally enjoys writing about film on this website as my Junior Cub Reporter. When the film ended, she exclaimed, "I LOVE THIS MOVIE! Can I write about it, Dad?" I agreed wholeheartedly to her tackling this film, however, I told her I didn't want to discuss the picture with her in any way, shape or form until after she wrote her review because I decided this might be the perfect film to run two reviews side by side - two perspectives on the same film coming from two very different places.

The review you'll read here is mine.

My daughter's review can be accessed by clicking HERE.

Enjoy!


Sisters? Nope. Mom and Daughter!
Empire of Dirt (2013) ***
Dir. Peter Stebbings
Starring: Cara Gee, Jennifer Podemski, Shaye Eyre, Luke Kirby

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Some pictures are so beautifully acted and/or written with a potentially potent delicacy that you want to forgive the fact that what you're watching seems little more than a by-the-numbers TV-movie. Empire of Dirt is consistently easy to consume, but that's just not good enough. The film is begging - nay, it's demanding - a distinctive directorial voice to pull the inherent drama out of the screenplay by Shannon Masters. A personal auteurist stamp would have made all the difference between what it could have been and what, ultimately, it is.

Peter Stebbings's direction is perfectly competent, but that, alas, is the movie's biggest problem. There's a very simple tale at play here that has all the potential in the world for a kind of Terrence-Malick-like poeticism which might have done wonders to bring a kind of harrowing, yet (borderline oxymoronic) muted quality to the proceedings. I'm not, by the way, referring to Malick's woeful "I talk to the trees and God" phase of his previous two outings, but rather his richer poetic-narrative period of Badlands and Days of Heaven wherein his chief influence was clearly Martin Heidegger's seminal work "Being and Time" (contrasting the more existentialist springboard of Jean Paul Sartre's attempts at Heideggerian gymnastics that seemed to infuse the insufferable duo that is Tree of Life and To The Wonder).

While Stebbings takes a simple approach to the material, it's without a firm grasp of the spiritual and philosophical qualities that appear inherent in the film's source material. The screenplay feels loaded with so many opportunities to visually evoke a kind of search for the essence of Being that's structurally inherent in Masters's writing and, in fact harks back to the structure of Malick's first two feature films.

Badlands, paints a portrait of a sun-dappled agrarian world within the context of a small town - the closest thing to an urban environment that Malick gives us - a stifling world of Status Quo societal mores and Old World patriarchy as embodied by the gruff, sign-painting Father (Warren Oates). This is what inspires Holly (Sissy Spacek) to be attracted to Kit's (Martin Sheen) self-styled James Dean persona in the first place while he is conversely attracted to the physical appearance of a young beauty twirling her baton, but slowly discovers what he assumes is a spirit, a state of Being similar to his own. He, and by extension, Holly make a decision to tear down this old world and embark upon an odyssey into nature to discover a wholly new state of Being.

Days of Heaven is imbued with a similar story structure that's fuelled by a Heideggerian spirit which allows for the added dimensions of both philosophy and poetry. Its characters (Richard Gere, Brooke Adams and Linda Manz) are initially locked into the stifling poverty and grime of an urban factory until they're placed in a similar position of irretrievably wiping the slate clean before landing in the bucolic farm setting of the distant young patriarch (Sam Shepard) who owns the sprawling property they eventually call home.

Empire of Dirt shares this structure on a script level. Lena (Gee), the former model of First Nations descent and single Mother, has long been absent from her home in the North Country of Ontario. She makes a meagre living as a house cleaner and try as she might, poverty and elements of big city Status Quo racism and mistrust place her in the position of losing her job. The biggest challenge of life in Toronto is that her attempts (mostly successful) to also raise her daughter are scuttled when Peeka (Eyre) falls in with a bad crowd of kids and she suffers a near-death sniffing overdose. When this all adds up to potential catastrophe, Lena, with Peeka in tow (not unlike the characters in the aforementioned Malick films) embark on an odyssey to Lena's former home in the crisp, clean Northern lands where she reunites with Minerva (Podemski), her long-estranged Mother who operates a live bait business for local fishermen.

It's in this environment where the material also delves into an exploration of Being and while we are engaged in the genuine humanity of characters looking to mend old wounds and build new bridges, the utter simplicity of the writing, which should yield so many more levels of thematic resonance, are at odds with the dull, by-rote competence of the film's uninspired direction. It's fine that we're watching a film wherein the outcomes might well be recognizably inevitable, but for this to work successfully as film art that rises above its narrative beats requires a lens, an eye if you will, that can see past the surface elements of the writings and dive head first into what feels like levels of experience that are always there, but never exploited with the qualities of visual poetry.

There is so much here that places Empire of Dirt in a position of being a work of importance and resonance. It's a film that explores the relationships of three generations of women, but also does so within the context of a colonial history that has wreaked havoc upon Canada's Native Peoples, focusing upon their dreams and desires - not to assimilate, so much as to live their lives in a world that should not still be tied to the remnant shackles of colonialism.

Like Malick's characters, the screenplay is clearly placing our three women in a position where they are searching, not just for Being, but questioning and discovering the very essence of Being. Alas, we sense this, but must work extremely hard as viewers to scratch below the surface. A more assuredly distinctive directorial voice was needed to render the film's spirit visually, cinematically, rather than as a series of dramatic beats covered so plainly that we don't get the full nutritional (if you will) value of the screenplay's true essence.

In Emma LaRocque's extraordinary book of literary scholarship "When The Other is Me", she notes:
"The theme of Native people’s confusion and despair runs through much of Native writing and cuts across centuries. Native missionaries, analysts, commentators, scholars, novelists, poets, playwrights — all in some way address the emotional costs of imperialism."
from University of Manitoba Press
For me, what's especially egregious about the lack of directorial cinematic poetry in Empire of Dirt is that this is writing for the screen - which for me, automatically implies a need for visual rendering beyond mere "coverage" of the writing - taking us into visual and emotional territory that seeks the kind of journey of exploration of its characters that our great film artists, like Malick, have brought to bear upon the work.

As a screenplay, the film presents an extremely important departure from what LaRocque describes as "confusion and despair" being the overriding thematic elements inherent in so much of the work by Native writers.

Yes, these are elements which exist in the story, but the important leap forward that Masters makes as a writer (first) and a Native writer (second) is that we are in territory where characters are searching for that essence of themselves as part of the larger whole of humanity.

This is a film about Native Peoples, written and produced by clearly powerful voices in Canada's Native community within the domestic film industry and equally important, work that comes from female voices. This is not to say a male director like Stebbings is incapable of rendering such work, but the veteran actor-director seems to be the wrong choice to have adapted the material.

However, based upon his first feature as a director, the very original Defendor, I might, in all fairness suggest he's potentially not the wrong choice, but rather a director who has, with Empire of Dirt, made his own wrong choices in rendering the work with a mise-en-scene that never moves beyond the pallid competence he employs. Canada's long tradition of auteur directors and the importance placed upon distinctive directorial voices makes it so disappointing that such an original piece of writing is given short shrift.

The seeming simplicity of the writing and its veneer of predictability deliver a perfect opportunity for a filmmaker to use the superbly structured blueprint of the screenplay to put a distinctive stamp upon the material and move it more evocatively into a lyricism it insists upon. At this, he fails.

Stebbings, does not, however, err in his handling of a superb cast. Gee and Eyre feel fresh and natural, while Podemski commands the screen with her powerful presence. The delicacy missing from the mise-en-scene is almost made up for with screen acting of the highest order (and not just with the leads, but all the supporting roles and even background performers). This then, is almost enough, but ultimately, we're faced with a movie that feels more like something that resides in the territory of "close, but no cigar."

Can-Lit Classic By Beatrice Culleton
And this, for me, is a drag since Empire of Dirt, especially in terms of its writing, is a movie that breaks new ground in the territory of Canada's film writing from the industry's Native Peoples. In the early 1980s, the Native Canadian author Beatrice Culleton (Mosionier) delivered "In Search of April Raintree", a passionately etched novel that had and continues to imbue feelings of great power.

That said, it is also a product of its time and focuses upon elements that LaRocque cites as "...Despair and violence [which,] run particularly strong…" throughout the work.

Empire of Dirt, as a script, however, is quite unlike Culleton's own groundbreaking literary work. As LaRocque notes, "'In Search of April Raintree' deals with the disintegrating effects of colonization on a family." Here we are, though, some thirty-plus years since the books publication and we have, with Empire of Dirt, the remnant effects of colonization. In Masters's screenplay, these Native characters who, like Culleton's, are searching, ever searching.

Interestingly enough, in the case of young Peeka in Empire of Dirt we have a character who is flirting with the potential of self-destruction not unlike that sound in Culleton's "April Raintree" novel. There are, to my mind, big differences between the two works, but also, some obvious parallels that link them over the decades that separate them.

In her description of "April Raintree" LaRocque writes:
"The story follows two metis sisters who are, on one level, searching for reintegration of family selves, but on another, perhaps deeper level, searching for a positive Native identity. April is searching for her sister Cheryl, who had been taken away by Child and Family Services. Both sisters are searching for a positive self-image of their Indianness, for Cheryl, an image based apparently on the White man’s romanticized invention of the “Indian.” April’s search for her sister is also a search for herself. Having been conditioned to be ashamed of her culture, April finds self-acceptance through her sister, but not before April’s personal dignity and Cheryl’s life are sacrificed."
In Empire of Dirt, we have three generations of Native women "searching for reintegration of family selves" and yes, on a "deeper level, [a Grandmother, her daughter and granddaughter are] searching for a positive Native identity." In so doing, though, Masters's characters are searching for a sense of family and identity - period (or are, I'm at least compelled to assert, "period").

Tellingly, when Lena approaches her old modelling agent to restart her career, he "reduces" (by his words and actions) her "self-image" not so much in terms of "Indianness" or even "an image based apparently on the White man’s romanticized invention of the 'Indian'”, but rather she is lumped categorically into a larger and more general stereotype. "Ethnic" or "exotic" in the modelling marketplace is, according to the agent, "not in". Not that this is any more or less egregious in terms of Imperialistic Colonial attitudes, but the racist and ethnocentric attitudes of the perceived needs of White corporate Imperialists includes all people of colour.

Lena is no longer sought for solely being an imagistic representation of some manner of "Pocahontas", but is being rejected in spite of the overall changing face of Canada's "ethnic" makeup. This is hardly progressive and certainly just as racist, but is also, in fact, a more disturbingly sweeping dismissal of all things not "White".

There's even a strange parallel in Masters's screenplay to that of "April Raintree", rooted in representations of different eras and hence, experiences. Rape and prostitution are the overtly violent elements that face the Native women in Culleton's novel, whereas there's a somewhat and seemingly more "benign" form of exploitation when Lena's agent grudgingly sends her out on a modelling gig and she finds herself outside Toronto's East End "Gentleman's Club" Jilly's.

Essentially, the implication at best is that Lena will be posing for nude photos and at worst, modelling or rather, performing as an object of sexual gratification in a strip club - perhaps even being reduced to providing borderline prostitution services as a private lap dancer where the primary "service" is a dry hump.

Masters also presents the compelling backstory of Lena's father who eventually committed suicide, haunted to self-destruction due to his childhood abuse within Canada's notorious "residential schools" for Native children. There's a parallel here to Culleton's narrative wherein a key character discovers that her father was, in LaRocque's analysis, “'a gutter creature',” as Culleton describes him...a drunk in the slums." In Culleton's work, though, this is impetus for despair and self-destruction whereas as Masters uses this information as the ultimate impetus for empowerment and moving forward.

Finally, Empire of Dirt, is a good and decent film with its heart in the right place, but given the sophisticated levels of the screenplay, one keeps waiting for the movie to soar and finally, it simply does not. The writing and performances keep the film a compelling experience, but this is still, I think, an important aesthetic development in Canadian Cinema (and cinema period) and required direction that went far above and beyond the call of duty. The film's clever title presents, within the screenplay itself, a very powerful metaphor. There is an empire of dirt in the city represented by the cleaning of homes belonging to rich, privileged White people and even within the mean, dirty alleyways of Toronto's Kensington Market area. Furthermore, there's Minerva's worm farm for live bait in the country which equally presents an empire of dirt rooted in "making a living". Even more astute, though, is that Masters's screenplay evokes the dirt of the city and the country in much larger, thematic ways. The neighbourhood in which Lena and her daughter initially live is full of the grime covered concrete, bricks and mortar of Chinatown, the garment district and Kensington Market - the cold, filth and graffiti-encrusted neighbourhoods of Toronto that smother the Earth of the once-traditional ancient settlement and travel routes of Canada's Native Peoples. This is truly an Empire of Dirt built up from exploitation, genocide and evils of colonization and it is the definition of dirt evoking genuine filth - that which soils all that's pure - which has such power: so much so that one years for a more poetically visual rendering of it. Then, of course, is the dirt of the country - the loose soil used to grow plants, flowers, vegetables and other living things that provide sustenance.

It is this specific Empire of Dirt that is, especially within the context of our contemporary world, a dirt, a soil, an Earth worth living in and living for. It's the sense of Being many of us search for, the sense of Being so many of us question and seek to understand.

It's the world - for better or worse - of this flawed, but still extremely important and vital film.

"Empire of Dirt" is in limited theatrical release via Mongrel Media following its World Premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival 2013.

12-year-old Film Corner Cub Reporter
JULIA KLYMKIW's ***** 5-Star review of
EMPIRE OF DIRT
HERE

EMPIRE OF DIRT - Review by The Film Corner's Junior Cub Reporter, 12-Year-Old JULIA KLYMKIW ***** 5-Stars

12-year-old Film Corner Cub Reporter
JULIA KLYMKIW'S ***** review of
EMPIRE OF DIRT


My Keywords To Brainstorm and Investigate the Movie Empire of Dirt:
- Dramatic
- Realistic
- Humorous at times
- Sends an important message
- Women Who Find Themselves

My Summary: Empire of Dirt - A 13 year old girl and her mother have a tough relationship. The mother works as a house cleaner. Cleaning houses is the only income for them. The daughter gets in trouble at school for smoking and the Mother is obviously pretty angry with her. The daughter runs away and hangs out with some other kids who are a bad influence on her and introduce her to inhaling paint out of a paper bag. The girl gets very sick and is taken to the hospital. The mother decides the best idea is for the two of them to take a break from the big city and travel up to the country.
- JJK


EMPIRE OF DIRT ***** 5 Stars
Starring: Cara Gee, Jennifer Podemski, Shaye Eyre
Review By Julia Klymkiw

LENA and PEEKA - Mother and Daughter
I really, really loved this movie and think that all mothers and daughters need to see it. It's such a great story and I related to it so much because I used to live in Kensington Market where the mother and daughter character live and I have the fun of now living in both the city and the country. Even though there are exciting and kind of dangerous things in the city, the country is a place I feel like I belong in, just as strong as I want to be in the city. One of the things this movie shows is how living in both places helps you appreciate both of them.

Empire of Dirt is about a mother (Cara Gee) and her daughter (Shaye Eyre) finding themselves. At the beginning of the movie, Peeka, is only 13 years old and finds herself in a place nobody wants to find themselves in. She finds herself in the hospital where she almost has died after inhaling paint with some bad kids she meets. Peeka's Mother Lena knows what they have to do after she finds out and they both leave the city to take a break in the country.

This is where Peeka meets her grandmother Minerva (Jennifer Podemski). Peeka is angry at her Mom for lying to her. Lena told Peeka that her grandmother was dead. The reason for this is that Lena and Minerva had an argument many years ago when Lena got pregnant with Peeka and Lena ran away to Toronto and never came back. Until now!!! The other crazy thing is that Lena told Peeka her Dad was dead, but sure enough, she finds out her Dad is alive and lives up North where he works as a Policeman.

Peeka gets to meet her Dad, but soon she understands that he will never really be a father to her and even worse than that, she comes to understand that he is going to be married to someone else even though he pretended to like her Mom again.

I really liked the acting in this movie. Everyone felt like real people to me. Minerva was really cool and even though I love both my grandmothers, it was neat how young Minerva was. There is a really nice scene where Minerva shows Peeka photos and tells her stories about the family. I think every kid relates to this kind of thing.

I also liked how Peeka got to meet all the other relatives in her family. This was so realistic for me because I remember visiting Winnipeg and getting to meet all the relatives I had never met before. It was fun meeting aunts, uncles and cousins because when you see them for real it's like they really are for real and not just people you have heard about. For Peeka, it's even more special because she never knew them before and didn't even know they existed.

Peeka's acting is super realistic because I know a lot of girls like her. They wear too much makeup and sometimes hang around with kids they shouldn't. I even understood why Peeka was always made up the way she was because all young girls like to experiment with how they look. I also felt bad for Peeka because things were kind of mixed up and it took a lot out of her to deal with it.

One of the great things about this movie is how Minerva talks about how all people have a spirit animal. She explains how you go into the woods for a long time, get really tired and hungry and then the animal comes to visit you and you get to know who they are. I love animals, so one day it will be cool to meet my own spirit animal. On the farm I live on there are horses, ponies, donkeys, bees and chickens. Even cooler is seeing so many animals coming to visit. I have seen bears, coyotes, wolves, owls and lots of rattlesnakes. Plus a lot more!!! I sure do wonder what my spirit animal will be.

One of the things that happens in the movie is when Peeka's Mom Lena meets her spirit animal, but when she does, something terrible happens and it's like the animal was trying to warn her. When Lena finds out her old boyfriend really doesn't want her anymore, she gets really sad and starts to drink alcohol. Most of all, I think she gets drunk because she thinks that she was a bad mother and how she has made so many mistakes. I don't really think this is true. She's a great Mom and things just happen in life that are not as big a deal as you think they might be. The worst thing she does is to drive while she is drunk. It's really very suspenseful too because she is driving fast and has one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand is holding a bottle of booze. She has to stop, though, because she sees a wolf on the road in front of her.

This is her spirit animal. It is standing so still and looks so beautiful. She gets out of the truck for a closer look, but when the wolf runs away, she turns around quickly and walks onto the road in front of a speeding truck. It hits her and you think she will probably die. This is very realistic too because up north so many guys are driving their trucks on the road so fast and like they're total crazy people. When Lena gets hit, it's like the truck comes out of nowhere and let me tell you, up north this is a very realistic thing.

Here is the part of the movie I thought was really beautiful. Even though she is hit by the truck and hurt very badly, it's the thing that makes the family come closer together. It's like the spirit animal was trying to warn Lena that something bad would happen and it did, but even though it did, it was the thing that kept the family from drifting apart.

I do not mind saying that I felt like crying a bit here, but not because I was sad, but that Peeka, Lena and Minerva realize that having each other is the most important thing in the world.

This is why I love the movie. Everything in it seems true. I see a lot of movies, but this one made me feel like I was watching things, people and places I knew. Mostly though, I think it's a great movie because it shows how having people around you that love you is the best.

See this movie. Especially if you are a girl or a woman. There are not a lot of movies about girls that are this realistic.

"Empire of Dirt" is in limited theatrical release via Mongrel Media following its World Premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival 2013.

To Read The Alternate View - The Film Corner features a *** EMPIRE OF DIRT review by the Cub Reporter's Grumpy Daddy, Greg Klymkiw.
Click HERE To Read It.