Tag: documentaries

Review: ‘Dads,’ starring Ron Howard, Will Smith, Conan O’Brien, Ken Jeong, Jimmy Fallon, Neil Patrick Harris and Jimmy Kimmel

June 20, 2020

by Carla Hay

Bryce Dallas Howard and her father Ron Howard in “Dads” (Photo courtesy of Apple TV+)

“Dads” 

Directed by Bryce Dallas Howard

Culture Representation: The documentary “Dads” has a racially diverse group of people (white, black, Asian and Latino) representing the middle-class and wealthy and talking about fatherhood.

Culture Clash: Some of the fathers interviewed in the film talk about defying traditional masculine stereotypes, by being more involved in raising their children than previous generations of fathers were expected to be.

Culture Audience: “Dads” will appeal to anyone who likes nonfiction films about parenting issues, even though it shuts out any perspectives of fathers who are poor or have negative attitudes about being fathers.

Robert Selby (pictured at right) and his son RJ in “Dads” (Photo courtesy of Apple TV+)

The documentary “Dads” puts such an unrelenting positive and happy spin on fatherhood that it has a strange dichotomy of being a nonfiction film that isn’t entirely realistic. Bryce Dallas Howard (the eldest child of Oscar-winning filmmaker Ron Howard) makes her feature-film directorial debut with “Dads,” which devotes considerable screen time to members of the Howard family talking about fatherhood. “Dads” is ultimately a very uplifting “feel good” movie, but it doesn’t do anything groundbreaking or reveal any new concepts of fatherhood.

There are no deadbeat dads or bitter fathers who’ve lost child custody in “Dads.” Instead, the documentary focuses only on fathers who love being dads and have good relationships with their children. There are several celebrities interviewed in the film (all of whom have a background in comedy), such as Judd Apatow, Jimmy Fallon, Neil Patrick Harris, Ron Howard, Ken Jeong, Jimmy Kimmel, Hasan Minhaj, Conan O’Brien, Patton Oswalt and Will Smith.

“Dads” has three kinds of footage: soundbites from the celebrities, with Bryce Dallas Howard as the interviewer (she sometimes appears on camera); clips of home movies (the clips from random, unidentified people give the documentary an “America’s Funniest Home Videos” look); and six in-depth profiles of seven middle-class fathers from different parts of the world.

Although the celebrities offer some amusing anecdotes, many of their stories seem rehearsed or their comments are made just to crack a joke. Smith, in particular, seems to have memorized way in advance what he was going to say in this documentary. With the exception of Ron Howard, the celebrities are not shown with their children in this documentary, which is why the celebrity segments in the film are pretty superficial. The best parts of the documentary are with the people who aren’t rich and famous, because that’s the footage that actually shows “regular” fathers (who don’t have nannies) taking care of the kids.

The seven non-famous fathers who are profiled in the movie are:

  • Glen Henry (in San Diego), an African American who became a “daddy vlogger” to document his experiences as a stay-at-home dad.
  • Reed Howard (in Westchester, New York), who is Bryce Dallas Howard’s youngest sibling and was a first-time expectant father at the time the documentary was filmed.
  • Robert Selby (in Triangle, Virginia), an African American whose son survived a life-or-death medical crisis.
  • Thiago Queiroz (in Rio de Janeiro), a Brazilian who started a podcast and blog about fatherhood and who advocates for longer time for paternity leaves.
  • Shuichi Sakuma (in Tokyo), who is a Japanese homemaker.
  • Rob Scheer and Reece Scheer (in Darnestown, Maryland), a white gay couple who adopted four African American kids.

Glen Henry used to work as a sales clerk at men’s clothing store, but he was so unhappy in his job that his wife Yvette suggested that he quit his job and become a stay-at-home father. (At the time “Dads” was filmed, the Henrys had two sons and a daughter.) Glen Henry, who has a blog called Beleaf in Fatherhood, began making videos documenting his fatherhood experiences.

Glen admits that he thought at first that it would be easy to take care of the kids by himself, but he found out that he was very wrong about that. “I felt like an imposter,” he says of his early years as a homemaker. Even though his wife Yvette says she wasn’t thrilled about Glen putting their family’s life on display for everyone to see on the Internet, she says it’s worth it because Glen is a much happier person as a stay-at-home dad.

Echoing what many of the fathers say in the documentary, Glen Henry comments: “The role of father has shifted in a major way. We went from providing, being there for holidays and disciplining to being all the way involved—and you kind of look like a dork if you’re not.”

He continues, “I feel like being a father made me the man that I am. My children taught me to be authentic and honest with myself. Fatherhood has given me a whole new identity.”

Reed Howard, who was expecting his first child with his wife when this documentary was being filmed, talks about the home videos that his father Ron filmed of all of his children being born. (Clips of some of those videos are included in the documentary.) Reeds says half-jokingly that since all of Ron’s kids were forced to watch the videos, it was “traumatic” to see part of his mother’s body that he never wanted to see.

Ron Howard’s father Rance (who died in 2017) is also interviewed in “Dads.” Rance says that when Ron was a co-star on “The Andy Griffith Show,” Rance suggested to Andy Griffith to not have Ron’s character Opie written as a brat. Griffith took the advice, and the father-son relationship on the show was modeled after the relationship that Rance had with Ron in real life. (Rance Howard and Ron Howard are the only grandfathers interviewed in the movie, by the way.)

Most of the dads interviewed in the documentary get emotional and teary-eyed at some point in the film. Ron Howard’s crying moment comes when he says that his greatest fear as a father was that he wouldn’t be as good as his father was to him. Reed (who is Ron’s only son) expresses the same fear about not being able to live up to the great experiences that he had with Ron as his father.

Selby has perhaps the most compelling story, since his son RJ was born with a congenital heart defect. Selby describes years of stressful hospital visits and medical treatments in order to help RJ live as healthy of a life as possible. This dedicated dad had to make many sacrifices, such as taking unpaid time off from work and forgo paying some bills in order to pay for RJ’s medical expenses. “There was no doubt in mind: I would forever be his protector,” Selby says of his outlook on being RJ’s father.

Selby is also the only father interviewed in the film who isn’t financially privileged, since he says that he often didn’t have a car during his son’s ongoing medical crisis. And when he did have a car, it was repossessed  multiple times because he couldn’t make the payments. He ended up working a night shift because it was the only way he could have a job (he doesn’t mention what he does for a living) while also going to school and taking care of RJ during the day.

Chantay Williams (who is RJ’s mother) and Selby were never married and didn’t have a serious relationship when she got pregnant with RJ. Selby breaks down and cries when he remembers that when he found out about the pregnancy, he didn’t want Williams to have the child and he didn’t talk to her for two months. But he changed his mind, asked for her forgiveness, and is now a very involved father.

However, Selby says that he still feels shame over his initial reaction to the pregnancy, and he comments that he’ll probably spend the rest of his life trying to make up for that mistake. Williams says in the documentary that Selby is proof that someone can change, and that he’s truly a devoted father and that his devotion isn’t just a show for the documentary cameras.

Quieroz (a married father of two sons and a daughter) knows what it’s like to not have a father raise him, since his dad wasn’t in his life for most of his childhood. He says that it’s one of the reasons why he vowed to always be there for his kids. Quieroz’s day job is as a mechanical engineer, but he also started a fatherhood podcast with two other Brazilian fathers, and he has a fatherhood blog. It’s through the blog that Quieroz’s estranged father got in touch with him. The outcome of that contact is revealed in the documentary.

Sakuma talks about how, in Japanese culture, men who don’t work outside the home are considered “society dropouts.” When he was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder 20 years ago, Sakuma could no longer work outside the home. He became so depressed that he contemplated divorce and suicide, until his wife begged him: “Please continue living for me.”

After Sakuma regained his health, one of the first things he wanted to do was become a parent, but his wife didn’t want to have kids. He says in the documentary that he began a personal campaign that lasted two years to get his wife to change her mind. She changed her mind when he told her that men can do anything when it comes to raising a child, except for pregnancy, childbirth and breastfeeding. He convinced her that he would make a great stay-at-home dad, which he is to their son.

Rob and Reece Scheer didn’t expect to become parents to four kids in a short period of time (less than a year), but that’s what happened when they fostered four children, whom they eventually ended up adopting. Rob and Reece have three sons and one daughter; two of the sons are biological brothers. Rob (the older husband) says he knew that he wanted to be a father since he was 6 years old. Rob describes how he grew up with an abusive father, but that traumatic experience helped him know that he wanted to be the opposite of abusive when he became a dad.

The four kids adopted by Reece and Rob also come from troubled backgrounds, so Rob believes surviving his own abusive childhood helps him relate to his kids in that way. As for Reece, he was working two jobs when he decided quit those jobs to be the couple’s stay-at-home partner. They had to make the sacrifice of having a lower household income, but now the family lives happily on a farm, which the dads say has been beneficial for the emotional well-being of their kids.

Rob Scheer says that sometimes people say unintentionally ignorant things  about gay couples who are parents. “People ask, ‘Who’s the mom and who’s the dad?’ We’re both dads, but the one thing that we do is that we both partner. That’s what parents should be doing.”

One of the questions that Bryce Dallas Howard asks the celebrities is to define what a father is in one word. Fallon says “hero,” while Minhaj says “compass.” Many of the celebrity fathers in the documentary make obvious comments that are similar to each other, such as: “There’s no instruction manual/rulebook to being a father.”

And although Kimmel and Jeong briefly mention the medical scares they went through with their children (a heart defect for one of Kimmel’s sons, a premature birth for one of Jeong’s children), the documentary doesn’t show them opening up about these issues in a meaningful way. Instead, most of the celebrity soundbites are meant to elicit laughs. Several of the celebrities make references to their busy careers when they talk about how their work keeps them from spending more time with their kids, but they know that they’re working hard to provide very well for their children.

Although the non-famous fathers who are profiled  in “Dads” seem to be a diverse group because they’re from different countries and racial groups, they actually have more in common with each other than not, because they’re all middle-class fathers with children who were under the age of 13 at the time this documentary was filmed. It seems like these fathers were selected because they have young children who are in the “cute” stages of life—no kids who are teenagers or adults—thereby creating more documentary footage that was likely to be “adorable.”

Apatow and Smith are the only fathers who talk about how fatherhood became less fun for them when their children became teenagers. They mention that they had to learn to give their teenage kids space, adjust to their kids’ growing independence, and allow them to make their own decisions on issues, even if those decisions turned out to be mistakes. But since the documentary doesn’t do any up-close profiles of non-famous fathers who have teenagers, the only commentaries about raising teenagers come from rich and famous guys, and it’s questionable how relatable these celebrity dads are to the rest of the public.

For example, Smith has said in other interviews (not in this documentary) that he and his wife Jada don’t believe that their kids should be punished in their household when they do something wrong, their kids never had to do household chores, and he and Jada allowed their kids to drop out of school when the kids didn’t feel like going anymore. Apatow admits in the documentary that he’s also a permissive dad who never really punished his kids if they did something wrong. Is it any wonder that many celebrities are perceived as raising spoiled kids who are out of touch with the real world?

One of the other shortcomings of “Dads” is that, except for Selby, the documentary completely ignores major financial strains that parenthood can cause. It’s as if the documentary wants to forget that financially poor fathers exist in this world too. And even though Minhaj is the only one in “Dads” to mention the immigrant experience, “Dads” could have used more fatherhood stories from an immigrant perspective.

However, if you want a heartwarming look at famous and non-famous dads who say that parenthood is the best thing that ever happened to them, “Dads” fulfills all those expectations. This documentary is more like a series of love letters instead of a thorough and inclusive investigation.

Apple TV+ premiered “Dads” on June 19, 2020.

Review: ‘Runner,’ starring Guor Mading Maker

June 19, 2020

by Carla Hay

Guor Mading Maker in “Runner” (Photo courtesy of Muse Production House and Lucky Hat Entertainment)

“Runner”

Directed by Bill Gallagher

Culture Representation: Taking place in the various parts of the world (including the United States, South Sudan, the United Kingdom, Brazil, Canada, Australia), this biographical documentary of South Sudanese long-distance Olympian runner Guor Mading Maker features interviews with black, white and Asian people representing the poor to upper-middle-class.

Culture Clash: As a refugee of war-torn Sudan, Maker overcame numerous obstacles in his home country and elsewhere to get to the Olympics.

Culture Audience: “Runner” will appeal primarily to people who like real-life inspirational stories and sports documentaries.

Guor Mading Maker in “Runner” (Photo courtesy of Muse Production House and Lucky Hat Entertainment)

There have been many “triumphing against all odds” sports documentaries, but few will make as deep of an emotional impact on viewers as much “Runner.” The movie is the riveting biographical story of South Sudanese long-distance runner Guor Mading Maker (formerly known as Guor Marial) and his Olympic dreams. Along the way, he experienced horrific childhood trauma while growing up in war-torn Sudan, including being separated from his parents for 20 years, having most of his siblings killed during the war, and being captured and tortured by enemy soldiers.

“Runner” (directed by Bill Gallagher) was filmed over several years and includes interviews with Maker and several people who know him, as well as people involved in some way with helping Maker’s Olympic dreams come true. It’s never easy for any athlete to get to the Olympics, but most do not have the unique and daunting obstacles faced by Maker.

As a child in growing up in Sundan’s Pariang County during Sudan’s civil war, Maker’s parents feared that he would be killed in the war. So, in 1993, they sent him away to what they thought would be a safer place: the city of Bentiu, where he walked by himself and had to find ways to survive on his own. He sold nuts and mangos to make a living, but then he was captured by enemy soldiers, who forced him to become a thief for them. (The documentary effectively uses animation to illustrate his childhood.) He managed to escape with another kidnapped boy.

For the next four years, Maker drifted alone throughout southern Sudan. He then found his aunt (Zainab Mohagir), uncle and their daughter/Maker’s cousin (Ajok Majak) in a displacement camp. Together, they were all selected as part of the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program, and they moved to Concord, New Hampshire, in 2001. (Mohagir and Majak are briefly interviewed in the documentary.)

While in the United States, Maker enrolled in high school and learned English. Pete Samuels, one of Maker’s former classmates from high school, remembers being immediately impressed by Maker’s unassuming but friendly demeanor: “He had a warm presence,” says Samuels. It wasn’t long before the athletic instructors at the school noticed that Maker was a superb runner.

Maker’s former gym teacher Eric Brown describes how he first got to know Maker: “The language barrier was a challenge at the time … He was tireless and had so much energy. When I saw him finally run, that’s when I saw something really special.”

Brown continues, “He didn’t even know what track was. He didn’t know running was a sport.” Maker concurs and says that the first time he heard the word “track” for running, he didn’t understand and thought people were saying “truck.”

Three days after trying out for the school’s track team, Maker was on the team as they went on state-level competitions. Samuels says of Maker: “He was a star on a state level immediately.” Tim Metcalfe, another former teammate from high school, also mentions how rapidly Maker outshone much of the competition. But things weren’t all smooth sailing for Maker during his new life in the United States.

Rusty Cofrin (Maker’s track and field coach from high school) and his wife Shirrill Cofrin noticed that Maker was very malnourished, as a result of his eating habits from his traumatic childhood. The Cofrins say in the documentary that they helped him have a healthier diet and also helped Maker get new front teeth, which were missing because they had been smashed out by a soldier’s gun when Maker was a child.

Even though Maker had found a better life for himself in the United States, he was still very much haunted by what happened to him and his family in Sudan. In the documentary, Maker describes the bold 1994 escape that he made from his abductors, who kept him tied up in a room where he was frequently tortured because he refused to join them on their killing sprees.

Maker says, with tears filling his eyes as he relives that horror of the experience, that he made up his mind to escape as soon as he could. He remembers what his thoughts were at the time: “I’d rather die running than die in this room.”

While living life as a high-school track star in New Hampshire, Maker received another devastating blow when one of his brothers died in Sudan. With eight of his nine siblings now dead, Maker said, “It made me feel powerless. I didn’t know what to do.” He was so distraught with grief that he wanted to quit track and field. However, Cofrin says he sternly told Maker that he couldn’t quit because his running talent would be his ticket to college and a better life so he could help his family left behind in Sudan.

In the end, Maker didn’t quit, and he eventually placed fifth in the New England High School Outdoor Track and Field Championships and enrolled at Iowa State University, where he continued to thrive as as runner. Corey Ihmels (who was his track and field coach at the university) and marathon runner Brad Poore both marvel in the documentary at how the first marathon that Maker participated in was the one that qualified Maker for the 2012 Olympics.

Maker, who says that his war-torn home country was always on his mind when he was competing in the track races, was qualified for the Olympics, but he didn’t have a country to represent at the time. South Sudan became a new nation in 2011, as part of a truce in Sudan’s civil war that split northern and southern Sudan. In 2012, the newly formed South Sudan did not have a National Olympic Committee, which each country is required to have to send athletes to the Olympics. Maker also wasn’t a U.S. citizen at the time. (He became a U.S. citizen in 2013.)

The news media found out about the story of an athlete being in this unique situation of qualifying for the 2012 Olympics but not having a nation to represent. The Chicago Tribune’s Peter Hersh, one of the first journalists to break the story, is interviewed in the documentary. International Olympics Committee director of communications Mark Adams also weighs in when talking about the special circumstance that led Maker to participate in the 2012 Olympics in London: Since he was not representing any country, Maker was allowed to compete by representing the Olympic flag.

Although he wasn’t officially representing any country at the 2012 Olympics, Maker still had plenty of South Sudanese people rallying around him with national pride. One such admirer interviewed in the documentary is Marina Ajith of the London South Sudanese Women’s Association, who helped organize enthusiastic events for Maker when he came to London for the Olympics. She’s also seen marching in a joyful parade procession holding a Sudanese flag that she made herself.

The last third of “Runner” is the best part of the documentary. The movie shows Maker going to South Sudan in 2013, to see his parents (mother Atheing Kon and father Miading Miaker) and his only surviving sibling (brother Monyjok Miaker) for the first time in 20 years. The reunion scenes are very emotional and will bring tears to many viewers’ eyes.

Even after accomplishing his goal of going to the 2012 Olympics, there was still more work ahead for Maker, who became passionately involved in helping people in South Sudan train for the 2016 Olympics. Maker was also involved in a nasty dispute with the South Sudan Athletic Federation (the documentary pretty much blames the federation for being corrupt and greedy), which caused the federation to suspend Maker, putting another obstacle in front of his Olympic dreams.

Fortunately, Maker was re-instated (which had to a lot to the immense public backlash against the the federation) and the documentary gives a candid look at Maker’s intense preparations to qualify for the 2016 Olympics, after South Sudan’s National Olympic Committee was approved by the International Olympic Committee. When Maker watches the approval proceedings on a live satellite TV feed with other Sudanese athletes, it’s another very emotional moment in the documentary.

Maker experiences many other setbacks, but his perseverance is truly inspiring not just because it’s about him achieving personal goals but also because he is a shining example of someone who selflessly gives back to the communities that represent his roots. His ability to overcome a traumatic past to uplift others who aren’t as lucky is something that is truly magnificent to behold. And now that South Sudan is embroiled in another civil war, the inspiration that comes from Maker is a legacy that goes beyond marathons and Olympic games.

Jacob Lagu, a South Sudanese activist, comments in the film: “If there’s one that unites a fractious country, it’s sporting heroes.” Lagu says of Maker: “He has taken all of that hurt and redirected it to positive energies.” You don’t have to be a sports fan or even a documentary fan to be moved by watching “Runner.” It’s not about winning Olympic medals. Long after Maker retires from the sport, his impact on the people he’s inspired will be felt for generations.

Muse Production House and Lucky Hat Entertainment released “Runner” in select U.S. virtual cinemas on June 19, 2020.

Review: ‘Disclosure,’ starring Laverne Cox, Chaz Bono, Lilly Wachowski, Jen Richards, Yance Ford, Candis Cayne and Mj Rodriguez

June 19, 2020

by Carla Hay

Laverne Cox in “Disclosure” (Photo by Ava Benjamin Shorr/Netflix)

“Disclosure” (2020) 

Directed by Sam Feder

Culture Representation: The documentary “Disclosure” has a racially diverse group of entertainers and activists (white, black, Asian and Latino) discussing how transgender people are depicted in movies and television.

Culture Clash: The documentary examines damaging bigotry that leads to confusion, hatred and untrue or misleading stereotyping of transgender people.

Culture Audience: “Disclosure” will appeal mainly to people who care about the rights of transgender people, but the documentary is also worth viewing for people who need to be more educated on why movies and television have a major impact in how transgender people are treated by society.

Chaz Bono in “Disclosure” (Photo by Ava Benjamin Shorr/Netflix)

When the documentary “Disclosure” (directed by Sam Feder) premiered at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival, it was subtitled “Trans Lives on Screen.” That subtitle was removed when the film made its way to Netflix. And it’s too bad the movie no longer has this subtitle, since this description needed to be displayed loud and proud to announce the documentary’s subject matter. By stripping the documentary of its original subtitle, “Disclosure” just sounds like a generically vague movie, based on the title.

Title changes are usually made by the movie’s distributor for marketing reasons, in order to appeal to as wide of an audience as possible. Perhaps whoever decided on this title change thought that having the word “trans” in any part of the documentary’s title would scare off potential viewers. If that was the main reason for dropping the subtitle “Trans Lives on Screen,” then it’s an ironic choice, since the entire movie is about de-stigmatizing and de-mystifying what it means to be a transgender person, as it relates to how trans people are portrayed in movies and on television.

“Disclosure” does a very good job overall of covering these issues by giving the entire narrative to trans people. Everyone interviewed in the documentary is a transgender entertainer and/or trans activist. (“Disclosure” director Feder is also transgender.) People interviewed in the movie include Laverne Cox, Angelica Ross, Brian Michael Smith, Yance Ford, Zeke Smith, Lilly Wachowski, Mj Rodriguez, Michael D. Cohen, Chaz Bono, Jamie Clayton, Alexandra Billings, Jen Richards, Tiq Milan, Nick Adams, Tre’Vell Anderson, Trace Lysette, Rain Valdez, Zackary Drucker, Marquis Vilson, Chase Strangio, Sandra Caldwell, Candis Cayne, Susan Stryker, Alexandra Grey, Jazzmun, Ser Anzoategui, Elliot Fletcher, Bianca Leigh, Leo Sheng, Mickey R. Mahoney and Hailie Sahar.

However, the documentary (which has a traditional format that blends interviews with archival footage) doesn’t do an adequate job of explaining variances along the gender spectrum. There are many people in society who get confused between being transgender and doing drag. It’s a confusion that the documentary further muddles by bringing up examples of drag impersonations in movies and television and putting them in the same category as transgender representation. Some of the documentary’s examples include Dustin Hoffman in 1982’s “Tootsie” and Robin Williams in 1993’s “Mrs. Doubtfire,” as well as female personas created by male comedians Milton Berle, Flip Wilson and Jamie Foxx on comedy TV series.

Here is what “Disclosure” should have done from the beginning before going into the flashy montages of film and TV clips: Educate people on the different identities in the gender spectrum.

The documentary assumes that people watching the film already know what “cisgender” means. The definition of “cisgender” is when someone identifies as the biological gender assigned at birth. The majority of people in the world are cisgender and use the pronouns “he/him” if they identify as male and “she/her” if they identify as female. Most cisgender people are heterosexual (attracted to the opposite sex), while other cisgender people identify as “queer” (attracted to the same sex, both sexes or any gender) or “asexual” (not interested in any sex at all). It depends on the individual.

Transgender people are people who identify as the opposite of their biological gender they were assigned at birth. Transgender people have their own unique journeys on how and when they decide to present themselves as the gender they are. Many transgender people, for various reasons (usually pressures from society or family members), are forced to present themselves as the gender that is opposite of who they are.

Transgender people all over the world are fighting for the rights to be gendered correctly and to openly live their lives as the gender with which they identify, without being discriminated against for it. A transgender woman should have the pronouns “she/her” and a transgender man should have the pronouns “he/him.” Just like with cisgender people, sexuality for transgender people depends on an individual: Transgender people can be sexually attracted to any, all or no people on the gender spectrum.

Transgender people are often misidentified as doing drag. And that is a common misconception that the documentary really should have pointed out better. Drag is dressing up as the opposite sex. For transgender people, their gender identity isn’t “doing drag,” like a costume someone can put on and take off when they choose. The documentary really missed an opportunity to clarify between “doing drag” and “being transgender.”

Likewise, people can get confused over what “trans” means when there are transsexuals and transvestites. Transsexuals are transgender people who undergo gender confirmation surgery. Transvestites are cisgender people who dress up as the opposite sex. Transvestites are a subculture of drag culture, because transvestites are usually people who identify as straight or bisexual. None of that is explained in the documentary.

Also not mentioned in the documentary: There are some people who identify as “gender-fluid” and present themselves as male and female, depending on the situation. When gender-fluid people present as male, they want their pronouns to be “he/him,” and when they present as female, they want their pronouns to be “she/her.” Gender-fluid people are not to be confused with nonbinary people, who don’t identify as any gender and use the pronouns “they” and “them.”

Maybe the “Disclosure” filmmakers thought all of this information would be confusing to viewers. But a lot of people in the world don’t know that there is a gender difference between RuPaul (a cisgender gay man who does drag as a woman) and Laverne Cox (a transgender woman). A movie like “Disclosure” could have done a better job of educating people who are ignorant of these differences, instead of assuming that everyone who watches the film already knows what the differences are.

That being said, “Disclosure” has an impressive compilation of film/TV clips and personal stories from transgender entertainers who talk about how images on screen influenced (for better or worse) how they felt about themselves as transgender people. “Disclosure” also responsibly acknowledges the additional prejudice that transgender people can face from other members of the LGBTQ community.

There are also disproportionate levels of racism and sexism that transgender women of color experience, compared to cisgender queer white people. (Most hate crimes against transgender people are crimes against transgender women of color.) And because white transgender people get more representation on screen than transgender people of color, it causes limited stereotyping that can stifle the careers of transgender people of color. Actress/producer Valdez (who is of Filipino heritage and was raised in Guam) says in the documentary she’s spent her entire career trying to convince people that she can do roles other than the Asian “M. Butterfly” stereotype.

“Disclosure” offers a fairly comprehensive historical account of how transgender lives have been depicted in movies and television. The documentary includes examples of movies all the way back to the silent-film era. Two silent films released in 1914 are singled out in particular: director D.W. Griffith’s “Judith of Bethulia” and director Sidney Drew’s “A Florida Enchantment.”

But this is where “doing drag” and “being transgender” can get confused, since both films don’t really specify if the characters are really transgender or if the characters are cisgender people doing drag. For the first half of 20th century, the terminology just didn’t exist to make the distinction between the two types of identities.

Adding to the confusion is that many films from the silent-film era had shameful and degrading portrayals of women and people of color, with white men acting in those roles because white men were the ones usually allowed to get those roles in the first place. The practice of male actors dressing up as women goes back centuries before film was even invented, when women were not allowed to be actors.

Movies allowed roles for women, but early silent films still had a lot of men portraying women, simply because there weren’t enough women who were allowed to be actors. That doesn’t necessarily mean those characters were written as transgender or queer. It’s something that “Disclosure” should have put into better historical context.

However, actress/activist Cox (who is one of the executive producers of “Disclosure”) makes this noteworthy comment: “I think it’s fascinating that some of the earliest moving images were cross-dressed images. When you watch, it feels very much like womanhood is silly and is to be mocked.”

Oscar-nominated “Strong Island” director Ford says that he’s not surprised that movies from early filmmakers such as Griffith presented anyone who wasn’t a straight white male in a demeaning manner. Ford comments that he’s glad he didn’t go to film school because he would have walked out if they showed him Griffith’s pro-Ku Klux Klan film “Birth of a Nation,” which is often taught in films schools as one of the most influential movies of the silent-film era. “The Matrix” filmmaker Lilly Wachowski puts it bluntly when she says of Griffith: “You racist piece of shit.”

Transgender representation in films obviously became more pronounced in the latter half of the 20th century, when transgender identities and gender confirmation surgeries became more openly discussed in society. Some of the films mentioned as being influential for transgender representation include 1992’s “The Crying Game,” 1999’s “Boys Don’t Cry,” 2013’s “Dallas Buyers Club” and 2015’s “The Danish Girl,” which were all nominees or winners of Academy Awards. For documentary films, 1990’s “Paris Is Burning” is praised as one of the most influential of all time for transgender representation.

However, even some of those films had problematic issues, according to some of the “Disclosure” interviewees. “Boys Don’t Cry,” “Dallas Buyers Club” and “The Danish Girl” all had cisgender actors portraying transgender people. Transgender activists have been advocating for filmmakers and TV showrunners to hire transgender people for transgender roles. “Dallas Buyers Club” (which was based on a true story) also got some criticism in “Disclosure” because some people think that Jared Leto’s fictional Rayon character (a transgender female) was written for the movie to make the straight male protagonist of the story, Ron Woodroof (played by Matthew McConaughey), look like the “heterosexual savior.”

In the “The Crying Game,” when transgender female character Dil (played by Jaye Davidson, who is transgender in real life) revealed that she has a penis, it caused her straight male love interest Fergus (played by Stephen Rea) to vomit. “Disclosure” criticizes films that resort to this negative and often unrealistic vomiting reaction whenever a cisgender person finds out that someone is transgender. The 1994 comedy “Ace Ventura: Pet Detective,” starring Jim Carrey, is cited as an example of this derogatory stereotyping.

The 1975 bank robbery film “Dog Day Afternoon,” starring Al Pacino, is mentioned as a mixed bag for transgender representation. This dramatic movie is based on a true story of a man who held a bank hostage in New York City so that he could get the money to pay for gender confirmation surgery for his transgender female lover. The documentary points out that in real life, the transgender lover definitely presented herself as a woman in the way she looked, acted and dressed. But in the movie, the transgender lover was played by a very cisgender male-looking Chris Sarandon, who wasn’t even dressed as a woman in the movie.

Many people in “Disclosure” point to the Buffalo Bill character from the 1991 Oscar-winning film “The Silence of the Lambs” as an even more distasteful and offensive representation of a transgender person. The Buffalo Bill character is named as the embodiment of the worst negative stereotypes that movies have in portraying transgender women as homicidal people who act as vultures to femininity and hate cisgender women. It’s part of a shameful legacy of many transgender people being written in movies and TV shows as either criminals or tragic figures with medical problems. It’s also why so many transgender characters end up dying in these movies and TV shows.

But once again, “Disclosure” confuses “transgender” with “drag” when it goes off on a tangent to have people discuss movies like 1982’s “Victoria/Victoria,” 1983’s “Yentl” and  1985’s “Just One of the Guys”— each film had the main character doing drag, not being transgender. Although it’s interesting that some of the interviewees in this documentary were influenced by these films, the cross-dressing characters in those movies were cisgender, not transgender. As the saying goes about not causing confusion: “Don’t get it twisted.”

Many of the interviewees say that the TV industry has been more progressive than the movie industry, when it comes to representing transgender people, but there is still room for improvement. Christine Jorgensen (the first widely known transgender American woman to have a gender confirmation operation) is considered a pioneer for transgender representation in the U.S. media, since her transgender journey was a big story in TV news in the 1950s, and she was a frequent guest on TV talk shows and news programs for years afterward.

And the LGBTQ activism of transgender women Silvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson that began in the 1960s—although not as frequently covered on TV as the activism of their white cisgender male counterparts—is mentioned as highly important and underrated. Some of the interviewees in “Disclosure” say that bigotry within the LGBTQ community has a lot to do with why transgender activists are often held back and overlooked in their own community.

The Emmy-winning FX drama series “Pose” (about New York City’s drag/trans ballroom culture in the late ’80s/early ’90s) is cited by many people as the gold standard of all transgender TV shows, in terms of accurate representation. But “Pose” (which debuted in 2018) is an anomaly, since it’s the first and so far only scripted TV series to have a transgender-majority cast. “Pose” co-star Rodriguez says that the show has had a tremendous positive impact in how people view the transgender community.

Janet Mock, who is a “Pose” writer/director, is not interviewed in “Disclosure,” but she’s mentioned as an important trailblazer for transgender people who work behind the scenes in television. In 2019, Mock signed an exclusive first-look deal with Netflix to be the showrunner of TV programs, becoming the first transgender person to get this type of TV deal. “Disclosure” includes some archival clips of TV interviews that Mock has done.

Other TV shows that are mentioned as having positive representations of transgender people are Netflix’s 2013-2019 dramedy series “Orange Is the New Black” (which had Cox as one of its cast members); Amazon Prime Video’s 2014-2019 comedy series “Transparent”;  and the TLC reality show “I Am Jazz,” starring transgender female Jazz Jennings, who was 14 when the show premiered in 2015.

ABC’s 2007-2009 primetime TV soap opera “Dirty Sexy Money” had Cayne as the first openly transgender character in a U.S. primetime TV series, but she says that this milestone was marred when the decision was made to lower her voice octave in the show’s audio, to make her sound more “masculine.” Cayne says she was horrified when she saw the show’s premiere and found out that her voice was changed without her permission.

The documentary also points out that writers and producers are capable of evolving and improving representation of transgender people. “Pose” co-creator Ryan Murphy (an openly gay man) was also a showrunner of FX’s 2003-2009 drama series “Nip/Tuck,” which had a disturbing episode in 2004 that featured lead character Christian Troy (played by Julian McMahon) raping a transgender woman named Ava Moore (played by cisgender actress Famke Janssen) and finding out during the sexual assault that Ava is a post-operational transgender woman. In “Disclosure,” Cox gets emotional and teary-eyed when she remembers what it felt like to watch that “Nip/Tuck” rape episode.

The reason why Ava got the operation is also problematic: She previously lived life as a gay man, but got the operation to become a woman so that she could to try to get the love of a heterosexual man who wasn’t in love with her. It’s unlikely that Murphy would put that type of transgender storyline in any of his shows today.

“Disclosure” briefly mentions Caitlyn Jenner’s reality show “I Am Cait” and her coming-out journey on the reality show “Keeping Up With the Kardashians.” But the documentary also mentions that within the transgender community, Jenner is a controversial figure because she is an outspoken conservative Republican who supports political candidates who are against civil rights for the LGBTQ community.

TV talk shows are mentioned as being very important in showing transgender people on television. A transgender man named Reno, who was a guest on “The Jerry Springer Show” in 1998, is named as someone who was influential in particular to black transgender men, according to actor Vilson. “To see this image [of a black transgender man] on TV was really empowering,” Vilson says. “The Jerry Springer Show” was notorious for people revealing controversial “secrets” to their lovers, in the hopes of causing a fight on TV. On the show, Reno revealed to his girlfriend at the time that his true identity is being a transgender man.

Speaking of controversy, “Disclosure” seems to want distance itself from scandal-ridden actors who portrayed transgender people on screen. “Disclosure” doesn’t mention any of the sexual harassment allegations against award-winning “Transparent” star Jeffrey Tambor (a cisgender man who played a transgender woman on the show), who was accused of sexually harassing women who worked on the show. Tambor denied the allegations but left the show in 2017.

Transgender actress Lysette (one of Tambor’s accusers, who guest-starred on the show) and “Transparent” co-star Billings (who is also transgender) are interviewed in the documentary but don’t mention the allegations. Either they talked about the scandal and it was cut out from the film or they didn’t talk about it all all. We might never know.

Also not mentioned at all in the documentary: the 2005 dramatic feature film “Transamerica,” starring Felicity Huffman as a transgender woman. Huffman (a cisgender actress) got an Oscar nomination for her role in “Transamerica,” but the “Disclosure” filmmakers probably don’t want people to be reminded that Huffman is part of transgender film history, because Huffman became a convicted felon in 2019, after she pleaded guilty in the college admissions scandal.

And speaking of transgender women on screen, “Disclosure” also mentions that there is disproportionately more representation of transgender women in American movies and TV than there are of transgender men, even though the number of transgender women and transgender men in the United States are about the same. Unfortunately, most of these transgender female roles in movies and TV are portraying sex workers, murder victims, sexual-assault victims or people going through some kind of medical drama. Transgender actor Smith has this theory: “I think we don’t see as much representation of trans men as trans women because people don’t think of trans men as sensational.”

The documentary points out that people’s attitudes toward trans people have a lot to do with traditional stereotyping of masculinity and femininity. Anything that challenges those stereotypes is often laughed at or despised. In 2011, transgender man Bono (whose famous mother is Cher) was the first transgender contestant on ABC’s “Dancing With the Stars.” In “Disclosure,” he talks about how most people were accepting of him on the show, but there was still considerable backlash that he experienced from bigots.

Showtime’s 2004-2009 drama series “The L Word” was the first American primetime TV series to have a transgender male character as part of the show’s cast. The character Max Sweeney (played by nonbinary actor Daniela Sea) started out as a “butch” lesbian but then transitioned to living life as a transgender man. Max’s coming-out journey on the show highlighted the prejudices that cisgender people (straight and queer) can have toward transgender people, as Max found that some of his lesbian friends had a hard time accepting his identity as a transgender man.

Some people in “Disclosure” say that the lesbian team of writers and producers of “The L Word” did a disservice to the transgender community because the Max character was portrayed as confused, and the female characters’ bigotry against Max was acceptable. Transgender people say that if a transgender writer or producer had been part of the show at the time, Max would probably have been written as transgender from the start, since most transgender people are not confused about their identity but are often forced to hide it because of pressures from society.

“Disclosure” also mentions how gender roles and race can intersect when it comes to black men in comedy. Cox points out that many black male comedians dress up as women to emasculate themselves in a society that often demonizes the masculinity of black men. “Putting a black man in a dress, in some people’s minds, takes away the threat,” says Cox.

Although Cox says that the Geraldine character from “The Flip Wilson Show” had a big impact on her, as one of the first cross-dressing characters that she saw on TV, it’s an example of confusing “doing drag” with “being transgender.” A better example of an influential black transgender TV character mentioned by Cox is the Edie Stokes character on CBS’s 1975-1985 comedy series “The Jeffersons,” played by Veronica Redd (a cisgender actress) in a guest-starring role in 1978. Edie was a character who actually lived life as a transgender woman instead of just playing dress-up.

“Disclosure” also points out that transgender people are often at risk of being ridiculed in being represented on screen. Actress/writer Leigh says, “As a trans person, you have the most sensitive radar to tell if you’re laughing with us or laughing at us.” Media maker/writer Milan adds, “If I’m not laughing, is it a joke?”

Actress/writer Richards (who is known for her roles on the TV series “Better Things” and “Mrs. Fletcher”) says: “There is a one-word solution to almost all problems in trans media—’more.’ We just need more [representation].” But as many people point out in “Disclosure,” more representation should also mean better representation. And that should also include educating people better about what it means to be transgender, so that being transgender is not easily confused with people dressing up in drag.

Netflix premiered “Disclosure” on June 19, 2020.

Review: ‘My Darling Vivian,’ starring Rosanne Cash, Kathy Cash Tittle, Cindy Cash and Tara Cash Schwoebel

June 19, 2020

by Carla Hay

Vivian Liberto Cash and Johnny Cash in “My Darling Vivian” (Photo courtesy of Estate of Vivian Distin)

“My Darling Vivian”

Directed by Matt Riddlehoover

Culture Representation: This intimate family documentary about country singer Johnny Cash’s first wife, Vivian, features interviews with only her four daughters: Rosanne Cash, Kathy Cash Tittle, Cindy Cash and Tara Cash Schwoebel.

Culture Clash: The four daughters claim that their mother’s legacy was overshadowed by Johnny’s relationship with his second wife, June Carter Cash, who might not or might not have deliberately tried to diminish Vivian’s importance in the family.

Culture Audience: “My Darling Vivian” will appeal primarily to fans of Johnny Cash and to people who are interested in “first wives of celebrities” stories.

Vivian Liberto Cash, Rosanne Cash, Kathy Cash and Johnny Cash in “My Darling Vivian” (Photo courtesy of Estate of Vivian Distin)

When country music legend Johnny Cash died in 2003, at the age of 71, much of the media coverage was about the fact the he died just four months after the death of June Carter Cash, who was his wife since 1968. What the media overlooked or barely mentioned was Johnny Cash’s life with his first wife, Vivian Liberto Cash, who was married to him from 1954 to 1966, and who was the mother of his four eldest children (all daughters): Rosanne, Kathy, Cindy and Tara. The heartfelt and sentimental documentary “My Darling Vivian” is the daughters’ love letter to Vivian to honor their mother’s legacy.

Directed by Matt Riddlehoover, “My Darling Vivian” includes the expected archival footage and family photos, but what makes this documentary unusual is that the only people who are interviewed in the movie are Rosanne Cash, Kathy Cash Tittle, Cindy Cash and Tara Cash Schwoebel, who all make their comments in separate interviews. Riddlehoover produced “My Darling Vivian” with his husband, Dustin Tittle, who is Kathy’s son. Tara is a co-producer of the documentary.

With only family members as the filmmakers, does that make this documentary one-sided? Absolutely. But the Cash daughters say that they are the only living people who knew their mother best. And the daughters make it clear in the documentary that the movie is their way of taking back other people’s narratives that often caused their mother to be ignored or misunderstood.

The daughters point to the 2005 Oscar-winning film “Walk the Line” (starring Joaquin Phoenix as Johnny Cash and Reese Witherspoon as June Carter Cash) as an example of an inaccurate portrayal of their mother Vivian, who was played by Ginnifer Goodwin in a fairly small role. “Walk the Line” (directed by James Mangold and written by Mangold and Gill Dennis) depicted Vivian as needy and shrewish, while June Carter Cash was depicted as Johnny Cash’s soul mate who “saved” Johnny from drug addiction and a bad marriage. “Walk the Line” was produced by Mangold’s then-wife Cathy Konrad and James Keach. Johnny and June’s son, John Carter Cash, was an executive producer of the film.

Tara (the youngest of the daughters) says of her mother Vivian: “My experience has been that people don’t really don’t know her. Ever since ‘Walk the Line’ came out, it did some damage and made her look bad.” She comments further on how “Walk the Line” affected her mother when the movie was released just two years after Johnny Cash’s death: “To experience a loss like that and have the whole world see, I think that was really hard for her.”

Cindy Cash adds, “I haven’t seen the movie and I don’t want to see the movie. I understand that the movie depicted her differently than she was. And honestly, I don’t think anyone had an impression of her before that. She had friends for 10 years who never knew that she was married to my dad.”

The daughters don’t really come right out and call June Carter Cash a “homewrecker” (perhaps because it wouldn’t look good if they spoke ill of the dead), but it’s clear that they believe that she had a lot to with breaking up their parents’ marriage and “erasing” Vivian from Johnny Cash’s public legacy. In addition to John Carter Cash (John and June’s son who was born in 1970), the Cash family includes June’s daughters Carlene and Rosie from her previous two marriages.

Rosanne (the eldest of Johnny Cash’s children) and Kathy (the second eldest) were born just one year apart (1955 for Rosanne, 1956 for Kathy) and were sometimes mistaken as fraternal twins when they were children. Rosanne says in the beginning of the documentary that all four daughters probably remember different versions of Vivian because their mother changed over time.

Because Rosanne and Kathy were close in age, their memories of Vivian are probably the most similar, while Cindy (born in 1959) has another perspective, and youngest daughter Tara (born in 1961) remembers their mother very differently from her older sisters. Rosanne says that the most emotionally challenging period of time for Vivian was when Vivian was in her 20s and 30s. “That was tough,” Rosanne comments.

“My Darling Vivian” starts out very much how the relationship of Vivian Liberto and Johnny Cash was in its early years: very romantic. In 1951, Vivian and Johnny met at a roller-skating rink in her hometown of San Antonio, Texas, when Vivian was 17 and Johnny was a 21-year-old Air Force enlistee in basic training. Three weeks after they met and began dating, he was sent to work in West Germany, where he was stationed for the next three years.

During that three-year separation, the couple exchanged hundreds of passionate love letters, some of which are shown and read in “My Darling Vivian.” After Johnny was honorably discharged from his Air Force duties in Germany, the couple got married in 1954 by Vivian’s uncle, who was a priest (she came from a strict Italian-American Catholic family), and started a new life in Memphis.

While in Memphis, Johnny began to pursue his dream of becoming a country singer/musician. Success and fame happened pretty quickly for him, not just because he was in the right place at the right time but also, as Rosanne tells it in the documentary, he was extremely persistent in his goals. And the daughters say that Vivian was very supportive of Johnny’s dreams and appreciated his talent, unlike the way Vivian was portrayed in “Walk the Line” as someone who had a negative attitude about Johnny being a musician.

Of course, being a touring musician comes with a lot of occupational hazards that can destroy relationships. Johnny had well-documented vices that included his addictions to amphetamines and alcohol. These addictions, as well as all the time that he spent away from home, took a toll on his marriage to Vivian.

But Vivian was no angel either. According to what Rosanne says in the documentary about Vivian: “She was damaged from the get-go.” Vivian grew up with a strict and demanding father, while Vivian’s mother was an alcoholic and very lenient. You don’t have to be a psychiatrist to know that children of alcoholic/addicts often gravitate toward chaos in their personal lives. It might explain why Vivian tolerated many destructive and unhealthy things about her marriage when other people would have walked away.

Her daughters describe Vivian as someone who was very alone and isolated in a lot of ways. She spent a lot of time worrying about what Johnny was doing on tour. And even when he wasn’t on tour, he would often disappear for days without telling her where he was. As the eldest child, Rosanne remembers that her father’s drug use changed him (he had more irritable mood swings) and that it was traumatic for the whole family.

It’s mentioned in the documentary that Vivian because a close friend to Ella Grant, the wife of Marshall Grant, one of the musicians in Johnny’s band. But Vivian didn’t seem to have a close circle of friends or family to lean on for emotional support. For the most part, she was a wife and mother who was often alone to raise her four children and felt overwhelmed by it all. (The family didn’t have any nannies to help.)

When the Cash family moved from Memphis to a custom-built mansion in Casita Springs, California, the marriage began to further deteriorate. Johnny had a habit of bringing home stray animals and exotic pets—essentially turning their home into a menagerie—but it was Vivian who had to take of all of the animals and the children by herself.

Vivian was also constantly worried about her family’s safety. The house was located in the hills, where rattlesnakes and bobcats lived. And fans of Johnny Cash would randomly show up at the unprotected house, at all hours of the day and night.

To make matters worse, Vivian began to suspect that Johnny and his musical collaborator June Carter Cash were having an affair with each other. Rosanne remembers that after her mother discovered that Johnny was in fact cheating on her with June (he eventually left Vivian for June), Vivian still didn’t want her marriage to end. Her daughters say that Vivian remained in love with Johnny Cash for the rest of her life. Vivian kept almost all the mementos of their love affair, including the love letters and the rollerskates that she wore the day that she and Johnny met.

Vivian was also married to Johnny at a time when divorce was taboo, especially for people in certain religions such as Catholicism. She was also a homemaker who probably didn’t have any marketable skills to have a career outside the home. And most importantly, according to her daughters, Vivian really was in love with Johnny and was hoping that they could work out the problems in their marriage. But it wasn’t meant to be.

There were also some other major stresses on the marriage before it ended in divorce. Kathy got a bacterial disease and almost died. Johnny was arrested multiple times. And in 1965, Vivian was targeted by white supremacists, who accused her of being black. It was an accusation that she and Johnny vehemently denied.

The media spread the rumor that Johnny Cash was married to a black woman, thereby causing Johnny to be boycotted by certain places in the South. Vivian and Johnny had to get certified letters to prove that her race was white, in order for Johnny to be allowed to work in certain parts of the South again.

Rosanne remembers her mother being devastated by the failure of her marriage to Johnny. “She was grief-stricken, enraged … She had violent outbursts.” However, Rosanne also recalls being “relieved” by her parents’ divorce. “Divorce isn’t always bad,” says Rosanne.

However, Vivian felt so ashamed about the divorce that she temporarily went into hiding with her children. Rosanne says, “I remember her fearing her father’s judgment—and she got it.” Vivian was also harshly punished by the Catholic Church, which ex-communicated her because of the divorce. She was able to rejoin the Catholic Church only after Johnny Cash wrote a letter to the Catholic Church to declare that he, not Vivian, was to blame for the divorce.

Vivian’s marriage to second husband Dick Distin (a police officer turned businessman) isn’t remembered as fondly by her daughters. The marriage is described as a rebound relationship for Vivian and a marriage of convenience instead of true love. Perhaps not coincidentally, she and Johnny Cash married other people in the same year (1968).

Rosanne comments about her mother’s marriage to Distin: “It was a bargain: He got perks … She created a life for herself that made sense.” Vivian, who was a lifelong homemaker, liked to keep busy with hobbies such as dancing, painting and making homemade arts and crafts. Vivian and Dick Distin remained married until her death of complications from lung cancer in 2005.

Although the Cash daughters speak lovingly of their mother, “My Darling Vivian” isn’t a sugarcoated biography of her. In addition to her violent outbursts after her marriage to Johnny fell apart, Vivian also became very paranoid, by installing bells and alarms everywhere in her household. And just as Vivian’s had a demanding father, she was also demanding of her own children, according to Rosanne, who says: “It was hard to get her unmitigated approval.”

However, over time, Rosanne says that Vivian became a better mother. Vivian was more attentive to youngest child Tara than her other three daughters. According to Rosanne, Vivian was very loving and devoted to her grandchildren and a “better grandmother than she was a mother.” Rosanne shares a vivid, bittersweet memory of her mother on the day that Vivian died, which was on Rosanne’s 50th birthday: “I saw her become like a child. She was laughing.”

One thing is clear from watching this documentary: Even though she wasn’t perfect (no one is), Vivian was very much loved and respected by her children, and they believe she wasn’t given enough credit for being a good wife and mother. It’s impossible to know if Johnny and Vivian would have stayed married if he hadn’t fallen in love with June, but Johnny and Vivian’s daughters say that Vivian certainly gave Johnny a stable home life and loving support that allowed him to thrive early in his career.

One of the “wrongs” that the daughters want to correct is the rewriting of family history that seems to have been instigated by June Carter Cash and her supporters. June gave many interviews over the years that implied that she and Johnny had custody of his four daughters when the daughters were minors. (The documentary includes a clip from one of those TV interviews.)

In reality, Vivian had custody of the kids and they were primarily raised by Vivian. The documentary mentions that after Vivian’s death, her family found an unsent letter written to June that had Vivian asking June to stop misleading people into thinking that June was raising Vivian’s daughters.

Another part of the documentary shows footage from the 2003 all-star memorial tribute to the late Johnny Cash that was held at Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium and later televised on CMT. Rosanne Cash’s ex-husband Rodney Crowell was one of the show’s performers in the musical tribute to Johnny Cash. Crowell dedicated his performance to Vivian, who was in the audience. It’s a dedication that was mysteriously edited out of the show when it was televised.

Years before she died, Vivian got Johnny Cash’s blessing to write her memoir. The book, titled “I Walked the Line: My Life With Johnny Cash,” was published posthumously in 2007. Many book critics were puzzled by the fact that much of the book’s content consisted of Johnny’s love letters to Vivian. Even in her own memoir, Vivian was overshadowed by Johnny Cash. With this documentary, Vivian’s family has succeeded in telling her story so that she is front and center where she belongs.

The Film Collaborative released “My Darling Vivian” in select U.S. virtual cinemas on June 19, 2020.

Review: ‘Diana Kennedy: Nothing Fancy,’ starring Diana Kennedy

June 19, 2020

by Carla Hay

Diana Kennedy in “Diana Kennedy: Nothing Fancy” (Photo courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment)

“Diana Kennedy: Nothing Fancy”

Directed by Elizabeth Carroll

Culture Representation: Taking primarily place in Mexico and the United States, this documentary about celebrity chef/author Diana Kennedy (a white British woman whose specialty is Mexican cuisine) features interviews with white and Latino people representing the wealthy and middle-class.

Culture Clash: Kennedy became a leading expert in Mexican cuisine, but she’s always at some risk of being accused of cultural appropriation.

Culture Audience: “Diana Kennedy: Nothing Fancy” will appeal primarily to foodies and people who like biographies of celebrity chefs.

Diana Kennedy in “Diana Kennedy: Nothing Fancy” (Photo courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment)

“Diana Kennedy: Nothing Fancy” is a lot like the woman who is the subject of the documentary: matter-of-fact yet self-congratulatory and entrenched in tradition rather than experimentation. Born in 1923, British native Diana Kennedy (who participated in this film) is considered a leading expert in Mexican cuisine. This documentary that tells her life story follows the expected format of new interviews mixed with archival footage. If it weren’t for Kennedy’s sassy personality, the movie (which is the feature-film debut of director Elizabeth Carroll) would actually be pretty dull.

This is one of those laudatory celebrity documentaries where talking heads do nothing but praise the star of the movie. Celebrity chefs José Andrés, Rick Bayless, Gabriela Cámara, Pati Jinich, Alice Waters and Nick Zukin all gush about Kennedy in their separate soundbites featured the film. (Andrés and Zukin are two of the documentary’s executive producers.) The only real criticism of Kennedy actually comes from Kennedy herself, who describes herself as often being cranky, impatient and stubborn.

Cámara says about Kennedy: “I think she’s a legend. Many Mexicans are against admitting that she knows more than they do about their food.” Andrés comments, “You have to be Diana, to have the character she has, to achieve what she has achieved.”

Waters says of Kennedy’s influence on teaching Mexican cuisine: “She taught us the traditional ways and was not doing her own variation.” Bayless adds, “She’s the first person in the English-speaking world who first really mined the richness of regional Mexican cooking.”

Zukin gives this over-the-top compliment about Kennedy: “She’s a high prophet for Mexican food. Diana doesn’t care if people like her. She cares if Mexican food is evangelized … She’s going to tell you the truth.”

Jinich (the host of the PBS cooking show “Pati’s Mexican Table) has this to say: “I think Mexico as a country will be eternally indebted to her efforts.” Abigail Mendoza, a chef and native of Mexico who has been a close friend of Kennedy’s since the 1980s, “Thanks to Diana, Mexican cuisine is where it is … And she’s very Mexican in her soul and heart.”

You get the idea. Fortunately, the documentary keeps these effusive soundbites to a minimum. “Diana Kennedy: Nothing Fancy” (which is named after one of her cookbooks) is at its best when it just lets the camera roll to show Kennedy living her life. As she says in the film: “I’ve had a funny life. Let’s face it.”

Although Kennedy undoubtedly has immense talent to earn all of this praise and respect, her cookbook editor Frances McCollough asks a question that this documentary attempts to answer: “How can it be that a white British woman knows more about Mexican food than anyone else?”

It’s pretty clear from watching the film that Kennedy is certainly an expert in her field, but she also had the privilege and connections to be handed a massive platform through the media and book deals. Perhaps equally talented native Mexican chefs haven’t reached the same level of success because of racial barriers in the culinary industry. Kennedy tells her version of her life story, which is edited in between scenes of her in the present day.

Born as Diana Southwood in Loughton, England, she doesn’t really talk about her childhood in the film. Instead, the documentary skips right to her tales of joining the Women’s Timber Corps during World War II. While in the Women’s Timber Corps, she learned to plant trees and developed her lifelong passion for the environment.

After World War II, she was invited to go to Jamaica. Kennedy comments on her decision to live in the Caribbean: “I was propelled by a lot of hormones.” She says that while she was in Jamaica, she was nearly kidnapped.

And then she moved on to Haiti, where she had a fateful stay at Hotel Olafsson in 1957. She checked into the hotel on the same day as a handsome stranger named Paul P. Kennedy, an older man who was a correspondent for The New York Times in Mexico. Diana moved to Mexico to be with Paul, and she says she fell in love with him just as she fell in love with Mexico. She says in the documentary that Paul will always be the love of her life.

She eventually married Paul, whom she describes as someone who was the life of the party and a person who had a warm and humorous personality that naturally drew other people to him. In her early years of living in Mexico, Diana  developed a habit that she has continued throughout her life: She would go to village marketplaces to sample the local cuisine, find out how it was made, and ask the local merchants what kinds of food that they and their families were eating.

Diana says that most chefs who study other cultures’ cuisines don’t take the time to interview local people to find out what their families are eating. She gives herself a lot of praise in the film for taking that extra step, and she says that’s probably why she has more credibility in Mexican cuisine than other chefs of Mexican cuisine who aren’t natives of Mexico.

In her early years of living in Mexico, Diana says she didn’t have a car, so she would take a “third-class bus” (the type that lets chickens and other animals on board) to make these excursions to various marketplaces. She definitely has a car now. Some of the funniest scenes in the documentary are of Diana nimbly driving her Nissan SUV and showing mild signs of road rage, as she impatiently curses other drivers underneath her breath. Diana has a real fondness for the car, which she says has taken her through every imaginable terrain and weather.

Diana and Paul had a happy life in Mexico, and she says she was lucky that he accepted her for being “crazy.” She worked at the British Council, while he continued to work for The New York Times. Diana says, “I certainly wasn’t the traditional housewife. I never wanted children.” (Paul already had two daughters from a previous marriage. Diana’s stepdaughters are not seen or mentioned in the film.)

But then, tragedy struck when Paul was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 1965. Diana and Paul moved to New York City so that he could get medical treatment. But by 1967, he was dead. The following years that Diana spent as a widow in New York City were some of the loneliest and saddest in her life, she says. Diana never remarried.

But when one door closes, another one opens. After Paul died, Craig Claiborne—who was The New York Times food editor from 1957 to 1986—set Diana on a path to become a world-renowned chef whose specialty is Mexican cuisine. Diana had always loved cooking, but she didn’t see herself as becoming a professional chef until she got the motivation and help from Claiborne.

Diana says that she once offered to get a Mexican cookbook for Claiborne, and his response was that he didn’t want a Mexican cookbook unless she wrote it herself. At the time, Diana had been giving private cooking classes in her home to privileged society women in New York. Thanks to Claiborne, The New York Times gave Diana a prominent feature article about her cooking classes. This media coverage led to other opportunities, and the rest is history.

Diana eventually moved back to Mexico, where she still teaches small, private cooking classes in her home, which is a spacious villa called Quinta Diana, in Michoacán, Mexico. The documentary includes footage of her teaching a class of a diverse group of people, ranging from experienced chefs who have multiple restaurants to a relative novice who’s only been cooking for three years.

There’s also archival footage of Diana on her TLC series “The Art of Mexican Cooking With Diana Kennedy,” which was on the air in the early 1990s. And there’s a clip of Diana as a guest on “The Martha Stewart Show,” with Diana making traditional Mexican tamales with Martha Stewart.

The documentary also shows Diana at industry events, such as when she was inducted into the James Beard Cookbook Hall of Fame at the 2014 James Beard Awards, or when she was a panelist at The Los Angeles Times Food Bowl in 2018. During a Food Bowl studio photo session separately and together with fellow chef Cámara, the photographer comments to Diana about how feisty Diana is. At one point during the photo session, Diana jokes, “Thank God my black panties don’t show.”

The documentary takes such a reverential approach to Diana Kennedy that it doesn’t really have her reflect on all the opportunities that came her way because of her privileged situation. Yes, she’s undoubtedly talented, and she has many fans who are native Mexican chefs. But Diana came up at a time when white people were almost exclusively given the best opportunities for chefs to reach a worldwide audience through the media and book deals.

Diana says in the documentary that perhaps her biggest influence was Mexican cookbook author Josefina Velázquez de León. However, Velázquez de León would never have been given the same glamorous opportunities for fame and fortune that were given to Diana Kennedy. A lot more people know who Diana Kennedy is rather than the Mexican chef/author who was Diana Kennedy’s biggest influence.

Nowadays, culinary audiences are more attuned to giving cultural credit where credit is due. Cultural appropriation is not as acceptable as it was before the 21st century. Although the documentary hints that some very talented native Mexican chefs might have been overshadowed by Diana Kennedy, there is no further exploration of that subject, since the filmmakers only seem concerned with portraying Diana Kennedy as the best thing that ever happened to Mexican cuisine. It’s a “fan worship” mentality that’s a little off-putting to people who expect documentaries to have a more objective approach.

One thing that the documentary captures well is Diana’s tireless work ethic, since there are many scenes in the film that make it obvious that she has no intentions of retiring. Diana says, “One is never satisfied. There is so much more I’d like to do.” She also says, “You’ve got to realize that cooking is the biggest comeuppance.”

Diana is also very outspoken about her concerns about the environment and where the world is headed. She gives this rant in the documentary: “I think it’s shocking that the more we are connected electronically, the less we are united.”

She continues: “And then, in certain parts of the world, machos come along like [Vladimir] Putin and [Donald] Trump and all the rest of it and want to change it. They don’t see the beauty of this world. We’re destroying our planet. We’re destroying our environment, and it’s such a loss for young people today.”

Diana also shares her philosophy on life. “You can’t win them all.” She adds, “How horrible it is for people to go around wanting to be loved and liked. You just go on doing what you know what you want to do. And at some point, the tide will turn and you make your mark—or you may not.”

Although Diana is extremely confident about her abilities and accomplishments, she shows some humility when she says, “I’m very honored the way so many people look at my books and appreciate what I’ve done. That’s all you can do—and cook for them.”

The cooking scenes in the documentary are fairly good, but not outstanding. What’s actually more impressive is the documentary’s cinematography of Mexico’s gorgeous landscape. Some of the aerial shots are breathtaking. (Paul Mailman and Andrei Zakow are credited as the film’s cinematographers.)

“Diana Kennedy: Nothing Fancy” is not a bad documentary. It’s just not a very insightful or revealing film. It’s the documentary equivalent of a Wikipedia page instead of an illuminating biography.

Greenwich Entertainment released “Diana Kennedy: Nothing Fancy” in select U.S. virtual cinemas on May 22, 2020. The movie’s digital/VOD release date is June 19, 2020, and the DVD release date is June 23, 2020.

Review: ‘Public Enemy Number One,’ starring Ice-T, Dan Baum, Ethan Nadlemann, Keith Stroup, Jack Cole and Marsha ‘Keith’ Schuchard

June 12, 2020

by Carla Hay

Ice-T in “Public Enemy Number One” (Photo courtesy of Gravitas Ventures)

“Public Enemy Number One” 

Directed by Robert Rippberger

Culture Representation: The documentary “Public Enemy Number One” takes a historical look at the “war on drugs” the United States, by interviewing several experts and commentators (who are mostly white male Americans), such activists, authors and past and present law enforcement.

Culture Clash: The documentary takes the position that the war on drugs has been an abysmal failure and that U.S. drug laws need major reforms.

Culture Audience: “Public Enemy Number One” will appeal primarily to people who believe that certain drugs (such as marijuana) should be decriminalized, but the movie also should be informative to people who aren’t aware of the long-term social impact of the war on drugs.

Keith Stroup in “Public Enemy Number One” (Photo courtesy of Gravitas Ventures)

Several documentaries have been made in the 21st century about the U.S. government’s “war on drugs” and almost all of these documentaries come to the same conclusion: The war has failed and is a reflection of the racial inequality in the criminal justice system. Most people who buy and sell drugs in the United States are white, but most people who are in U.S. prisons (whose numbers are growing) on drug charges are black and Latino. “Public Enemy Number One” (directed by Robert Rippberger) takes a chronological look at how various U.S. presidential administrations handled the war on drugs, beginning with the administration of Richard Nixon to the administration of Barack Obama. There really isn’t anything new uncovered in “Public Enemy Number One,” but the documentary might be informative to a lot of people who are unaware of these issues.

“Public Enemy Number One” follows the traditional documentary format of mixing archival footage with new interviews. The movie has a clear agenda to advocate for decriminalization of certain drugs (particularly marijuana) and aims to shine a light on how the prison system has become a big business that relies on racism to thrive. (Ava DuVernay’s Emmy-winning 2016 Netflix documentary “13th” extensively covers this topic of racial inequality in the American criminal justice system.)

The Nixon administration was the first to formally declare a “war on drugs,” with Nixon’s notorious 1971 speech that drug abuse was “public enemy number one” for America. It was a way for the federal government to create a new law enforcement agency—the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA), which on the surface was supposed to enforce the illegal drug trade.

Drug Police Alliance founder Ethan Nadlemann says that the DEA was really just the Nixon administration’s way of trying to control civil unrest over the Vietnam War and race inequality, because the DEA disproportionately targeted black people and radical protesters of the war for arrests. Dan Baum, author of “Smoke and Mirrors: The War on Drugs and the Politics of Failure,” says in the documentary that the late John Ehrlichman, who was Nixon’s counsel and Assistant to the President for domestic Affairs, admitted this government targeting in a 1993 interview that Baum did with Ehrlichman.

Baum comments that the DEA is “half-law enforcement, half-Hollywood. They go out Elliott Ness-ing around the country and making sure that the cameras are there.” The arrests of black people and left-wing radicals during the Nixon administration were done for a show for the media. Those media images and reports then created negative stereotypes that radical left-wingers and black people were mainly responsible for the drug problem in the United States.

Dr. Robert Dupont, who was the U.S. Drug Czar from 1973 to 1977, says in the documentary that he was told he would be fired if he ever went against Nixon’s anti-marijuana agenda. Jack Cole, co-founder of Law Enforcement Against Prohibition, remembers his days as an undercover agent in New Jersey, where he would bust small-time drug users who used drugs in small friend groups. Cole says that the biggest mistake that the government made back then was to classify all illegal drugs as the same.

It was during the Nixon administration that National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML) was formed in 1970. Most of the members were white people with professional jobs (such as lawyers), thereby contradicting the media’s untrue stereotype at the time that most marijuana advocates were radical hippie types. The main goals of NORML were to decriminalize or legalize marijuana in all 50 states, and not put marijuana in the same category as drugs such as heroin or cocaine. NORML founder Keith Stroup says in the documentary: “We thought we would be finished [with our goals] within five years of 1978.”

After Nixon was impeached and resigned in disgrace in 1974, U.S. culture during the rest of the 1970s (under the administrations of Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter) had a more relaxed and accepting attitude toward illegal drug use, particularly marijuana. The 1978 Cheech and Chong marijuana stoner movie “Up in Smoke” is named as an example of a mainstream movie that couldn’t have been made before the 1970s.

NORML founder Stroup admits that during the late 1970s, NORML took a hit in its credibility when Stroup began feuding with Dr. Peter Bourne (who was U.S. Drug Czar from 1977 to 1978) over paraquat, a toxic chemical that is mostly used as an herbicide. NORML accused the U.S. government and the Florida state government of deliberately spraying paraquat over marijuana plants, in order to poison marijuana users. The conspiracy theory was later debunked, and Stroup admits in the documentary that he was wrong. Bourne comments on the paraquat controversy: “I believe it was blatant nonsense.”

The U.S. administration eras of Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush marked a return to stricter drug laws and less tolerant views on drugs in society. Nancy Reagan made the “Just Say No” campaign famous. More parents groups were formed as lobbyists to government to make stricter drug laws. The shocking cocaine-related death of rising basketball star Len Bias in 1986 is also mentioned in the documentary as an important milestone in American society’s backlash against illegal drugs during the 1980s. And, of course, the epidemic of crack cocaine began in the ’80s, destroying many families and communities.

Rapper/actor Ice-T (who is an executive producer of “Public Enemy Number One”) explains why drugs and poverty are intertwined in so many African American communities: “It all starts off with no hope, lack of education, not being able to actually enter the system.” He adds that many people in these communities think, “‘I can’t make a living wage, but over here is a way.’ And you try to do that, and you end up in prison or with your life devastated.”

Neill Franklin, executive director of Law Enforcement Action Partnership, also attributes the increase in drug-related arrests in the 1980s to another factor: more money for law enforcement. Franklin says, “That’s why so many cops liked Ronald Reagan—because we got raises.” Franklin and others in the documentary point out that illegal drugs are the only type of crime in the U.S. were police officers get paid extra for arrests.

The Bill Clinton administration of the 1990s gets heavy criticism for implementing mandatory minimum sentences (also known as the “three strikes” law), where the punishments often don’t fit the crimes. Mandatory minimum sentences are usually cited as one of the biggest examples of why the war on drugs has failed. Nadlemann calls mandatory minimum sentences “McCarthyism on steroids.” In recent years, Clinton has admitted that the mandatory minimum sentencing law was a mistake.

People interviewed on the judicial side say the war on drugs has failed because of agendas and ambitions of government politicians. James Gray, a former California Supreme Court judge, calls the war on drugs: “Great politics, lousy government.” Gerry Goldstein, a U.S. Supreme Court trial attorney, says there’s little incentive to change most drug laws if the general public thinks these laws are working. “Politicians want to get re-elected, plain and simple.”

The 2000s (when the George W. Bush administration was in power for most of the decade) saw the continued rise of the U.S. prison population, due in large part to mandatory minimum sentences. Prisoners are essentially used as little more than slave labor. Law Enforcement Against Prohibition founder Cole doesn’t mince words: “The war on drugs is the new Jim Crow. It’s aimed at controlling black folks … and making money off of it.”

That doesn’t mean that all people in prison are innocent and don’t deserve to be there, say the experts in the documentary. It means that black people, more than any other racial group in America, tend to get arrested and punished more harshly for the same crimes that other racial groups also commit, according to Perry Tarrant of the National Organization of Black Law Enforcement. Ice -T comments, “There’s a lot of money being spent to not solve the problem.”

“The easiest way for people to understand the absurdity of the war on drugs is to focus on marijuana,” says Nadlemann. Under the Obama administration, more states began to legalize marijuana. The Obama administration also made attempts to lower federal sentences for crimes involving marijuana. Because “Public Enemy Number One” only covers the war on drugs up until the Obama administration, the documentary unfortunately looks very dated.

However, the documentary does a good job of presenting both sides of the issue, by including viewpoints of anti-drug activists Those who are interviewed are “Parents, Peers and Pot” author Marsha “Keith” Schuchard; Parents/Pride Movement founder Thomas Gleaton; Dr. Howard Samuels of The Hills Treatment Center; Smart Approaches to Marijuana founder Kevin Sabet; and Ian McDonald, U.S. Drug Czar from 1987 to 1988, who says, “Marijuana’s risks and dangers were being ignored.”

“Public Enemy Number One” packs in a lot of information in its total running time of 70 minutes. People who’ve seen similar documentaries or news reports about the war on drugs probably won’t learn anything new. But for people who don’t know anything about this aspect of the U.S. criminal justice system, this documentary is a good place to start without having to make a big time commitment.

Gravitas Ventures released “Public Enemy Number One” on digital and VOD on June 12, 2020.

Review: ‘Parkland Rising,’ starring David Hogg, Manuel Oliver, Rebecca Boldrick Hogg, Kevin Hogg, Ryan Deitsch, Aly Sheehy and Ronit Reoven

June 5, 2020

by Carla Hay

March for Our Lives activists in “Parkland Rising” (Photo courtesy of Abramorama)

“Parkland Rising”

Directed by Cheryl Horner McDonough

Culture Representation: Taking place in Parkland, Florida, and various other U.S. cities, the documentary “Parkland Rising” has a racially diverse group of activists (white, black, Latino and Asian) representing the middle-class.

Culture Clash: People affected by the mass murder at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School band together for activism against gun violence, but they face harsh opposition from National Rifle Association (NRA) supporters and other people who don’t want current U.S. gun laws changed.

Culture Audience: “Parkland Rising” will confirm the beliefs of the people who agree with this activism, while people opposed won’t change their minds or might have some misconceptions dispelled about these activists.

Patricia Paduay Oliver, David Hogg and Manuel Oliver in “Parkland Rising” (Photo courtesy of Abramorama)

There have now been several documentary films made about how people affiliated with Marjory Stoneman Douglas (MSD) High School in Parkland, Florida, have been coping with the tragedy of the mass murder that killed 17 people at the school on February 14, 2018. It’s understandable if some people might get all of these documentaries confused, and these documentaries (which are all independent films) will inevitably be compared to each other.

Before this review gets into discussing “Parkland Rising,” here’s a brief summary of the Parkland tragedy documentaries that have been completed so far:

“Parkland: Inside Building 12” (directed by Charlie Minn and released in 2018) has a step-by-step timeline account of the shooting spree, and the film includes interviews with the some of the survivors.

“After Parkland” (directed by Emily Taguchi and Jake Lefferman and released in 2019) focuses on a small group of students and some of their parents, to show how the tragedy affected them. Although activism for stricter gun control (including the formation of the activist group Never Again MSD) and school safety are mentioned and shown, the film is mainly centered on the film subjects’ lives in Parkland after the tragedy. (For example, what it was like for the students to attend their high school prom a few months after the shooting.)

“Parkland Rising” (directed by Cheryl Horner McDonough and released in 2020) takes a deep dive into chronicling the activism of the Parkland students, parents and supporters. There’s a lot of footage of what happened during the 2018 Never Again MSD tour across the United States.

“Us Kids” (directed by Kim A. Snyder) premiered at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival, and the film does not have a distributor or release date yet, as of this writing. “Us Kids” is also about the activism, but it focuses only on the students, not the parents or other authority figures.

“After Parkland,” “Parkland Rising” and “Us Kids” also cover the March for Our Lives event on March 24, 2018. The event, which was organized largely by Parkland survivors, had its flagship rally in Washington, D.C., but there were hundreds of other March for Our Lives rallies around the world that were part of the event.

Some of the same people are prominently featured in “After Parkland” and “Parkland Rising,” such as student activists David Hogg and Sam Zeiff; Manuel Oliver and Patricia Paduay Oliver, the parents of slain student Joaquin Oliver; and Rebecca Boldrick Hogg, who is David Hogg’s mother.

People interviewed in “Parkland Rising” also include Fred Guttenberg, whose 14-year-old daughter Jaime was among those murdered in the shooting; Ronit Reoven, a psychology teacher at the school, who’s shown in the documentary leading a support group for student survivors; and David Hogg’s father, Kevin Hogg, a former FBI agent who is his son’s unofficial bodyguard and safety advisor.

“Parkland Rising” also includes footage of life at the high school after the mass murder. Teacher/yearbook advisor Sarah Lerner is shown with some students as they put together the school’s yearbook that includes tributes to the slain students. There are also separate commentaries from students in psychology teacher Reoven’s support group, including Danielle Gilbert, Morgan Williams, Elizabeth Stout, Amanda Lee and Stephanie DeOliveira.

Zeiff and Aly Sheehy (one of the more prominent Parkland student activists) are shown griping about the school’s new rule of prohibiting any backpacks that are not see-through. Sheehy calls it a “band-aid” to the problem. Zeiff holds up his cluttered see-through backpack and asks, “Do you know for certain that I don’t have a knife in here?” He adds, “It’s embarrassing that our school has to go through this. I definitely don’t think any young people were involved in this decision … We’re waiting for real change.”

One of the best things that “Parkland Rising” does that “After Parkland” does not is show how this activism does not exist in a bubble. “Parkland Rising” includes footage of a lot of raw and often angry reactions from people on the other side of the debate over gun laws. It’s what makes “Parkland Rising” a much more comprehensive film than “After Parkland,” because gun laws are a very emotional and divisive topic in the United States. “Parkland Rising” doesn’t sugarcoat or ignore that controversy at all.

“Parkland Rising” includes footage of opposition to the goals of Never Again MSD and similar groups. That opposition is shown as coming out in various ways—cyberbullying and death threats; counter-protestors or angry bystanders who try to shout down the Parkland activists during rallies and media appearances; and NRA supporters who have civil discussions with the activists.

For example, the documentary shows that every time David Hogg goes out in public, he can get praise or insults within seconds of each other in the same place. “Parkland Rising” chronicles a Never Again MSD boycott demonstration at a Publix supermarket in Florida, to protest Publix’s financial support of NRA advocate Adam Puth, a Republican who was running for governor of Florida in 2018. The protesters planned to do a “Die-In at Publix” demonstration, by lying down as a group in the supermarket, to symbolize and commemorate the people who’ve died because of gun violence.

While doing TV interviews outside the store before the protest, David Hogg (one of the most recognizable of the Parkland shooting survivors) is loudly heckled by angry white men. One of the hecklers chants while standing near his car in a nearby parking lot, “God bless America! NRA!” Another shouts from his car on the street, before speeding off: “Fuck you, David Hogg, you fucking bitch!” David Hogg wryly responds to the camera, “It means I’m doing something right.”

During another media interview, David Hogg is surrounded by TV camera people, and his father Kevin hovers protectively nearby. Kevin explains that when he accompanies his son to these types of public appearances, he’s always checking the hands of the people around David, to make sure that none of them will suddenly pull out a weapon.

During this public appearance, a middle-age male video blogger heckled David Hogg and shouted an accusation that David was being paid by billionaire George Soros, a high-profile contributor to Democratic politician campaigns. David Hogg replies to the heckler, “Dude, who the fuck is George Soros?”

David Hogg was a senior in high school when the shooting happened. At a time when many kids are worried about where they’re going to go to school or work after they graduate from high school, David Hogg and other Parkland students who became activists have to worry about death threats. The documentary shows this harsh reality and how it can take a toll on these young people and their parents.

Rebecca Boldrick Hogg, David Hogg’s mother comments in the documentary: “I’m not surprised that David’s become an activist, because he’s pretty much been an activist his entire life … My husband and daughter [Lauren] and I are the same way. That’s pretty much how we roll.”

She adds that since the mass murder, there’s been a change in David’s personality. She describes David as a “fun person,” but that people don’t see that side of him now because he’s been so “angry “since the shooting. The Hogg family also had install an elaborate security system for the home because of the death threats and other threats of violence.

Later in the documentary,  Kevin Hogg says of his children and other student activists: “I’m proud of them, but I’m sorry for what they have to go through at that age. I wish I could just put all that BS in the cabinet and let them live their years at the high school.”

His wife Rebecca adds: “I always wanted my kids to have—and they joke about this—the John Hughes high school experience, like the teen movies when I was a kid. And then, the shooting happened. I don’t there’s ‘typical’ anything anymore.”

Although the Parkland activists such as David Hogg admit that the bullying and violent threats can take a toll, they make it clear in the documentary that the changes they are fighting for mean much more to them than any threats, and that everything they’re doing to help their agenda for gun safety is worth the risk. Jaclyn Corin, one of the Parkland student activists, says that after the shooting: “My initial reaction was to get political. People were like, ‘This [political activism] isn’t going to work.’ Oh yeah, it is.”

Several times throughout the film, the activists have to reiterate that they are not against the U.S. Constitution’s Second Amendment (the right to bear arms), and they’re not about taking away people’s legally owned guns. In fact, many of the activists come from families who believe in owning guns. David Hogg’s mother Rebecca says, “We always had guns in our house.” But she admits, “Before the shooting, we never really talked about gun control.”

March for Our Lives co-founder Ryan Deitsch says that Never Again MSD has five main goals: (1) Repeal the Dickey Amendment to allow Centers for Disease Control research for gun violence; (2) Digitize records for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (also known as ATF), which currently keeps records on paper; (3) Ban high-capacity magazines for guns; (4) Implement universal background checks for gun buyers; (5) Ban assault weapons for private owners.

Out of all the parents of the murdered children, Manuel Oliver is perhaps the most visible and the most involved in getting media coverage for this activism. Several of the Parkland student have given him the affection name Tío Manny, which is Spanish for Uncle Manny. A Venezuelan immigrant who is now a U.S. citizen, Oliver is a visual artist who has done murals in various U.S. cities to commemorate his son Joaquin and other victims of the Parkland shooting. After Joaquin’s death, Manuel launched the nonprofit activist foundation Change the Ref, whose purpose is more gun safety and to empower future leaders who believe in this cause.

The documentary’s moments with Manuel Oliver and his family (including wife Patricia Paduay Oliver and Joaquin’s older sister Andrea Ghersi) are among the most emotionally powerful and unforgettable, especially when they have visceral reminders of Joaquin. Before leaving for a trip, he breaks down and cries as he listens to “Thinkin Bout You” from Frank Ocean, who was Joaquin’s favorite artist.

Manuel Oliver shares his philosophy on how he’s been coping with his son’s tragic death and how to handle the pushback against his activism: “I think the one main thing is to stay away from hate.” He says that he believes that Joaquin in heaven, and that his goal as a father is to do what is necessary to get to heaven. “I cannot risk the chance to be with Joaquin again.”

David Hogg praises Manuel Oliver by saying, “It’s amazing to see how the amount of love and compassion this man can have after such tragedy occurred.” Manuel Oliver says what keeps him motivated in his activism after experiencing the aftermath of the shooting: “I don’t want any other kids to feel the same nightmare, or any other parent to go through this.”

One of the standout segments in the film is showing how the Never Again MSD activists participated in a protest at NRA headquarters in Fairfax, Virginia, on August 4, 2018—what would have been Joaquin Oliver’s 18th birthday. Manuel Oliver gives a heartbreaking speech. And the approximately 1,000 activists easily outnumber the counter-protesters, who numbered about 40.

Vikiana Petit-Homme, a teenage executive director of March for Our Lives Boston, comments on the counter-protesters: “My problem with counter-protesters is … they don’t come to get anything out of it, other than to yell and scream and a bunch of kids. I know I’m on the right side of history on this one. I don’t think they can say the same.”

Guttenberg, one of the parents of a slain Parkland student, says in a separate interview: “The NRA creates this aura of this large, scary, massive group of people who are not affected by your loss and are going to punish you. And the majority is bullshit. They’re just people who buy into the delusional lie that when you say two words together—”gun safety”—that you are automatically going to be an anti-Second Amendment coming to take their guns … What’s different about Parkland is that not only are none of us shutting up, if they push at us, we come back harder.”

There are also some celebrity cameos in the film. Jennifer Hudson and Chance the Rapper are shown rallying with protesters during a March for Our Lives event in Chicago. Will.i.am, one of the executive producers of “Parkland Rising, is seen performing at another event. (Katie Couric, another executive producer of “Parkland Rising,” is not in the film.)

Several times during the filming of the movie, there were more mass shootings in the United States. The activists are shown reacting to this sad and tragic news. At one point in the documentary, there’s a harrowing montage list of mass shootings that occurred in the U.S. while the film was being made. It’s an effective way of showing how the crisis of gun violence has gotten worse, and it’s an issue that goes far beyond what is in this documentary.

“Parkland Rising” is undoubtedly sympathetic to the activists’ agenda, but director Horner McDonough does an admirable job of presenting the good, bad and ugly sides of this activism. Other documentaries might have put politicians in the film to give the perspectives of people who can make or revise these gun laws, but “Parkland Rising” wisely chose to keep the film focused on Parkland people and their supporters who are trying to make a change on a grassroots level. And really, if people need to see politicians talk about their stances on gun laws, there are plenty of other places to watch these politicians’ canned speeches. As David Hogg says at the end of the film about the activists’ goals: “This is a long fight, but the fight continues.”

Abramorama released “Parkland Rising” in select U.S. virtual cinemas on June 5, 2020.

Review: ‘2040,’ starring Damon Gameau, Neel Tamhane, Genevieve Bell, Paul Hawken, Brian von Herzen, Kate Raworthy and Tony Seba

June 5, 2020

by Carla Hay

Velvet Gameau, Zoë Gameau and Damon Gameau in “2040” (Photo courtesy of Together Films)

“2040”

Directed by Damon Gameau

Culture Representation: Taking place in various parts of the world, the documentary “2040” interviews a racially diverse group of people (white, black, Asian and Latino) in examining practical solutions to helping the environment by the year 2040.

Culture Clash: Environmentalists face systemic resistance from big industries (especially those in the business of selling fossil fuel and plastic) to make more environmentally friendly changes.

Culture Audience: “2040” will appeal primarily to people who want a simple and relatable guide on environmentalism.

Damon Gameau and Brian von Herzen in “2040” (Photo courtesy of Together Films)

If the documentary “2040” were a book, it would be the CliffsNotes of environmentalism. The movie, directed by Australian filmmaker Damon Gameau (who’s also the film’s narrator and on-camera interviewer), skillfully takes a complex subject and explains it in a way that even children can understand. Although environmentalism is not an original topic for a documentary, it’s told in a unique way in “2040.” Gameau dedicated the film to his daughter Velvet, who was 4 years old when the movie was filmed in 2018, and the concept of the movie is to look at present-day, practical and attainable solutions to the environmental crisis, so that by the year 2040 (when Velvet will be in her mid-20s), the world will be in a much better position to deal with the crisis.

“2040” premiered at the 2019 Berlin International Film Festival, and the movie has since been well-received in Australia, where “2040” was released later that year. Gameau takes viewers on a journey around the world to find answers to environmental issues, from the perspective of someone who isn’t a scientist and admittedly wasn’t aware of a lot of environmental problems and solutions until he made the documentary.

Some of the solutions discussed in “2040” include increasing solar-powered houses and decentralizing energy sources, so that entire neighborhoods won’t have to rely on one big energy grid that’s run by a national government. Instead, each household would have its own portable, affordable grid operated by solar batteries. Energy can then be shared or traded with other households, according to what each household wants to share or trade.

Gameau travels to Bangladesh, where this concept is already working, and he interviews energy Neel Tamhane, a manager/designer for SolShare, a startup company that makes these solar-operated energy microgrids available to households in Bangladesh. The profits for the energy would stay within the community, Tamhane says. But therein lies the biggest obstacle: Big energy corporations want to squash this technology because it would put them out of business. The documentary mentions that these microgrids are illegal in many countries.

One of the running themes in “2040” (and in almost documentaries about environmentalism and climate change) is that for every solution to help the environment, there are giant industries that are doing everything in their power to resist change. Gameau somewhat naively expresses surprise when he finds out that fossil-fuel companies have poured billions of funds to lobby government officials to vote against options for solar energy and electric energy. He also mentions that these companies use the same tactics in their propaganda that tobacco companies use to try to prevent smoking bans or legislation that would raise the legal age to buy tobacco products.

Gameau travels to the United States to examine what the auto industry can do to help with solutions to the environmental crisis. Electric-energy transportation, self-driving vehicles and high-tech public transportation are all presented as realistic and practical solutions. RethinkX founder Tony Seba, author of “Clean Disruption of Energy and Transportation,” is interviewed in this segment. However, because the majority of cars are still operated by petroleum gas, most of the auto industry does not want to switch to making electrical cars, which are still out of the price range for most auto consumers.

And the resistance to change isn’t just with the auto manufacturers. Although people hate being stuck in traffic, most people would still prefer an individual car over public transportation, if the car will get to the destination faster. And most people do not want to pay for an electric car if it’s costs a lot more than a non-electric car with similar abilities.

Australian National University anthropologist and technologist Genevieve Bell points out  this important sociological reality in the documentary: Most people just don’t want to have a lifestyle where they don’t own a car and have to take public transportation or ride-sharing options, because the advertising industry has done an excellent job of marketing car ownership as a status symbol, based on how many and what types of cars people own.

As for the argument that making the fossil-fuel industry obsolete will put people out of jobs, the documentary predictably points out that people can be re-trained for jobs in electric energy and solar energy. The film singles out Sweden as a model country that is taking these steps already. But what the documentary tends to ignore and gloss over is that countries with varying sizes, needs and forms of government aren’t going to be readily accepting of these changes if it means big expenses for taxpayers in the short term.

For example, Gameau says in the documentary that if people started using more public transportation and owned less cars, unused parking lots can be turned into urban food farms, or that decommissioned oil rigs can be turned into employee housing or tourist sites. A more journalistic-minded documentarian would’ve then asked, “And who’s going to pay for all of that?” The biggest letdown of “2040” is that it doesn’t properly address who’s going to bear the greatest financial burdens in funding these changes. Until these necessary monetary issues are addressed, all of these environmentally friendly options sound like hippie-dippie solutions to critics of these ideas.

Gameau admits that one of the biggest problems in changing lifestyles to become safer and friendlier to the environment is that people think it will inconvenience them and that it will cost them more money. “We’re going to have to transition, and it’s going to be a little bit awkward,” he says in the film. For example, in the documentary, Gameau admits that he had to take many plane rides to make the movie. These fossil-fueled plane rides, where drinks are served in plastic cups, contradict the pro-environmentalism message of the movie.

But when people need to make trips across oceans or thousands of miles of land, most people aren’t willing to go through the inconvenience of “boycotting” planes, just to make a statement about saving the environment. What can be done instead? The documentary commendably offers an option in its epilogue. To offset the carbon emissions that resulted from making this documentary, the filmmakers planted a “small native forest that could drawdown a further 90 tons of carbon by 2040,” according to a statement in the epilogue.

The documentary also presents other environmental solutions that people have heard many times before, such as using less plastic; committing to more recycling and composting; switching to more plant-based diets; and feeding farm animals more natural ingredients instead of processed ingredients. Where the film falls a little short is presenting realistic steps on how these changes can be made into laws.

At one point in the documentary, Gameau asks, “Wouldn’t it be terrific if new leadership emerged who could navigate us to a better 2040?” But why wait and hope for new leadership, when the whole point of the film is to present solutions that can be done now? The documentary could have delved a bit deeper into the activism that needs to take place to pass some of these solutions into law. The anti-plastic movement is a perfect example of making progress in getting single-use plastic items banned in several cities and places of business, but “2040” completely ignores how this movement was able to bring about these legislative changes.

A significant portion of the documentary discusses the importance of seaweed in preserving and protecting the environment. Dr. Brian von Herzen, executive director of the Climate Foundation, takes Gomeau on a boat to talk about how seaweed is vital for the ecosystem, and that more governments and business need to invest in a marine permaculture.

An interesting angle to “2040” is that the documentary presents the idea that gender equality is better for the environment. Dr. Amanda Cahill, CEO of the Next Economy, mentions that studies have shown that in societies where people of any gender have equal access to education, there is better family planning, which leads to less environmental strain on that society.

On a more local level, “2040” points out the benefits of places such as schools or places of business having environmental dashboards—computerized video monitors that show images and statistics of environmental changes and news in the area, so that people in the area can be more informed and feel more invested in their local environment. Gameau traveled to Oberlin, Ohio, which has implemented these environmental dashboards to great success, according to Oberlin City Council member Sharon Pearson and Oberlin College professor of environmental studies and biology Dr. John E. Petersen.

Other talking heads interviewed in “2040” include Project Drawdown senior researcher Eric Toensmeier, author of “The Carbon Farming Solution”; Helena Norberg-Hodge, author of “The Economics of Happiness”; Australian farmers Colin Seis, Fraser Pogue and Leanne Pogue; and economist Kate Raworthy, author of “Doughnut Economics,” whose explanation of how the environment has a “doughnut” effect on the economy is illustrated with eye-catching graphics in the documentary.

“2040” also has snippets of commentaries from a racially diverse group of children (who look like they’re in the age range of 4 to 7 years old), talking about what they want the world to be like in the future. Is it a cutesy gimmick? Yes, but it works. According to the documentary’s end credits, the children interviewed were from Australia, Singapore, Sweden, the United Kingdom and the United States.

Interspersed throughout the interview footage, Gameau has occasionally amusing scenes with actors portraying what life for his daughter Velvet will be like when she’s in her teens and mid-20s. (Eva Lazarro plays the older Velvet, while Gameau and his real-life wife Zoë Gameau portray themselves, wearing  makeup and wigs to make themselves look older.) The scenes include Damon Gameau’s wishful-thinking portrayals of what technology and environmental changes will exist in the years leading up to the year 2040.

For example, for a picnic scene with an adult Velvet and her friends, there’s a bio-degradable plastic container made of seaweed and a cooler made out of mushrooms. One of the picnic attendees is wearing sneakers made out of spider silk, and there’s a skateboard made out of fishing nets, while the beer rings on a six-pack are made out of brewing byproducts. And there are composting stations around the park.

Going back to the present day, the world is experiencing more climate-change disasters, such as record numbers of hurricanes, disappearing environments and species, and polluted water that causes health problems passed down through generations. “2040” is a wake-up call to people that this crisis isn’t something that’s a “scientist problem” to deal with hundreds of years in the future. It’s a major problem for everyone on Earth right now, and there will be dire consequences if the problem continues to be ignored. By putting this important issue in the context of showing what life could be like for today’s children when they are adults, “2040” effectively demonstrates the urgency of what can be done to address the environmental crisis before it’s too late.

Together Films released “2040” in U.S. virtual cinemas on June 5, 2020. The movie was already released in Australia, New Zealand, the U.K., Ireland and Germany in 2019.

Review: ‘Spelling the Dream,’ starring Akash Vikoti, Shourav Dasari, Ashrita Gandhari, Tejas Muthusamy, Fareed Zakaria and Sanjay Gupta

June 2, 2020

by Carla Hay

Bharat Gandhari, Ashrita Gandhari and Mutha Gandhari in “Spelling the Dream” (Photo courtesy of Netflix)

“Spelling the Dream”

Directed by Sam Rega

Culture Representation: Taking place in various cities in the U.S. and India, the documentary “Spelling the Dream” interviews mostly Indians and Indian Americans and some white Americans about why contestants of Indian descent have excelled at the annual Scripps National Spelling Bee and other U.S. spelling contest.

Culture Clash: Indian-heritage winners of these spelling bees sometimes face racist backlash from people who think white people should be winning these contests.

Culture Audience: “Spelling the Dream” will appeal to people who like inspiring documentaries that show the power of hard work, loving family support and the thirst for knowledge.

Shourav Dasari (center) in “Spelling the Dream” (Photo courtesy of Netflix)

If you’ve ever wondered why so many children of Indian heritage excel in U.S. spelling bees, even though people of Indian heritage are only 1% of the U.S. population, the documentary “Spelling the Dream” explains it all in an entertaining and informative way. Adeptly directed by Sam Rega, “Spelling the Dream” is more than a behind-the-scenes look at these spelling bees and some of the contestants. The film also has a lot to say about how the work ethic that goes into preparing for these contests is a reflection of how several Indian immigrant families feel about their cultural pride and the American Dream.

“Spelling the Dream” (formerly titled “Breaking the Bee”) opens with some statistics about Indian-heritage winners of the annual Scripps National Spelling Bee, which launched in 1925 and is held in Washington, D.C. The vast majority of the winners since 1999 have been of Indian heritage, including consecutive Indian-heritage winners from 2008 to 2018. In the year 2019, there was a rare eight-way tie: seven of the eight winners were of Indian heritage, while the other winner was white.

Although most of the Scripps spelling bee winners have been U.S. residents, contestants who live outside the U.S. are allowed to enter the contest if they’ve won a qualifying regional spelling bee. As for the age limit, contestants must be no older than 14 on August 31 in the year before the contest, and they can’t be past the eighth grade by February 1 in the year of the competition. The Scripps spelling bee is usually held every May, but the event was cancelled in 2020, due to the COVID-19 pandemic. The only other years that the Scripps spelling bee was previously cancelled were in 1943, 1944 and 1945, because of World War II.

“Spelling the Dream” interviews some previous Scripps National Spelling Bee winners (Indian and white), as well as spelling bee officials and several Indian Americans in the media and academia. The documentary also follows four kids in the quest to be the Scripps National Spelling Bee champion of 2017:

  • Akash Vikoti, a precocious and extroverted 6-year-old from Rockville, Maryland, who began spelling at the age of 2.
  • Ashrita Gandhari, a pragmatic and overachieving 10-year-old from South Andover, Maryland, who began spelling at the age of 5.
  • Shourav Dasari, a confident and analytical 14-year-old from Pearland, Texas, who’s been spelling since the age of 7.
  • Tejas Muthusamy, a sensitive and curious 14-year-old from Glen Allen, Virginia, who’s been spelling since the age of 7.

All of these contestants come from two-parent households with parents who immigrated to the U.S. from India. All of the parents, as well some of the kids’ siblings and extended family members, are interviewed in the documentary. The extended family members who are India say that even though they live far away, they’re still heavily involved in helping train these kids to become spelling bee champs. This family culture of having several relatives as part of the educational process (instead of leaving the work to schoolteachers or paid tutors) seems to make a big difference in the final results, according to several experts interviewed for the documentary.

CNN host Fareed Zakaria says, “One of the myths that people have about Indian Americans and their success is that it’s somehow genetic and even ethnic.” He believes that the high percentage of U.S. spelling bee champs are of Indian heritage because the winners “are drawn from Indians who are very adventurous, who decided to take advantage of the relaxation of the immigration rules of 1965.”

The Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, signed into federal law by President Lyndon B. Johnson, abolished the National Origins Formula, which allowed immigrants into the United States based on their national origin. Instead, the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 aimed to approve immigration based on merit, thereby opening up more immigration to non-white people from other countries.

This merit-based policy “stopped the relatively racist quotas on who could emigrate from where in other parts of the world,” says Amherst College sociologist/author Pawan Dhingra. The result was that highly educated Indian people were approved for immigration to the United States. Hari Kondabolu, an Indian American comedian, adds: “They picked the people who were the most educated who add a very clear monetary value and serve a very clear purpose for America and its economy.”

Although it’s not mentioned in the documentary, Indian immigrants also benefited from the civil-rights movement of the 1960s. This movement began the legal dismantling of racial segregation in public schools and other aspects of American life, where racial segregation usually put Indians in the same category as black people. Desegregation increased the possibility of people of color and white people having the same access to education. Therefore, descendants of Indian immigrants in the 1960s and beyond had the ability to get better educations in the U.S. than Indians (and other people of color) could get in the U.S. before the 1960s.

“Spelling the Dream” also mentions that the upward mobility of Indians in the U.S. was considerably boosted by the tech boom that began in the 1980s. And several of the documentary’s pundits also point to the fact that it’s common for Indians to be multilingual. Indian immigrants in the U.S. usually have the benefit of already knowing English before they arrive in America, because the United Kingdom’s colonization of India made learning the English language an ingrained part of the Indian educational system. All of these factors have converged to create a Indian culture where spelling bees are a source of ethnic pride, because Indians do so well in these contests.

Dr. Balu Natarajan, who was the first Indian American winner of the Scripps National Spelling Bee in 1985, is a perfect example. In the documentary, he says his immigrant parents came to the U.S. for opportunities. And in his family, “there was an emphasis on language.” Natarajan also says that he “didn’t recognize the magnitude” of being the first Indian American to win the Scripps National Spelling Bee, until “decades later … While I never pretended it was a big deal, other people informed me that it was a big deal to them.”

Srinivas Ayyagari, who a third-place Scripps National Spelling Bee contestant in 1992 and 1994, remembers that contestants of Indian heritage were still a minority in the spelling bee in the years that he competed. What happened to significantly increase the participation of Indian-heritage contestants? A few things, according to the documentary.

Scripps National Spelling Bee executive director Paige Kimble (who was the spelling bee’s champ in 1981) says the biggest game changer for the event was when ESPN began televising the contest in 1994. The spelling bee then had an international audience who could see it on TV, which motivated more people from Indian communities to enter the contest when they saw how many Indian-heritage contestants were ranking high or winning in the spelling bee.

The other significant factor is that a cottage industry sprang up for spelling bees that specifically cater to contestants of Indian heritage. South Asian Spelling Bee and North South Foundation Spelling Bee are named as the two most prominent. Northwestern University anthropologist/author Shalini Shankar comments that these two spelling bees are part of the “minor-league circuit,” but that “you see these kids hone their craft to a level that you didn’t otherwise see before that.”

However, several former and aspiring Scripps National Spelling Bee champs interviewed say that there’s no shortcut to success. By the time contestants reach the level of being in the Scripps National Spelling Bee, they’ve trained for years. And it’s almost always under the guidance of their parents, who devote hundreds of hours to educating and supporting their children in this process.

Several of the people interviewed liken the Scripps National Spelling Bee to being the Olympics for Indian people. In a world where other ethnicities tend to dominate most other contests, Indians have found a source of ethnic and cultural pride in a contest where Indians have excelled for the past several years. It’s why so many Indian families are willing to go through the sacrifices to give their kids the competitive edge.

Of the four contestants profiled in “Spelling the Dream,” Shourav Dasari and his parents have the most elaborate training method. Bharat Dasari (Shourav’s father) shows how they compiled a massive spreadsheet of words from the dictionary, with cross-references, definitions and language origins. The documentary filmed Shourav in his last eligible year to be a Scripps National Spelling Bee contestant, which is why Bharat said he felt comfortable enough to show their “trade secret.”

Many Indian families have more than one child per family who’s involved in spelling bees. Sibling rivalry is briefly mentioned in an interview Shourav’s sister Shoba, who is two years older than he is. She says that although she and Shourav started out as equals in spelling talent, he eventually surpassed her. The general consensus from the siblings of the “spelling stars” in each family is that the parents and the “star” sibling make a difference in whether or not the overshadowed sibling feels included or left out. Siblings who feel included are less likely to be jealous.

The parents interviewed in the documentary deny being pushy stage parents. They say that although they got their children involved in spelling bees from an early age, the children only continue if they really want to and genuinely enjoy it. Several of the parents are shown telling their contestant kids that they will be proud of them no matter how far they go in the competition, and they’ve clearly taught them how to handle defeat with grace. And all of the contestants who were profiled in this documentary have other extracurricular interests, such as playing tennis, dancing or playing piano.

Racism is also discussed in the film, which includes screen shots of several social-media comments expressing hatred and resentment that so many winners of the Scripps National Spelling Bee are of Indian heritage. Even though most of the winners are American citizens, there are racists who still want to say that these winners are not really American.

Shankar says that American pride is “still coded in whiteness,” and that non-white Americans still have to deal with racist and incorrect perceptions that they’re not “real” Americans simply because of the color of their skin. However, the documentary doesn’t really explore deeper how any racism affects these contestants on an individual level. But the overall end results speak for themselves: Indian-heritage contestants continue to thrive in spelling bees.

The 2002 Oscar-nominated documentary “Spellbound” (which followed eight contestants in the 1999 Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee) is mentioned as a beloved movie that inspired many past and present contestants and their families. And, of course, much like “Spellbound,” a great deal of “Spelling the Dream” consists of footage showing how the profiled contestants go from winning their regional contests to how they fared in their journeys to the Scripps National Spelling Bee. The intriguing and often suspenseful scenes of the contestants on stage (shown in quick montages) are among the highlights of the film.

Other talking heads interviewed in “Spelling the Dream” include ESPN anchor Kevin Negandhi; Scripps National Spelling Bee 1991 winner Nupur Lala; Hexco Academic co-founder Valerie Browning; and Jacques Bailly, the Scripps National Spelling Bee champ of 1981 who is now the event’s pronouncer. Although getting to the big leagues of the Scripps National Spelling Bee is a very competitive and grueling process, Bailly says that for most of the contestants, they find out during the process that it can be less about the competition and more about “a celebration of learning.”

Netflix premiered “Spelling the Dream” on June 3, 2020.

Review: ‘Ursula von Rydingsvard: Into Her Own,’ starring Ursula von Rydinsgvard

May 29, 2020

by Carla Hay

Ursula von Rydingsvard in “Ursula von Rydingsvard: Into Her Own” (Photo courtesy of Icarus Films)

“Ursula von Rydingsvard: Into Her Own”

Directed by Daniel Traub

Culture Representation: Taking place in New York City and other parts of the world, this documentary about sculptor Ursula von Rydingsvard features a predominantly white group of people (with some Asians) talking about von Rydingsvard’s life and career.

Culture Clash: Coming to America as a child from a large immigrant family, von Rydingsvard overcame childhood abuse, poverty and self-doubt to become one of the leading sculptors in the art world.

Culture Audience: “Ursula von Rydingsvard: Into Her Own” will appeal primarily to enthusiasts of fine art.

Ursula von Rydingsvard in “Ursula von Rydingsvard: Into Her Own” (Photo courtesy of Icarus Films)

Whether or not sculpture is someone’s preferred art form, the documentary “Ursula von Rydingsvard: Into Her Own” offers a compelling look into the life and artistic process of notable sculptor Ursula von Rydingsvard. The movie would be worth seeing, even if it only showed her creativity, but New York City-based von Rydingsvard (who participated in the documentary) also opens up about how she overcame personal and professional obstacles to get where she is now.

Throughout the film (skillfully directed by Daniel Traub), von Rydingsvard and her team of assistants are shown creating what was one of her most ambitious pieces up to that point: “Uroda,” a copper sculpture commissioned by Princeton University in New Jersey, where the sculpture currently stands outside the university’s Andlinger Center for Energy and the Environment. The massive sculpture (which includes steel and bronze) was completed in 2015, and the documentary shows the two-year journey in creating it.

“Uroda” was somewhat outside of von Rydingsvard’s comfort zone, since she made a name for herself as a sculptor whose specialty was cedar wood. She remembers in the documentary that her preference for cedar wood came about when a monk artist named Michael Mulhern gave her cedar wood to work with when she was a young artist. She was immediately struck by the “soft” and “sensuous” feel of the cedar wood and the feeling that she “could really get carried away” with working with this material.

In the documentary, von Rydingsvard also explains why wood has a big emotional connection for her. Born in 1942, she grew up Germany with her Ukranian father and Polish mother, who were peasant famers forced to work for the Nazis. (Her parents had had nine children, including Ursula.) After Germany was defeated in World War II, the family lived in Displaced Persons camps. She remembers that at those camps, “Everything was made of wood … in a rough, rugged way. There was a kind of safety that the wood gave me.”

But things weren’t always safe in the family household, since von Rydingsvard and her younger brother Stas Karoliszyn say in the documentary that their father was physically and emotionally abusive to all of his children. The children would endure vicious beatings and degrading insults from heir father. The abuse got worse after the family immigrated to the United States in 1950, because von Rydingsvard believes that her father had an inferiority complex about being an immigrant.

According to von Rydingsvard, art was an outlet to express her emotions: “I’m so glad I did something with that anger and pain.” Her brother agrees: “Her artwork is her driving force, always.” He adds that their mother was a source of healing strength for the family: “We would not have survived the camps.”

In school, von Rydingsvard’s artist talent was recognized from an early age. She remembers being someone who was often chosen to do artwork for the school, such as make posters or Christmas decorations. “It gave me special attention that was positive,” she says. She says later in the film about art: “It helped enable me to figure myself out as something other than lazy and stupid and worthless.”

But growing up in working-class Plainview, Connecticut, there weren’t any professional artists that she knew about, so it never crossed her mind that she could make a career out of being a professional artist. She comments, “I have a tremendous yearning to be an artist. And somehow, I thought that I really didn’t deserve that. And it took most of my life, actually, to gain confidence.”

The journey to become a professional artist wasn’t an easy one for von Rydingsvard. Despite knowing from an early age that she liked making art, she was confined by traditional gender roles (in an era when it was much harder for women to be accepted into the art world than men) and was trapped in a bad marriage to a violent schizophrenic. She ended the marriage after nine years because she said she could no longer help her husband and she feared for the safety of herself and their daughter Ursie.

At the age of 33, von Rydingsvard moved from Oakland, California, to New York City, where she says she felt reborn. Even though she was a financially struggling divorced mother, she felt inspired to become a professional artist for the first time because the New York artist scene was filled with a variety of women who helped pave the way for her to find her place in the art world. She also says that nature has always been her biggest art inspiration.

Her daughter Ursie remembers growing up at that time in a “raw” SoHo loft “before living in a loft was cool.” And Ursie says that even though she and her mother were poor and living off of food stamps, it was a time of great freedom and artistic discovery for her mother. Ursie recalls the one main rule she had when she was growing up: “‘Do what you want. Just don’t set off the sprinklers.’ That was my childhood.”

Ursie also remembers that because of her mother’s decision to be a wood sculptor, “I would go to sleep to the sound of chainsaws,” which Ursie says almost had a “lullaby” effect on her. Living under financial hardship brought mother and daughter closer together. “It was a very tight, close relationship,” Ursie says.

One of the first pieces by von Rydingsvard that got attention in New York City was 1980’s “St. Martin’s Dream, a wood sculpture in Battery Park that resembled birds perched on a long fence. Several other von Rydingsvard pieces are seen and mentioned in the documentary including “Ona,” “Uroda,””Dumma,” “St. Eulalia,” “Sunken Shadow and Echo,” “Ocean Floor,” “Mama Your Legs,” “Ene Du Rabe,” “For Paul,” “Bent Lace” and “Scientia.”

Several people from the New York City art world are interviewed in the documentary about von Rydingsvard, including artist Sarah Sze and art patrons Agnes Gund and Lole Harp McGovern. Adam Weinberg, the Whitney Museum of American Art’s Alice Pratt Brown director, comments that “the essence of her work is touch.” Galerie Lelong president Mary Sabatino adds, “Her process is laborious. Her process is almost medieval.” Fellow artist Judy Pfaff calls von Rydingsvard “very driven,” “focused” and “very disciplined.”

Studio owner Elka Krajewska comments that part of von Rydingsvard’s identity that comes through in her art is “definitely the immigrant story, coming into this world that’s very new, and trying to figure out how … to deal with it” Art writer Patricia C. Phillips says, “I think Ursula loves beauty, but I don’t think she’s really setting out to make beautiful things. And I think she’s also setting out to make things that unsettle us a little bit. It’s why I think people find it fascinating.”

As for what von Rydingsvard thinks about beauty, she comments in a conversation with her second husband, Paul Greengard, a Nobel Prize-winning brain scientist/researcher from Yale University. (Greengard and von Rydingsvard got married in 1985. He died in 2019, at the age of 93.) “I actually hate the word ‘beauty,'” von Rydingsvard says. “I feel very uncomfortable using it because nobody actually knows what it means.”

She continues in her thoughts on beauty: “Everybody has their own understanding of it. It’s kind of an idealized state, and I’m not even sure anything like that exists. There’s  no criteria for beauty. There’s no criteria to art, to begin with. You can’t define it.”

Greengard then smiles and says to her, “I started going out with you because of your beauty.” She smiles back and indicates that she’s flattered. It’s an endearing moment in the film that shows how much these two still loved each other after decades of being married.

Some of the documentary’s footage is at Richard Webber Studio in Brooklyn, where much of her art is constructed. Richard Webber and von Rydingsvard have been longtime colleagues. She gives credit to the team of workers who assist her in building her visions. Far from being an aloof leader, von Rydingsvard is hands-on by doing a lot of the labor too, and she eats meals with her team, whom she calls “superb.”

“I like them all so much,” von Rydingsvard says. “The fact that we have lunches together every day—all of that’s an important part of the mix. We’re always extremely respectful. That’s an atmosphere that we created that works to help make the art.” Members of von Rydingsvard’s team are interviewed in the film include studio manager Sean Weeks-Earp, cutter Ted Springer and cutter/studio assistant Morgan Daly, who echo the camaraderie spirit.

One of the best aspects of “Ursula von Rydingsvard: Into Her Own” is the excellent cinematography from Traub, with assistance from cinematographer Michelle Zarbafian. From the lingering closeups to the rapturous views, the movie provides a visual feast of an experience, which is the next best thing to seeing von Rydingsvard’s art in person. The neo-classical musical score from Simon Taufique also complements each scene in a mood-perfect way.

“Ursula von Rydingsvard: Into Her Own” isn’t a long film (the total running time is only 57 minutes), but it packs in a meaningful chronicle of von Rydingsvard’s lifetime of art and experiences. The movie is bound to please fans of the artist, as well as win over new admirers of her unique talent.

Icarus Films released “Ursula von Rydingsvard: Into Her Own” through the virtual cinema program of Film Forum in New York City on May 29, 2020. The movie’s virtual cinema release in other U.S. cities begins on June 5, 2020.

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