Post by Okwes on Oct 31, 2006 11:19:51 GMT -5
American Indians find voices in film
Delfin Vigil
Sunday, October 29, 2006
When the American Indian Film Festival opens Friday in San Francisco, it will be 31 autumns old. And like the season it is celebrated in, the festival showcases films that fall from a world warm with history while facing an industry that can be cold and cynical.
"It used to be if you were dealing with homelessness or alcoholism, you might get some support from foundations and government grants. But if you're talking about media, arts and culture involving American Indians, people who could help always found that hard to grasp," says Michael Smith, who founded the nonprofit American Indian Film Festival in Seattle in 1975 before moving it to San Francisco two years later. "At one point there were white arts groups getting funded for work on Indian arts projects. But our Indian groups wouldn't be given a chance to do things on our own."
That has changed in recent years, as Indian tribes with lucrative casino enterprises realized that they could give back to their communities by helping fund Indian arts groups like Smith's American Indian Film Festival.
"I can mention at least 30 tribes who have helped," says Smith, who watched the film festival budget soar from $10,000 in past years to upward of $175,000 this year. "It's a relationship built on trust and respect. They know that, even without any help or financial support, we'd still be finding a way to keep this film festival going."
Opening this year's festival will be "The Velvet Devil," showing at the Lumiere Theatre along with two other films: "Teachings of the Tree People," and "The Battle of Peter LeFarge."
Starring and created by Andrea Menard, "The Velvet Devil" is a one-woman show about a fictional diva from the Metis tribe who turns her back on her people in search of fame and fortune in Toronto's jazz scene of the 1940s.
"That was a time when the Metis people were keeping quiet," says Menard, a Metis from Canada. "Velvet wants to dream bigger and louder. She wants to be seen and wants to be known."
Since Velvet can pass for a white woman, she assimilates easily. But 12 years later, when her mother dies, assimilating back in her hometown isn't so easy.
"It's partly an identity issue, which is a universal thing," Menard says. "I'm a very light-skinned woman, and my father barely identified with his native side. Back then it was, if you could pass, you did. It's sort of like healing a family wound. Now this generation is asking, 'Why should we be ashamed?' and 'Let's be proud of who we are.' "
It's a common theme in American Indian film, Smith says. "We're seeing more of our people feeling comfortable writing stories about themselves. Our films are becoming more of a testament to awareness of native issues and native stories. We're still kind of in the infancy of this business, with few actors in prime television or big Hollywood productions. But we always have our stories that we know that we can tell best."
A case point is "Goodnight Irene," a 14-minute short capturing the awkward but poignant moments between an old Seminole woman and two young Seminole men stuck in a waiting room of an American Indian hospital.
"It's a classic story of a generational gap, but one that could only come from the perspective of people who have lived it," says Chad Burris, who produced the short. "Goodnight Irene" screens Nov. 10 at the Palace of Fine Arts, where the festival will also host its annual American Indian Motion Picture Awards Show.
One of the more intense and uncomfortable films in this year's festival is "Unnatural & Accidental," which screens at 7 p.m. Saturday at the Lumiere.
It's inspired by the true story of Gilbert Paul Jordan, "The Boozing Barber," a Canadian serial killer believed to be responsible for the deaths of several native women during the 1960s.
The film, which changed certain details to avoid legal ramifications, follows a guy who parties with native women, force-feeding them alcohol until they end up dead.
"The coroner never catches on and keeps assuming it's just another drunk native woman," says Carl Bessai, who directed "Unnatural & Accidental." "It's very disturbing stuff, but it also takes a much more magical and realist look at Skid Row and the derelict hotels filled with prostitutes and down-and-out women who become victims of this creep."
For Tantoo Cardinal, the lead actress in the film, the subject matter is precisely what American Indian films have to take on.
"It's an important film because it brings out an issue that most people want shoved under the rug," says Cardinal, who's been in numerous movies, including "Dances With Wolves." "Unless people are directly involved, they don't want to deal with it. They think it has nothing to do with them. But this society was built on our bones, and there is a lot hidden under there. If you refuse to recognize how this society was built, then the mystery remains."
Delfin Vigil
Sunday, October 29, 2006
When the American Indian Film Festival opens Friday in San Francisco, it will be 31 autumns old. And like the season it is celebrated in, the festival showcases films that fall from a world warm with history while facing an industry that can be cold and cynical.
"It used to be if you were dealing with homelessness or alcoholism, you might get some support from foundations and government grants. But if you're talking about media, arts and culture involving American Indians, people who could help always found that hard to grasp," says Michael Smith, who founded the nonprofit American Indian Film Festival in Seattle in 1975 before moving it to San Francisco two years later. "At one point there were white arts groups getting funded for work on Indian arts projects. But our Indian groups wouldn't be given a chance to do things on our own."
That has changed in recent years, as Indian tribes with lucrative casino enterprises realized that they could give back to their communities by helping fund Indian arts groups like Smith's American Indian Film Festival.
"I can mention at least 30 tribes who have helped," says Smith, who watched the film festival budget soar from $10,000 in past years to upward of $175,000 this year. "It's a relationship built on trust and respect. They know that, even without any help or financial support, we'd still be finding a way to keep this film festival going."
Opening this year's festival will be "The Velvet Devil," showing at the Lumiere Theatre along with two other films: "Teachings of the Tree People," and "The Battle of Peter LeFarge."
Starring and created by Andrea Menard, "The Velvet Devil" is a one-woman show about a fictional diva from the Metis tribe who turns her back on her people in search of fame and fortune in Toronto's jazz scene of the 1940s.
"That was a time when the Metis people were keeping quiet," says Menard, a Metis from Canada. "Velvet wants to dream bigger and louder. She wants to be seen and wants to be known."
Since Velvet can pass for a white woman, she assimilates easily. But 12 years later, when her mother dies, assimilating back in her hometown isn't so easy.
"It's partly an identity issue, which is a universal thing," Menard says. "I'm a very light-skinned woman, and my father barely identified with his native side. Back then it was, if you could pass, you did. It's sort of like healing a family wound. Now this generation is asking, 'Why should we be ashamed?' and 'Let's be proud of who we are.' "
It's a common theme in American Indian film, Smith says. "We're seeing more of our people feeling comfortable writing stories about themselves. Our films are becoming more of a testament to awareness of native issues and native stories. We're still kind of in the infancy of this business, with few actors in prime television or big Hollywood productions. But we always have our stories that we know that we can tell best."
A case point is "Goodnight Irene," a 14-minute short capturing the awkward but poignant moments between an old Seminole woman and two young Seminole men stuck in a waiting room of an American Indian hospital.
"It's a classic story of a generational gap, but one that could only come from the perspective of people who have lived it," says Chad Burris, who produced the short. "Goodnight Irene" screens Nov. 10 at the Palace of Fine Arts, where the festival will also host its annual American Indian Motion Picture Awards Show.
One of the more intense and uncomfortable films in this year's festival is "Unnatural & Accidental," which screens at 7 p.m. Saturday at the Lumiere.
It's inspired by the true story of Gilbert Paul Jordan, "The Boozing Barber," a Canadian serial killer believed to be responsible for the deaths of several native women during the 1960s.
The film, which changed certain details to avoid legal ramifications, follows a guy who parties with native women, force-feeding them alcohol until they end up dead.
"The coroner never catches on and keeps assuming it's just another drunk native woman," says Carl Bessai, who directed "Unnatural & Accidental." "It's very disturbing stuff, but it also takes a much more magical and realist look at Skid Row and the derelict hotels filled with prostitutes and down-and-out women who become victims of this creep."
For Tantoo Cardinal, the lead actress in the film, the subject matter is precisely what American Indian films have to take on.
"It's an important film because it brings out an issue that most people want shoved under the rug," says Cardinal, who's been in numerous movies, including "Dances With Wolves." "Unless people are directly involved, they don't want to deal with it. They think it has nothing to do with them. But this society was built on our bones, and there is a lot hidden under there. If you refuse to recognize how this society was built, then the mystery remains."