I wish the segments in Fon were subtitled as well, but I respect the choice.

The university debate called to mind the discussions of students in A Night Of Knowing Nothing. Seeing people around the world congregate and deliberate in democractic spaces is invigorating. All power to the people.

At a recent book event, I saw Ta-Nehisi Coates say “oppression isn’t ennobling. It just makes you oppressed”. I get the sense that the creators here disagree.

Beams with satisfaction at ascribing all number of pathologies to First Peoples, and then declaring those pathologies beautiful. Despite this, Trilby remains compelling. As an inheritor of a long lineage of questions regarding assimilation and aspiration, I long for a story of Trilby written by her confederate, rather than her oppressor.

Spike Lee’s Jungle Fever and Mo’ Better Blues actually come close.

Watched to distract myself from following election results. Worked well!

Watched to distract myself from following election results. Mostly worked.

Evoked a very specific hope about reconnecting with one’s brother that is, in fact, actually kind of about the election after all.

Something strange about watching and autobiographical documentary. To what extent do I believe the narrative that the creator has constructed about their subject (themselves)?

Why is so much direct address in English? With English writing? That gives the sense of direct advocacy (which is good!), but then she denies that she’s an activist. She incudes a scene where she says any apparent suicide attempt would be an indication of foul play. And then includes a sequence that implies her own suicide attempt.

This is a film of 8 years of metamorphosis.

As the final scene turned to black, I had a big stupid grin on my face. No, I don’t know what I think about any of that. But the less cerebral, more sensual, experience of actually witnessing it I do understand, even if I can’t articulate.

Sadie’s averted eyes, short halting sentence deliveries, and subtle lip movements might be tells of an inexperienced actress, but they read as familiar and human. I’ve been thinking about her a fair amount.

I understand the function of the framing narrative, but I think it depresses the start of an otherwise compelling and inspiring story about youth and student activism.

Images like these are fertile ground for growing real internationalist solidarity. Their struggles are hued by the specifics of their place (Hinduttva), but are immediately relatable in their broad contours (education funding and privitization). And seeing a borderline horror movie presentation of CCTV footage of police breaking into a sealed room is potent among many here in the US.

Another wonderful culture-clash film by Weir.

Glad the police procedural serves as mere scaffolding for the romance, planted in mutual care, and doomed by its likely mutual exotification. I didn’t understand Ford as sexy until here. Every look of McGillis’s and Ford’s is an enchanting invitation for transgression.

Love also the many moments of explicit non-dialogue. Samuel’s eyelines and pointing. The erecting of the barn. Also has my new favorite cinema laugh: Eli’s laugh at Book’s comment about never holding a teet this big.

When it’s at its best, it’s exploring the virtuous and wicked ways to bear witness to the world beyond our own borders. When at its worst, it’s depicting an unconvincing and uninteresting romance (which admittedly produces interesting tensions within the film’s stronger side).

The specific proportions of good and bad at play here end up distilling a people, and a nation, down to an accessory for an Australian man’s self-actualization. Reading the synopsis of the source book, it seems this balance is particular to the film adaptation.

The blended ecstatic and weepy moans of a Bay Area audience as the film pays off its Treasure Island childhood make-believe set up.