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You Can’t Kill David Arquette: Wrestling for Redemption

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Who knew that this summer’s greatest superhero story would be David Arquette?

Seriously, I didn’t see it coming.

The new doc, You Can’t Kill David Arquette, reintroduces Arquette himself as a man burdened by the past. Back in 2000, with his wrestling comedy Ready to Rumble about to come out, Arquette was invited to participate in a brief storyline on WCW (World Championship Wrestling) to help promote the film. As a long-time fan of industry, he was thrilled to be a part of the world. However, when the company decided to briefly crown him champion, Arquette was quickly branded the most hated man in wrestling by fans who felt he was an outsider. With You Can’t Kill, Arquette attempts a rocky return to the world of sports entertainment, determined to redeem himself to others and reclaim his self-respect.

Directed by David Darg and Price James, You Can’t Kill David Arquette is both a love letter to professional wrestling and a redemption of sorts for Arquette. Darg and James follow Arquette from the local backyard to the underground wrestling circuit of Tijuana in an effort to shine a spotlight on the earnestness of an industry that is considered a joke by man. Though they’ll likely never perform in front of 20, 000 fans, these warriors are no less committed than their big-league counterparts, fighting every night for love of the show. Without question, however, the most endearing aspect of the film is Arquette himself who understands his place as an outsider yet passionately pursues his dream as a pro wrestler. 

Of course, every great hero story needs a villain and, in You Can’t Kill, this is personified by an obsessive fan culture that seemed to crush his spirit outside of the ring. In some ways, the film feels like an apology to diehard fans for his involvement in the highly controversial decision to crown him WCW Champion nearly 20 years ago. As a long-time fan of pro wrestling, Arquette has always held the athletes that put their bodies on the line for the sake of sports entertainment in the highest of esteem. However, after being crowned champion, fans turned on him personally. Viewed as an outsider who was mocking their passion for the sake of promoting his film, Arquette himself became demonized by the very community that he was attempting to celebrate. Like other pop culture icons, wrestling fans can be vicious when they feel that they’ve been crossed and their misplaced loathing at Arquette took a toll on him emotionally. 

With You Can’t Kill, Arquette seems to want to offer an apology for the past while also bravely standing up to those who felt he wasn’t taking things seriously enough. (Interestingly, even the title of the film itself suggests not only the physical punishment of the ring but also serves as notice to those who vilified him emotionally.) Yet, there is much more to this story than simply attempting to make amends. More than anything, Arquette wants to honour and respect the industry and prove to others that his love of the wrestling world is undisputable. While some moments of the doc may feel like pageantry, Arquette’s earnestness and commitment to the process is genuine. Wearing a hat that proclaims that ‘Wrestling’s Not Fake’, Arquette fully recognizes that, while the storylines and outcomes may be scripted, the sacrifices that the men and women make with their bodies for the sake of body slams are very real and take their toll over time. In this way, there’s an authenticity that shines through each performer, despite the wild spectacle of the show. 

Though he calls himself the ‘Magic Man’, Arquette’s credibility stems not from his costume but by his willingness to learn, grow and, most of all, take the hits. His heart and honesty make him a hero. Arquette knows he will never be the best in the business. That’s not his goal. Instead of personal glory, Arquette simply wants to be invited to the table so he can be a part of a world that has meant so much to him over the years. As such, his determination and commitment may redeem him to the public but, more importantly, they also are a testament to the human spirit.

You Can’t Kill David Arquette is an honest look at a man who knows his limitations but wants to stand with his idols. Despite the unjust hate that he’s received over the years because of a poorly conceived publicity stunt, the man behind the championship belt is determined to show the world that he deserves to be there.

After all, in You Can’t Kill David Arquette proves that real heroes may get slammed but they can’t be put down.

You Can’t Kill David Arquette premieres at Fantasia Fest on August 24th, 2020 and on VOD on August 28th, 2020.

Back to the Apocalypse: 1on1 with Yeon Sang-ho (PENINSULA)

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Sequels are always incredibly difficult to create.

After the incredible global success of Train to Busan, South Korean writer/director Yeon Sang-ho was excited to return to the world that he’d created. However, rather than focus on the survivors of the first film, Sang-ho became far more interested in creating something new within that same universe. 

Enter Peninsula.

A sequel to the South Korean zombie film Train to Busan, Peninsula is set four years after the events of the initial outbreak and follows a new cast. Jung-seok (Gang Dong-Won), an ex-military and survivor of the outbreak, and his brother-in-law, Chul-min (Kim Do-Yoon) are treated as second class citizens after escaping the now quarantined South Korea and flee to Hong Kong. Wanting to change his life, Chul-min decides to take a deal with a Chinese gang in order to acquire millions of dollars. The catch is that the money is in a truck that is stuck in the now apocalyptic South Korea. Worried about Chul-min’s safety, Jung-seok joins him and his squad to get the money. Intent on surviving the hell that awaits them, they must fight both zombies and the psychotic survivors of South Korea in order to get their money and leave.

Like Busan, Peninsula is its own story with new characters. Asked why he was so interested in returning to the world of Busan in this way, Sang-ho points out that Peninsula allowed him even more toys to play with within his creation.

“Zombie movies are always something that evoke a lot of imagination,” he begins. “Since Train to Busan dealt with the time when the zombie outbreak first began, there were many new imaginative stories that could be created using the backdrop that started a period of time after the initial outbreak. So, I started working on the project thinking there could be a new story that could emerge out of that backdrop. Like Train to Busan was Train to Busan… I started working on [this film] with the thought that Peninsula would be Peninsula, an entirely new movie on its own.”

“I could have made the survivors of Train to Busan the main characters, but on the other hand, I really wanted to show that Peninsula was an entirely different movie and not Train to Busan Part 2. So, I wanted new characters that faced new situations.”

Using new locations and characters also provided Sang-ho the opportunity to really explore how people respond to such heightened circumstances. In particular, Sang-ho created Unit 631, a military compound that pits man against zombie for the sport of those in control. 

“The idea behind Unit 631 was to depict people who completely gave up on hope and only act on impulse, chasing after stimuli,” he explains. “I thought, ‘What kind of stimuli would remain for them?’ Then, the idea of a race based on gambling came to mind and thus the hide-and-seek scene was created. I wanted the audience to feel the horror that Goo Chul-min felt in that situation, so I thought of creating the game scene in one cut.”

Though the film obviously takes place in a horrifying fantasy world, Peninsula also seems strangely current, especially in the context of a global pandemic. While today’s situation is something he could never have predicted, Sang-ho also believes that the timing couldn’t be better for the film’s themes of hope and survival.

“One of the most important questions in making the movie was, ‘What kind of hope can humans create in a world full of isolation and despair?’ I couldn’t have predicted that our current situation would arise. However, I consider it fortuitous to have been able to meet the audience with such a timely and relevant theme. And I believe that this is the destiny only for the movie Peninsula.”

For Sang-ho, this question of where one finds hope is embedded within post-apocalyptic films and stems from man’s ability to focus on his own actions.

“The theme of most post-apocalyptic movies is the story of humanism, which ironically shines even more when set against a post-apocalyptic background. While making a movie with a post-apocalyptic background, I wanted to highlight those points. In any situation, we can look for despair or we can look for hope.”

In addition, Sang-ho also believes that Peninsula speaks to the nature of man’s role in community with one another.

“The theme of this movie is not about what kind of situation you find yourself in, but what kind of people you surround yourself with. This work reflects a lot about a person’s will to live in solidarity in the world.”

Of course, the obvious question is whether or not Sang-ho intends to continue to play in the Busan universe or if he’s prepared to move on. Taking his unique approach to the franchise, it’s Sang-ho’s hope that Peninsula may only be the first of many stories that take place in this post-apocalyptic world.

“I think there are many more diverse stories to be told within the world of Peninsula. Apart from actually directing it, I think there are many different stories of people that were not covered in this movie. I hope these stories will one day be made into movies.”

Peninsula is available in theatres now.

Silencing Stereotypes and Celebrating Singleness: 1on1 with Andrea Dorfman (SPINSTER)

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When the world insists that satisfaction only lies in romance, something is broken.

While it’s true that romantic relationships can be exciting and life-giving, there’s little doubt that the pressure to ‘find love’ is everywhere. But is that really necessary to live a full and meaningful life? In her latest comedy Spinster, director Andrea Dorfman explores and celebrates what it means to be single when those around you think you’re missing out. 

Starring Cheslea Peretti (Brooklyn Nine-Nine), Spinster tells the story of Gaby (Peretti), a woman on the brink of forty who is looking for love and struggling to find it. As all her friends seem focused on their marriages and children, Gaby’s greatest fear is that she’ll end up alone. After a string of bad dating experiences leaves her exhausted, Gaby realizes that something needs to change and she decides to focus on building a life of meaning and connectedness without focusing on romance. 

Involved in the project from the outset, Dorfman believes that the idea stemmed from her own life experiences and revelations about life. Having struggled within that moment where it felt like everyone else was getting married, she wanted to tell a story that pointed out that there’s more to life than settling down. 

“Every film is such a journey. It takes a long time to make,” she begins. “Spinster is my fourth feature film and it’s the second film I made with my creative collaborator, Jennifer Deyell, who wrote the film… We started working on it in 2014, and it’s been through many iterations of story and screen. Ultimately, at its heart, we wanted to tell the story of a woman who gets to a place where romance isn’t the solution to all of her problems and creates meaning in her life on her own terms. That is certainly based on my own experience in my 30s and people who Jennifer and I both knew who were single at a time when friends were all getting married and having kids and were really made to feel that maybe that life was not viable or lesser than. Then, getting to a point where it’s like, ‘No, actually what if this is the only life I have?’ So, I think the kernel or seed came from that time of life.” 

For the character of Gaby, Dorfman wanted a known actress and was thrilled when Brooklyn Nine-Nine’s Chelsea Peretti joined the cast. Though the actress’ age was important to Dorfman for this particular role, she knew that Peretti was perfect for the role because of her ability to balance deadpan humour and heartfelt delivery.

“The character in the film is 39 and we wanted her to be [that age] because it’s sort of an ominous [time] for people who [care] about age, I guess,” she explains. “It’s sort of the brink of middle age. If you want to have kids and you’re a woman, that biological window is closing so 39 was an important age. It just so happens that, at 39, for women actors (especially known women in Hollywood), there are a lot of them who are not working. So, we decided that we wanted to have a known actor to help sell the film and, when we were working with the casting agent, it turned out that there were a lot of women actors at [the age of] 39 who were available. That’s just the sad reality of Hollywood and women actors and film.“

“Aside from that, I had seen Chelsea’s stand-up special on Netflix, even before I saw Brooklyn Nine-Nine. I just loved it. I loved her writing, her delivery, and how deadpan and understated she was, and yet had something to say and a lot of gravitas. So, I think I just liked her as a human. I hadn’t seen her in much. When we were coming up with actors of that age, I was really interested in her. She was one of the few that we were thinking of. Then, she read the script and loved it and was game to come all the way across the continent from LA to Halifax to be in the film, which was wonderful… I think it’ll be interesting to see what she does as an actor, because she really does have this ability to tap into exactly who she is. That’s a huge asset because when she’s in front of the camera, you really believe her.” 

By following Gaby’s journey through relationships, Spinster seeks to expose stale stereotypes about settling down. For example, in one particularly interesting moment, her married friend insists that the problem is that Gaby needs to ‘choose [her mate], not be chosen’. Dorfman points out that, while Gaby’s friend may mean well, her comments expose flawed cultural ideas about the need for love.

“In some ways, it’s a little bit tongue in cheek because it’s a different way to put herself out on the market but to maybe have some perceived control,” Dorfman claims. “But I think where that’s coming from is this idea that women should be a certain something. You should do something. That you should actually be active out on the market at all. Why? Does it mean that life won’t be lived unless you’re in a relationship? No, of course not. Life doesn’t stop and start depending on your circumstances. So, that was coming from a place of her friend, just desperately wanting her to reflect the life that she’s already living in a way. Its disruptive when somebody does something completely different than us, and yet has found just as much meaning, love, life and inspiration than those others who’ve done the more sort of mainstream popularized ways of living life.” 

“You can decide to choose somebody and not be chosen, but we don’t have any control over what somebody else wants. Really all we can do is make choices in our own life and go from there and be active in how we want to live, imagine a new path that makes the most sense for us.” 

With that in mind, Dorfman also sees that the broader culture struggles to celebrate singleness as a valid (and important) life choice. Though she remains completely sympathetic towards those who struggle with loneliness, she believes that much of our culture’s emphasis on relationships stems from a larger system designed to make us feel insecure about being alone.

Says Dorfman, “I think that if you do anything that disrupts the capitalist channels of trying to sell us things to make ourselves happy, then you’re going to get pushback for it. One of those things is to be happy and single. If you’re women, to be happy and older. To be happy and not buy a lot of things to beautify ourselves. So, I think it actually is disruptive. There’s a lot at stake in making people believe that they need to be in relationships in order to be happy. We’re always telling people that you can attain happiness if you buy these things. (Usually, it’s about buying things, let’s be frank.) If you’re actually saying to people, there’s another way you can actually generate meaning in your life all on your own, I think that there’s something to lose. There are structures in place that will lose out on that.” 

“That being said, of course, loneliness is a huge issue in our society and something to be taken seriously,” she continues. “But I think there are ways to fight loneliness and to not actually have to be in a relationship. Probably the [loneliest that] I’ve ever been is in a dysfunctional relationship. We’ve all been there. For me, in my 30s, when I was going through this time, I think one of the things that I realized is that, if I can generate my own meaning in life [and] my own happiness, all the different supports and kinds of love that exists outside of romance [give me] a lot more control than trying to get somebody to fall in love with me or a version of me that, at the end of the day, probably has more to do with that person than who I actually am. I think that anytime somebody presents something counter-cultural, it is disruptive and creates pushback. It’s another way to be.” 

In addition to this, Dorfman also argues that this ‘system of wanting’ taps into an innate drive to fill the void in our lives. Asked what she thinks we are ultimately searching for in life, she says that the real question may be how to become satisfied with what we already have.

“I think it’s probably built into our DNA to want,” Dorfman posits. “I always go back to the hunter/gatherers [where] wanting is always survival, you know? We want the berries and the animals to hunt. I think that we’re always going to want something and maybe that’s the problem. [The goal is] to try to let go of the wanting. I think until we do that, we’re going to hitch ourselves and our happiness will hinge on things that we largely don’t have control of and that will probably lead to unhappiness. So, instead of the question being ‘why do we want things?’, maybe we need to frame it differently and start to focus on the not-wanting. I’m getting a little bit Buddhist there I think, but it’s something that I actually do think a lot about. That things that we want often just don’t make us happy and it’s that expectation that they will that gives us incredible disappointment.”

For full audio of our interview with director Andrea Dorfman, click here.

Spinster is available on VOD now.

The Art of Horror: 1on1 with Jay Baruchel (RANDOM ACTS OF VIOLENCE)

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It takes a lot to scare Jay Baruchel.

As a long-time fan of horror, he believes that the genre has fallen creatively stagnant as of late. So, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With Random Acts of Violence, his latest turn in the director’s chair, Baruchel (who also co-wrote the script with friend, Jesse Plemons) decided to take matters into his own hands and create the type of film he wanted to see onscreen. Though Violence does not fail to offer all the blood and gore that the title suggests, it also maintains a psychological edge that drives the narrative. Having passionately crafted the film over the last decade with friend Jesse Chabot, he could not resist the opportunity to create something unique that fought against the current trends that he has seen onscreen.

“As a fan of the genre, I find myself just rarely scared by anything that I see,” Baruchel observes. “Rare is the horror film that is a good movie and actually scares me. I just also kind of developed a bit of a personal distaste for this kind of idea of what a horror film had to be. Basically like 10 or 15 years ago, a bunch of investors realized that they could put a little money into something that would make them a bunch. Then, all of a sudden, we had this rash of self-contained genre films, which are very transparent in why they were created. For me, it’s an art form that is terribly important to me and I cannot separate my love of cinema from my love of horror movies. I think, when it’s at its best, it’s a very pure, very direct art form and it lends itself to some pretty special stuff. So, I just tried to make the movie that I wished was out there.” 

Random Acts of Violence tells the story of Todd Walkley (Jesse Williams), the creator of Slasherman, an R-rated comic book series based on a real-life serial killer. Having decided to end his wildly successful series, he ventures out onto a press tour with his publicist, Ezra (Baruchel) and his girlfriend, Kathy (Jordana Brewster) in order to promote the final issue. Along the way, they visit the town where the original Slasherman caused so much harm in the past and inadvertently awaken the same murderous beast that Todd’s story sought to idolize.

While Baruchel has a deep love of horror, he also maintains a passion for the world of comic books. (He even recently invested in Chapterhouse’s revival of classic Canadian hero, Captain Canuck.) Based on a comic of the same name, Random Acts of Violence finally gave him the opportunity to bring a comic to life onscreen himself. Given his experience in the industry, he felt like he could create a story that both celebrates the source material and brings something new to life as well.

“It really starts from there being a really interesting story and staring off viewpoint in the comic book,” Baruchel explains. “It just got stuck in Jessie’s head and in my head. At a certain point, the only thing that matters is serving the story as well as we can. So, at a certain point, we allow the document we’re creating to start to live its own life, which means it’s beholden to its source material but only to a certain point. There comes a moment where the movie starts to want to be something on its own. You have to decide [if this] thing that it wants to be that is different than the comic is worth doing,”

“In terms of the aesthetics, I think maybe subconsciously, we wanted it to look like that,” he continues. “But I think, more than anything, our way in with our camera and our lighting and our color palettes was more just kind of arch. We wanted really strong arch colors and light and shadows and that happens to be how a lot of comics are created. So, it ends up looking like that. Now, in terms of what my experience with ChapterHouse and Captain Canuck lent to it, I knew exactly what it would be like to be on a Comic-Con tour and the cramps and headaches that the owner has to look forward to arriving at a venue. So, I think there’s some [place] in the movie where I’m yelling at the guy who owns a comic book shop about a box that he can’t find. That seems to happen at every Comic-Con. That seemed to be a bit of a comic industry banality that could be something funny and real. So, some of my years in admin in that world definitely informed vibes in this movie.”

When he thinks about who has most influenced his work, Baruchel believes that some of the best aspects of the film stem from both the comic world and classic horror cinema. Though most of his examples are well-known classics, his recognition of one of Kubrick’s most famous works stands out as surprising.

“Alan Moore’s [work in] From Hell, I think is as good as use of the comic book medium as has ever been created,” Baruchel points out. “I would also put Preacher up there. Everything Garth Ennis did for the years that he wrote ThePunisher [is] really, really, really important to me. Then, I would have to say, for horror flicks, it would be The Exorcist, the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre by Tobe Hooper and John Carpenter’s The Thing. To be honest, I think still The Exorcist is probably the scariest movie ever made but I think what might be neck and neck with it [is something that] people don’t think of it as a horror movie. I think I would argue that 2001: A Space Odyssey is probably the scariest movie ever made. So, I will spend my life trying to recreate even a moment from that film.”

As is the case with any work of art, both comic and horror culture are digested and viewed differently with each audience member. For example, while some may celebrate horror for its grit and darkness, others feel uncomfortable and even angered by what they see. In regards to this, Violence opts to discuss the relationship between artist and audience and, in particular, the creative power and responsibility that the creator may (or may not) recognize that they hold.

“It’s an inherently kind of relative experience as an audience member consuming a work of art,” says Baruchel. “I was trying my best to show every bad thing that can come from this. It was a sort of mental target. It’s more about this idea that one can divorce oneself from responsibility for anything one puts out into the world, which I think is as absurd as the concept that video games and comics make people kill people. I think those are both two very facile, silly, absurd philosophies… When Todd has made a Faustian bargain and even if he thinks that his book is victimized by critics, part of him as a rational man has to agree with at least part of what they’re saying. So, he knows ultimately that even if he believes his work has more merit than people seem to believe it does, he knows what his fan base looks like and he knows ultimately how will come across in the cold light of day. So, it’s about the sort of spectrum of responsibility that he was able to keep at arm’s length, getting closer and closer to him until the end.”

Having said this, one of the great debates surrounding horror films is the distinction between violence as art and fetishizing evil. Asked where he believes the line between exploitation and art lies in the genre, Baruchel believes that, while that line is subjective, it often stems from the author’s sense of authenticity.

“I think it’s a question that we don’t necessarily provide a clear answer to which is deliberate,” he answers. “I think there’s some stuff which the film kind of takes a specific moral philosophy and standpoint on but there’s other stuff that is more kind of contributing to a debate and a conversation that I feel should happen. That being said, with those movies that I watch, I know in my heart of hearts when something is feels truthful and something feels kind of fetishistic. I’d point to a Quebecois movie, Les 7 Jours du Talion (which is called in English, 7 Days), and that movie is really harsh. It’s just one guy torturing another guy in a room basically for a whole movie and [with a] great degree of realism. That’s a harsh watch but never once does it feel cheap or false. Never once does it feel like a love letter to violence and it doesn’t seem to be sort of wallowing in it. So, to answer the question, I think it’s kind of hard. It’s this almost amorphous thing that we call truth. I think you can tell when something warrants its aesthetic and, I feel, I think you can [tell] when it is ugly for the sake of ugly. I think it’s a terribly relative thing because every single one of us watches the same movie [and we are] going to have some different reactions to it. So, that would be my kind of instinct is that it speaks to more the truth behind it. [For example,] why Seven is important and a lot of other movies about a serial killer aren’t.”

Within Violence’s healthy dose of blood and gore, it’s also interesting to note the significant amount of religious imagery in the film that is often used to give depth to the murderous mayhem. Having grown up in a religious family, Baruchel recognizes that the emotional challenges of his upbringing serve as an influence within the film’s visuals.

“Basically, I’m kind of a child of two cultures to a degree. My dad is Sephardic Jewish, first generation, and my mom [comes from the] type of Irish, English, Scottish Canadians, and deeply Catholic,” he responds. “Some of the most impactful, not necessarily best, but most impactful moments in my childhood are tied to religion and Catholicism specifically. I was in Catholic school from Grade One through Six and have hated the entire time as a result of it. I like to tell people that I was raised with two different, but very potent, forms of guilt from Jewish culture and Catholic culture. This is the best way I can say it. I remember my mom reading me the Bible when I was a kid and she got to the story about Noah. I started like bawling my eyes out uncontrollably. At three years old, [I was] bawling my eyes out. Why would God want to do this? And then, Catholicism has a lot of really beautiful stuff but it is very deeply violent. You grow up going to church and in class and seeing Christ eviscerated and brutalized. It’s drilled into you. So, it’s impossible for me to kind of separate blood from awe, because it was drilled into me from a childhood and from years and years and years in church. My relationship with the church is still kind of like a weird, tenuous one. I reject most of it and yet I still feel a degree of safety and comfort when I’m in one. So, there’s a sort of push and pull in me that kind of finds it finds its way out and manifests itself in this movie.” 

Of course, a unique blessing for Baruchel is the chance to film within his home country of Canada. While he admits it might have been easier to work somewhere else, he feels that one of the great blessings of filmmaking is the opportunity to contribute to the cultural make-up of his home country.

“This is my home. It’s where I’m from, and this is where I’m most comfortable,” he begins. “The other piece of it is I feel what many could call a silly obligation to English Canadian cinema. I want to know that, for better or worse, I contributed to the cinematic language of my country. I want to know that I added something to our kind of cultural tapestry. It would be more convenient, I think, for me to have gone elsewhere potentially but I know that, at the end of the day, even if I got to create some really special stuff, I would’ve contributed to another country’s culture.” 

“For me, my great shame is that I never joined the army, if I’m being perfectly frank. That’s not a joke. That’s something [that’s always haunted me since I was a kid, that I didn’t do a lot of my uncles and my granddad and my cousins did. I don’t mean to say that I am comparing this movie to what any of my uncles or grandad or cousins did and join the army but it is, in some way, a way that I can kind of contribute and help. Countries come and go, but art sticks around. I would like to add to this country as best as I can.”

For full audio of our interview with Jay Baruchel, click here.

Random Acts of Violence is available on VOD on July 31st, 2020.

Rocking Against Racism: 1on1 with Rubika Shah (WHITE RIOT)

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It really should not be a surprise that there’s a strong connection between music and the battle against racial injustice. From doo wop to folk music to rap music, it seems that youth often look to their most popular artists to become the modern-day prophets for their generation.

But 70s punk music? I admit that that one was new. 

In her new documentary, White Riot, director Rubika Shah documents the amazing events that took place during the social upheaval during the late-1970s Britain in the midst of the punk rock revolution. As bands like The Clash and Steel Pulse are beginning to make their musical mark on the world, the country is also deeply divided over immigration issues.As The National Front, a far-right political party led by Enoch Powell, continues to gain strength, music photographer Red Saunders calls for rock to become a force against racism. While history’s record of social upheaval in the 60s and 70s is well-documented, somehow the story of Rock Against Racism has gone largely unknown in our global culture. Having just discovered the story recently, Shah believed that she and her team had found something special that people needed to know.

“We didn’t know about it until five years ago,” she begins. “I found it with my producer Ed Gibbs. He’s also the writer of the film, so we’ve been making it together for five years. We were really interested in music and especially music in the 70s. This was a story that came about because we saw the footage of the Clash at the Carnival. I know that part [of the story] quite well and so I wondered, just on the general knowledge level, what was the Carnival? What was that festival? I hadn’t heard of it before. As I started digging deeper, the story became bigger and bigger because then I found out it was a Rock Against Racism carnival as such. Then, I found out that all these people had marched from Trafalgar Square to Victoria Park in support of Rock Against Racism. When I went back to the beginning of the story, which was two years prior to that, I found out that it was just a small group of people that got together and decided that they wanted to stand up against racism in the UK and actually started this as just a bit of an ad hoc group of people coming together and just doing something quite small. Then, over time, it became a big project for them.”

Chronicling the rise of Rock Against Racism, White Riot also looks at the toxic culture that helped create the movement. In particular, the film explores the rising power of The National Front, a politically far-right organization with a xenophobic agenda. As their sphere of influence continued to grow. The National Front began holding their own marches down the streets of London and even had support from the police.

“It’s a quite common feeling I think in the UK that the police were, especially back then, probably on the side of the National Front,” Shah claims. “There’s a lot of criticism, I think, towards the police for overwhelmingly protecting National Front marches. I think there’s some footage in there where you see that actually there’s a couple of hundred people maybe marching and then, there’s two or three policemen on either side protecting them. I just think it was part of that era what was happening. I think that he was sympathizing with that point of view.”

As with research for any film, it can be difficult to dig up historical footage from long ago. Though the process was a challenge, her team continued to keep their eyes and ears open for anything they could find.

Says Shah, “We spent a long time working on this film. So, we gathered material from lots of different people over the years. It became a bit of an exercise where, if we heard about a certain clip or gig, [we’d say] ‘Let’s go and try and find that.’ It was really difficult, but we managed to pull it together in the end,”

With this in mind, one of the film’s most startling revelations comes regarding comments made by Eric Clapton in support of the racist ideals of the National Front. At a time when past comments by celebrities come to light almost daily, Shah says that these ones may have been missed due to the limited press coverage outside the UK at the time.

“It’s bizarre, isn’t it?,” she states, somewhat amazed. “I mean, I found out about it five years ago. It’s something that happened and then has been, I guess, quietly just skimmed over in a sense. I think a lot of people know about it in the UK. It was a different time, you know. There weren’t camera phones. It was written about in the music press [but], unless you’re knowledgeable about that era, then you probably would know about it. Certainly, I don’t think overseas people will know about it because it was written in the music press in the UK and that was it. Then, it wasn’t really spoken about after that. So, it was the launch pad in a sense for Rock Against Racism. There were lots of things happening at that time. It wasn’t just Eric Clapton and it wasn’t just other artists. There was a whole swing to the right with just everyday people, National Front marching, politicians saying things on mainstream media. So, from a music point of view and from Red’s point of view, I think he just felt really hurt that someone like Eric Clapton said what he said.”

Coming in a moment when political activism has become a daily occurrence, Shah recognizes the important role that music plays in inspiring people to become united in one voice.

“It’s really important. We’re seeing it now with what’s happening with Black Lives Matter, but I think it was important in the 70s and throughout various different times in the last 50-60 years (and probably going back further),” Shah argues. “I think what was interesting about what was happening here in the UK was that punk was just beginning to seep into the zeitgeist. Young people, in general I think, were angry, [whether they were] white, black, Asian. Across the board, I think young people were just fed up and that sense of anger was starting to seep into music.” 

“I think that when the guys behind Rock Against Racism decided that they wanted to do something, it really started on a small level,” she continues. “Their original idea was to just put on gigs. They would put some white bands and black bands together on equal billing, and they would pay everybody. It was really important that they did this because they recognized that musicians needed to be paid as well. It was a show of unity and an idea for all different audiences to come together. That was the reason behind it… There were more carnivals and there were more gigs and Rock Against Racism actually lasted another three or four years. Then, eventually, they just went off and did their own thing because essentially it was just a group of people coming together.” 

One of the most amazing aspects of White Riot is the fact that this cultural zeitgeist was able to grow at a time when communication to the masses was far more difficult. Even so, Shah notes that those involved were able to make the most of a fanzine culture that helped the beliefs of a few passionate people to become a large-scale movement.

“It’s this grassroots activism business,” she explains. “So, it’s the way that people are able to mobilize like that. It’s people power. I mean, there was a lot of hard work going into that. They were able to tap into like-minded people in the print shop and get people involved. They had a lot of goodwill as well because printing was expensive. They didn’t have the money to do that, but they were able to slip in print runs at night and then get those papers on the back of the lorry, going out to wherever it was the next day to drop them into a music shop. Fanzine culture was right at that time. So, people knew where to look, to find out about music and the underground. It was literally like the analog equivalent of going viral is what they captured.”

Furthermore, though opportunity for people to speak their voice has become far easier, Shah sees that today’s changing media landscape has also created so many voices that cultural unity seems to have become more difficult.

“I feel like things are changing for sure. People [have] a lot of ways now to put our points of view across. Media has changed a lot. There’s Twitter, there’s Facebook. But then on the flip side, does that dilute the message? Is it harder to actually reach people? It’s difficult.” 

Though forty years have passed since the events of the Carnival, it truly is remarkable how much of the events of the late 70s resonates with what we’re seeing today. According to Shah, these similarities may actually be part of a pattern that extends back over the last century.

“When this happened in the late 70s, it was forty years after WWII and now, we’re forty years after the events of what happened in the late 70s,” she points out. “It seems to be every forty years. I mean, there are things happening in between as well but I just feel like maybe there’s something in it. Maybe, we all like inching forwards, but sometimes it seems very slow that things are changing.”

For full audio of our interview with Rubika Shah, click here.

White Riot is currently streaming on VOD and select online theatres across Canada.