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Pray Away – Ex-Ex-Gays Tell Their Stories

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“We were doing what we thought God wanted us to do.”

If one constantly hears they are sinful when they go to church, they may quit going—or, they may seek to change. For LGBTQ+ people, for several decades, this often meant trying not to be gay—to change their life. Pray Away, from director Kristine Stolakis, gives us a historical overview of the “pray the gay away” movement, and lets us meet some of the people who founded that movement and have since not only abandoned that approach, but have embraced the reality of being LGBTQ+ people.

PRAY AWAY. Cr. NETFLIX

In the 1970s a small group of men in an evangelical church were all struggling with being gay and the message they were hearing in church. They formed a group to help each other with their urges. Soon they had thousands of letters asking for their help. That was the beginning of Exodus International, a huge ministry that promoted the idea that same sex attraction was a temptation to be overcome, and that with work, LGBTQ people could change.  Various therapists tied into this with “conversion therapy” to help people change their LGBTQ behavior. (That therapy has since been found to be ineffective and is rejected by medical and psychological professional groups.)

Soon, the more articulate of these people became well-known within the evangelical community and Christian talk shows. They told their stories and became (as one person notes in the film) “the most famous former gay [people] in the world”. They worked politically with the Family Research Council to oppose LGBTQ rights and especially same sex marriage. A good deal of the documentary is about the way these groups became a political force.

PRAY AWAY. Julie Rodgers in PRAY AWAY. Cr. NETFLIX

But in time, these same people came to realize that although they may have stopped acting on their desires, their same sex attraction never went away. They came to understand their same sex attraction to be a part of who they were. It became harder for them to maintain their public anti-LGBTQ stances. As one of them noted after working hard to defeat Prop 8 in California (which would have allowed same sex marriage), “A voice inside me said, ‘How could you do that to your own people?’”  The film shows that in 2013 Exodus International disbanded because those involved had repudiated its mission.

The film really only alludes to the pain and trauma that Exodus International and other groups like it caused those who underwent the conversion therapy process. We see some scenes of some of the leaders of Exodus listening to stories with former members, but we don’t hear those stories. It is sufficient to know that the stories were significant enough to lead those who were running the program to see the errors of that approach, and their discovery that what they were doing might not actually be God’s will.

PRAY AWAY. Randy Thomas in PRAY AWAY. Cr. NETFLIX

It is worth noting that when Exodus International began, even the most liberal Christian denominations were struggling with how to view LGBTQ people in their midst. Since that time some have become fully welcoming, accepting, and affirming. Others continue to struggle.

Those few men who started that group in their church (and the myriads that followed) were actively trying to follow God’s will as they understood it. They saw their actions as faithful, even if they came to see the harm it those actions later. As such, the film provides the viewers with the question of how (or if) we should judge those people. They sought to serve God, but ended up doing harm. But, to use a churchy term, they (at least those we see in the film) repented.

The film also shows the way the “ex-gay” movement continues still. From time to time in the film we see a current manifestation in the person of a self-proclaimed former transexual who is reaching out to others with his message. I would say that these sections of the film are less helpful in that the person involved just doesn’t have the same kind of credibility as those who were involved in Exodus International through the years. That makes it easy to dismiss him.

The film is narrowly focused on the history of Exodus International within the evangelical community and the harm that conversion therapy has brought to the hundreds of thousands who have gone through it. The film really doesn’t look at the whole question of the place of LGBTQ people within the church. There are indeed great differences—even within denominations—about how to look at LGBTQ people and issues.

PRAY AWAY. Cr. NETFLIX

The film shows at least two of those who were involved in the conversion therapy movement but now have accepted their sexuality, who still speak of their faith and we see them participating in worship. Personally, I find it encouraging that so many LGBTQ people continue to be in church—some where they are hardly welcome. It is not because of some “gay agenda”, it is because these people know the love of God and seek to worship and serve. For some they try to live out their faith in environments that denigrate them, but they persist. As I note above, many churches are welcoming—and are glad for the gifts these people bring.

Pray Away has a brief theater opening, but is available on Netflix on August 3.

Photos courtesy of Netflix.

1on1 with Kristine Stolakis about Pray Away

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I recently had a chance to visit via Zoom with Kristine Stolakis, the director of Pray Away, a Netflix documentary about the “ex-gay” movement and conversion therapy that hundreds of thousands of LGBTQ+ people underwent in the last fifty years. The basis of that therapy has been discredited and denounced by medical and psychological groups and outlawed for licensed therapists in some states. It continues to be done in many church settings, however. Pray Away will be available on Netflix on August 3.

In the press notes, you mentioned that the subject came to your attention by way of your uncle. Are you comfortable talking about that?

I appreciate you asking that, but yeah.

I got the topic because my uncle went through conversion therapy when he came out as trans as a child. He went through conversion therapy at a time when every therapist was a conversion therapist back in the Sixties. He was put on antidepressants, which was a pretty common treatment at the time, and that began a lifelong battle with various mental health issues which included addiction—prescription medication as well as addiction more generally—anxiety, depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder, suicidal ideations, all these things that I’ve come to learn are quite common for people that go through some form of conversion therapy. I knew my uncle during a really special ten years of good mental health. He was my babysitter growing up. I lived 25 minutes away from him in Upstate New York. I spent most days after school on his couch with him telling me stories, which was very lovely and special and wonderful—a wonderful time in my life. As I got older the mental health challenges continued to mount. I really saw him live with his trauma and the aftermath of his trauma.

So when I went to film school, he passed away unexpectedly a few weeks before I went to film school, and I decided I wanted my first feature to be about the conversion therapy movement. When I started doing research, I was very prepared to feel very angry at the people who led the conversion therapy movement, because I’d witnessed first hand the pain and trauma that resulted from that teaching. I frankly anticipated finding straight, homophobic people and transphobic people running conversion therapy or ex-LGBTQ ministries, but what I found was LGBTQ Christians who claimed that they themselves had changed. And they were teaching others to do the same.

For me, that claim of change really helped me understand my uncle’s desperation that change was around the corner. Because until that moment it was really hard for me to understand why my uncle had committed basically his entire life to the idea of change, and he really believed that what I’ve come to understand as the ex-LGBTQ belief system that being LGBTQ in some way is both a sickness and a sin. It was the claim of change that these leaders made that really clicked in something for me about my uncle’s life. That’s when I transformed from a family member who cared about someone who hurt quite a bit to a filmmaker who said, “Oh, this is what I want to shine a light on.” This movement really is an example of hurt people hurting other people—of internalized hatred, homophobia, and transphobia being wielded outward. And a lot of my anger transformed into sadness, because I saw that this larger culture of homophobia and transphobia was essentially training leaders. That really is the way this movement works.

The other piece of the puzzle when I started doing research that made me go, “Oh, there’s really a film here”, is my growing understanding during the research process that this is something that continues into today. We know that nearly 700,000 people in the US alone have gone through some version of this. We know it’s been used on every major continent. And I say “major” because we don’t know of a recorded case in Antarctica. This is very present in many religious communities across the country. Both of those things, the idea of studying how power works, which is why the movement continues, even though, as many do in my film, leaders defect—leaders come out again and say “No, no, no, I didn’t mean the things I said. I was lying or I was lying to myself. I’m filled with regret. This is a terrible thing.” The movement continued despite  those leaders defecting. That was one piece of the puzzle I really wanted to make a film about. The other was to bring the history into the present and show that this movement that causes a lot of pain continues.

PRAY AWAY. Cr. NETFLIX

Early on Michael Bussee says “We were doing what we thought God wanted us to do.” How did that attitude affect how you tried to represent these people in your film?

I know first hand that many people heading conversion therapy or ex-LGBTQ movement are trying to do the right thing. For people who grew up religiously, or express what the right thing is through religion in some way, that can mean that they think God is asking them to do this. That is a very powerful motivator—to believe that you are on the path to change yourself—and a very powerful motivator to “help” other people. I think that motivation, those good intentions, can blind people to the pain that they’re causing. It can make them through denial, or sometimes through the structure of their ministries, push away people that don’t want to change anymore, that have addiction issues after going through this. It can blind leaders to the pain that they’re causing, because they are so motivated from what I think ultimately is a good place.

Something we talked a lot about in the edit room in making this film was trying to make a film that is compassionate. Because this is a movement in which the leaders are often victims of conversion therapy themselves. So we wanted to capture that, but we also did try in the film to hold leaders, both former and present, accountable by weaving in a survivor’s story as well, which is the story of Julie Rogers, who like my uncle, primarily participated in the movement through not being in the position of leadership, but receiving these messages as a teenager and then in her young adult phase. And that was how creatively we worked to say this does cause pain, true pain, witness this pain. And also, we did try to honor the fact that this is not a system of just bad apples. This is people, especially in the beginning that think that they’re doing the right thing, and in answer to your question, things that God might even be asking them to do this thing.

I’ll say one other piece of that, because it’s a really rich question, that I haven’t said in other outlets, and also know that you are someone who lives in a religious world. There is a very common idea in this world that I’ve seen a lot, which is that God shows his love through challenges, through pain, through suffering. I saw that a lot. I think that very sadly gets in the minds of many leaders, and participants, that if they are suffering, they are actually on the path to change. I think that for people who are trans and gay, suffering is a part of the package when you live in a transphobic and homophobic world. Asking people to suffer, it confuses people thinking it’s their responsibility to change rather than the world’s responsibility to change.

I would urge religious leader who are trying to figure out how to make sure, that they are being clear that they don’t support conversion therapy; they don’t support the ex-LGBTQ movement. They need to proactively affirm and fight for LGBTQ folks. Because the message that being trans and gay is wrong is so common and ubiquitous, I think in Christianity in general, that unless you actively fight against it, there’s a good chance that your congregation is going to get that message. I think underneath that is the assumption that you’re going to suffer, and that’s okay. We’ve got to stop that, and I think we can stop that if we see this as a way to prevent children suffering versus a political issue. Yes, that idea of suffering as a form of God’s love is an ideology that I see being passed around that I think ultimately hurts people.

PRAY AWAY. Randy Thomas in PRAY AWAY. Cr. NETFLIX

A good part of your film deals with the political power dynamic of the religious right. What was the main insight you discovered in that area?

I was very stressed and saddened by the way in which the Christian right, politically speaking, would use the stories of people who claimed that they had changed to support anti-LGBTQ legislation. So in our film that is explored through recounting the story of Prop 8 in California which made gay marriage illegal in the state in 2008. Outside of the scope of the film, we’re seeing that happen with anti-trans legislation, which is being passed a tremendous amount in the past year. We’re seeing the way in which people who claim to be ex-trans or claim to be detransitioners, those stories are being used to support legislation that takes away trans rights for everyone, whether or not you are religious.

That is very sad to me, because it’s taking people who are already in a very vulnerable place, who, again, are victims of homophobia and transphobia more largely and putting them on a stage and saying “Please fight against your own community’s rights.” And again, I think that those organizations, they have a choice as our culture changes and we understand, based on so much research and so much antidotally, that LGBTQ people need to be supported and protected and loved. They are not a threat, to say the least. They have an opportunity, I think, to support these people in being truly who they are, but instead I saw them use these people, and that is incredibly insensitive to me.

You avoid telling the horror stories of the people who had undergone conversion therapy, but you allude to the trauma that people went through. Was it tempting to go to some of those dark places to make the point of the pain caused?

We have recorded cases, and there are plenty of them, of people who go through conversion therapy and experience physical pain, electric shock therapy, aversion therapy. That is abhorrent. And the vast majority of conversion therapy does look much less like that and much more like talk therapy—like sitting in a room with an individual who is either a licensed counselor or more often someone who is a religious leader who is acting as a pseudo-counselor, or perhaps it looks like a Tuesday night Bible study on the subject of homosexuality in the Bible, where the belief system that being LGBTQ is sick and sinful gets pushed forward and it’s kind of like AA model peer support. We want in the film to make sure that the main way conversion therapy is practiced is represented, so that people who are doing this didn’t see the film and go, “We don’t do that. We don’t shock people. Therefore, we’re not doing conversion therapy.” That being said, like the physical manifestation of trauma through self-harm is extremely common in this movement. We do explore that in the film, and also allude to the fact that sadly suicide is quite common in this world. We know that you who go through this are more than twice as likely to have attempted suicide. That is something that we do touch on in the film.

A big problem with the conversion therapy movement is that a lot of people who do it don’t see themselves as doing it. Everyone has the stereotype that conversion therapy happens in camps in the woods and it’s electric shock therapy. Much more often it’s happening in your church, down the street, by a pastor who might think they’re doing the right thing, who’s teaching pseudo-psychology that’s been disproven that’s been passed through a chain of information to this gay kid who came to them for help. That is conversion therapy. Call it whatever you want—pastoral counseling, I’ve heard, for example. We need to create a common understanding that starts a dialog that what’s happening in your church down the street might not look like the conversion therapy idea that you have in your mind, but it is. That’s why we took the approach we did in the film.

We really did represent conversion therapy as it happens most often in our country. And it mostly does happen in religious organizations. We know that about two-thirds of conversion therapy happens within religious organizations—religious colleges, Christian ministries, churches. It’s only about a third or less that happens with licensed counselors. So if you see, for example that conversion therapy has been banned in X state, that’s only for licensed counselors. It is important to do that work, but it doesn’t stop it where conversion therapy happens most. We have to have a culture shift. We have to have a national and international dialog that sees conversion therapy for what it is. And we need churches to stop what they’re doing because unfortunately laws cannot stop that. It has to be people changing their minds. So we really want to reach those people with this film.

PRAY AWAY. Julie Rodgers in PRAY AWAY. Cr. NETFLIX

We see some of your subjects in church now as openly LGBTQ persons. But I know that for some people church is just too painful. Did you note spiritual injury among these people as you talked with them?

Yes, absolutely. I saw two main types of reactions regarding spirituality following an experience of conversion therapy. This is of course a generalization. One set of reactions is “My religious life is so important to me I don’t want to have to give that up. And I cannot continue to live as someone who’s trying to change their sexuality or gender identity.” And a lot of people do find, because it absolutely exists, religious communities that fully accept people for who they are, and again, not only accept them, but fight for their rights to dignity. And for some people that is so healing, to be able to be in a church and have a pastor say, “Not only welcome, but we’re going to lobby for the Equality Act next week.” That can be so healing for people.

There are some people, to your point, where just being in a church almost can create a PTSD-like response, because of the pain and trauma people have endured often when they were children. For those people, sometimes the healthiest thing to do is to step away from trying to be a part of a community where your religion, your spirituality, is expressed through organized religion. For that group of people, I’ve seen the fact that going to brunch on Sunday with friends becomes very healing. And that’s okay too. We are not here to tell people how to heal. How to find community is up to the individual. If people want to express their religious life through organized religion, they can absolutely find places to do that. If people want to step away from organized religion and that to them feels like healing, that’s fantastic. So, I’ve seen both.

And to answer your question very directly, absolutely, spiritual wounds are a part of it. For a lot of people, they’ve grown up learning that having a relationship with a higher power, which often in this world is through God and through a relationship with Jesus, has to come with a cost. If you believe that for years, it can be very very hard to reengage with that form of relating to a higher power through organized religion. Again, it can create some kind of PTSD response. So, yeah. You hear survivors talk about this. “I didn’t only lose my sanity. I didn’t only lose my mental health and my physical health. I lost my relationship to God when I had to step away from this.” That’s where I think churches have to step up. They have a responsibility to say if you want to practice religion here in the way that you grew up, you’re welcome to do it. Churches have to be proactive if they want to fully affirm LGBTQ people, because it’s overwhelmingly the message that people still get is “you’re not welcome here,” and that has consequences.

PRAY AWAY. Cr. NETFLIX

Sabaya – Rescued from ISIS

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The mission: go into a camp filled with Daesh (ISIS) supporters and rescue Yazidi girls and women held as sex slaves. Sabaya won the directing award for World Cinema Documentary for Hogir Hirori at the Sundance Film Festival. Billed as a docu-thriller, the film shines a light on the plight of thousands of young women and on people who are trying to aid them.

While fighting in Iraq, Daesh killed thousands of Yazidi men and took the Yazidi young women to serve as sex slaves (Sabaya). Some of the women have been held for five years. Now some of them are part of the 73,000 people held in the Al-Hol camp in Syria. We watch as Mahmud and Ziyad, two men from the Yazidi Home Center, aided by female infiltrators in the camp, make raids (usually at night) to liberate these women. The camp is filled with Daesh supporters (there are more in the surrounding countryside), so this is a hazardous undertaking. The men go in equipped basically with a phone and a handgun.

The film certainly has a thriller aspect with the forays into Al-Hol to find these women. It it also contrasts that tension with the daily life of Mahmud and his family—making meals, being together with children. Mahmud’s wife and mother help the rescued women transition back to the world of freedom before they are reunited with family.

The plight of the Yazidi has become an international cause. (A good film to learn about what has happened to this group is On Her Shoulders.) They are a minority within a minority. They are extremely insular, not accepting outsiders as part of their culture. That comes into play in one part of the film when one of the women rescued has a child who was fathered by a Daesh fighter.

We learn at the end of the film that the group saved 206 enslaved women, 52 with children. But 2000 still remain unfound.

This is an ongoing reminder of the inhumanity that is a part of war in general, and specifically as it is practiced by ISIS. While we may think battles have been won, the aftermath continues to be painful for many. That is clear in this film when at the beginning we hear an announcement on the radio that Daesh has been defeated in Syria, but as we see Mahmud and Ziyad on their raids we know that that defeat is less than final.

Religion (or more precisely, the exploitation of religious ideas) certainly plays a role in all of this. The reason Daesh uses to enslave these women is that because they are not Muslim, such treatment is permissible. That is not a general understanding within Islam. That is one of many examples of the ways that religious people misuse messages of goodwill to create malevolence.

Sabaya is opening in select theaters.

Photos courtesy of MTV Documentary Films.

Summer of Soul – A Revolution Resurrected

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1969. It is the year humankind set foot on the moon. The US is heavily involved in Vietnam. Men were being drafted, but there were growing protests. It is only a year after the murders of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. It was also the year of Woodstock, the amazing music festival that got out of hand. But Woodstock isn’t the whole story of music in 1969. A few hundred miles away that summer the Harlem Music Festival took place over six weekends. Summer of Soul (…or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised), winner of the Grand Prize and an Audience Award at Sundance, gives us a wonderful taste of that event that has long gone unnoticed.

Sly Stone performing at the Harlem Cultural Festival in 1969, featured in the documentary SUMMER OF SOUL. Photo Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures. © 2021 20th Century Studios All Rights Reserved

For six Sundays through the summer, the biggest names in Black music held court in Mt. Morris Park (now Marcus Garvey Park) in Harlem. Performers included Stevie Wonder, The Staple Singers, Mahalia Jackson, The Fifth Dimension, Nina Simone, Hugh Masekela, B.B. King, Gladys Knight and the Pips, and Sly and the Family Stone, among many others. Admission was free and there were estimated 50,000 people each week. And, it was all filmed! (So, then, why haven’t we seen it before? More on that later.)

Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson has brought together some of those wonderful performances and included some interviews with people who were there—performers and audience—to give us a hint of what that cultural experience was, and why it was important at that time in the Black community. This is more than just a celebration of the music. It brings forward the issues that were facing the community and the nation at that time—many of which continue.

Nina Simone performs at the Harlem Cultural Festival in 1969, featured in the documentary SUMMER OF SOUL. Photo Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures. © 2021 20th Century Studios All Rights Reserved

One of the issues that played a part in the festival was racial unrest. The year before, after the King and Kennedy assassinations, many cities experienced civil unrest. The city helped to sponsor these concerts, possibly in part to head off violence. When the police were slow to commit to the festival, the Black Panthers provided security. At one of the events, Rev. Jesse Jackson was part of the program to promote Operation Breadbasket.

That political setting is an important part of understanding the event (as is reflected in the film’s subtitle). The very concept that the culture of Black America was of value was a part of the larger racial revolution that was underway. But more than anything, this was about community. One of those who remembers attending as a child called it “the ultimate Black barbeque”. This was an opportunity for the people of Harlem to gather and find affirmation of their music and their culture.

The Harlem Cultural Festival in 1969, featured in the documentary SUMMER OF SOUL. Photo Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures. © 2021 20th Century Studios All Rights Reserved

There is a spiritual aspect to that affirmation. Some of the acts performing were in the gospel tradition. We see during some of these performances how gospel serves as a bit of therapy to the harshness of the world. The height of this understanding comes as we watch an amazing version of “Precious Lord” with Mavis Staple and Mahalia Jackson.

Getting back to the question of why it’s taken over fifty years for this to come to light. Even though it was all filmed, no one really thought Black music was a market that would make it profitable. There was a pair of local broadcasts, but nothing beyond that. There is also a sense that those who made those decisions did not recognize the revolutionary nature of such an event. (Or maybe they did.) So it’s been hidden away all these years.

The festival is sometimes referred to as “Black Woodstock”, but I find that a bit off base. While both were amazing music festivals, Woodstock became famous more for the event itself. It was a countercultural happening. It was a crashed party that overwhelmed the promoters and the authorities. The Harlem Cultural Festival was extremely well organized and its sense of community was far more organic than the seeming community of the flooded fields of Woodstock.

Hugh Masekela performs at the Harlem Cultural Festival in 1969, featured in the documentary SUMMER OF SOUL. Photo Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures. © 2021 20th Century Studios All Rights Reserved

All these years in the future, we still struggle with racial inequality in our society. Summer of Love allows us to consider what progress has and has not been made in the decades since the Harlem Cultural Festival. It is a blessing that it has been brought out after all this time. Not just for the music, but for the revolution that we are still ready for.

Summer of Soul (…or, When The Revolution Could Not Be Televised) is in select theaters and will soon be available on Hulu.

Photos courtesy of Seachlight Pictures.

Day 5 at AFI Docs

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Often when important events happen, those involved pay homage to the past by talking of standing on the shoulders of giants. (This actually goes back to before its attribution to Sir Isaac Newton, so there are obviously lots of giants.) Today’s films look back at a couple of those giants upon whose shoulders others have stood and may still stand. One is well known. The other will likely be someone you haven’t heard of.

Celebrities often take part in social causes. In Andre Gaines’s film The One and Only Dick Gregory, we get a look at a comedian, a civil rights and anti-war activist, and healthy lifestyle activist. His humor was often built around race. He could play a room full of white people and have them laughing while at the same time making biting commentary. He was a friend to Medgar Evers and Dr. King. He was arrested frequently. He was targeted by J. Edgar Hoover. It was not enough for him to be rich and famous. He wanted to change the world.

In the film his autobiographiy coauthor Robert Lipsyte says, “He had a mission to accomplish, and it wasn’t just making jokes.” Indeed, very little of the film deals with his comedy, which was impressive in its own right. That comedy opened the door for many more Black comedians (some of whom pay a bit of homage in the film). What we see over and over is a man who was committed to the causes that affected people—racial injustice, the war in Vietnam, and later nutrition.

I was aware of Dick Gregory as a comedian/activist, but was never really connected to his work. This film, gives a very full picture of a man who was indeed a giant in many ways. The One and Only Dick Gregory will be available on Showtime July 4.

“I want to see America be what she says she is in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. America, be what you proclaim yourself to be!”

When filmmakers Julie Cohen and Betsy West were making the Oscar-nominated RGB, they came across a citation that Ruth Bader Ginsberg had in her brief arguing for women’s rights before the Supreme Court. They thought it was worth finding out who this person was. My Name Is Pauli Murray is what they discovered. Fifteen years before Rosa Parks, Pauli Murray was arrested for not moving to the back of the bus. Decades before the Wilmington Lunch Counter Sit-In, Murray and other students desegregated restaurants in DC. Murray was one of the founders on the National Organization for Women. Essays Murray wrote were part of the arguments laid before the Supreme Court in Brown v. Board of Education. Murray made the case that the Fourteenth Amendment could be used to protect women’s rights (as Ginsberg argued). And yet, so few of us have heard of Pauli Murray.

Murray was something of a polymath. She was an author, lawyer, poet, and eventually a priest. (Murray was the first Black woman ordained in the Episcopal Church.) You may note my lack of pronouns here. Murray was gender non-conforming, and in today’s language would probably identify as transexual. Murray often practiced confrontation by typewriter, writing letters to people of power. When writing to FDR, Murray would copy Eleanor Roosevelt, which lead to a friendship.

Much of the film is made up tape recording of Murray reading from an autobiography as it was being written. It is important that we can hear that story in Murray’s own voice. It is also important to hear the stories of people who knew Murray and who have continued build on that legacy. Pauli Murray truly was one of those unknown giants upon whose shoulders people are still standing seeing a future that can be made better.

For today’s shorts, I want to make special note of When We Were Bullies. Filmmaker Jay Rosenblatt coincidentally meets an elementary school classmate decades later, they recall a bullying incident they were part of. Rosenblatt tries to contact all those involved to see if they remember it. It’s a difficult thing to realize that one has been a bully. (I made that realization some time ago.) In a way, that may be a typical part of growing up. But does that absolve us of what we have done so long ago. An excellent short.

Other shorts for today include Lydia Cornett’s Party Line, which show scenes from the very long line on the final day of early voting in Columbus, Ohio, last year. Ohio law only allows one early voting site per county, and 117,356 people voted early in that county. We see lots of masked people waiting in the snow to take part in democracy. In Halpate, directed by Adam Piron and Adam Khalil, we see Seminole allegator wrestlers in Florida with a bit of background as to why they have done this.

Photos courtesy of AFI.

Day 3 at AFI Docs

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Today’s films reflect a look at history. That includes a look at a wonderful music festival from 50 years ago—that isn’t Woodstock, and an in depth look at one of the darkest days of recent American history.

In 1969 the world knew all about Woodstock. A few hundred miles away another music festival took place that has been hidden away for half a century. Summer of Soul (…Or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised) takes us to the 6 weeks of the Harlem Cultural Festival that featured the crème de la crème of Black music at the time. We see Mahalia Jackson, The Staple Singers, Sly and the Family Stone, B.B. King, The Fifth Dimension, Nina Simone, Gladys Knight and the Pips, and many more.

This is an amazing collection of musical history of the time, but even more it is a look back at the issues that were occurring fifty years ago, and that still are a part of society’s struggles today. Directed by Questlove, this film makes a point that music speaks of and to the struggles of people. The fact that this festival has been unknown for so long is a sign that we still need to hear these voices. Summer of Soul will soon be available in theaters and on Hulu.

As we draw close to the twentieth anniversary of the terrorist attack on America, National Geographic, in official collaboration with the 9/11 Museum and Memorial, has created a documentary series, 9/11: One Day in America. The series presents oral history from some of the people who survived that day: firefighters, people who escaped from the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. These are intimate, personal, and often very graphic and emotional memories.

The first three episodes of the series are having their world premiere as part of AFI Docs. Those three episodes begin just before 6:00 a.m. and move through 10:50 a.m., shortly after Flight 93 crashed in Pennsylvania. Part of the purpose of the series is to make this a human story. In our minds 9/11 has found a place in the American mythos. We politicize it. We make it about heroism (and that is a big part of that day). We see a big picture, but this series is about many of the pieces that are the human beings involved. Those human stories are to be treasured.

I’ll be honest. This wasn’t the top of my list to see during the festival, but I thought it was important to include. The way the stories are told by these survivors, with archival footage providing much of the visuals, is truly compelling. That is not to say it is easy to watch. This is not the kind of thing to binge watch. I needed to take a few breaks along the way to process all I was seeing and hearing.

And as always, I want to share some shorts. Today I’ll note a pair of animated shorts. They are docs, but done in animation. In The Train Station, Lyana Patrick very briefly (two minutes) tells the story of her father being sent to the Lejac Indian Residential School and his mother’s weekly long walk along the railroad tracks to bring him food and to help him keep his language The film doesn’t speak of what went on at the school, but rather celebrates how Patrick’s grandmother’s love helped to form her father to be a leader among First Nation people.

Spaces (Mezery) is an animated exploration of memory—and the loss of memory. It chronicles filmmaker Nora Štbová’s brother’s struggle with losing all short-term and then all memory as the result of a tumor. A touching and loving bit of her own memory of that experience.

Photos courtesy of AFI

Day 2 at AFI Docs

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The films I’ve chosen for today are very much focused on issues that touch the lives of many people. These are films that in many ways are “ripped from headlines”. It’s worth noting that two of the films include coverage of issues dealing with the COVID-19 pandemic, even though that is not the main point of the films.

Pray Away, the feature debut from documentarian Kristine Stolakis, looks at the history for the “pray the gay away” movement in the church (mostly the evangelical church) over the last several decades. The film focuses on some of the founders and leaders in the movement who have now denounced that approach because of the injury they saw they had inflicted on so many people. These are people who were very visible on TV and active politically. Those that we hear tell their stories have now all discovered fulfillment by embracing their sexuality, but they also deal with guilt over the pain they created through their actions over the years. The film also includes a look at a current ex-gay leader, but those sections are a bit less engaging, in part because it is hard to give credence to his story.

More than 700,000 people have undergone conversion therapy seeking to change their sexual orientation. That process has been nearly universally rejected by the medical and psychiatric fields. This film allows us to see how that became so popular within many churches. It also shows how that has harmed not only the happiness, but the spiritual life of many LGBTQ people. Pray Away is a Netflix Original Documentary and will be available to stream later this summer.

Journalism is recognized as a key element of a democratic society. Yet in many places around the country there are huge “news deserts”, places with no local news source. Beth Levison’s and Jerry Risius’s Storm Lake shows a little over a year in the life of the Storm Lake Times, a twice-a-week newspaper in rural Iowa with a circulation of about 3000. The editor of the family run paper, Tom Cullen, won a Pulitzer Prize for Editorial Writing in 2017. The paper covers local life in this rural, but increasingly diverse community. It covers high school sports, city council meetings, and hosts Presidential Forums ahead of the Iowa Caucuses. The film continues into the paper’s coverage of COVID-19 and the financial difficulty that brought.

While the film is a very personal portrait of the Cullen family as they strive with deadlines and looking for advertising, it is really about the ways journalism touches the lives of the community and what is lost when there is no local journalism. In the last fifteen years one out of four newspapers has closed. There are over 300 news deserts with communities of 20,000 or more with no newspaper. While there are regional news outlets, they pay little if any attention to life in smaller communities. In the Q&A following, Tom Cullen noted that they were having to find a new paradigm that was reader support rather than advertising support. That is true of many newspapers. Storm Lake will be in the upcoming season of “Independent Lens” on PBS.

White Coat Rebels, from Greg Barker, seeks to make the case (and does so very well) that the for-profit health care system, especially as manifested in Big Pharma, has not provided good care for many people. The film begins with a group of medical students in a White Coat ceremony as they take the Hippocratic Oath, promising to put their patients’ needs first always. Much of the film looks at the work of medical students who are part of Universities Allied for Essential Medicine, which seeks to have schools make ethical commitments about the drugs they help develop. There are also practicing doctors who make the point that the medical care that many people need is not available to them because of the way the US health care system is structured.

The conflict that comes up frequently in the film is if the system should be about patients or profits. The film began in the fall of 2019 and continued into the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, which only served to exacerbate and illustrate the rich/poor and racial dichotomies involved in health care. The film seems to circle around on itself from time to time, but it is an important and highly timely examination of key issue.

For today’s shorts, I have put together something of a double feature. Under the Lemon Tree, from Noor Fawzi Alasswad, shows us an older Palestinian woman living in exile as she makes a simple breakfast under a lemon tree and lovingly remembers her lost home and land after she has been away for many decades. A companion piece is Mission: Hebron, from Rona Segal. This film has interviews with six former Israeli soldiers as they talk about their tours in Hebron, a town of about 30,000 Palestinians and 1000 Israeli settlers. The soldier’s job is to protect the Jewish citizens. All speak with a bit of guilt for the things they did (and didn’t do).

Photos curtesy of AFI

Accepted – What Will Get You Into College?

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A small college prep school in rural Louisiana boasts that 100% of graduates are accepted into college, including 32% into Ivy League schools. An impressive record. It gained national media attention due to viral videos of students learning of their acceptances. That got the attention of documentarian Dan Chen, whose film Accepted is premiering at the Tribeca Film Festival.

The T.M. Landry College Prep is certainly an unusual school. It is located in a warehouse. There aren’t traditional class rooms or schedules. The average family income for the students is $32,000. The students are challenged by Tom Landry, the founder of the school, to focus on doing all they have to do to get into a prestigious school. Some of the students we meet spend up to 12 hours a day studying.

Chen, after the school became known nationally, chose to follow some students of the class of 2019 through their senior year. Each is hoping to do well in tests and find their way to a future they never really imagined. They are dedicated students. They have learned to work hard. Landry is very motivational, but he also creates a great deal of pressure these students must deal with. Is that what will serve them well in college?

But then during the year, the New York Times publishes a story about how the school has falsified transcripts—listing classes students didn’t take and activities they were never a part of. The story also makes mention of abuse by Landry. (We see an example of his temper that could easily be called emotional abuse.) As Landry fights for his school’s reputation, the students must decide what they will do in response to these allegations. What will happen to their dreams—their futures?

At issue isn’t just whether the students are really prepared for life at such schools. We see that they clearly have skills that will serve them well. It is also the system of college admissions. Landry has learned how to game that system to the benefit of these students from disadvantaged backgrounds, but who may well be deserving of schools’ consideration. This is compared briefly with the “Varsity Blues” college admission scandal that included several celebrities who paid large sums to get their already advantaged (but not academically skilled) children into some of these same schools.

The film evoked a certain cynicism in me. Not so much about these students, but about the overall college admission system that has become so competitive that it has engendered schemes to cheat in various ways. We like to think that the educations system is a meritocracy, but we know that it never has been. This film exposes the systemic shortcomings in a new way.

Changing the Game – Knowing Who You Are

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Part of my self-identity is as a jock. That isn’t to say I’m particularly athletic, but I always wanted to be. I took part in sports, but never excelled. But that desire helps define me as a person. Changing the Game, a documentary by Michael Barnett, is a look at the struggles of three high school athletes as they strive to claim their identities. All three are transgender. [Note: throughout the review I will refer to them as the gender they know themselves to be.]

Mack Beggs is a Texas state wrestling champion, trying to gain his second title. In Texas, boys are not allowed to wrestle against girls, and gender is determined by one’s birth certificate. That means that Mack must wrestle against girls. Because he is taking testosterone as part of his transitional therapy, he has a definite advantage against his opponents.

Sarah Rose Huckman is a skier in New Hampshire. That state’s rules, when she began competing, was that gender reassignment surgery must be completed to compete as that gender. (Which is a fairly inane idea given high school students ages.) She becomes an advocate for transgender rights in her state.

Andraya Yearwood runs track in Connecticut. In that state, students can compete in whichever gender they self-identify as. Like Mack, as Andraya competes in women’s races, her body (and its masculine hormones, create an advantage.

All three of these young people are skilled at their sports. But they risk controversy to take part. Is it fair to the other athletes? Is it fair to these three if they are banned from competition? The film has voices on both sides of these questions, but there are deeper questions that arise as well, such as the nature of transgender identity and the role of sports in schools.

As we meet the three athletes, their parents, friends, and coaches, we certainly see them as the gender that they identify with. Although, Mack’s grandfather still struggles with the proper pronoun to use, all of these people are supportive of them not just as athletes, but as young people. These athletes are very clear what gender they are—even if people in the stands or state athletic systems are not.

 It is also shown how difficult it is not just to be a trans athlete, but a trans teen as well. It is noted in the film that 40% of trans teens attempt suicide. The pressures of being transgender can become overwhelming. These three athletes must deal with those pressures, and have them amplified by the controversy when they compete.

The film also looks into the value of sports for students. Andraya’s coach is the most open about his view of sports. It is not primarily about winning, but about teaching life lessons to the young people he coaches. An administrator in Connecticut makes the case for their very open policy by saying that you cannot have them live as one gender all the rest of the day, then when it comes to sports tell them they aren’t that gender.

The film is a fair treatment of the issue of the participation in sports by such athletes. There are problems with all the systems to be sure. But as a jock, I value the ways that sport (even when I failed) has influenced my life. I would not want to prevent young athletes from such experiences because their bodies do not match their gender. The three athletes we meet know themselves as more than as jocks. So do we.

Changing the Game is streaming on Hulu.

Photos courtesy of Hulu.

Digital Immortality: 1on1 with Mads Hedegaard (CANNON ARM AND THE ARCADE QUEST)

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What does it mean to leave mark on the world?

While some argue that only the bravest or boldest are the ones who are change the landscape of their world, there are some who do so in small ways. These humble heroes will be remembered after their passing, not because of their amazing feats, but because of the strength of their character and how they loved others. In his new documentary Cannon Arm and the Arcade Quest, director Mads Hedegaard explores the power of legacy and, more importantly, the impact one man can have on those around him.

In Arcade Quest, Hedegaard follows grandfather and veteran retro gamer, Kim Cannon Arm. The ‘uncrowned king of 1980s arcade games’, Kim spends his downtime playing the classics with his friends in Copenhagen’s Bip Bip Bar. Having turned the game of Gyruss into an artform, Kim decides to attempt to shatter the world record for gaming by playing for 100 hours straight. Aided by his friends who have committed to see his dream become reality, Kim sets out on a quest to play his way into the history books with the ultimate high score. Asked what it was that drew him to Kim and his story, Hedegaard notes that he was immediately struck by the unique nature of Kim’s quest and the welcoming atmosphere created his friends.

“When I was at film school, I got a friend who worked as a technician [there] and he was the co-owner of the [Bip Bip Bar] arcade. So, he invited me down there,” Hedegaard begins. “When I stepped in the door, it [thought] this is amazing. The music, the sound from the machines, the games themselves and the colors. My friend introduced me to Kim and some of the other guys, and they just welcomed me with open arms. They were just so generous from the get-go, really. Then, they taught me about this record attempt that Kim really wanted to try to make and I thought that the combination of these things [would be great]. The very simple premise of a man who has a goal, [and the question of] does he reach it or not? I really liked that and I liked the man himself, his friends and then the whole atmosphere. It felt to me as if I was stepping into another world, another universe in a way. I thought the combination of those things could potentially make a great basis for film. So, I just decided to try it out.” 

In Kim, Hedegaard knew instantly that he had someone special. Despite Kim’s desire to cement his achievements with a world record, Hedegaard was struck by his modesty and peaceful demeanour.

“I think that what I admire most now is [Kim’s] humbleness and his just very quiet nature,” he points out. “He is so incredibly good at what he does in the arcade, but he’s so humble and he’s so chill about it. And I really liked that. I think what is one of the things that drew me to him in the beginning was also that he was such an introvert and doesn’t speak much. He’s such a quiet guy. I really recognize that in myself because I really used to be a very, very, very quiet guy and very shy and very introverted. So, that struck a chord with me somehow and I was just intrigued by that. 

“When I see [what happens at the end of the film], even now I’m surprised as [his response]. When I was there, when it happened and I was filming it, I was just blown away. This is almost not human too, but it’s so human. It’s so pure in a way. He’s just a very pure human, in my opinion.”

Though the world of gaming continues to evolve, Hedegaard believes that there is a simplicity about the old arcade games that Kim finds appealing. 

“I know for Kim, that’s one of the things he really appreciates with these old games,” Hedegaard explains. “He appreciates the simplicity and that it’s really difficult. He mentioned to me the other day, [that] the modern games [are] not really difficult. They’re just fancy looking, but they’re not difficult. You can play them for hours without having played it before. These arcade games, you really have to know the game and get a feeling of them. Obviously, it’s like that for many modern games games as well. I’m not saying that, but I think that’s Kim’s take on it. He really appreciates that the simplicity of the game, the graphics and the gameplay. It’s not really showing off like many modern games are.”

While he was thrilled to be in the middle of a potentially momentous occasion, Hedegaard notes that the night itself wasn’t exactly always edge-of-your-seat excitement. In fact, due to the repetitiveness of the activity, he notes that the night was much quieter than he’s expected.

“It was extremely boring. [laughs] But at the same time, it was also obviously very exciting,” he remembers. “It [went] on for so many hours. I’m there with the camera. Luckily, I had my photographer for that as well so we could take turns getting a few hours of sleep. It was at times extremely boring but, at other times, extremely exciting. You could almost feel the tension in the air. It went on for so many, many hours, so that was also just people hanging out and just having a good time, drinking some beers and stuff like that. The atmosphere was so different. Most of all, it was friends who were there and, by that time, they’d become my friends. So, it was just also a very, very friendly atmosphere and just people hanging out people who really liked each other, and then [there’s] this massive thing going on at the same time. It was very weird in very many ways.” 

Of course, to break a world record is not something that can be done by one’s self. Although Kim’s achievement seems like a solely individual activity, the truth is that none of this would have been possible without the support of his friends. In Arcade Quest, Hedegaard makes sure to highlight the important role that Kim’s friends play in his life and the supportive community that they have created together.

“I think [that community] means everything, to be honest,” Hedegaard responds. “The characters in this film, I think have found this community. Maybe because they lacked a community before they found this, and I think they really appreciate and enjoy that they can be themselves with their friends. They don’t have to pretend to be a certain way. They’re so different and they allow themselves and each other to be different and as they are. They respect each other the way they are… I think it’s a huge thing for anyone basically. I know for myself, it’s important for me to feel part of a community and I don’t play football or soccer or any sports for that matter. I think it’s the same being in a sports club or… whatever you do in your spare time or at work that’s so important to us. I think the whole COVID thing the last year has proven that to a great extent that we really, really need to be among other people and especially among other people that accept us for who we are.” 

Though he doesn’t consider himself a ‘gamer’, Hedegaard does believe that the world of video games creates its own bond between its players. In fact, he argues that the desire for community lives on amongst all generations, regardless of whether or not they play online or physically in the same room.

“I’m not a gamer myself. Now, I’m part of the gaming community, but… to me it’s more important to hang out with my friends [at the arcade] and stuff like that,” Hedegaard says. “My impression is that, within the last five or 10 years, the arcades have gotten a second round in a way. I know at least in Copenhagen that the arcade where this film takes place has grown… So, it is getting more popular, obviously it’s not as near as popular as it was back in the eighties.” 

“But talking about the community,” he continues, “what I think draws people to the arcade now [is] hanging out and it’s not just gamers. For lack of a better word, it’s ‘regular people’ coming there, having a drink, [and] going on a date. I think that’s partly because of the good atmosphere but also because there is a sense of community there. Talking about modern gaming, my impression at least is that that’s what people also find on the internet when they play games. It’s also a community. They make friends online. So, it might not be in the physical space, but the community is just as strong is my impression.”

One of the more unique conversations Hedegaard tackles within Arcade Quest is the question of what makes a hero. Though many assume that heroes are those that must have grand achievements on their resume, he believes that the true power stems from their character.

“Well, what defines a hero?” he asks. “I think, to me at least, the definition of a hero is not being immortal as it is in many superhero movies today and stuff like that. I find that a bit boring, to be honest. Kim is such a good player, but he’s so humble at the same time. I think in some weird way… the combination of being so good—maybe the best in the world at something—and then being extremely humble at the same time. I think that clash is what constitutes a hero, and then it can take all sorts of forms and shapes. In this case, it’s a 55-year-old guy playing an arcade game, but it could be anyone anywhere.“

“I think we all have the potential to be heroes if we decide to make the choice, but also sometimes not to make the choice. I think Kim has decided not to make a choice. He doesn’t do it on purpose. It’s not something he’s planned out and he’s set a strategy and I’m going to be this way. It’s just how he is. I think the pureness of that really interests me. I think that’s partly where some of the things I’m talking about in the film about what constitutes a hero is that it’s being a person, not something that’s not human.” 

By extension, Hedegaard also believes that leaving your mark on the world doesn’t necessarily mean that you have changed the world. To him, the most important legacy we leave stems from the impressions that we leave on others.

“We were talking about making an impression on the world before and that comes in many forms and shapes,” Hedegaard argues. “[You could] set a world record of whatever, build a fancy company or go to the moon or something like that. But I think the truest sense of the whole thing is if you’ve made an impression in another being a human being. I think that that’s the most important [thing] for everyone. [Making] an emotional impression in another human being. When you’re gone, if someone else misses you, that’s basically enough. You don’t have to be Elon Musk. Someone that leaves a mark on another person is really what it’s all about.” 

Cannon Arm and the Arcade Quest premiered at HotDocs ‘21

To hear our conversation with director Mads Hedegaard, click here.