ScreenFish

where faith and film are intertwined

Los Angeles

Reporting from Slamdance – 18th & Grand

by Leave a Comment

Growing up in Los Angeles in the 50s and 60s, I was well aware of the Olympic Auditorium. That was where they held wrestling, roller derby, and boxing that came into our homes on local TV. Later it was the scene of punk rock shows. In the years since, I’ve driven by it often (although it is now The Glory Church of Jesus Christ). So it was a given that I was going to want to see Slamdance’s Closing Night feature, the world premiere of 18th & Grand: The Olympic Auditorium Story. Would it just be a fun nostalgic trip or something more?

Certainly, there was some wonderful nostalgia, but director Stephen DeBro was much more interested in showing not just the history of the venue, but how that history reflects the city’s history and the cultural aspects that were reflected in the sporting and entertainment events that took place there.

The film spends little time on the early history of the Olympic, built in 1925 and serving as the venue for boxing, wrestling, and weight-lifting competitions in L.A. first Olympics in 1932. The film’s story really begins in the 1940s when Ailene Eaton becomes the business manager. Eaton, who had never seen a fight at that point, went on to become an extremely influential boxing promoter, promoting fights from the Central Valley to the Mexican border, but primarily at the Olympic which was seen as the West Coast equivalent of Madison Square Garden. The Olympic holds an important place in the history of boxing. The film touches only briefly on fight fixing and mob involvement, but gives the impression that it didn’t last long at the Olympic.

But the film also shows the way the Olympic reflected the city. Eaton created boxing cards that attracted the Mexican-American population. This at a time when L.A. was very divided (and in many ways it still is). She promoted fighters like Enrique Bolanos and Art Aragon, who represented two very different views of how Mexican-Americans fit into society. In later years, among those who were got important career opportunities at the Olympic included Julio César Chavéz, and Carlos Palomino (both of whom are interviewed in the film).

When the film turns to the wrestling that took place at the Olympic, it shows the way the good vs. evil aspect to this scripted sport reflected the geo-political tensions of the post- World War and later the Cold War period.

The film is bolstered by interviews DeBro has done with various people who have been involved at the Olympic, including fighters, wrestlers like Roddy Piper and Dick Beyer (aka The Destroyer, who was interviewed in his mask); Dick Enberg, who announced boxing there early in his career; Mamie Van Doren, part of the celebrity scene at fights; and Gene LeBell, son of Ailene Eaton and an important part of the Olympic in his own right. Those interviews are important bits of history, because some of those interviewed have since past away.

I love the nostalgia of seeing these bits of my childhood recreated, but I appreciate even more the depth that the film goes into to put it in a particular cultural setting—something we rarely think about, especially with sports like boxing, wrestling, or roller derby, with their violence and in the case of the latter two, scripted showmanship. The film’s exploration of the Olympic serves a way to look into L.A.’s and the broader society’s past, and allows us to rethink the present in that light.

Disco’d – Meet Your Neighbors

by Leave a Comment

In 2016 the homeless population of Los Angeles grew to 58,000 people. Disco’d is Matthew Siretta’s look at a handful of those people. Siretta gives us a very personal look at some of those who live in homeless encampments. The title comes from a slang term that means confused, disconcert, or discombobulate. An early scene has one of the homeless men speaking of those who come to take your stuff and cause confusion.

The film focuses on the day to day life of these men and women. Their concerns are survival and keeping their possessions. The possessions are a key issue because it is nearly time for the monthly sweep by the city sanitation department, when they’ll have to take what they can with them while the rest is picked up by trash trucks. Some are planning ahead in getting things ready to move, others will have to scramble when the day comes.

This is not the human interest stories from newspapers of those who find themselves homeless because of some misfortune. These are long-term homeless people, most of whom are heroin addicts. A part of their day to day that we see involves getting high. We also get no backstory on these people; we just know them as they are now.

This film is not about the causes, the diversity, or possible solutions to the homelessness crisis that L.A. (and many other cities) are experiencing. It is about these people. They are not romanticized. They are not especially attractive or easy to identify with. It is even difficult to have a full share of compassion for them.

Although there are times when we do get some connection with them. For example, when one of the women in the film is given $100 by someone, as she goes to splurge at the 99 Cent Store, she spends some of that on a small plastic Christmas tree for her tent. That faint desire for celebration in the midst of so much gloom reminds us of the humanity of these people.

Not being able to make connections with the subjects of the film makes this a difficult film to watch. But that could well be by design. These are not the sympathetic homeless people of the human interest newspaper stories. We may question if they are worthy of our attention. These are the people we intentionally look away from. We see the tents on the sidewalks and opt to take a different route. But the film closes with a title card of a quote from Mayor Eric Garcetti that reminds us: “These men, these women, these children are our neighbors.” It reminds us that Jesus defined “neighbor” with the Parable of the Good Samaritan. That parable says that all of God’s children are worthy of help. Even those we want to avoid.

Photos courtesy of SMMS, LLC

Let It Fall – Anatomy of a Riot

by Leave a Comment

It was twenty-five years ago this month that Los Angeles erupted in a violent civil disturbance. Many people remember it as a response to the acquittal of four police officers who were involved in beating Rodney King. While that verdict was an important component of the anger within the African American community, there is much more that led up to the violence that broke out. In Let It Fall: Los Angeles 1982-1992 John Ridley (Oscar winner for his screenplay of 12 Years a Slave) lays out the broader history of those events.

It should be said that I have lived most of my life in the Los Angeles area. The situations that are chronicled in this film aren’t new information for me. But the film is valuable in showing the way things built up over this ten year period to reach an explosive situation. (It could be argued that there were left over issues from the 1965 Watts Riots at play as well, but that would likely be too long a history to distill into a film. Even with the ten year spread, this documentary runs nearly two and a half hours.

The story is told with both archival footage and with interviews of people who were involved. This includes people of various races and ethnicities. It includes police officers (including the lieutenant who made the decision to pull out of the 71st and Normandie area when the uprising was beginning.), community members, victims and their families, and even some of those who committed violent crimes during that time.

As noted, this is the culmination of many years of problems in Los Angeles. About the first third of the film deals with the police culture under then-Chief Darryl Gates. But it was not just policing that created the situation. There were issues between the Black and Korean communities that came to a head not long before the King beating with the killing by a Korean shopkeeper of African American ninth grader Latasha Harlens. The shopkeeper was found guilty of manslaughter and given probation.

The middle third deals with the King beating (referred to in the film as “The Foothill Incident”) and the trial of the police officers. This section includes the remembrances of the prosecutor of that case. The final third focuses on the civil disturbance itself. This is the part that most people will be familiar with from news reports, but because it includes interviews with some of those involved (both law breakers and those who stepped in to rescue people) it provides insights and perspectives that we might not otherwise know.

Of course, this is not just a history lesson of a turbulent time. The film never mentions more recent issues that have led to Black Lives Matter, but one cannot watch this film and not see today’s world. Certainly, there have been changes in law enforcement (at least in L.A.) since that time, but the underlying issues of race and justice continue to be in the forefront of our national and local contemplation. It may remind us how close we may still be to the possibility of those who feel oppressed rising to seek the justice that has been denied. It may be through protests or through other more violent means.

Photos courtesy of Lincoln Square Productions

La La Land – Hollywood Plays Itself

by 1 Comment

Hollywood has played itself in films frequently. It is the land of glamor and dreams. But it can be very hard on those who dream of making it. It is filled with nostalgia and with visions of new art. How do you tell that story yet again in a way that is both conventional and fresh? Do those two ideas seem to clash? Not in La La Land, a musical that both pays homage to the history of movies and tells age old stories (like boy-meets-girl) in such a way that it seems like we’ve never seen it like this before, even when we know we have.

The story itself is simple. Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) and Mia (Emma Stone) meet somewhat un-cutely in a traffic jam. He lays on his horn when she doesn’t move; she flips him off. But soon their paths cross again—with less than romantic results. Eventually they come to discover the fit they are together and love blooms. But of course, love can also fade.

Sebastian is a jazz pianist whose life mission is to make people love jazz. Mia is an aspiring actress currently working at a coffee shop on one of the studio lots. Both have a strong sense of the past. Sebastian’s most cherished possession is a piano stool once sat on by Hoagy Carmichael. When Mia leaves work she loves to look across the backlot street at the window that Bogart and Bergman looked out of in Casablanca. These two struggling artists who look back to the greatness of the past also seek to make something that will be great and new for today.

All of this is set in the form of a classic musical. There are extensive production numbers that bring to mind such films as West Side Story. There are songs that define the relationship and other songs that speak of the dreams Sebastian and Mia have.

Writer/Director Damien Chazelle also made use of jazz in his previous film, Whiplash. In this film jazz is not just the music that Sebastian plays and often plays through various scenes; it also serves as a metaphor for the tension not only of the story, but also of the movie industry. When Sebastian explains jazz to Mia he notes that it is made up of conflict and compromise. That is true of the relationship in the story as well—and with all relationships. Later when Sebastian discusses jazz with a friend (John Legend), the friend points out that Sebastian is trying to hold on to something of the past—something that was revolutionary when it happened. Where is the revolution in Sebastian’s music? That very much reflects the tension that pervades Hollywood—the desire to make what has been successful before or to do something entirely new.

This is very much a Hollywood/Los Angeles story. (Although that doesn’t mean others will not enjoy the story and film.) But it is the L.A. of nostalgia. From the opening production number on a freeway interchange (one I’ve driven on often) to the frequent trips to Griffith Park and the iconic observatory to a studio backlot, all of this is the L.A. we’ve seen in films before. That is entirely fitting since the film is about that very nostalgic understanding of Hollywood. But while it looks back to the Hollywood we remember and uses conventions that we know, it also seeks to move into something new—which means things may not work out the way we have come to expect. It also reminds us that nostalgia can be painful as well as comforting.

A word needs to be said about the artistry of the film itself. I sometimes worry when I care more for the way the film was made than I do about the story itself. This film has several intricate production numbers that really are astounding—not just in the choreography (by Mandy Moore), but in the camera work that captures it. For example, the opening production number with people dancing on the roofs of cars stuck in a traffic jam is a long shot that shifts angles without cuts. I get a headache thinking of the logistics.

In keeping with the nostalgic nature of the film, the production design evokes not just the sense we expect from a Hollywood musical, but it also sets moods in more subtle ways. When I left the theater I thought the technical aspects of the film outweighed the storytelling. But as I’ve had time for it to marinate in my mind, I’ve come to appreciate the storytelling for its subtle celebration of dreams, even as it faces the reality that those dreams may have hard edges.

Photo credit: Dale Robinette, courtesy of Lionsgate.