ScreenFish

where faith and film are intertwined

Prison

Tuesday at AFIFest 2020

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AFIFest 2020 Presented by Audi has teamed up with NBC News to present the Meet the Press Film Festival, programs of short documentaries about issues facing the world. Today I took in the program entitled “Justice for All” which included three shorts.

My Brother’s Keeper (22 minutes), directed by Laurence Topham, is the story of Mohamedou Slahi, a Guantanamo detainee for 14 years, and Steve Wood, who as a Marine was assigned to guard him. In their time together, they developed a friendship. After Slahi was released (he was never charged with a crime), he went home to Mauritania. In this film Wood makes the trip to visit his friend.

Laurence Ralph uses animation in The Torture Letters (13 minutes). The film is a series of open letters to various victims of police violence in Chicago. That violence ranges from intimidation and harassment to violence that can lead to death. The use of animation makes it possible for us to better understand that such abusive behaviors by police are indeed torture. An interesting connection to My Brother’s Keeper: In the Q&A after the films, Ralph noted that one of the people who tortured Slahi was a Chicago police officer.

Can fight solve problems? In Lions in the Corner (9 minutes) Paul Hairston introduces us to Chris Wilmore (known to most as Scarface), a past felon with a very difficult childhood who runs Street Beefs, a backyard fight club in which people with issues come and fight it out rather than solving problems with guns of knives. In the process he has created a community of people who have found a place where they can find respect. Often the battles in the ring serve to vent the anger, but also create a bond between former enemies.

Twin brothers Arie and Chuko Esiri bring us Eyimofe (English title: This is My Desire), the stories of two people seeking a better life away from Nigeria. Set in a Lagos slum, the stories of Mofe and Rosa are told sequentially (although their paths cross at a few points). Both are trying to gather the necessary paperwork (all of which requires money) to emigrate to Europe. But events do not work well for them. Mofe loses his family and then his job. Rosa, who is seeking to take her younger sister Grace with her, struggles to fend off the advances of her landlord, while navigating an unscrupulous woman who will pay for their trip (but at a great price). The film shows us the struggle, the hope, and the desperation of those in or near poverty. The colors and customs we observe provide a sense of ethnography set within the narrative.

Jacinta and Rosemary at Maine Correctional Center, 2016. Photo © Jessica Earnshaw.

Jacinta is a heartbreaking documentary from Jessica Earnshaw. We first meet the young woman named Jacinta as she has a month left on a nine month sentence in the Maine Correctional Center, where her mother Rosemary is also incarcerated. It follows her after he release through times of hopefulness and despair. Jacinta is an addict who isn’t able to fight her addiction very long. The first trigger is when she reconnects with her daughter Caylynne. The emotions are too much for her so she retreats into getting high. The spiral continues. But all this is tied together by mother/daughter relationships—Rosemary and Jacinta, and Jacinta and Caylynne.

Earnshaw has incredible access both inside the prison and in the personal lives of Jacinta and her family. It creates a very honest film about addiction and its consequences. That can be heartbreaking in itself, but it is even more so as we learn about Jacinta’s youth and her relationship with her mother (whom she still loves and idolizes) and also see the bond that Jacinta has with Caylynne and how Caylynne deals with all the things in her mother’s life. A very moving and powerful film.

Heidi Ewing is better known for documentary filmmaking (Jesus Camp, The Boys of Baraka, and Detropia), but brings her first narrative feature, I Carry You with Me, to the festival. It is based on the story of Iván and Gerardo, to young men who fall in love in Mexico. Iván has a son, but when it is discovered that he is with another man, he is forbidden to see his son. Iván works in a restaurant and is trained as a chef, but cannot get past dishwashing. He decides to “cross over” to the US. He expects to find good work, but only can get the most menial of jobs.

Eventually Gerardo joins him and they struggle together until luck gives Iván a shot at his dream. Through the years Iván and Gerardo eventually find a good life in New York City. They are even able to be openly gay and share in Gay Pride events. But they are cut off from their families. They can never go back, or they may not be able to return. This is at once a decades-long love story and a commentary on the lives that many people are living in our midst.

Clemency – A Warden’s Walls

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“You want to be whole.”

A couple of hours before viewing Clemency, I took in an excellent photo exhibition focusing on walls. That influenced  how I understood this powerful film. The obvious reason is that the film takes place mostly within a prison, but that is only one of the kinds of walls we encounter.

The film opens as Warden Bernadine Williams (Alfre Woodard) oversees an execution that goes wrong, causing severe suffering prior to the inmate’s death. She is upset, because she believes a key part of her job is to provide dignity to these unfortunate men in their last hours. She is firmly in control of her prison, and is obviously an able administrator. She treats prisoners humanely. She calls them by name, not by a number. She knows all the people she deals with—prisoners and staff—are first of all human beings.

But as we watch, we see that this is a very heavy burden. She suffers from insomnia, she drinks heavily, she has nightmares, and her relationship with her husband (Wendell Pierce) is quickly falling apart. As she moves on the next upcoming execution, she comes into frequent contact with the condemned prisoner, Anthony Woods (Aldis Hodge), convicted of killing a police officer. Woods is without family. The only people in his corner are his attorney Marty Lumetta (Richard Schiff), who is ready to retire, being worn out with death row advocacy, and the crowd of anti-death penalty protestors outside the prison. Woods has slim hope that gets thinner when the date is set for his execution.

The Warden must go through the procedures with Woods, so he knows everything that will happen. She must also deal with various other issues. Through it all she does everything exactly according to regulations. Those regulations serve as one of the walls she has built to try to protect herself from the feelings inherent in killing another human being. All around her we see the stress this has on others. There is Lumetta, who can’t stand the thought of doing his job anymore, the prison chaplain who will be retiring, a senior corrections officer who cannot bring himself to take part in another execution, and most deeply her husband, who struggles to keep their relationship healthy. Yet Warden Williams has walled herself inside a façade of regulation and decorum. If a crack were to appear in that wall….

The film has an interesting, and perhaps counterintuitive approach to lighting. The scenes inside the prison are brightly lit, but the scenes outside the prison environment (usually her home or a bar) are dark and dreary, even if she is curled up with her husband. It is as if inside the prison is her safe place, where she is in control, and protected by the emotional walls she has put in place. But once outside the prison walls, her protection is not effective. Being open to the emotions she has walled off puts her into a dark and dangerous world.

As we watch Williams and Woods, we see that they are mirror images. He is confined by the walls and bars of the prison, but dreams (and draws) of freedom. She easily walks through locked gates, but has nightmares of confinement. What they share is a sense of being alone—no one around them knows what it is like to be facing a death sentence, or to be burdened with carrying it out correctly.

For Warden Williams, the walls that confine her—the regulations, the appearance of strength, the emotional stoicism—put her in danger of losing her sense of humanity—the very kind of dignity she seeks to provide the condemned. That encapsulates the power that this film brings to our understanding of capital punishment. (It should be noted that I thoroughly oppose capital punishment, so I saw this film as corroborating my opinion.) This film is not about whether capital punishment does or does not bring justice. Nor does it address questions about wrongful convictions. The way this film looks at the issue is the destructive effect this has on those who are responsible for capital punishment. Although it is Warden Williams who carries the burden in the film, in reality she is a stand-in for the society that continues in this practice. That is, she stands in for all of us. We too have built walls to distance ourselves from having to emotionally confront the morality (or lack thereof) involved in state-sanctioned killing. Do those walls protect us, or do they confine us?

Papillon – We Know It’s Not Rehabilitation

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In 1931 Paris, Henri Charrière (nicknamed ‘Papillon’, or ‘Pappy’ because of the butterfly tattoo on his chest), makes his living as a criminal, stealing jewelry and the like. During an evening of debauchery, Pappy (Charlie Hunnum) witnesses some of the criminals he works under beating a man.  The next morning, police arrive at his door, but not for what you may think.  He’s being charged with the murder of the man he saw being beaten the night prior.

Quickly, we see Pappy sentenced to life in prison for murder. Framed. He tells his girlfriend, who wanted to settled down with him, to forget about him all together.

This begins one man’s autobiographical nightmare.  Charrière published his autobiography entitled Papillon in 1969.  In 1973, the year of his death, a movie was created based on his autobiography.  Nearly forty-five years later, we’re given this raw and dark remake.

Papillon and his fellow inmates became property of a penal colony in French Gyana.  They were told that France had disowned them.  It was for the greater good.  For French expansion.

The living conditions they forced these men to endure were inhumane and disgusting.  They slept on concrete slabs with their feet shackled.  They relieved themselves in buckets.  They were bitten by bats during the night.

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It took no time for Pappy to meet his sidekick, of sorts, Louis Dega (Rami Malek), a rich counterfeit who was in the middle of an appeal and didn’t think he’d be there for very long.

Dega’s case attracted attention from the media, and it was obvious that numerous inmates would be out to get him.  It was assumed that he kept money in his gut (which was correct) and everyone wanted to steal from him.

Pappy saw Dega’s situation as an opportunity.  Immediately plotting an escape from the penal colony, he offered to physically protect Dega in exchange for money to use in his escape plan.  Dega declined, until a man was murdered directly beside him.  He quickly reconsidered Pappy’s offer for safety.

Due to Dega’s infamy, he and Pappy were forced to endure one of the toughest work assignments available, essentially moving large boulders in the sweltering heat all day. Although this provided Pappy an opportunity to make a deal with a local sailor for an escape attempt.

Over the next few days, Dega is subjected to numerous threats and attacks that Pappy protects him from. Dega realizes that he’ll be dead before his appeal and has no choice but to escape with Pappy to save his life.

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The men are forced to witness an execution via guillotine of a fellow inmate, and are told, “Keeping you is no benefit. Destroying you is no loss.” Pappy and Dega are forced to remove the body but Dega shuts down and the guards whip him. Pappy intervenes, and attempts to escape alone, only to be recaptured.

As punishment for the attempt, Papillon is placed in solitary confinement and told, “We know it’s not rehabilitation.  We do our best to break you.”  If you hadn’t grasped the nature of the type of facility they were in by this point in the film, this quote would give a pretty accurate depiction.  The guards had absolutely no respect for the prisoners as human beings, and took pleasure in torturing them.  They tortured them and worked them literally to death. Sure, these men were criminals. Some of them the lowest of the low.  But where should the line be drawn in terms of punishment?  Where do human rights come into play?

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Many men were carried out of solitary confinement, dead from the conditions. Not many could survive the torture. Throughout this film, Papillon is a constant reminder of how you can will yourself to continue to endure despite the conditions that are force upon you. It’s incredible what we can do with the right mindset.

Pappy and Dega continue their venture to escape the penal colony. It’s clear that Pappy and Dega’s relationship goes beyond a business deal. They are now comrades who are loyal to each other until the end. Their shared experiences bring them closer than ever. They seem to be the only source of trust and reliability for one another.

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Fast forward to 1969 where Papillon is on a plane as an old man.  His home is Venezuala now and he has a wife, who convinced him to write about his experience.  He was returning to France as he felt it was important for his memoir to be published there.

In 1970, it was decreed that Henri Charrière could return to France.

As a whole, although slightly long and drawn out, this was a fascinating story.  It was a disturbing look at the underbelly of certain correctional systems over the years and in different parts of the world.  I can completely appreciate the need to expose all detail.  This film raises a question that is still relevant in today’s society, that is, is prison an appropriate form of rehabilitation for wrongdoers?  In many facilities, people who are imprisoned get released worse off then when they went in.  They are often not provided with appropriate education or rehabilitation to truly assist them in change and reintegration into the general population. Out of fear for their lives, some engage in further criminal activity simply to survive threats from fellow inmates. Although we have come a long way from facilities like we see in this film, I think we still have a long way to go in fully and effectively assisting our fellow people who have committed wrong-doings.

Papillon – From Savagery to Resurrection

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“It’s not rehabilitation—we know that’s worthless—so we do our best to break you.”

Papillon is inspired by semi-autobiographical bestselling books (Papillon and Banco) and the 1973 film with Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman (with a screenplay by Dalton Trumbo).  Returning to such a classic film is challenging, but director Michael Noer has brought new life and a gritty vision to this new version.

Henri “Papillon” Charrière (Charlie Hunnam) is a small-time crook in 1931 Paris. When he runs afoul of a crime boss, he is framed for a murder and sentenced to life in the French penal colony in French Guyana. But Charrière is determined to escape and return for vengeance. On the transport to the penal colony he befriends Louis Dega (Rami Malek) a meek counterfeiter rumored to have a stash of money. Charrière makes a deal with Dega to provide him with protection in exchange for Dega funding his eventual escape.

Life in the penal system is difficult and violent. On arriving in French Guyana, the prisoners hear the rules. If you try to escape, we’ll shoot you. If we miss, the jungle or the sharks will get you. If you get caught, you will spend two years in solitary the first time, five years the second, then transferred to the notorious Devil’s Island. If you commit murder, you go to the guillotine. The prisoners are assigned hard labor and failure will result in severe punishment.

The partnership between Charrière and Dega creates a bond between them that becomes not just about business, but about friendship. After Charrière’s first escape attempt (and his two years in solitary), Dega has now moved into a position of trust—keeping the books for the warden. This provides a chance for another try at escape, this time with Dega going with him and two others.

Charrière refuses to be broken, even by failure, even by years of solitary, even by beatings, even when taken to Devil’s Island. Dega, on the other hand, abandoned hope early on and hardened himself for the life in the prison system. He continues though to think that perhaps Charrière will be able to make things better.

Contrary to the warden’s words at the top of this review, there is a kind of rehabilitation for Charrière. He continues to have a hope of escape and a new life. That gives new meaning to his nickname, Papillon (butterfly). The butterfly is often seen as a symbol of resurrection and new life. As the years pass, it is a new life that Charrière seems intent on finding—not the revenge that he sought at first. He tells Dega at one point after years in the prison colony, “If I ever get out of here I’m going to lead a different life.”

Perhaps that is why when he finally found that new life and wrote his autobiographical books, they became bestsellers and prompted film adaptations. The riveting story of the absolute savagery and inhumanity within that prison setting eventually shifts to a story to hope and fulfillment. It is surely not an easy transformation. But the very fact that Charrière not only maintained his humanity, but even grew in positive ways makes this a story worth celebrating.

Photo credit Jose Haro / Bleecker Street

The Work – Getting Inside on the Inside

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Raw emotion is the driving force in the documentary The Work. In California’s Folsom State Prison, some of the inmates take part in group therapy to try to rehabilitate themselves. Twice a year, people from outside the prison come to take part in a four-day intensive group therapy experience. Each person from the outside teams up with two convicts who have been through this experience. Those convicts serve as guides in the process. This film follows three outsiders and shows us a small bit of what took place in their group and the way those in the group, both outsiders and convicts, were able to strip away some of the ways their emotional defenses and rip one another out of comfort zones so they could confront their pains, fears, and sorrows.

By its very nature, this film is highly voyeuristic in that we are observing very intimate moments in people’s lives. These men bare their souls in ways they probably never expected to have happen. The cathartic events that take place are often very physical and often somewhat violent. Yet through it all, those involved inspire trust in each other. Among the emotional issues that come out in these sessions are unresolved grief, betrayal, absent fathers, the difficulty of separation from everyone you love, and the temptation to give up on life.

One of the values of the film is that it introduces us to convicts as human beings, flawed as we all are, but also as caring people who are willing to share themselves to help others. These are not low-level prisoners. They are gang members and killers. Many are serving very long sentences. Some may never walk out of prison. They are white, African-American, Hispanic, and Native American. We come to genuinely like and care for these men. We realize that there is more to them than the worst things they have ever done.

The filmmakers had to establish a great deal of trust with the participants in these sessions. The cameras are not some far off observer, they are right on the edges of the group. And when the sessions are in progress, these cameras capture not only the emotional explosions, but also the ways that the men facilitate the possibility of healing.

The part I think is missing from the film is some sort of background on the three outsiders we follow through this process to understand why they would choose to undergo this kind of process. It would also be interesting to hear from them some time later, what effect doing this has for their life after they are back in the real world.

Photos courtesy of The Orchard

The Evil Within (and Without): The Story of God (Ep. 5)

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Past Articles in This Series: Episode 1 | Episode 2 | Episode 3 | Episode 4
Shrieking Shack
Evil is one of those things that we, as humans, have to deal with on a daily basis.  If you’re not sure about this, all it takes is a few minutes of watching television or browsing the news headlines on a phone. Although our overall desire is to be and do good in all situations (including our thoughts), we aren’t able to do it with 100% effectiveness our entire lives. The Apostle Paul shared this struggle as follows: “I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.” (Romans 7:18-19 NIV) So where does all of this come from?  Morgan Freeman, in the penultimate episode of The Story of God (National Geographic, 9 PM/8 Central tonight), tackles this subject and reveals some enlightening things about humanity and their propensity for evil.

This episode starts off with a visit to a maximum security prison and a challenging conversation with a person convicted of some pretty heinous crimes (I’ll let you discover what they are for yourself). When Freeman asks the prisoner why they happened, he says, “I had a desire, an impulse, and I wasn’t able to stop myself from acting on the impulse.” He’s also not convinced that if released, he could avoid doing the crimes again.

This brings up the question, “Where does evil come from?”

To attempt an answer, Freeman looks at how a number of faiths deal with the issue. The early Egyptians believed that when a person was filled with evil or sin, their heart became heavy. Their heart would be weighed on a scale upon death against truth; the result would determine their eternal destiny. Hindus think evil may have to do with the spirits of dead ancestors who weren’t happy; they offer sacrifices upon realizing this is the case. Zoroastrians believe evil is a battle within to be fought with good thoughts, words, and deeds (in that specific order). Buddhists try to counter the evil within using meditation and ritual. And Christians believe that Adam and Eve’s sin started a chain reaction of events that transfers evil to each person upon birth. This is why Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection allows believers to combat—and eventually conquer—Satan and his minions.

Morgan Freeman
(Photo credit: National Geographic Channels/Matthew Paul Turner)

Freeman has a fascinating talk with Brian Widener, a former Neo-Nazi, during the episode. Widener was tattooed beyond recognition during this time, but after getting married and having a child, he realized the error of his ways and had them removed from his face over a period of 2½ years. He states he found God in the middle of the process, although he admits he’s not sure what that looks like.  Can evil be contained and washed away? Freeman asks before ending with a baptism ceremony in a river—the Christian symbol of a regenerated life through belief in Jesus.

For me, one interesting point of the episode involved a scientist in New Zealand who showcased an experiment involving kids and the need for a higher being to keep order and control using a game (again, I’ll let you see what that looks like). To me, it reveals the propensity of evil in an individual’s heart when they think they can get away with something.  As the prophet Jeremiah notes, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.  Who can understand it?” Science can attempt to decode the reasoning for why we do things and discover patterns of behavior, but the heart is fatally diseased, prone to evil from the outset. In this way, we are all wretched (there’s the Apostle Paul again), which is the exact reason why we live in a world full of sin. How we deal with the evil within (and without) says a lot about our beliefs and, in many ways, our outlook on the world we inhabit.