asakiyume: (man on wire)
In 2012, I was briefly a skateboarder. I loved the speed and grace and daring of it--I wanted to touch that and live that.

That time was brought back to me so vividly tonight watching Skate Kitchen (2018), which I requested from Netflix DVD because of [personal profile] osprey_archer's excellent review) of it. The film coveys the feel of skateboarding beautifully (and also the dangers of it--part of why I quit: I loved the daring but wasn't up for the injuries), and I loved the posse of girls--real-life members of the Skate Kitchen, an all-girl skate collective in New York City. The director apparently met members of the collective while riding the subway, and she used Rachelle Vinberg, who plays the main character in Skate Kitchen, in a 2016 short film, That One Day.

The scenes of New York City's skating haunts are ones I remember from a video of skateboarding I found and posted back in 2012--it made the movie feel extra real to me.

The trailer pretty accurately captures the feel of the film:

And [personal profile] osprey_archer, the quote you were trying to find is the voiceover at the start of the trailer (and the scene with the little girl is in the trailer too). You're right: it's beautiful.
asakiyume: (Kaya)
In this entry, [personal profile] osprey_archer talks about short films she's watched recently, and one of them, "Lost World," by Cambodian American director Kalyanee Mam, captivated me.

It's narrated by a young woman, Vy Phalla [surname comes first here], who lives on the island of Koh Sralau. The way of life there is threatened by sand dredging: sand is dredged in Cambodia and taken to add landmass in Singapore.

Scooping up Cambodia ...

... To create more Singapore

The film's write-up at says, "Kalyanee Mam’s film encompasses vast juxtapositions in a slow-motion lament against environmental degradation, loss, and rapacious capitalism." Yes. It is that, powerfully.

But I was also there for foraging clams at low tide, in among the mangrove spiracles:

And for hopping from prop root to prop root, looking for snails (though the kids did complain about the mosquitos).

Beautiful place to live...

... very different from futuristic Singapore**

At one point Phalla sings a beautiful song about the mangroves. "The beauty of the mangrove forest / rivals the palace gardens" So right.

mangrove seedling

And Phalla goes to see the palace gardens, so to speak: in Singapore she visits an artificially created cloud forest. "Lost World," the exhibit is called. Please do not touch, the signs admonish. "Camelia," Phalla says. "I've only heard the name. Now I see its face."

Back in Cambodia, watching the dredgers, she says, "The law has given us all kinds of freedoms. Here we only have the right to sit, shed tears, and witness the destruction." ... I would like to say something in answer to that, but I think maybe the appropriate thing is to sit, witness, and maybe shed tears.

Thanks for sharing this with me, [personal profile] osprey_archer!

Lost World from Go Project Films on Vimeo.

**Don't take this entry to be anti-Singapore. You can point out a wrong practice without condemning a country (or person or organization or....) wholesale.
asakiyume: (shaft of light)
Initially I hadn't been thrilled by the notion of this film; I think because I feared (completely unjustifiably) that it would be purveying trite truths of one sort or another. But several of my friends reviewed it favorably, and finally last night I got to see it--and really loved it.

It's a totally different kind of film from Winter's Bone (by the same director), a very **gentle** story, and quiet, even though elements of the story aren't gentle at all. In fact, all through the movie there were moments when, primed by what Hollywood often does, I was on the edge of my seat expecting something horrible to happen--and it didn't.

The situation is that Tom (a girl) has been living with her PTSD-suffering war-veteran father in a national park, foraging, growing their own food, collecting rainwater--and occasionally going into town to buy things (which they finance by dad selling the medication he gets from the VA to other vets). They get found out and forced to reassimilate into society. Tom is adjusting, but her dad is not, and he announces they're taking off again. Reluctantly, she leaves with him, but things are much harder and grimmer this time around.

What I loved about it most were the moments with animals and the sense of how healing and enriching sharing time and space with animals can be. There's a scene where the dad is stroking a horse, and the horse rests its head against the dad, and the dad rests his head against the horse, and they're just still together for a moment, and oh my heart! Same with Tom stroking a rabbit she finds hopping along the road and returns to its owner; same later on when an older woman shows her the miracle of a hive of bees.

The beauty of the natural world resonates through the whole film, too, but the film understands that it's beauty that will kill you if you're underprepared--and Tom and her father understand that; in fact, everyone in the movie understands the situation and everyone else pretty well: the problem is what people can live with.

Thinking about everyone understanding brings up another thing I liked about the film: there wasn't really a villain. Even the state isn't villainous: it tries its best to accommodate Tom and her dad's unique needs within a framework of what's societally acceptable. It's just that it won't work for the dad.

I think that's the saddest thing in the film--that the dad just can't feel at ease in, apparently, any situation near other people, except his daughter, whom he loves very much, whereas she's growing into a person who wants to be near other people, though she loves her dad very much. But I'd call the ending happy: it's a good one for Tom, and it's set up in the film as one that's not doom-and-death for the dad either.


Dec. 28th, 2018 11:02 am
asakiyume: actually nyiragongo (ruby lake)
A while ago I saw Tanna (2015), a love story that takes place in Vanuatu and involves a volcano, and is acted entirely in the local languages, Nauvhal and Nafe. Well it turns out that 2015 was *the* year for movies featuring a volcano and acted in non-dominant languages, because that was the year that Ixcanul, a film set on the slopes of a volcano and acted almost entirely in Kaqchikel, a Mayan language, came out. A couple of nights ago, we saw it.

The trailer for it might lead you to believe it was a love story, and the Netflix blurb is accurate only for the first third or maybe half the film ("A Mayan girl working on a Guatemalan coffee plantation dreams of escaping an arranged marriage to make a new life in America")

Instead, it went in directions I didn't expect, with characters acting in ways I didn't expect (but was gratified by), developing, in particular, a really touching mother-daughter relationship, but there are all sorts of touches, small and large, that appealed (including, for example, some tenacious, and dangerous, but also sacred, snakes).

Has anyone else seen it? What did you think?
asakiyume: (miroku)
Sometimes in yoga class, we balance on one foot. If we're all balancing with no problem, the instructor suggests we try it with our eyes closed. "It's much, much harder," she says. Have tried, can confirm.

This came up in the movie Roma, which I watched the other day. The protagonist--young housekeeper Cleo--is trying to get in touch with the asshole father of her baby, who's doing some kendo-style training out in the back of beyond. They're all chanting Japanese numbers in unison and taking stances, and then a guest sensei-type says he's going to show them something impressive, and he asks for a blindfold. Blindfolded, he balances on one foot with his arms forming a diamond over his head.

"You think this is nothing much?" he says to the trainees and those watching. "You all try." So everyone starts trying, and everyone's losing their balance and hopping around and falling over. Except Cleo. In a long-distance shot of her up on the ridge, with other onlookers, you see her balancing perfectly. It's just for a moment.

... Annnnd it doesn't really have any significance? The movie just keeps going along.

I was telling the story of this to the healing angel, and she immediately tried doing the thing--of course, who wouldn't! But she really, really wanted to be able to do it, and this was making me think how driven people are to have external markers of specialness, regardless of any meaning or context. If she could do it, or if she gets to be able to do with with practice, what will that mean... other than that she can balance in a manner that very few people can do? Is that in itself an accomplishment? I mean, if it makes you happy and doesn't harm others, I don't have a problem with it, but.

... Which is also making me think of an assignment the students had at the program I help out at (not the jail, the other one)--they had to talk about the use of the word "special" as an insult. One of the other volunteers went so far as to say that no one ever wants to be special in any way; everyone just wants to blend in. I don't think this is how most people feel; I think a lot of people would like to be special if it's a good kind of special and not a bad kind, especially in societies that set a high value on individualism. But maybe I'm conflating good-specialness with excellence.

... Just random thoughts. I haven't posted in a while and wanted to share something, and that's what came out.


Jan. 21st, 2018 11:51 pm
asakiyume: actually nyiragongo (ruby lake)
Tanna is a love story based on a real-life incident that happened in the 1980s among the Yakel, a people of Vanuatu. I saw the gorgeous trailer for it some time back, and then [personal profile] ladyherenya's posting about it the other day made me realize that I could now see it on DVD.

The film is acted by the Yakel themselves, playing themselves: Chief Charlie plays Chief Charlie, the shaman plays the shaman, and so on. The director (an Australian) and the actors would go over what was going to happen in each scene, and then the actors would essentially improvise. The whole thing is in the Yakel language, with subtitles.

It's beautiful, and tremendously moving. Of course the young lovers are beautiful people who win your heart, but everybody is wonderful. I fell in love with Selin, the little sister of Wawa (the young woman), and with Chief Charlie. It wasn't just--or even mainly--the lovers' devotion to each other that was so moving (although it, too, was moving): it was the care and concern everyone in the village had for Wawa and Dain (her lover), trying to get them to go along with tradition--which would mean giving each other up. Wawa's grandfather has an old magazine with Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip in it. He says, See, she had to marry him,** but they grew to love each each other, and she's a queen. And her grandmother says, I had to move here as a bride, but I've never regretted it. And the chief talks to Dain and explains how important it is for peace for Wawa to marry into the enemy Imedin community. And even after Wawa and Dain defy their community, everyone is still trying to find ways to make things work out.

And there's a volcano, Yahul. It sounds like the ocean, or like the whoosh of a fetal heartbeat on ultrasound. At one point the lovers embrace, silhouetted against its fire. "My favorite part was when the lovers met at the volcano. That was beautiful," said the grandmother, speaking in a clip on the actors' reaction to the film. (Marceline, the little girl who plays Selin, said "I couldn't stop smiling, seeing me on the screen," and her father said, "I was so proud of her acting, and I was emotional watching her. I was so overjoyed I cried.")

The song that inspired the movie (spoilers) )

**In point of fact, their marriage was a love marriage, or at least so my British husband tells me--but when you're trying to persuade your granddaughter to do the right thing, you might not be beyond misrepresenting things--or maybe that's what he actually believed... and maybe he's right
asakiyume: actually nyiragongo (ruby lake)

This was more an invitation to tag along with Werner Herzog and volcanologist Clive Oppenheimer as they shoot the breeze and visit some volcanoes than it is a volcano film. There are volcanoes in the film, to be sure, but there's no underlying structure, questions to be investigated, or organizing principle, and it spends a lot of time on topics that have only very tangential--or no--relation to volcanoes at all. You can still enjoy the conversation, but.

more on the film )

One minor, entertaining note: Oppenheimer twice measures the power of a volcano's eruption/explosion in terms of the amount of pumice it put out, and that in terms of how deeply it would bury people for how far a geographic area. ("Enough pumice to bury everyone in the United States to head height" in the case of the eruption that produced Lake Toba in Indonesia and "enough to bury the whole of New York City--only the highest buildings would poke out at the top" in the case of the "millennium eruption" of Mt. Paektu in 946).

Verdict: very beautiful to look at, and engaging in its way, but not what I was hoping for.

asakiyume: (Iowa Girl)
Someone out in the wide Internet suggested that I watch Kamikaze Girls (2004, Tetsuya Nakashima: Shimotsuma monogatari in Japanese), and I did--rather, we did; we watched it as a family--and it was very odd and very great. The protagonists have both escaped the dreary roles they were born into and created satisfying personas for themselves: Momoko, the daughter of a small-time failed gangster and a floozie who abandoned the family early on, has gotten into what she terms the 18th-century Rococo look, but which we know better as Japan's Lolita look: over-the-top frilly, fancy dresses. She's doing her best to remain untouched by life in backwater, style-compromised Shimotsuma, where she currently lives.


Then there's Ichiko/go, timid and unpopular as a kid, who was transformed by a chance encounter with the leader of a girl biker gang into a confident, slang-slinging, head-butting, bike-riding tough.


Momoko advertises some of her dad's old counterfeit Versace/Universal Studios gear (two great tastes that go great together! with Versace rendered as "Versach") to raise some money, and Ichiko comes to buy it--and then insists on a friendship between herself and Momoko, despite Momoko's diligent attempts to completely ignore her. Ichiko is emotional and romantic, Momoko is cool and aloof (she offers Ichiko a cabbage at one point and tells her it can be her new best friend. Ichiko doesn't take it well).

Ichiko tells high-color [this movie is VERY high-color--as you can tell from the stills, it's actually supersaturated] tales of key figures in her gang's history, but it's Momoko, who's had a keen understanding of human nature from a young age (dismissing her mother with the advice that she go off and enter a beauty pageant, as time's a-wasting and her mom's life is passing by1) who proves the master storyteller, saving the day at the end (though she herself is saved by Ichigo's aggressive affection, which provides sunshine for the first shoots of outward-directed love Momoko experiences).

The side-characters are fun too, from Momoko's eyepatch-wearing grandma to the gangster known as "the unicorn," thanks to his prodigious coiffure.

Watch the trailer. If you like the look, you'll love the film. It funny and sweet without being cloying.

1Her mom takes her advice.


Aug. 29th, 2015 07:36 pm
asakiyume: (the source)
It's been a whole week since I posted. I used to never let a week go by without posting; I couldn't bear to. I don't know precisely what's changed, though I have some ideas . . . but enough of that.

Here are some things I've been thinking about and would like to talk about more at some point. Alif the Unseen. I finished this book and loved it. It was funny--I was reading humorous bits out to family members--had excellent characters, an exciting story, and faith was an integral, moving part of the story in a way I liked. I'll make a Goodreads review at some point, and I hope I'll say more, but that's the executive summary.

Ondine. [ profile] sovay reviewed that movie here, and I was very taken by what she said. The movie was everything she said it was, and the character of Annie, the daughter who weaves a story for her father and the woman he pulls from the sea, interested me very much--her role as the storyteller. I want to say more about that at some point, too.

The uses and limitations of empathy. The movie Ex Machina (flawed, dissatisfying film, but it did spark conversation here) got me thinking about what gets said about empathy and humanity and sociopathy, etc. etc., and I realized that, to me, it's more important how people ACT than how they FEEL. There are exceptions and caveats and curlicues, and I thought I might post a whole entry on this topic, but who knows when? But yeah, that's been on my mind.

Lastly--photos. Today [ profile] wakanomori and I went for a bike ride and crossed a bridge. On one side, the water ran to sky; on the other, there were water lilies:

And some extremely contemporary graffiti was inscribed on the bridge:

asakiyume: (Kaya)

A couple of days ago, NPR had a story about a remarkable short film, "Present Tense," made by teens in the fishing village of Matemwe, in Zanzibar.

It was about the horrible educational bind they're in: having been educated in Swahili in primary school, they're expected to continue their education in English in secondary school. The courses are taught in English--but the students don't know English. Furthermore, neither do their teachers, as fluency in English isn't required of graduates from teachers college.

We cannot understand our exam papers

The teacher speaks English, but I don't understand what he speaks about.
This is our problem in the class: he must speak English, but the students don't understand.

The well water has a lot of bad things and salt. If I have a lot of education, I will change this situation ...
If I'm an engineer, I will build new and good wells.

The teens made the film with the help of a retired pilot, who submitted it to EYE Want Change, a British film festival with a social consciousness bent. Their film won first place--but even better, the government of Zanzibar announced a change in its education policy: although English will still be taught as a foreign language, the language of instruction in secondary school will be Swahili.

asakiyume: (squirrel eye star)
We brought home Edge of Tomorrow from Redbox last night and vegged out watching it, and it was pretty fun, the way time-reset films can be (for me at least), though we kept shouting suggestions at the screen that the characters were too dim to take, and though we had arguments about better ways to end the movie.

Has anyone seen it? I had never heard of it, but the healing angel assures me it played in cinemas and everything.

asakiyume: (Iowa Girl)
[ profile] osprey_archer's review of this movie (here) made me curious to see it: I was drawn by her description of Sophie (who was a real person), an idealistic university student in Nazi Germany who loves life--jazz music and jam and the feel of sunshine on her face--but who finds she can't *not* be true to conscience, even if it means dying.

Sophie and her brother Hans are members of the White Rose Society, an antiwar group. They get arrested for distributing antiwar leaflets, and much of the movie is taken up with Sophie's examination by Investigator Mohr. Sophie at first spins easy lie after lie: only her hands, clenched on her lap, betraying her extreme anxiety.

After she admits to distributing the leaflets, their conversation becomes a battle of ideas. One thing the film addresses, obliquely, is privilege and class: Sophie is the daughter of a town mayor and highly educated. Mohr comes from a more humble background. So even though he has absolute power over her, she's able to speak with the confidence that comes from being used to other people's respect. It leads to exchanges such as this:

Sophie: Without Hitler, and his party, there'd be law and order for everyone. Everyone would be safe from arbitrary acts, not only the yes-men.

Mohr: How dare you make such derogatory remarks!

Sophie: Derogatory is calling my brother and me criminals because of some leaflets! We've only tried to convince people with words.

Mohr: You and your kind shamelessly abuse your privileges. You can study in wartime thanks to our money. I was only a tailor in that damn democracy. Do you know who made me a policeman? The French! ... Without the movement, I'd still be a country policeman.

And later:

Mohr: You're much better off than people like me. You don't need to do this. How dare you raise your voice? The Führer and the German people are protecting you!

It reminded me of the sorts of criticisms that American antiwar protestors have received, and the dynamic between Sophie and Mohr reminded me of the dynamic between young radicals and their older, more conservative relatives. Mohr talks about the law; Sophie talks about conscience.

Over the course of his conversations with her, Mohr comes to admire Sophie. He's concerned about her, but fundamentally can't understand her. "You're so gifted, why don't you think and feel like us?" he asks. She confronts him with the horrors the Nazis have committed; he denies some and says others were justified. He speaks of his son, about Sophie's age, who sometimes gets "crazy ideas," but who's doing his duty on the Eastern Front. "Do you believe in the Final Victory?" Sophie asks him, and he pauses for a long moment, unable to answer. A basic tenet of Mohr's faith, and he can't assent.

Whereas, Sophie has no trouble expressing her faith. It doesn't get a lot of screen time, but what time it does get packs a wallop. And it's another thing that puts her at odds with Mohr:

Sophie: No one knows how much wisdom can come from suffering. Every life is precious.

Mohr: You have to realize that a new age has dawned. What you're saying has nothing to do with reality.

Sophie: Of course it has to do with reality. With decency, morals, and God.

At that point Mohr rises in a fury, exclaiming, "God doesn't exist!"

Their charged conversations reminded me of Twelve Angry Men, another movie that shows how very dramatic the exchange of ideas can be. They're two deeply involving, deeply sympathetic characters. Yeah, Mohr too. I think one of the things that really impressed me about the film was that it made me ache for Mohr, who doesn't want to see this young life snuffed out, who tries to prevent it--and fails.

And the whole thing is beautifully filmed too: the camera lingers on faces, on jaws clenching, gazes shifting--so much is said without words. Visually, aurally (there are tense-making drums that play in the first half of the film), thematically--it's an exceptional film.
asakiyume: (feathers on the line)

I will have a this-day-in-Pen-Pal post for you later, but first I want to point you to two wonderful posts. One is by [ profile] mnfaure, and features the work of an amazing poet and spoken-word performer, Anis Mojgani--it is here. And in case you are click-aversive, here is half the wonderment of that post:

But you must go to her post for the link to the other poem, "Shake the Dust," which is equally good.

And the other post is by [ profile] sovay, and is a description of a truly wonderful-sounding movie. It is here, and I don't have a visual to tempt you with, but consider this:

What it reads most like is a version of Beauty and the Beast in which each of the lovers takes both parts in turn and the story plays fair with them . . . And the film never, not once, claims that love fixes broken people. All it underscores is the importance of loving people for who they are, not who they used to be or who you hope they'll turn into.
asakiyume: (feathers on the line)
A thing on Twitter reminded me that I wanted to say how much fun the movie The Lunchbox is. Apparently I just really, really love epistolary stories? This one unfolded like a flower: there is nothing unexpected about how a flower unfolds, but you sure do enjoy watching it. And it wasn't just the main characters, the secondary characters were excellent as well: Saajan's young disciple Shaikh and Ila's heard-but-not-seen Auntie. And every small detail--a window closed so Saajan can't look in, which becomes, later, a window from which a child waves at him--is excellent.

asakiyume: (far horizon)
Sherwood Smith has some thoughts on a documentary called "A Band Called Death," the story of a punk rock band some brothers formed in the late 1970s, and named "Death" after the brothers' father died. The story of their choices and the outcomes is heartbreaking and will hit home for anyone who's ever had a vision they didn't want to sacrifice. Entry is at Book View Cafe:

"The Persistence of Vision"

asakiyume: (Kaya)
Language is an amazingly powerful thing--it's not for nothing that we conceive our deities as creating the world with language--or that we also imbue the spoken word with the power to summon, curse, and destroy. There's no more effective way to kill a culture (short of genocide--that works pretty well, too) than to destroy its language, whereas if you can preserve language, you preserve the possibility of access to all sorts of other aspects of culture.

All through the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, there have been attempts to suppress and wipe out First Peoples' languages in North America. These days, there are also attempts to nurture, preserve, and support them. One, among the Akwesasne Mohawk (in their own language, Kanien'kehá:ka), is the Freedom School, a Mohawk language-emersion school in the Akwesasne community (population 24,000), which straddles the US-Canada border at New York State and the Province of Quebec.

Mushkeg Media, which describes itself as an Aboriginal media company, made a documentary about the school: Kanien’kehá:ka - Living the Language, which you can watch if you click on the link. [ETA: No longer--the link was dead so I unlinked it (2/25/2018)] Most of the video is in Mohawk, and subtitled. Beautiful to hear.

The school was founded in 1979, during a land dispute among a couple of Mohawk factions. A traditionalist faction set up an armed encampment, which the New York State government then laid siege to (I think I vaguely, vaguely remember this from my childhood). This situation went on for two years, and being afraid that outside authorities would swoop in out of concern for the children's education, they set up the Freedom school.

The curriculum is based on the Thanksgiving Address, a ceremonial address that's given at every Mohawk gathering. The Thanksgiving Address is recited at the beginning and end of each day.

They learn traditional activities as well as mainstream curriculum.

One of the faith keepers explained:

Many people don't know that if you don't show them the traditional way with the language, then the language becomes that much harder to learn

Here he prepares to show them how to cook muskrat:

Theresa Kenkiokóktha Fox talked about being the youngest of fourteen siblings, and how only she and her next-up sibling couldn't speak Mohawk, and how disappointed this made her father, who couldn't speak much English. Now, though, she sings in Mohawk.

Iohonwaá:wi Fox, now in college, summed up the importance of the Freedom School beautifully:

It made me more aware of who I was and made me have a strong foundation, and that helped me throughout high school, and even now, for university.

I wish that more people would have been able to go to the Freedom School ... because I think it's so important to have our language and our culture and out traditions strong, so that you know who you are. Because you have so many people who are lost, because they don't know who they are.

postscript One thing you'll notice if you watch the video is that the subtitles are very brief, seeming to say only a little, whereas people talk for quite a bit. Mohawk seems to be a language in which much gets lost in translation, as you can hear on this page, if you listen to the words for cool, frost, snowdrifts, winter coat, and mittens. "Frost" and "snowdrifts" are both seven syllables. They share a same first phoneme, io, with "cool," but what more are those syllables saying, that, in English, gets ignored?

asakiyume: (Timor-Leste nia bandiera)
I enjoyed the documentary very much! There was a lot of unusual footage, like of Xanana Gusmão, revolutionary leader (and current prime minister) in prison, or of Kirsty Sword Gusmão's first visit to East Timor, back in the very early 1990s. The things I was most surprised to learn were tangential to the main story: Cipinang Prison in Indonesia was nothing like what I would have imagined, and the degree of corruptibility of the guards was amazing. Some half-dozen of them were essentially in the pay of the Timorese resistance and Xanana ended up with a cell phone and computer in prison. At one point Ramos-Horta (Nobel Peace Prize winner and East Timor's first president) remarked that at times Xanana seemed more up-to-date technologically than Ramos-Horta himself:

"What's he talking about? Does he know more Internet than me? He's in prison, and he knows more Internet than me!

Also, this prison: the prisoners cooked their own meals (Xanana filmed himself making "prison mashed potatoes") and grew their own vegetables--and apparently growing bonsai trees was part of the government's program of their rehabilitation. Consequently, Xanana was always sending Kirsty bonsai trees. She ended up with about twenty of them, it looked like.

The details of the development of their personal relationship were charming. At one point Kirsty sent him a photo of her, back to the camera so that it couldn't reveal who she was to anyone who might see/confiscate it. He then painted that photo and sent her the painting. She took a photo of herself in the same position (same hair style), looking at the painting. He then painted that. So they ended up with this recursive set of images:

Recursive Art

He sent her fish, too, and took video of himself tending fish in his own aquarium:

Fish in Aquarium

Read more... )

But I think the strength of the documentary isn't its historical focus; it's more about these two people coming together in this tumultuous circumstance.

asakiyume: (Timor-Leste nia bandiera)
A while ago I blogged about the movie Alias Ruby Blade, about the clandestine activity of Kirsty Sword Gusmão in aid of the Timorese resistance during Indonesia's occupation of East Timor. The film is at the Tribeca film festival right now, and you can watch it for free! I'm watching as I type. (Well, I've paused it to type this, actually. But the first five minutes are looking excellent.)

To watch it, you have to create a Tribeca account. If you click on this link for the film, it will tell you you need to set up an account, and it'll give you the screens to do it. (And then you can look at other films too.) Then just go back to the original screen, and you're all set.

I'll share my impressions after I've finished the film.

(Here's a review: "Alias Ruby Blade: Tribeca Review")


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