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Legendary

Directed by Mel Damski
Samuel Goldwyn/WWE Studios



Inspired by sports movies like Rudy and The Karate Kid, and presenting smatterings of others like Lucas and Hoosiers, the John Cena vehicle, Legendary is the WWE’s ninth foray into the movie making business. The movie centers on Cal Chetley (Devon Graye), a scrawny fifteen-year-old geek who earns pocket money by farming catfish. He’s sweet-natured, and enjoys a tight bond with his mother (Patricia Clarkson).

Cal has the obligatory brushes with bullies, three jackasses on the school’s wrestling team. When Cal isn’t being picked on or considering romantic advances from his neighbor, Luli (Madeleine Martin), he is yearning after the father he barely knew and the older brother who left the family after his father’s death. Eager to connect with his estranged brother, Cal decides to join the wrestling team and tracks his brother down.

Cal’s brother, Mike (John Cena), has spent the last ten years bouncing from dead-end job to dead-end job, drinking heavily, and bedding a bevy of women in the process. He is decidedly disinterested in reuniting with his little brother; however, a barroom brawl lands him in serious trouble and Cal helps get him off. Mike then begins coaching Cal.

The screenplay was written by John Posey, who also plays Coach Tennent. The script offers up dialogue that is filled with wisecracks, but is ham-fisted in some spots and too on-the-nose in others. I found the score by James Alan Johnston to be rather manipulative, too.

Legendary presents a plethora of stereotyped sports film characters. The hero is an underdog who teams up with a rough anti-hero to train toward the climactic contest. The bully is a jerk with an obvious Madonna-whore complex. The coach is tough-talking but soft-hearted. Luli and Cal’s mother do little more than play variations of the supportive woman behind the man. (I took exception to the “girl talk” scene in which Cal’s mother gives Luli advice right out of The Rules.) And Danny Glover’s Red is nothing more than what Spike Lee refers to as the “Super-duper magical negro”; the semi-clever plot twist at the end of the film doesn’t redeem this character’s shocking lack of a back story and direction.

Even the sequences were clichéd. The hero defends his lady’s honor at the school dance. The barroom fights that John Cena finds himself in feature muscled-up thugs with chips on their shoulders. Eighties-style heavy metal provides background noise for the too-numerous training and wrestling match montages. Even the fact that Cena lives in a squalid trailer park is a cliché.

All told, Legendary is guaranteed to do well with the eighteen-to-twenty-five demographic at which this movie was most definitely aimed. But I can’t see this film appealing to anyone else.

Review by Ebony Edwards-Ellis

Band of Angels

By Julia Gregson
Touchstone

It might be said that at heart, Band of Angels is a love story. But the course of love between Catherine Carreg and her childhood friend Deio is a convoluted, meandering one. Catherine and Deio grew up riding horses together in Wales in the 1850s. But when Catherine matures, her family puts a stop to her adventures with Deio, seeing it as improper for a young lady. After her mother dies in childbirth, Catherine feels lost and isolated. She wants to go out into the world and study medicine so she can help save lives, as a way to redeem a personal failure that she couldn't save her own mother.

Catherine escapes Wales with the help of Deio, who is a cattle driver. She dresses as a man and goes to London with him on a drive. Upon reaching London, Deio seems to want Catherine to stay with him, but she rejects him outright, refusing to see him after their furtive journey together. Catherine's determination to become a nurse or doctor is rewarded when she is accepted into Florence Nightingale's school for nurses. When Nightingale abruptly leaves for the Crimean war, Catherine begs to go with her.

In the meantime, Deio realizes the railroad will soon make his job as a cattle driver obsolete. Looking for other ways to make a living, he decides to sell horses to the Allied forces in the Crimea. He takes a number of his horses to Balaklava, knowing that Catherine is somewhere near there, and hoping he will find her somehow.

Catherine and Nightingale's other nurses end up in Scutari, far from the front, where thousands of wounded and ill soldiers are hospitalized. Here, they live in squalor, and food is a luxury. Soldiers die of typhus and other diseases more often than they die of wounds suffered on the battlefield. This is the most fascinating part of the story, but it takes more than half the book to get us to this point.

Gregson's research is strong, and she succeeds in making Wales, and the cattle drive to London, come alive for the reader. But there could have been much more about Nightingale and the procedures she used in the hospital in Scutari to offer the reader historical insight. Nightingale is a filmy character here, difficult to relate to, and the war itself seems very distant as well.

It is true that Nightingale has been characterized as standoffish in reality, but still, she had the passion to take her across the world and into hospitals where no women had been allowed before. We don't see much of that drive here. Catherine's motivation for going to the Crimea needed further development, as well. In addition, it seems a bit of a leap when Catherine starts longing for Deio after she so assuredly rejected him. The love story seems almost superfluous at times.

In spite of some plot and character flaws, the book, overall, does succeed in drawing the reader into a brutal world that we want to know more about. This is one of those imperfect books that keeps you reading, looking forward to more like this: “Blood was the hardest thing of all to wash out; all of them wore it like a permanent stain. They spent most of their time on the wards trying to take it from their tangled hair and old bandages, from faces and dolls and pictures and handkerchiefs; strange what the men carried closest to their hearts.”

Review by Natasha Bauman

Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child

Directed by Tamra Davis
Pretty Pictures



When I think of the films of Tamra Davis, a smile comes to my face. I think of the giggly afternoons spent with my college roommates watching such treasures as Billy Madison and Half Baked while ingesting whatever substance struck our fancy. I was impressed that these offbeat, halfwit, male-centric movies actually came from the mind of a woman, and I found something delightfully subversive about that. These were characters we all knew; they were the terribly lovable yet completely idiotic manboy friends who were aimlessly wondering the world anxiously awaiting the next "nudie magazine day." My friends and I loved these lighthearted films for all their fluff and they've certainly become a part of our pop culture history.

Not long ago I found out that Davis was set to release a documentary. Although it seemed a bit out of character, being a fan, I had faith. Then I found out what the documentary was about: Jean-Michel Basquiat. O.M.G. If you're familiar with Basquiat's work, chances are you're obsessed with it. Basquiat is one of the most iconic and influential artists of the modern art movement. His work is incredibly cerebral and spans the scope of subject matter from poverty to racism to fame, and far beyond. Billy Madison was a movie about a guy who couldn't spell the word couch. I wasn't seeing the correlation.

Needless to say, I was blown away. The film starts off with a musical collage featuring some of Jean-Michel's work, inter-cut with footage of him painting. Rare images and reproductions of his artwork run a steady line throughout the film, providing the foundation for the story that unfolds, and at the center of the film is a very raw, very jagged interview with Jean-Michel taken about a year before his death in 1986.

Heavy hitters such as Julian Schnabel, Larry Gagosian, Bruno Bischofberger, Fab 5 Freddy (yes!), and Rene Ricard all make an appearance. Each one of them gives an incredibly honest and personal account of their relationship with Jean-Michel. However, the most heartfelt, and perhaps honest, interview is that of Suzanne Mallouk, Jean-Michel's long-time lover and most ardent supporter.

While the men interviewed paint an accurate picture of what Basquiat's work represented, and what his presence meant, Suzanne is able to provide the best portrait of who he was, not only as an artist, but as a man. Her anecdotes are the most poignant, and most defining moments in the film. There have been endless books, articles, and news stories written about Basquiat's artistic influence or infamous life, but hearing hearing stories from someone who truly loved him is beautiful.

As I left the theater, I thought about my initial reaction to Tamra Davis' release of this seminal Jean-Michel Basquiat documentary, and realized it made perfect sense. This is a portrait of an man who was lovable, mild mannered, sometimes idiotic, and ultimately brilliant. It's about a man wondering the world, looking for inspiration and the next step toward infamy, and this is the kind of story Tamra Davis tells best.

Review by Kadi Rodriguez

Cross-posted at LA Femmedia

My things, my grand-mother’s things

By Sarah Pinder
Bits of String Press

One of the wonderful things about living in this digital age is that you don’t have to be famous to be a real artist or a writer. You can create your vision, and then get it out into the world through the Internet if you're so inclined. And once online, you don't ever have to throw anything you create away. It can all be stored... forever.

Enter Sarah Pinder: a Toronto essayist who, for a decade now, has been a maker of zines, self-published works. And for about two bucks (Canadian currency), you can own and enjoy her brief yet insightful pondering My things, my grand-mother’s things.

What I like about Pinder’s prose is that it’s highly relatable. True, I can relate as a woman with a Depression-era grandparent who hoarded trinkets away, and as one who helped to clear those objects out of attics and basements after that seemingly ancient relative had passed on. And I can relate to her take on twenty-something nostalgia: the place when we’re not quite ready to be grown up and throw away our childhood things.

But most, if not all, people can relate to her rather haunting description of how the spaces we inhabit shape and trap our memories, not because of their own qualities, but because they become “repositories” for the things we collect along the way: “My grandmother lived in a house that was a constant archive of identity... Everything in this house was a touchstone, a trigger to summon memory... And regardless of how broken or worn things were, my grandparents’ Depression aesthetic meant that nothing was thrown out...”

This reviewer had two sets of Depression-surviving grandparents and observed two distinct reactions to the crisis. One set decided that: well, if they overcame that, they could overcome anything. They lived out their days without saving much of anything. The other parent's father became a hoarder. This man, who as a boy had shot and skinned squirrels for supper so as not to starve, secretly tucked away mountains of seemingly meaningless household items: camera film, new pens, etc. He was never content to have just one of anything after the Depression ended, and cleaning out his closets yielded hundreds, if not thousands, of things-treasures to him-that told tales of a man obsessed with getting to the bottom of how things work, and a man who lived in fear of owning absolutely nothing.

Pinder’s essay serves as a wonderful launch pad for this kind of reminiscing if you’re game. Her words seem genuine and her doodles–somewhat resembling the sketches of Shel Silverstein–might remind you of any number of seemingly frivolous objects your ancestors once collected and then subsequently left behind. “(I)t seemed callous to get rid of objects from a space that held such meaning for me, regardless of the fact that the objects I had were not the touchstones I’d hoped to use to recreate my grandmother’s life before illness,” Pinder reveals.

For more information or to purchase any of Pinder’s zines, visit her online hub Bits of String Press. My things, my grand-mother’s things was given as a lecture in October, 2009 at the Ontario College of Art and Design during a symposium called “Collectorama,” which focused on people’s obsessions with the act of collecting.

Review by Rachel Moehl

Death to the Dictator!: A Young Man Casts a Vote in Iran’s 2009 Election and Pays a Devastating Price

By Afsaneh Moqadam

Sarah Crichton Books

Less than one year after Iranian demonstrators took to the streets to protest the fraudulent re-election of hardliner Mahmoud Ahmadinejad as President of the Islamic Republic, writer Afsaneh Moqadam tells the true story of Mohsen Abbaspour, a man in his early twenties who votes for the Reformist party and its leader Mir-Hossein Mousavi. Swept up in the euphoria of possible change, the once politically apathetic Mohsen finds himself alongside his friends and fellow reformists in the streets posing the greatest challenge to Iranian authorities since the 1979 Islamic Revolution. The Presidential Guard, Basijis and police eventually suppress the demonstrators through brutal force and mass arrests. Like many fellow citizens, Mohsen is arrested, taken to the notorious Evin prison and then to Kahrizak. He is repeatedly interrogated, tortured, and raped until he is finally released on August 29, 2009.

In the letter that accompanied this book, the publisher vouches for the truthfulness of this account and informs us that a pseudonym has been used to protect the author’s identity. Given the relatively short period since the events of June 2009, the requisite anonymity is unsurprising, especially since Moqadam could well be Abbaspour.

This book offers an insider account of what transpired in June 2009 from the perspective of a twenty-something secular protester and gives the reader a rare glimpse into how a young Iranian views the ruling party, his parents’ generation of revolutionaries and the shift in power from the mullahs to the neo-fascist Revolutionary Guard and its protector, Ahmadinejad. This perspective is particularly significant when we consider that Mohsen and his generation are largely the result of a pronatalist policy implemented in the 1980s in order to create an Islamic army of twenty million. This policy backfired producing a baby boom made up of individuals similar to Mohsen: educated with bleak employment opportunities and little if any interest in military service.

Another interesting aspect of the story is the speed at which change apparently occurred. Shadi, a veteran of the 1979 Islamic Revolution, tells Mohsen that it took them a year or two to get as far as the reformists had in just two weeks. Moreover, just ten days after the stolen election, brazen and fearless protesters began chanting the previously inconceivable, “Death to Kamenei!” The story sheds light on how technology acted as a catalyst in this revolt. In spite of using spy-ware provided by a major cellphone maker and slowing Internet speed to a snail’s pace, the authorities were unable to keep up with the transfer of information and images through new technology and social media.

Although many readers will find the rape and torture difficult to stomach, this part of the story must nevertheless be told. The more people become aware of rape and torture, the greater the likelihood that one day they will take a stand against these acts.

Death to the Dictator! reads like a true account; however, in addition to a few structural problems, the English was somewhat stilted, which did interfere with the flow of the story and led me to believe that this book was released prematurely. Nevertheless, if you’re interested in knowing more about one Iranian’s experience during this tumultuous time then you will enjoy this book.

Review by Heather Leighton

Best Sex Writing 2010

Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel
Cleis Press

As a fairly obsessive sex educator, S&M activist, and informal researcher, I didn't expect Best Sex Writing 2010 to make me think nearly as much as it did. I'd imagined it as an anthology that would hit all the usual bases and say the usual sex-positive things: Sex work should be decriminalized! Open relationships can work! Fetishes don't have to terrify us! Women deserve to be promiscuous, if that's what we really want, and we must be empowered to say no to sex too!

The first few essays struck me as par for the sex-positive course—though extremely well-written. Indeed, my favorite essay in the book is the sixth (of twenty-five), an absolutely brilliant work by gay escort Kirk Read that made me want to close the book and start selling sex on Craigslist. Still, it didn't actually challenge any of my current preconceptions, it just made me want to cheer.

But then the book surprised me. As editor Rachel Kramer Bussel explains on the anthology's website, "I want writing about sex that makes people think about it in a new way, that confronts sex and sexual stereotypes, that opens people's eyes, that says things people might find uncomfortable." This even applies to perverts like me, I suppose. The chapters that unsettled me most weren't the explicit ones, but rather the ones that don't align with my ideals of positive sexuality: as openly and carefully communicated, for example, or negotiated with an eye to egalitarian ideals. (No matter how extreme the power differential when a gentleman friend whips me, I approach the relationship itself on an equal footing.)

I felt most grossed out by Michelle Perrot's essay on her upcoming affair, in which she writes: "I don’t want an open marriage, where you and your partner agree that you can have sex with other people. I don’t want hurt feelings and jealousy, all the inevitable trouble that would come with such an arrangement..." but then notes that she's discussed the idea of cheating with her husband, and that "if one of us were to have sex—just sex—with another person, we’d just as soon not know."

In other words, Perrot refuses to style herself as one of those open relationship people—and let's not even get into the stereotypes in her description thereof—because having a tacit agreement with your husband that both of you can sleep quietly with other people isn't an open relationship. Huh? At the same time, Perrot published the essay under a pseudonym "to protect her marriage," which would seem to indicate that she's not actually sure about her husband's consent after all.

I don't mean to pick on Perrot, whose essay was quite well-written and gave me a lot to ponder. My point is that Best Sex Writing 2010 has something for everyone, including material to make a jaded sex theorist think twice. It lacks political sensibility by missing some important bases (e.g., trans people, polyamory, and people outside of the US) and makes one or two truly odd editorial choices. (Why on Earth is Mollena Williams' essay on race play, a fetish so transgressive that it unnerves most people even within permissive S&M communities, placed before Betty Dodson's much gentler memoir that could serve as an introduction to S&M? Are we trying to blindside and horrify the newbies?)

Still, lesbians and sex work and sex education and sex biology and safer sex all appear; S&M is comes up a surprising amount, and even manliness gets a mention. Most importantly, Best Sex Writing 2010 is a genuinely layered and challenging book.

Review by Clarisse Thorn

A Home For Mr. Easter

By Brooke A. Allen
NBM Publishing

Tesana is a teenage girl lacking love. Her mother belittles her behavior, and the kids at school make fun of her. She is huge—both very tall and very overweight. She feels like a walking target, so it’s understandable that she has learned to escape into her imagination. When the bus ride home sucks, she dreams up a unicorn to carry her across the city. But daydreams can’t make everything better. When the popular jocks and cheerleaders try to make a victim of a bunny rabbit, Tesana unleashes all her pent-up anger on them.

This is no ordinary bunny. He lays Easter eggs! He talks! Everyone thinks Tesana is crazy, but she knows the truth. She resolves to help Mr. Easter get back home. In order to do this, they have to retrace the route that brought him to the high school: a pet shop, a science lab, and a magician’s show. At every stop there’s someone who wants that bunny back, and soon there’s a small army chasing Tesana and Mr. Easter.

A Home for Mr. Easter is defined by its chaos. Tesana feels attacked on all sides, and then she actually is. The plot follows the logic of a dreamer, so magical things are suddenly allowed. The laws of the real world are stretched and twisted.

Though this graphic novel style isn’t really my favorite—it delights in the misshapen—I appreciate what Allen has succeeded in doing. What I don’t enjoy may make the book all the richer for some readers. Tesana’s world is ugly; she deals with ugly people.

Along the way, Tesana slowly excises some of her demons. By the time they find Mr. Easter’s true home, she is less angry and has had some of her deepest beliefs validated. Through the bedlam, she and her mother become allies, instead of enemies. The fairy tale ends happily.

And yet, A Home for Mr. Easter contains a great deal of insight, slipped into the subtext. Brooke Allen gives just enough clues for us to get a rich impression of what Tesana’s inner and physical lives are like. The characters are expressive, leaving no doubt about how something is being said or the emotion it’s being said with.

I did enjoy the story, and its fantastic nature. The range of emotion is powerful, taking one through disbelief, righteous anger, fear, and pathos. Allen is clearly talented and confident in her craft.

Review by Richenda Gould

Role Models

By John Waters
Farrar, Straus, and Giroux

When you decide to read a memoir, do you do so to commune with the author–to get to know his inner secrets, what makes him tick? If that’s the reason you usually shop the autobiography and memoir section of the bookstore, steer clear of controversial filmmaker (Hairspray, Cecil B. Demented) John Waters’ new “memoir” Role Models. While disclosing inspiration is no problem for the eclectic Waters, laying his guts out on the table is not his strong suit.

Of course, memoir can also be an account of someone else’s life as observed by the author–and in this case, we’re talking about the lives of famous crooners, a notorious killer, and fringe pornographers, to name a few. But if you’re looking for major insight into why John Waters is simultaneously comfortable with labels like “King of Puke,” “Duke of Dirt” and maker of “trash epics,” but doesn’t want to end up a gay cliché–as he confesses one of his heroes Tennessee Williams avoided becoming, you won’t find it here.

You won’t find much of anything personal in this book. As Waters warns, “The ultimate level of celebrity accomplishment is convincing the press and public that they know everything about your personal life without really revealing anything.” And speaking of Tennessee Williams: his chapter begins “Tennessee Williams saved my life.” From what? He never says. Waters alludes to conformity and cliché as terrible things to avoid in life; but you might find yourself longing for more depth from a lengthy and detailed confession about the psychic wounds of childhood after reading such a statement. It just isn’t there.

In his Leslie Van Houten chapter, Waters confesses to the tragic event in his own life that inspired his used and reused face-pressed-against-the-windshield-of-a-car image. Beyond this small detail, you’d be hard-pressed to find much else worth discussing in film school or after a screening of Polyester, for instance, in this self-effacing work.

Perhaps his most interesting observations are found in the "Leslie" chapter simply because there are no other humanizing portraits of this Manson family killer to be found: “Leslie inspired me too. Inspired me to believe that if you wait long enough and work hard enough on your damaged psyche, you can eventually come out of it with some kind of self-respect and mental health.” But again, the questions and not the answers to the Waters’ enigma resurface for the reader: why does Waters see his own sins as akin to those of a woman who stabbed another sixteen times with a knife in the lower back, as Van Houten did to Rosemary LaBianca in 1969? The "Leslie" chapter is the most compelling of the book, but Waters lingers too long on this subject and apologizes for the crime, saying he understands its severity, too many times.

As this critic went over her notes after finishing the book, she discovered that she’d written more than two dozen question marks in its margins. This harks back to the point Waters made early on about causing people to think they know everything about him, when really he has shrewdly kept his secrets under wraps. For every insight into the real Waters the reader gets, there's at least one question about said reality that naturally follows.

Role Models is an interesting read, but it’s never as shocking or grotesque as any one of Waters’ films. And its message is muddled: do perverts exist because of or in spite of public opinion? Waters’ seems to teeter back and forth between wanting to vindicate his socially rejected role models and wanting to celebrate their freak status. One thing is for sure: reading this book is like turning over a rock in the mud and examining all of the creepy-crawlies you’d find there. Do it for the fun of learning something new, even though you’ll learn very little about cult filmmaker John Waters.

Review by Rachel Moehl

You

By Nuala Ní Chonchúir
New Island Books

Nuala Ní Chonchúir's début novel tells the tale of a young girl who interprets the life she and her siblings inhabit in their urban Gothic surroundings with simple yet insightful prose. Set against the ominous and symbolic backdrop of the River Liffey, You contrasts the seeming simplicity of the girl's conclusions about her eventful life with the deeper and more complex ramifications of her mother's behaviour.

There is a central, and somewhat obvious, tragedy to Ní Chonchúir's story, and readers who are unfamiliar with her work may see this as the core of the novel itself; however, Ní Chonchúir is a quiet intellect and You is far more complex than the breezy, fast-flowing, colloquial narrative suggests. The real tragedy of You is its framing of society's criterion for a failed woman.

Woman, in all her broken states, is embodied in You's character tour de force, and each has her patriarchal compare. The protagonist's mother takes up with the picaresque Kit, local butcher and lad about town, and in a scene redolent of Joseph Ferdinand Gueldry's The Blood-Drinkers, he takes her a meat offering, which the protagonist turns away from in revulsion. In accepting the bloody gifts, the protagonist's mother is made a prostitute in her daughter's eyes, even if the young girl does not yet know that word, and perhaps an addict in the reader's. The mother's seeming inability to direct her own course in life is a source of consternation to her daughter, yet, in the novel's pivotal scene, it is the inaction of three males that brings about what will be regarded as the books most memorable tragedy.

Ní Chonchúir's skill is her ability to subvert and to break down labels, racism, and sexism included, into their core traits and to show they are seamless, as an estuary. She makes accessible to a wide audience what has often hid in the dense prose of high-end literary fiction and been the seminar agitator of choice for academics. Her prose is both dignifying and empowering to her subjects, and it is her psychological ableness which will mark Ní Chonchúir as a writer of significance.

Review by Rachel J. Fenton

Cross-posted at Melusine

Sometimes Mine

By Martha Moody
Riverhead Books

Genie Toledo, the best cardiologist in Ohio, is in the midst of an eleven-year passionate love affair with Mike Crabbe, a married basketball coach residing in another state. Their love affair has survived the initial hiccups of insecurity, jealousy, and possessiveness. After a decade of physical and emotional closeness they have settled into this arrangement, perfectly understanding and respecting each others boundaries, and traveling to meet each other every Thursday. A series of events, including Mike’s diagnosis of prostrate cancer place Genie in the middle of Mike’s family affairs. She eventually has to confront Mike’s wife Karen and her children and reveal the secret affair.

In Sometimes Mine, Martha Moody unravels the struggles of Genie Toledo: professional, single mother of a college aged daughter, trying to balance her professional and personal life. The author describes how a tragedy in her personal life makes Genie come out of the emotional shell she has woven around her, which results in her repairing the mother-daughter relationship.

Does Mike’s wife accept the relationship? The children’s reaction to the “other woman” in their father’s life makes this book an interesting read. Moody narrates the story from the “mistress” perspective, which is different from the usual approach. The author, without becoming melodramatic, describes the intricate relationship between the two women in Mike’s life—each dominating certain aspects of his life. Towards the end of the story we can see a bond developing between Genie and Karen, both seeking support and reassurance from each other.

Review by Sunitha Jayan

And the countdown begins...

Several changes are afoot around these parts, not the least of which being the September 1st relaunch of Feminist Review as... well, you'll learn soon enough. On that date we will say 'goodbye' to Blogger and 'hello' to a newly designed, properly hosted website—and a new name! All will be revealed in due time, and we are working to make this transition as smooth as possible. Thank you all for building this publication over the past four years. We look forward to your being a part of the growth that is still to come!

For now, here's a scant glance of what you're in for. It's gonna be pretty cool, y'all!

8: The Mormon Proposition

Directed by Reed Cowan
Red Flag Releasing



Following the passage of California’s Proposition 8, a bill that constitutionally outlaws gay couples from legally marrying, rage and frustration was concentrated towards the Mormon Church for their supposed role in passing the legislation. Many suspected that church leadership in Salt Lake City had played a large role in financing and coordinating the campaign, yet until 8: The Mormon Proposition, the exact involvement and intention of the Mormon Church in passing the bill has remained ambiguous at best.

8: The Mormon Proposition exposes the deep seeded anti-gay bias within the Mormon Church and provides answers to questions about the church’s actual political involvement, something that has raised suspicion for decades. The film reveals a well-oiled and infinitely wealthy political action force operating largely under anyone’s radar, until now.

What surprised me most about the Mormon involvement with the campaign was discovering that church officials actually required church members in California to attend a special satellite broadcast from Salt Lake City regarding the ballot initiative.

Aware of its negative public image, leaders instructed church members to maintain secrecy about the broadcast. M. Russell Ballard, a top church authority, told followers to consider the broadcast “to be as though we were sitting in my living room having a confidential talk about a serious concern.”

Despite this sentiment, full audio of the broadcast was leaked, and shows leaders commanding members to give as much time and money as possible to help pass the legislation.

8: The Mormon Proposition has many heroes: current and former Mormons who risked social banishment to take a stand against their religion’s involvement with Proposition 8 and the potent anti-gay attitude of the church.

Shining among such heroes is Linda Stay, an active Utah Mormon and mother to Tyler Barrick, a gay California man in a long-term relationship. Stay’s own “coming out,” as she refers to it, was publicly taking a stand against Proposition 8 in order to support her son’s happiness and right to marry.

As an example of parents who uphold the church’s position the film introduces Marilyn and Fred Matis, authors of the book In Quiet Desperation: Understanding The Challenge Of Same-Gender Attraction. The description of the book states it is written for those who have loved ones suffering in “quiet desperation” with “same-gender attraction,” and how to “reach out with love” to such people.

The parents wrote the book shortly after the death of their son Stuart, who had spent his entire life trying to overcome homosexual feelings. Stuart’s “quiet desperation” led him to shoot himself in the head inside a Mormon Church house at age thirty-two.

In their book the parents write: “Each of us had an indescribable sense of peace after Stuart’s death.” When asked about their position on Proposition 8, the couple stated their only position was the position of the church.

The film does an excellent job portraying the many consequences that such widespread bigotry has on a community. Utah leads the nation in teen suicide, and studies show that a large proportion of victims are gay Mormons. Thousands of homeless teens occupy Utah streets, most fleeing intolerance by their families. The film even exposes the former use of frontal lobotomies in Utah to attempt to treat men “charged” with homosexuality

While the documentary paints a bleak picture of shocking faith-based bigotry, it ends with images of passionate masses, refusing to give up on the battle for equality.

Similar passion was exhibited in the civil rights struggles of the last century. Then, too, the Mormon Church lagged behind the rest of the country, not allowing members of color receive full privileges until 1978. The passionate masses will convince all viewers that the fight for gay rights will eventually be won, and that history will record the Mormon Church once again being on the wrong side of this civil rights battle.

Review by Janice Formichella

Exposing One of the Greatest Intrusions of Religion into American Politics: An Interview with Reed Cowan

By Annette Przygoda

Some interviews are more timely than others. In this one, producer and filmmaker Reed Cowan explained his underlying motivation for writing, directing, and producing the critically acclaimed documentary film 8: The Mormon Proposition. Cowan also talked about the “holy war” of the Mormon Church: the fight against marriage equality.

What was your motivation for writing, directing, and producing 8:The Mormon Proposition?

I was raised a Mormon, and I still have many high level friends who are Mormon. I’ve watched and been aware of their involvement in political campaigns for a long time, like their involvement in campaigning against the Equal Rights Amendment in the 1970s and early 1980s, and now their involvement in any campaign against same-sex marriage. I wanted to tell the truth about their involvement, especially since a key strategy of theirs has been to remain in the background. Their campaign to support Proposition 8 and other measures like it has been one of the greatest intrusions of religion into politics in America, and it has been swept under the rug. I wanted to tell the truth and expose “the man behind the curtain”.

The PR department of the Mormon Church openly told us that they were “invited to participate in a coalition of faiths,” when in fact they were the ones who were doing the inviting. They invited Catholics and other religious groups to participate in a coalition to support Proposition 8. In their efforts to remain in the background while pulling all the strings, the Mormon Church has done a great disservice to other religions. I have my issues with other religions and their stance against the LGBT community as well, but what the Mormon Church has done is to send others into the battle for them. This is almost spineless, to let others take the bullets for you in what is essentially your fight. I wanted to expose that.

A key part of the documentary is exposing the financial contributions the Mormon Church made or encouraged for the “Yes on 8” campaign. To your knowledge, has the church been similarly active in campaigns in other US states where marriage equality was on the ballot?

The records that we have show Mormon involvement all over the US, and in other countries as well; most recently, in Argentina, for example. Any place where the issue of same-sex marriage comes up, the Mormon Church is active. Luckily, in Argentina, their efforts were not successful.

Marriage equality is a controversial and divisive issue, not just within the Mormon Church. Have there been any personal ramifications for you since making this documentary?

I lost my family over this film. It was like dropping a nuclear bomb on family relationships. The relationship with my sister is irreparable. The relationship with my father is irreparable. The other part of it is the hate mail, and a lot of them mention my son, Wesley. He died in a swing set accident a few years ago, and I have gotten a lot of hate mail where people mention this and tell me that I deserve what happened and that I will never see my son again.

Two days ago, a federal judge rules that Proposition 8 is unconstitutional. What is your personal reaction to this ruling?

I am thrilled that documents from our film were part of the evidence in this case and part of the debate in court. I am thrilled that this has become part of the public discourse about Proposition 8. I also feel like the LGBT community now has traction again. The ruling has given us hope. It will no doubt go all the way to the Supreme Court, so there are still more steps to be taken along the way, but it has given us hope.

Based on your knowledge of the Mormon Church and their strategies, do you expect them to continue or even ramp up their efforts in supporting the “Yes on 8” side as this case moves to the Supreme Court?

You bet! They not only have said as much, but all of the evidence we have shows that they will never stop. This is a holy war for them. They will never stop, which is why it was so important to make this film and to show what they are really all about.

The Lesser Tragedy of Death

By Cristina García
Akashic Books

The Lesser Tragedy of Death is the first collection of poems by novelist Christina García, author of the superb Dreaming in Cuban. The poems offers an anguished narrative detailing García's brother’s lifelong struggle with drug addiction. Despite the sorrow implicit in the material, the poems are so well-constructed that they are a pleasure to read.

García reaches back to her childhood in an attempt to trace the roots of her brother’s problem. She wonders about the cause: was it the fact that he was the youngest child, receiving less attention than his older sisters who had been coddled and adored? The family’s suffering under the Cuban revolution? Being beaten by his father and ignored by his mother? The hardship of beginning life anew in the United States?

García relates snippets of her brother’s life and her response to his downward fall, but also imagines his response to her pleadings. Particularly damning are “Brownstone” and “Respuesta (Response)." In the former she details an occasion in childhood when their father beat him at the urging of his mother for a minor infraction; in the latter her brother claims that his older sister, so good with words, could have pleaded for her father to stop.

The family’s disappointment and hurt is chronicled as much as his misdeeds. In “Mugging” García recalls a time when her brother was arrested for trying to steal the purse of an elderly woman, noting that no one in the family would bail him out of jail. Told from his perspective, the powerful “Ode” describes the joys of getting high, making a temporary alteration of consciousness seem like transcendence:

Sweet mother love shoots me skyward
burning high with the moon and Orion and all
the other heavenly dudes who orbit, orbit, orbit
Planet Earth.

These instances allow readers to relate to this troubled man as something more than a hopeless loser, and to understand his motivation for engaging in risky behavior that ultimately alienates his family and friends.

Coming near the end of the volume, the heart-wrenching “Apologia” explains why García's parents did not to invite him to their fiftieth wedding anniversary party: a combination of fear of his behavior and shame of him. “Apologia” would have seemed harsh at the beginning of the collection, but by the time we reach it on page eighty-nine, we’ve seen how the brother has brought about such low expectations of his behavior. The Lesser Tragedy of Death succeeds because we are able to feel the hurt of the excluded son, as well as the family’s suffering due to his self-destructive behavior.

For those who find poetry inaccessible or out of touch with everyday life, The Lesser Tragedy of Death offers a story that is immediately resonant, told in short poems that say volumes. García is by turns tender, frustrated, and empathetic in laying bare her painful relationship with her brother, and her language is simple, direct, and achingly honest.

Review by Karen Duda

Daniel & Ana

Directed by Michel Franco
Alameda Films



Daniel & Ana is an opinion piece, the film equivalent of an op-ed. While it is a forgone assumption that a film will represent the opinion of its authors and that every film necessarily adopts a particular point-of-view on its subjects, Daniel & Ana endorses a position. Daniel & Ana assumes an expository stance, occupying the characters lives in an effort to discuss an issue bigger than they are. This film discusses underground pornography; the analysis is not on the macro level of an industry or the societal impact of the industry on Mexico, but rather on the micro level, this is a case study of this particular pair of siblings.

The course of the film follows the older sister Ana, as she prepares for her wedding, and trails the younger brother Daniel as he exists, for the most part, in his sister’s wake. For most of the film, their relationship is relatively normal. When the siblings begin behaving oddly, their parents suspect nothing, seeing the strains in the siblings’ relationship as a result of the wedding, and nothing more. Ana and Daniel are nothing if not predictable.

While Ana is the central character, the film revolving most directly around the events in her life (despite the parallel surveillance of Daniel), she is not fully formed as a character. Ana is object more than she is subject. Not only is Ana objectified as a sightly woman throughout: not only by the comments of Daniel’s friend saying that she is doable and of the cameraman for the porno saying she is hot; not only by her rape which is a sort of ultimate objectification; but, by the movie itself, by the shallow presentation of her character. In this film Ana is only ever acted upon. As dutiful sister, daughter, and girlfriend, she only causes concern when she temporarily cancels the wedding. The wedding sets the tone of the piece, it determines what is normal, what roles each character is to play, and what behaviors are acceptable. Ana reinstates the wedding in a search for refuge; the wedding is a return to normalcy and an escape from everything else. Everything will end with the wedding.

Review by Elisheva Zakheim

Elyse Miller - Paperdoll

Blink and you might miss one of the twelve short, sparsely instrumented songs on Elyse Miller’s new disc, as most last two minutes or less. But Miller packs a lot of punch into these brief, slow-paced numbers, usually accompanied only by acoustic guitar. It’s a fair bet that several songs will get stuck in your head after just one listen.

Miller’s sweet, drawn-out vocal on the lullaby-like “New Love,” captures the obsessive need to spend every moment with a new crush and the intense physical lust that accompanies it: “can’t keep the bedclothes up/can’t keep your clothes on.” The simple, lilting “I Want to Love You” is so pure musically that you may miss its mischievous tone at first: “I want to love you on a hilltop meadow/it may be breaking the law/but baby it’s dark/no one has to know.” The potentially creepy lyrics are rendered playful through Miller’s plaintive delivery.

Guitar and vocal are more strident on “What We Teach,” in which Miller bemoans children’s desensitization to violence. The disturbing “Kinderwhore,” which sounds like a schoolyard chant sung by a pedophile, is essentially a long, leering description of a young girl, from her pig tails and nail polish to her bubble gum. The sense of menace implied is unsettling. The lyrics are all the more jarring for Miller’s singsong delivery. Miller shows the most emotion on “Paperdoll,” detailing the lengths women go to in order to fit into the dominant cult of beauty. She decries the constant societal pressure and “the driving mania/to be as thin and as smooth/and as shallow as paper.” It’s a valid but depressing song, as it ends with the narrator being torn in two.

Miller has a way with both words and music, and her interest in social issues and playful sense of humor shine through on Paperdoll.

Review by Karen Duda

Mockingjay

By Suzanne Collins
Scholastic Press

Mockingjay has finally arrived to conclude the breathtaking trilogy that began in 2006 with the conclusively-titled The Hunger Games. And this time, things have changed. In global effect, for better or worse, the main characters are bringing the furious fight to the enemy’s doorstep, in an act of rousing rebellion. But do they prevail? Well, I can’t answer that.

In Mockingjay, Collins holds her own under external pressure to show the blunted faces of the worst brought out in humanity, but also the best of what makes us human, compatible life forces willing to love, to teach, and to learn in the shadows of dark times. What was merely a sadistic game of cat-and-mouse is now a battleground, a fledgling place where heroes are born and lives are lost. Every punch is pulled, which is not to say the first and second books didn't contain conflict, but things are now broadened on the horizon. The characters realize they have entered an alien place, a wildfire atmosphere only done justice by a single word: war.

What really propels this book is its characters, particularly Katniss, who fight for what they believe in and stand alongside those they love. Each play pivotal roles in supporting each other, and adds a unique back story, just when you thought everything was already revealed. Loyalties are tested and occasional twists paint a very thin line between good and evil, relishing in the fact that, as human beings, we are collections of both.

Any age can enjoy this book; however, the content is some of the most unwaveringly brutal and violent written work on the young adult market. Accusing The Hunger Games of glorifying violence is putting a very narrow perspective on things. The violence is there because it is necessary, willing to achieve a point by demonstrating the calculating monstrosities of war, warning readers about the implications of certain decisions, and feeling powerless to stop others of a higher social status.

The inclusion of strong female heroine give a sense of feminism to the book. At times, Katniss remained stricken, almost too conflicted, but it is a foreplay, a buildup to the explosive climax. She learns things about herself, growing as a person. It is the emotion, what we feel in our heart, not the misguided actions that make us for who we are. Everyone has a flaw, whether it be acid, spiders, or fear itself.

All the while, Collins maintains the pacing she keeps in the previous two. I was floored from the first page all to the way to the spectacular last. Small things are left unanswered, forcing the reader to come away from the experience to visualize, decoding what they think and understand.

By the time I finished, Mockingjay left me conflicted but satisfied, ruminating on the implications of what I read. Thankfully, it was a virtuoso performance I will not forget in a hurry. And not many books can do that. In a sense, young adult literature has some startlingly powerful messages to deliver, even branded for a younger generation. Older readers, and even fully-fledged adults, would find much to enjoy here.

Mockingjay delivers a stark limelight of the gratuitous impact of war on life, and examines the most powerful force on the planet through post-trauma, blood, tears, and the unbreakable substance of love. It is a masterful conclusion to an already groundbreaking series in young adult literature. If you haven’t experienced the raw potential for what The Hunger Games is all about, then I highly recommend doing so.

Review by Dan Goodman

Excerpted from Literary Musings

Lisa Bell - Dancing on the Moon

Lisa Bell delivers the goods on her third album, mixing blues, jazz, pop, and roots into a bright, sparkling mix. Her voice can be both polished and loose, and shimmering washes of percussion, chimes, and layered instrumentation provide a worthy backdrop to her lyrics.

“Change Is Free,” the story of an unemployed woman facing daunting economic prospects, is the disc’s standout track, with a funky vibe, heavy beat, and touches of organ. Rather than embracing despair, she opts for change. “I can wait for the shining knight to save the day / I can pray that an angel comes my way... but change is up to me.” An accordion gives “After All” a mellow, European feel. It’s a song of struggle and redemption, accepting responsibility for past mistakes but moving on. Bell’s vocal perfectly suits the languorous tone of the hip-swaying bossa nova beat on “Misty Roses,” another highlight.

Bell gets loose with “Stand Up,” a quirky, danceable tune with prominent drums, organ, and electric guitar creating blasts of sound, and there is a comic element to “How Long,” in which a woman deals with insomnia and delayed flights while waiting to be reunited with her lover. Bell’s voice is full of yearning on “The Last Time,” in which an old love is renounced, with piano adding depth to this ballad.

The varied material on the disc provides plenty of opportunities for Bell to show off her versatile voice, which conveys longing, acceptance, hopefulness, anticipation, and joy in turn. With superb guitar and percussion throughout, it’s clear she is interested in each song not just as a showcase for herself but as a means of communication between artist and listener. Mostly, you get the sense that Bell loves what she’s doing and wants to share the beauty and excitement of these songs with you. Dancing On The Moon is an enjoyable outing of both smooth and improvisational songs, with an upbeat feel, and the blend of styles makes it perfect for the musically adventurous.

Review by Karen Duda

The Selves

By Sonja Elizabeth Ahlers

Drawn and Quarterly

Sonja Ahlers’ The Selves is a visual essay which combines collage, poetry, watercolor, calligraphy, prose and fabric. The result is a multi-layered and textured work that reveals something new every time you leaf through it. Although pastiche and mixed media immediately come to mind to describe Ahlers’ work, it may also be considered a new genre or a new way of looking at our lives as women in relation to mass media.

As passive consumers of pop culture, we assimilate the images and narratives that mass media serve us. Unable to discern the promoters from the products and the dreams they’re selling, we model our various “selves” from babyhood to old age around the ideals these promoters project. At least, that’s my interpretation of the book, but yours may be very different. Now imagine someone appropriating these same images and presenting them in a new way as social commentary. For instance, Ahlers presents an intellectual side of Marilyn Monroe using a rare photograph of her reading, next to a text by Gloria Steinem describing how hard it was for men to reconcile Marilyn’s love for books with her physical appearance. We also see repeated images of Princess Diana throughout her life, from a young woman who marries a prince, to a princess who never lives happily ever after. We also see a very young Angelina Jolie in the company of her father, reminding us that beauty and fame do not exempt anyone from pain. The public is indeed very different from the private.

Some serious themes such as suicide, child abuse, self-mutilation, female rivalry and abortion are raised in The Selves, but this book is not without humor. The images Ahlers uses are readily recognizable to any woman born in the 1970s or early '80s, and nostalgia is guaranteed. I enjoyed the author’s unapologetic acceptance of these images into her life and presenting them in a new light to show another side or expose another issue.

This visual essay may be hard for some to embrace, but I applaud any artist-cum-author who takes on this challenge and does it well enough to land a publisher. Moving away from the old confines means not letting others define what an acceptable genre is.

Review by Heather Leighton