Justice and Geographies of Power

 Harlan County, U.S.A. (1976)

"We've been put in jail, we've been shot at, we've had dynamite thrown at us." So went the lives of those picketing miners and their families in Harlan County, Kentucky, in the 1970's. 

Being from Knox County, Kentucky -- just one more mountainous mining area -- coal-mining has always been a fascination and a disgust for me. It was my first brush with the powers of corporations and the ceaseless desire for energy, and the disrespect for a part of the country that shaped the foundation of modern-day America astounds me to this day. But it happened because it had to, because power was a necessity, because what were the poor and uneducated mountain-men going to do? It was ecological stereotyping to the highest degree. 

Harlan County, U.S.A., is a difficult film to watch primarily because it is real. Director Barbara Kopple and her team do a fantastic job of foregoing narrative touches to bring us a slice of life that could never be replicated in a script or with special effects artists. The words of these people and the events they experience strike hotter than fiction because they spark with lived wrongdoings, with all the anger and bitterness of losing loved ones and their own wellbeing. 

"Is it a fact that the Duke Power Company maintains housing for its employees that has no water and no indoor plumbing?" it is asked at one point, to which they reply cruelly, "Yes, sir." But this was merely the beginning of the hardships for miners, in a field naturally dominated by them. One often hears of "company scrip" with some level of incredulity, but to many miners, the idea of being paid in funds that could only be used at the company's own store was commonplace, a stark reality that such companies had what could almost be considered sovereign power over these people. In any case, surely they wielded a type of biopower. The famous "gunfire-under-darkness" scene, in which shots were fired at strikers before dawn, is but another striking example of the suppression of a people that wanted nothing more than respect and their own rights restored. In Roger Ebert's review of the film, he notes Kopple as claiming, "I found out later that they planned to kill us that day."

Though it may at first seem an impossibility that such events were openly occurring in America only a handful of decades ago, one only has to look at other examples, such as redlining, to realize that we are still uncomfortably close to our shameful pasts. Look to Son of Saul for a European example of human atrocities, if you wish, or Fruitvale Station for something even more recent. All too often, I feel we believe we are invincible, too far removed to revert back to the savage ways of our ancestors. It pays to remember that we are not so morally advanced, as a whole, as we may wish to believe. 

Harlan County, U.S.A. (Roger Ebert)

Film Festival: 'Harlan County' (The New York Times)

Sacred and Secular Spaces

 The Wizard of Oz (1939)

Based upon the 1900 novel of a similar name by L. Frank Baum, The Wizard of Oz remains a cultural phenomenon that has hardly been rivaled before or since -- a film that scarcely needs any introduction. It is widely regarded as one of the most beloved films in history, with the Library of Congress even officially naming it the world's "most-watched move," and its influence has stretched far beyond the original expectation or intention of Baum or the creators of the film. As such, numerous interpretations of the story's themes have appeared both in the mainstream media and along the fringes of Internet discussion alike, much of it centering around religion. Though the themes are not as explicit as in the other two films from this segment, it is difficult to deny the presence of the sacred spaces in particular that appear in this work. 

From the beginning, the viewer experiences a clear sense of dualism in the Realm of Oz, with the "good" and "bad" witches that occupy different areas and draw from different magics within this fantasy world. In fact, magic seems to permeate the world immensely, and much of its inhabitants' "worshipping" stems from one having magical prowess. The Yellow Brick Road itself could even be seen as a sacred space, because it flows to the Emerald City, where the greatest "wizard" of the world resides. Of course, we learn that this wizard is nothing but a humbug, and yet the narrative point still stands: he was previously well-respected and revered, the ultimate authority of Oz. His rise to power is unknown and unexplored in the film (a shame, I would add), but his chamber is one that inspires religious awe, with the enormous floating head surrounded by flames, endlessly demanding respect all while holding the supposed key to fulfilling one's greatest desires. As such, the Emerald City feels almost like Rome in our world, where religion is state-sponsored, even if that religion is not wholly traditional. In any case, if the parallels to real-world religions were accidental, I would be very surprised. 

Many have made the case, however, that The Wizard of Oz is a criticism against religion, with the Emerald City's leader secretly being a fraud and the magic of each main character ultimately being found within themselves. Perhaps this is true; many Christian schools certainly saw it as such when banning the original book. In any case, this film takes a slightly more hands-off approach to religion than Agora, similarly to Martha Marcy May Marlene (the Wicked Witch of the West and her monkeys could be a stand-in for a type of cult mentality, even, though this is likely a stretch). Whether intentional or not, the sacred spaces bleed through the film's cheery elements and set-pieces in a way that is sometimes difficult to ignore and always shrouded in unanswered questions. 

The Wizard of Oz (Roger Ebert)

The Wizard of Oz (Variety)