Director: Robert Bresson
Writer: Robert Bresson; based The Forged Coupon by Leo Tolstoy
Cinematographer: Pasqualino De Santis and Emmanuel Machuel
Producer: Jean-Marc Henchoz and Daniel Toscan du Plantier

by Jon Cvack


Coincidentally, just a few weeks prior to watching this film, I had viewed the 2019 Hollywood Reporter Writers Roundtable. It was a pretty interesting discussion, featuring amongst others, Paul Schrader, who mentioned that the inspiration for Taxi Driver (1976) had come from Bresson films - specifically mentioning Pickpocket (1959) and Diary of a Country Priest (1951). I’ve never seen the latter, though the story seems fairly similar in style. First Reformed was the best of 2018. It’s a story that stuck with me all year long; where I find myself thinking about it over and over again as the grim climate change news continues to pour in and the impact grows more dire and extreme each year. It’s such a massive problem that would require such unfathomable change that people will do as little as they can until it impacts them, and by the time such an event happens to enough people, we will be long past the point of no return. The odds close down every day, and we’re beginning to see the devastation - with hurricanes, forest fires, tornadoes, and temperatures all at record breaking extremes, and still nothing is being done and half the country refuses to acknowledge the problem. It was hearing Paul Schrader mention Bresson’s influence, that I immediately understood the influence, especially after watching L’Argent. 

Similar to First Reformed, L’Argent conveys a devastating cynicism. In some of the most beautiful images I can remember seeing all year, the movie is about a delivery driver who unknowingly spends counterfeit money he accepted from some kids; landing himself in prison, derailing his life and pushing him into the grimmest possible outcome. 

To describe each scene without going into great detail would be an injustice to how significant each shot is. The colors and actions are so crisp and perfect, with each shot looking as though it was a combination of a precise natural painting and photograph. In the Criterion supplements, critic James Quandt goes through a literal A - Z list to expound on an idea per letter - from Marxist undertones through Nietzsche and its use of diegetic music; not only how it relates to this film, but all of Bresson’s films.* It’s the type of essay that makes you feel inadequate to discuss the movie, as there is so much to unpack that only repeated viewings could possibly provide the confidence to discuss.

All I have for this first viewing is the feeling it left me with. Not since rewatching There Will Be Blood have I so loved each and every image I’ve seen; in which there was an anticipation for what would come next - how it’d be composed, blocked, and assembled. I do not like using cutaway inserts when filming action, though it’s often necessary to find a cheap way around more elaborate setups, and yet somehow Bresson achieves the opposite - as the seemingly endless thread of close ups, showing people grabbing, handling, pushing, and reacting to all that’s going on around them is absolutely stunning to see. One of the first images is that of a pair of dirty red gloved hands, unscrewing a hose from a red fire hydrant. The nozzle head is a dark gray blue, matching the delivery driver’s blue uniform, and as is normal when film achieves its highest artistic ability, words fail to describe why this is an absolutely beautiful and haunting shot. From there are paper notes unfolded, a bowl spilling some coffee, a large ladle sliding across cold concrete and into a wall. 

The images are supported with a combination of hyper realistic sound design (in which Bresson punches up certain otherwise banal sound effects, such as clothespins snapping over laundry lines), often with a voice or action carrying. L’Argent functions in opposition to spectacle - arguably even more impressive than some of the longest tracking shots. In one moment, we see a hand enter the frame and grab a man’s jacket, hearing the sounds of bowls, silverware, and a table dropping, only going on to see the aftermath. In another shot, there’s a bowl filled with coffee and a man slaps a woman in the face. All we see is the bowl tip and spill and yet it’s impact is harsh. Only supreme craftsmanship utilizing the magic of cinema could make a bowl that tips some coffee out be forever etched into my mind - like the cup of seltzer water from Taxis Driver or the water cup from Jurassic Park (1993).

Recently I watched Fellini’s Satyricon (1969) and Hitchcock’s Topaz (1969) - two incredibly mediocre films as compared to what their authors accomplished prior. So few filmmakers have been able to continue producing great work in their later years. Tarantino has many times specified that he’s going to stop making films after his tenth. To think that Bresson was able to achieve cinema of the highest order on his last film is an unprecedented feat and I’m left wondering if it has something to do with that hungry yearning to express an idea that led to the accomplishment. The issue most of cinema's greatest filmmakers experience is that by the time they reach their golden years, all they have done to progress the art forward has been replicated and imitated, both by themselves and others. 

In the case of L’Argent, what I saw felt like a person at the peak of their career. Bresson somehow was able to make a deeply cynical story beautiful. Then again, most of the greatest works of world art possess the same; conveying emotion that we don’t entirely understand, but we just connect to. Or maybe it’s simply the perfect film for where we all are in March 2019 and we’re going. So little is being done to address our most serious problems, with no attempt to bridge our differences, that it feels though the whole system is on the verge of snapping; exactly as Bresson had anticipated.

*James Quandt somehow made one of the film’s titles sound as good as food by the end of the hour long essay.

BELOW: Only cool scene from the movie; one of Hitch's best shots
​
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Director: Barry Levinson
Writer: Barry Levinson
Cinematographer: Peter Sova
Producer: Jerry Weintraub

by Jon Cvack

Just today (as of writing this on Jan 19, 2019) on Slate’s Political Gabfest’s “Cocktail Chatter”, David Platz warned the audience about something incendiary he was about to say, following up with the story of watching Raider’s of the Lost Ark (1981) with his kid and his friend for the first time. He describes his memory of the movie the way most of us do - the spectacular effects, adventure, one of his favorites growing up; quickly discovering that he failed to comprehend the barrage of racist and misogynistic elements. All of the non-white characters are bad. The one who isn’t fauns and nearly faints over the fact of getting a peck on the cheek from the white woman. The woman plays little purpose beyond a sex symbol who’s waddling over Jones. John Dickerson even goes on to say how underwhelming the special effects now are. It’s one of the few times I can recall a passionate disagreement with the man. Revisiting the film, I noted some of the problems in my thoughts, but when I think of how this film was made almost forty years ago, I’m willing to forgive. It’s the type of film that serves as a historical document; beloved by most and yet including these offensive elements.  It’s also text that people can point to in demonstrating the progression underrepresented groups have made in popular film. Something like this would never be made, and I’m sure at the time most were wondering exactly the big deal was when the fringe academic crowd discussed its whiteness. 

The same reassessment is going on for countless other classic films - Revenge of the Nerds (1984), Animal House (1978), License to Drive (1980), Sixteen Candles (1984), and many other 80s(ish) comedies now demonstrate deeply misogynistic elements; often in regards to jokes about rape, or even raping in the case of Animal House. I think so long as the viewer acknowledges these offenses, it’s possible to keep watching these films and appreciate the majority of otherwise decent, or even, good storytelling. It’s similar to the debate of removing the N-word from "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" (1885). While I don’t agree with changing art, the intention is noble in and of itself - to make the material accessible to as many people as possible; alienating no group in the process.

Diner is a film I’ve seen two or three times. A movie I very much enjoy and yet never really think to put on first when nostalgic for a taste of the past. I don’t believe I’ve seen it since moving out to LA, making its midwestern feel (though it took place Baltimore) drive it all the more home. Combined with watching this while home for winter break in Chicago, on DVD with my parent’s old 2000s 720 HD flat screen television with no external sound system, and I went down the sentimental k-hole. 

The film follows a group of five friends, each in their early 20s and in various stages of their early adulthood. Edward Simmons (Steve Guttenberg) is a facetious neurotic; playing the ignorant victim card and knowing every time he’s doing it. About to get married, he has demanded his fiance pass a 100 question Baltimore Colts trivia test (this is why I always thought the movie took place in Indiana). If she gets less than 60 answers correct, then the wedding is off. Suddenly, his charming and likeable brother Billy (Tim Daly) returns from college, for reasons unknown.

Edward is joined by his groomsmen. “Shrevie” Schreiber (Daniel Stern) is a married man who’s recently come to terms with the fact that him and his wife Beth (Ellen Barkin) don’t have anything to talk about; coming to loggerheads when Beth fails to return one of his records to the correct place, as his precisely organized collection embodies his every passion. The town’s local heartthrob is “Boogie” Sheftell (Mickey Rourke), who’s about two years shy of becoming a criminal, currently working as a hairdresser who uses his good looks to hook up with the clientele. The group’s laughs are led by the endless wit of Modell (Paul Reiser), who while being an actor I completely associate with the 80s and early 90s, sinks into the role of a person who always has the best response to any situation. And on the existential end of the spectrum is the super smart “Fed” Fenwick Jr. (Kevin Bacon), who while coming from money deals with severe anxieties about his place in the world; causing him to drop out of college and push his mortality to the utter brink.

We first meet them at the 24 hour diner where they meet up after work or nights of heavy drinking or just for the casual chat. In my town the diner was Sub City, which I never felt cool enough to go to until I finally had one of their sandwiches and realized why it was so popular. In the town over, it was a pancake house called Huck Finn Donuts. 

The conversations provide an early dive into pop culture as they do crossword puzzles and talk about music and their lives; talking to a few shadier and older characters that drop in throughout the night. It was while writing this that I realized that, beyond the marriage, there is no clear plot at work. It is simply following each of the five characters as they’re existing within this particular moment in life. Schreiber’s marriage is empty and unfulfilling and each day the problem snowballs. Boogie makes a bad $2,000 bet with a bookie at the diner, and spends the rest of the film trying to get the money. Modell is the nihilist friend who’s content enough with life and grossly sarcastic. Fed is struggling with finding meaning in the world; whether he should go back to school or not. Edward is preparing a test for his fiance to pass, while his brother is struggling to figure out what he wants to do in life.

None of these storylines are all that engaging on their own. They’re economic and feel deeply personal, and while at times they go a bit further than they need to, it’s intercutting these stories with a centralized diner that makes them so brilliant. We come to the diner with one character and leave with another, never getting tired of any of them as their dynamic and relationships pull you in from the first scene. Each performer creates a wonderfully complex character which feels completely true. 

There are moments where the jokes breaks and the film shows its age; in which in order to gain some cash Boogie bets everyone that he can get a young woman named Diane (Kelle Kipp) to touch his junk. The two head to the movies, Boogie cuts out the bottom of a popcorn container and places himself inside, waiting for her to grab him. It’s a scene that’s almost shocking when you see it; especially when you realize it’s not for some playful fun or attempt to heat things up, but because he needs as much money as fast as possible. It’s a scene that I’m sure would ruin the movie for many nowadays, and yet going back to that earlier point, I think it’s best if you just pretend it didn’t happen, or close your eyes and ears and ignore it. Beyond this moment, Diner is one of the better early-20 struggle films out there; becoming a genre that would come to dominate pure independent cinema.

​BELOW: Chemistry that's off the charts

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Director: David Lean
Writer: David Lean
Cinematographer: Ernest Day
Producer: John Brabourne and Richard Goodwin

by Jon Cvack

Reading about E.M. Forster’s book, there’s a fascinating debate between postcolonial and feminist scholars as to just how offensive the book is. Postcolonial scholars believe it portrays an Indian culture that’s acquiesced to Britain’s hegemony; in this case, following white characters as they galavant amongst the oppressed local Muslim and Hindu people, a few of which they befriend, though not without the disdain of the majority of local Brits. Feminists believe that the central female character Adela Quested and her potential mother-in-law reflect two women who’re willing to abandon the chains of patriarchy and journey into an alien world where they can assert their ideas. Others believe it’s a classic and important story, written by one of the 20th century’s greatest writers. While I haven’t read the book, I was left with a position somewhere in the center-critical position; seeing a film that for its time (written in 1924) was a wildly progressive piece, in which some of the problems as compared today, while justified, might slightly outweigh the story’s benefits. What pushed me over is that should the book be similar in the plot as the movie, I did take significant issue with Adela’s character; serving as a woman who was - in the movie - far too easily manipulated by men to defend a position she didn’t believe. 

David Lean has made some of the cinema’s most epic stories. The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957), Lawrence of Arabia (1962), and Dr. Zhivago (1965), which I feel silly for mentioning, but for anyone that’s brainfarting, it’s important to have an immediate grasp of these texts and their scope. Less well-known though brilliant movies include Brief Encounter (1945), Great Expectations (1946), and Summertime (1955; and highly underrated film overall); demonstrating his transition from mid-budget movies (albeit making small stories feel massive) and into the great and epic stories he’d later create. While writing this I have the one feature of his remaining, Ryan’s Daughter (1970), which he made between the five-film periods from 1957 thru 1984 period. A Passage to India concluded it, having been unavailable for years until a recent release on Blu Ray arrived a few months ago.

I knew it’d fail to meet the perfection of Kwai, Lawrence, or Zhivago, but I figured what he missed in the story he might make up for in visuals; having a near-flawless filmography far behind him. Instead, the story proved underwhelming; feeling as though the flawed politics and criticism of the book contributed to its ineffective narrative. What worked was a bit too offensive, and all else fell short of what other filmmakers like Malle and Renoir have explored with their own portrayals of India and its rich culture. It felt like a man who, perhaps like Forstureer, failed to grasp why the story might have failed to work.

Adela Quested (Judy Davis) and her potential mother-in-law Mrs. Moore (Peggy Ashcroft) arrive in India and immediately meet up with Mrs. Moore’s politically ambitious son Ronny Heaslop (Nigel Havers) in Chandrapore, which is experiencing a people's uprising for independence. When a local school teacher Richard Fielding (James Fox), Adela and Mrs. Moore meet the Indian doctor Aziz Ahmed (Victor Banerjee), a widower who agrees to show them around the area, introduced by local school superintendent and Aziz’s friend Richard Fielding (James Fox) who encourages both women to dive into Indian culture.


Ronny disagrees with the friendship, as the current caste system treats Indians as second class citizens to the British ruling class. His mother Mrs. Moore disagrees with his ruthless pursuit of politics, in which his prejudices are rewarded, if not encouraged in order to preserve British hegemony. Mrs. Moore and Adela ignore his admonitions, shocking him when they go so far as to place their feet in a swimming pool of a local philosophy professor - who I’m shocked to find out is actually Alec Guinness; both for not at all recognizing the man, and more importantly, that somehow David Lean thought painting on a brown face in 1984 was a good idea; especially for a film that’s hoping to explore racism. It’s all the worse in a scene taking place minutes after when we go to a party where the local Indians are more or less segregated from the white British people; standing in the grass while the Brits sit at their table, resting on elevated platforms. It’s not even as though David Lean failed to capture the bigotry - or why having Guinness paint his face brown to play a Hindu - as during one scene, while passing a group of Indian women, a character mentions that they don’t understand English; only for a couple of the locals to mention the three others languages they speak in addition to Hindi.

Later Aziz takes Mrs. Moore and Adela on a tour of the Marabar Caves - a fictional destination (with its own Wikipedia page), which are known for their haunting ability to echo the speaker's words. In a series of cryptic shots, cutting between basecamp, a tour guide-led group, Aziz and Adela take off on their own. Ronny later arrives at the scene though Adela becomes separated and spooked; especially upon seeing Aziz at the cave entrance, looking in. Lean cuts to some birds flying and then Adela runs down a hill, falls into some cacti and soon accusations Aziz of raping her

The problem is that when you read about what happened in the cave from the book, you realize that Lean completely failed to capture the details or the mystery. Ultimately, we never know what happened in the book in which Ronny arrives earlier and confesses his love for Adela who fails to have similar feelings. She then heads off and meets up with Aziz, filled with lust and making a pass which he rejects; still agonizing over the death of his wife. She then races out and falls into the prickly plants; definitely assaulted, but what happens remains a mystery. Aziz and Ronny blame the tour guide, but nothing is ever proved. The caves serve as a fascinating metaphor for the story, both reflecting the boiling point that would lead to the Indian Nationalism that would overthrow the country, while the infamous echoes reflect the self-reflection of both Mrs. Moore and Adela who grasp India injustices.

The cave remains the film’s strongest scene, but watching Ryan’s Daughter which better abides by Lean’s usual style, creating more memorable images in its first forty minutes than in all of A Passage to India; almost feeling as though it failed to grasp even the most novice concepts that E.M. Forster explored within my cursory look. Lean seemed to take a bit too much of a side in his version, particularly in how he shot Aziz standing at the doorway looking in toward Adela - moments before she came running out; removing the ambiguity.

So begins the meat of the film as Aziz is allegedly innocent and wrongfully accused. All of Britain gets behind him, and we see another terrifying example of the popular tribal justice that carries on almost every other week of the month. The white people all assume that Aziz is guilty while the Indians protest against another use of colonialists subverting their justice system. The trial is a bit of a farce. The judge fails to maintain order while Aziz’s lawyers become overwhelmed with emotion, storming out in protest of the bias. Ronny disowns his fellow country club friends and the Indian people begin demonstrating. 

After reading my first couple books on American Reconstruction, I’m realizing that the bias in these types of mainstream trials have existed as long as any marginalized group has fought for justice. The cases serve not just for the immediate guilt or innocence of any one person, but as a reflection of the society at large. Having just finished The Run for His Life, the OJ Simpson trial might have been one of the most popular examples of this bias. 

It’s tough to differentiate whether it was Lean or Forster who dropped the ball in this section. Adela is relegated to a helpless persona; manipulated by the men in power in order to promote their agendas. In the end, it’s not the Indian lawyers who win the case, but Adela finally fessing up to the truth she’s been holding in. I suppose it reflects an issue existing within any culture; in which too few people speak up for the injustices they witness, no matter how wrong they are. 

In the end, Aziz is acquitted, bitter against his new white friends and demanding monetary damages from Adela. Ronny leaves, though years later,  he returns. Aziz still harbors resentment, until finally forgiving Ronny. We never know get to see what happened to Adela, leaving the end feeling empty; as though it could have continued on but didn’t.

Again just a quick glance at the book’s summary, we see that Aziz was suspicious that Ronny was leaving to go marry Adela - the girl that betrayed him - vowing to never befriend another white person again. While Ronny returns and attempts to reunite with his old friend, Aziz resists, declaring that they cannot be friends until India is free and independent; a particularly harsh conclusion against what sounds more nuanced in the book.

This would be the last feature David Lean would make until his death seven years later. At only 71 years old at the time and with a tremendous body of work behind him, I’m not sure what went wrong. Whether studios interfered or Lean finally met his match with source material. Reading about the book, I was left wanting an updated version; seeing it as an important story for our current times. The director would have to look no further than Lean’s other work for inspiration.

​

BELOW:  Some old school white privilege (though mostly because there's slim pickings on YouTube)

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Director: Steven Spielberg
Writer: Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz; story by  George Lucas
Cinematographer: Douglas Slocombe
Producer: Robert Watts

by Jon Cvack

Spielberg would shift in a radical new direction after The Temple of Doom, making both The Color Purple ('85), Empire of the Sun ('87), and Always ('89) before returning to the series with The Last Crusade ('89), making me think this drift into drama might have inspired the more somber and profound story that The Last Crusade provides.

What I like about Temple of Doom and was failing to expect was the complete lack of exposition. I think most assume the usual formula is what The Last Crusade, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull ('08) and Raiders of the Lost Ark ('81) follow, which is an action-packed intro, followed by Indy’s return to university, to then be recruited for another adventure. In Temple of Doom, we are with Indy on a journey that just so happens to lead to all the best parts we remember. There was no grand mission, it was all coincidence, and while that typically wouldn’t work anywhere else, so goes Spielberg’s amazing talents.

Honoring Indy’s desire for everything to belong in a museum, I think this introduction should belong in an art museum. There is so much that is suggested - from drinking the poison to using the Lazy-Susan to exchanging the items to the champagne popping as the gunshot goes off - all if it happens with perfect space and speed, culminating in a great use of a set piece, as Indy takes cover behind a Gong, knocking it down, to follow it and jump out the window, as the man sprays bullets and we see all the strikes and marks. Everything operates at the most exciting level of realism and practical effects. I could just see the same scene being made today, completely dependent on computer graphics. This cool because it all looked so genuine, limited to how elements within a scene would physically operate, rather than honoring dull imagination. If Spielberg abandoned as much CGI as possible, and returned to this formula it would be one of the most successful films to come out in a decade.

We get to meet Short Round (Jonathan Ke Quan), who’s the film’s greatest character. And as much as I was thinking of all the films that have used this offensive trope, not having seen it in so long, I did see where someone might get offended. I just don’t agree. Short Round is never presented as stupid or attempting to mimic racist stereotypes, but is often courageous and intelligent with an incredible amount of heart.

We then get to meet the most annoying Indiana Jones Girl, Willie Scott (Kate Capshaw), who while providing a few laughs, really made me see this film in a new light. I remembered a genuine love interest, but in this film their entire relationship is based upon pure lust and desire. Indiana clearly finds her annoying, she clearly finds him rude, but they’re both just so attracted to each other. It was quite lascivious for a Spielberg film. Yet Willie’s role as the dumb blonde actually is one of the film's weakest elements. While I could say I’ve met people like this, as many probably have, it doesn’t really make it any more interesting. What’s so good about Elsa Schneider and Marion is that they’re both smart, deliberate women. Doesn’t mean Willie had to be more of the same, but this became pretty grating by the end.

The bug scene always reminds me of my mother who would verbally react with the same exact “Oh my god” every single time this scene came on. I also began thinking here about whether or not it’s offensive to assume these exotic people would consume the most vile food possible, but point aside, it’s one of the most memorable moments in cinematic history.

When this movie is discussed it’s this scene and the bugs that first pop into people’s mind. Again, for Spielberg to create images that have continued to exist in popular culture, made over thirty years ago just goes to show how phenomenally talented the guy was. When I watched that cart racing scene, I imagined the vast amount of imagination and talent it must have required to pull off a sequence that looks so real and incredible which rivals any CGI-infused action sequence. People watch this and are blown away because of how real it looks, and boy am I at loss for how he pulled this off other than rigging up a rollercoaster to a mountain he carved out.

The entire concluding sequence also brings up ideas of modern day slavery through spiritual exploitation, as when piecing together how this whole operation worked, it was clear that Mola Ram (Amrish Puri) had somehow devised a religion that demanded the killing off of adults, leaving the children as slaves, who could only look forward to when they’re sacrificed in order to go and join their parents and live a better life in heaven. At least that’s what I got. It’s a pretty heavy idea; with religion able to control the masses into doing terrible things all to be motivated by a better life in the hereafter.

BELOW: One of the all time most memorable scenes from action-adventure cinema 

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Director: Louis Malle
Producer: James Bruce 
Cinematographer: Louis Malle

by Jon Cvack

After Malle’s God Country (1985) I was very excited to see his next film. This one focused on immigrants throughout the United States in 1986, exploring Koreans, Vietnamese, Chinese, Russians, Slovakians, Indians, Cubans, Mexicans, opening on a Romanian jogger, running through the woods, who explains that, like most, he came to the country for the freedom and pursuit of happiness, which it seems safe to surmise that he found.

With immigration’s recent return to the spotlight, it’s films like this that make me realize how long this has been a divisive political issue within America. Malle gives a quote by Thomas Jefferson, admonishing against open borders and the dangers of immigration saying:

“The present desire of America is to produce rapid population by as great importations of foreigners as possible.  But is this founded in good policy? The advantage proposed is the multiplication of numbers. Now let us suppose (for example only) that, in this state, we could double our numbers in one year by the importation of foreigners; and this is a greater accession than the most sanguine advocate for emigration has a right to expect.  Then I say, beginning with a double stock, we shall attain any given degree of population only 27 years and 3 months sooner than if we proceed on our single stock. If we propose four millions and a half as a competent population for this state, we should be 54 1/2 years attaining it, could we at once double our numbers; and 81 3/4 years, if we rely on natural propagation, as may be seen by the following table.” Thomas Jefferson, Notes on Viriginia

Sorry for the length, as Malle doesn’t recite the entire quote, but I think it’s important to read the whole thing; which to be honest, having a read a few books about Jefferson, I don’t remember hearing anything about this, and had to confirm its veracity, as given how liberal this guy is considered, hearing what would now be conservative far right wing rhetoric described in one of his most popular books is a great discovery toward enriching the debate in regards to which side of the spectrum he was actually on.

Some people don’t want immigrants here because they’ll take their jobs, others don’t want them because they fear some type of cultural change. Regarding the first, I actually just came across a Doug Stanhope bit shared by an old professor which sums up the basic illogic of the idea; that is, if you’re scared about losing your job to someone who very likely doesn’t speak any English, owning only the clothes on their back, you’re probably not in too great a position (not saying all, or even most immigrants fit this description).

The hate is as old as humanity, as it’s far easier to blame the poor person being helped or the colored person that doesn’t speak any English for why you're struggling rather than to understand the complex ideas and reasons why inequality actually exists. Many businesses rely on cheap immigrant labor, but you don’t hear people attack the businesses for hiring them; which, at the very least, seems to offer the best solution for reform. It’s supply and demand, in which if you limit the supply of jobs, then the demand will go down. If there were no jobs here for immigrants, then less of them would come here. But still people blame the immigrants. 

The point is to demonstrate that the lack of logical consistency shows the arbitrariness of their discrimination. None of the reasons people give, whether because immigrants steal jobs or some of type of cultural appropriation, make any sense. And in this day of facts and lies, it’s difficult to even have a debate at all.

In a fascinating sequence a Border Guardsmen processes a Latino immigrant who was sneaking across the border in the dead of night. The immigrant tells the guard that he will be back over within twenty-four hours, and basically until his money has all run out. Recently, on an episode of "This American Life" I learned that by simply declaring refugee status whether due to political or religious persecution, you can stay over here. While they attempt to investigate, the process takes weeks, and the individuals can often escape into the country. I hate to describe this because it implies that more people are willing to lie than otherwise might. But the episode did highlight how difficult it is to really do anything about the ones coming over, other than to send them back. The same went for the Border Guardsmen, who simply drove the man back, to drop the gentleman off, who promised to attempt crossing again as soon as possible. I’m not sure what the answer is in this case. Perhaps the laws are too lax, in which case why not attempt to speed up the legal process - lower the bureaucracy and increase the policing. Most importantly, congress could introduce an infrastructure bill to get Americans back to work, so they don’t feel like they are competing for those lower paid jobs. It’s when the economy is struggling that immigrants are often the first to get blamed. I always wonder what people will say when the economy still sucks and we have a Great Big Wall.

A contradiction that always fascinates me is knowing that everyone in this country is an ancestor of an immigrant. Malle allows us to see that most of these families simply wanted a better life. To think of how easy it once was to migrate to the states and that the country we have 100% based upon this migration is incredible to imagine in this modern debate.Thomas Jefferson has a point in that culture will shift, and before you call foul, think of how much we destroyed the Native American culture. We were immigrants who came in openly, and we wiped them to pieces.

I can’t help but roll my eyes when people say we have laws, when those laws were only put in place by people who demanded we tighten our borders. They ran into a castle, looking for safety, and demanded they close the portcullis. I honestly don’t even know where I lie on the spectrum anymore, except that we need some regulations, we should punish repeat offenders, we should continue to accept those in need of help, and do our best to accommodate everyone looking for a better life. The thing is that only could work with a healthy economy, and I think until we get back on track toward equalizing the field, doing something to resolve income inequality, we are going to have far larger problems on our hands.

I know I didn’t talk much about the film, but I think the point of Malle’s story is that demonstrating that these people are just like you - they want what’s best for their family, willing to leave everything and everyone they know behind to create a better life in America. I’ve always been proud of that. That people could journey from all over the world, escape the wildest of places, all to come create something of themselves here. Now that it’s getting more difficult, there seems a natural defense to look at what’s different. Malle’s great talent is to show what makes us all the same. We all have beliefs, some are successful, others aren’t, some have wives and children, others have generations beneath them, reinvented in ways once unimaginable.

We see how Miami’s Cuban identity was brought about the refugees, who soon comprised 60% of the city that we now consider one of the most luxurious. There’s a Vietnamese Doctor who’s one of the only Vietnamese Doctors in Nebraska, having gone there for an exchange program and never wishing to return, and he’s as boring and humorless as any other suburban upper middle class doctor. We meet a former El Salvadoran General who was a part of their fierce military - now living in a magnificent mansion, filled with expensive art and furniture, with his grandchildren running all around.

Malle shows that there truly is nothing different between us and them: some are boring, some are funny, some are annoying, some are wildly intelligent and fascinating - and yet so many Americans want to look at their skin color, or where they’re from and assume the worst intentions. If they only took a second to imagine if their own government fell into the hands of an opposition they disagreed with, they might too want to escape and hope a country like America would take them in. I think one of the largest problems in today’s politics, and probably existing forever, is viewing different people and their beliefs as monoliths.  It’s a film like this that you could show to the other side. Without diving too heavily into the politics, it simply shows that we’re all people with dreams.

BELOW: Doug Stanhope making a dang good point

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