Taking Katrina to the Movies: A flickering reflection of America out the other end of a storm by bill arceneaux
1. A Disaster 4 All I want to say that it was twice I saw Michael Bay's Armageddon in the theater, but it may have been thrice. At the time, I was heavy with interest in N.A.S.A. and space exploration, going so far as to setup a fort under my bed to survive a comet attack from Hale-Bopp – at that young age, I was THE target audience for Armageddon. What about Deep Impact? Too sappy. Give me brawny heroics and out the door physics over human drama and complex conflict, I said. Actually, I may not have SAID it... Just this past year, I watched Bay's Trans4rmers: Age of Extinction, initially with palpable apathy but, soon into the duration, it became honest to goodness enjoyment. It ended up appealing to that side of me that appreciates kid logic and brash action sequences. There is something about Michael Bay that keeps me coming back to his films, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. But maybe I SHOULD be. Between 3 and 4 in the giant toy robot series, Pain & Gain came out. It appealed to my critic sensibilities by being a little experimental, both aesthetically and in terms of Bay's recent career choices (ALL schlocky action). It surprisingly gave me something to chew on, and put me in a “better” place to absorb his next flick – one that replaces the letters f, o and r with a number. I still maintain some of my positive views on two of those films, but I acknowledge one important thing out of it all; movies are, most of the time now, a product. Both “A” product and a “By-” product, for and of respectively, a disastrous state of mind in America. A state of mind that passively accepts the easy to swallow over the much to chew on. A state of mind that is struggling to understand what is happening and how to fight back. A state of mind that was exposed and exploited after a storm. In the midst of Hurricane Katrina, before the public and private troop presence swooped in like heroes – fashionably late – I was splitting my time between home and a frat house on the college campus I went to school at. I was not a member of this frat, but a friend of mine was, and many of our inner circle of buds used it as a place to connect with the outside world. Electricity was humming and the internet was working. We listened to Mayor Nagin on a radio live stream, sharing his frustration and anger. We furiously searched for news coming out of the city, only to find terrible hearsay. When we weren't watching obscure movies to pass the time, one of us talked about having emailed Michael Moore about sending him footage from the inside of the national tragedy. He got upset when Mr. Moore never responded. At the time, I saw his attempt to contact a celebrity as being a bit on the silly side of ambition, but now, I look at it with the gaze of a man who has sat through a few
movie adaptations (loose and direct) of the event. It may not be a “big” sub genre, but Katrina has spurred about a diverse selection of films, both narrative and, of course, documentary. Abandoned by our government, we just want the story told, loud and wide. Not just what happened, but what happened after. Katrina didn't just bring a city to near annihilation; it removed a brightly lit veil to reveal a dark scarred up face underneath. It's a face we all wear from time to time – like when we buy a ticket to Trans4mers – and one we see all the time – like when we're told that our city hasn't been forgotten. Filmmakers have been trying to capture that face ever since, with varying results – some more blunt than others, others more soft than some, and most just for a buck. Through the bloodied up waters of our flooded, privatized and gentrified streets, two films survived the swim to open shores. One from an adventurer with years of wisdom, one from a young man with a keen eye for controversy and heroism. Both tell the story of the storm, after the storm, and where we're at as a country. Explosions? Not needed and not welcome.
2. “Do Fish Have Dreams?” For the previous 90 minutes or so of its run time, The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans had been, for me, an exercise in satire. A dark one, sure, but fun and funny nonetheless. The audience - at what I believe was the New Orleans premiere of the movie, hosted by the New Orleans Film Society during their annual film festival – laughed in agreement, giddy with delight. It wasn't originally scheduled to screen at this time, but a last minute booking due to high demand made it possible. The year prior, I attended a showing of Werner Herzog's last effort Encounters At the End of the World, which he and Val Kilmer came to The Prytania Theatre for (they were also gearing up for Port of Call New Orleans production). Mr. Kilmer sat to the side of me, wearing an all white suit, which suspiciously looked like it was made for a lady (not confirmed). Since that screening and peculiar observation, anticipation for Port of Call New Orleans had been growing in me. Herzog + Cage x NOLA = ??? It had the potential for loopy greatness. The film was just about over. We all laughed at the screen, laughed at Cage and laughed that we were laughing. Then came a sequence, the closing arguments if you will, that have stuck with me for years:
Terrence (Cage) is on a drug bender in some no tell Motel. In comes room service, who has mistakenly opened the wrong door. To the surprise of both men, they know each other. The attendant had been a prisoner during Hurricane Katrina, whom Terrence saved from drowning in his cell. Since then, the attendant got rehabilitated and on his feet while Terrence got addicted to pain killers and god knows what else. Seeing him in trouble, the attendant takes Terrence by the hand, offering to help him clean up. In response, Terrence asks, “Do fish have dreams?”, a reference to a murdered child's poem he read while doing a routine investigation. The film closes with the two of them, side by side, sitting in front of an aquarium, staring towards the camera. Terrence stares and smiles, before chuckling to himself. Cut to black. On the ride out of the city, a friend and I talked over the movie. We agreed we had a blast, but he had some reservations. Too oddball? Too much? I don't quite remember. Thinking back on it, we were both a bit perplexed, trying to determine what Herzog may or may not have been going for. Which, according to Herzog himself, is almost pointless for a critic to do. Now, years later, I believe I'll take that pointless plunge. The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans opens during Katrina but shifts soon after by several months. During its first few minutes, the character played by Nicolas Cage, Terrence McDonagh, is injured when trying to perform a rescue – only after picking on the poor soul in trouble, of course. This single incident changes him from what appears to be a good natured cop with jerkish tendencies (but ultimately good) to a drug addled, gambling addicted, hooker friendly, authority abusing criminal, hiding in th shadows of the police department. It's possible he already had some of these issues before hand, but his mocking of a man about to die is not proof positive of his over indulgences. What is proof is the storm. If Katrina hadn't happened, he wouldn't have spotted the inmate drowning, and his conscience wouldn't have told him to rescue the guy, which presumably would've kept him off the road of addiction. Presumably is key here, just as much as the storm itself. While Katrina accelerated, progressed and even encouraged his dramatic lifestyle change, it's certainly possible that, eventually, it all still would've happened to him. It only takes a push, and the catalyst Katrina pushed hard. Terrence, when we catch up with him down the line, is hunchbacked in pain, barely able to walk or talk without some sort of relief. His suit looks a size bigger than it needs to be – has he lost weight? - and I doubt the man is able to sleep. Not because of self loathing, mind you... The one thing he does seem comfortable with is his actions; he
uses force – even against old women – to get answers, he coerces young women to do drugs with him, he steals and lies, and to top everything, makes a deal with a known crime lord / murderer. All to get his fix, whether it be narcotics or control. This Nosferatu like shell of a man lived in that space of time between President Bush's 2nd term and President Obama's election. A time before economical collapse but just after lies on the war front and apathy towards the home front. New Orleans was, for a moment that lasted some years, an example of our failures and decision making processes. It was also a time of confusion and uncertainty, where anything seemed possible, in both optimistic and pessimistic ways. It only takes a push. The planets and stars had aligned for Terrence to experience the “bliss of evil”, but he wasn't the only one. Relocation, foreclosure, lack of basic services, contracts to friends, blank check financial aid; the storm was a blessing to those in, with and wanting power. Provided to them – and Terrence – was an excuse to run amok with anything and anyone. And what comeuppance would be had? And by whom? When your President is creating and crafting massive tragedies, and other elected officials are exploiting tragedy upon tragedy, does the perfect storm become a perfect excuse for the rest of us? Can we afford that? Was this “evil” Terrence the “real” Terrence, or was he just a victim of that sweet temptation? I think the answer lies in that ending. Through no successful action of his own, EVERYTHING worked out for the man. The system just kinda went in his favor. When we meet up with him down the line, again, he is celebrated by colleagues and appears to turn down alcohol for some water. It's not clear if he is genuinely trying to get clean and relapsing or if it's a cover for him to go wild elsewhere, but it does lead to that last line, “Do fish have dreams?”. Is that a Chinese riddle meant not to be answered but to clear the mind of all thought, or are we the fish? His last second chuckle sums it all up: he made it to the end without apology or punishment. Why should he accept the room attendant's offer? That'll just lead to consequences. Live free and dream, little fish!
3. They MUST Be Crazy One moment during the aftermath of Katrina has stuck with me very closely. I just arrived to my powerless home after checking in with my college friends when, across the street, I noticed a neighbor consoling a friend. The news radio was on for the whole
street to hear, but the two of them were acting as if all was quiet and private. I wanted to get out of the parked car, but felt making any noise would be rudely interrupting this important conversation. The old neighbor was doing her best to calm her distressed friend, and I just sat there, experiencing it with them. To take time away from personal emergency preparations and other important needs to give another person some comfort, if only by listening to them, showed that we were all really in this together. It made the disaster truly real to me. Things like the corpse truck in the back of our local hospital my dad was telling me about and the possibility of looters coming to get us kept me up at night somewhat, but I'd think back on our neighbor, and feel better. That's how I feel when I think of Charity Hospital, whose mission was to, *gasp, HELP PEOPLE IN NEED, no matter their ability to pay. Sure, the Glenn Beck's of the world will tell you (until they experience it first hand) that Emergency Room's already do that, but that's probably because he has an assistant who handles the paper bills so that he can remain stupidly unaware. Stupidly unaware. That's how he would like us (Reminder – you have to subscribe to his “news” network). That's how many would like us. The Nuns that made up the Sisters of Charity kept the mission going well into the Twentieth Century, both as a learning ground for up and coming doctors and as a healing place for the physically and mentally (which can be considered the same) ill of New Orleans. Many a child was born there, many a life was saved there and many a mind and heart was opened there. Generosity and care for one another is a wonderful thing. Well, not for everyone. Big Charity highlights the history and the heroics of the personnel at the hospital, before and during Katrina. Video diaries, news footage and sit down interviews make for some of the most powerful and important storytelling seen in years. On the surface, you wouldn't think that a retelling of historical events would be “groundbreaking”, and I'd be inclined to agree with you. However, under that familiar format, a blood boiling and life affirming story comes forth. Action, bravery, sacrifice, death, betrayal – all are expressed in one way or another. Put them in a cohesive and courageous film, and you get something very compelling. Compelling AND depressing. And anger inducing. And protest motivating. During and just after the storm, parts of Charity flooded and power was lost. Little to no way out, little to no way in. Doctors, nurses, and anyone able bodied enough used
makeshift techniques to keep patients alive. One such patient, who was being pumped with air by hand, noticed someone in more dire need than him. He waved his caregiver off, and proceeded to pump himself. Incredible. When help eventually arrived, and everyone was evacuated, the building would be cleaned and brought up to spec by the military to be turned into a hospital again. Actually, no. Turns out we didn't need a fully operational hospital in the middle of a national natural and man made disaster after all. Or, so the local and state officials / non engineers said. I'm paraphrasing and hard of hearing bullshit, but I believe the line we got went something like this: “We're gonna have a NEW hospital, with NEW equipment on a NEW location – assuredly for NEW and NON POOR people. Of course, we'll need federal aid that could be better spent on other emergency needs, and this will be a project that'll take some time to complete. The people who relied on Charity Hospital? They can visit nearby ER's for help, or call the police if they feel suicidal, or move. What? You think we used and exploited a situation in an effort to siphon funds and give contracts to friends based on an old proposal that wouldn't have gone through had this storm not happened? You're crazy, but hopefully you don't live in the city, cause mental health services won't be available if you can't pay.” A bridge to nowhere, not quite, but close. The politics surrounding Charity Hospital are described in Big Charity as if it were a sleazy mob dealing with a labor strike. Sabotage of the building is stated and pretty much confirmed to have happened in order to protect the agenda. Strong arming of and threats to doctors and nurses (the heroes) went down. A fence was put up around the site, and a lock to keep people out. At the end, and to this day, the building stands only to mock the citizens. “Look at what you can't have” might as well be spray painted on the side. Why keep it abandoned? Perhaps a martyr doesn't want to be made. Perhaps they just want us to forget. Forget about those that left town. Forget about the homes that won't be renovated or filled. Forget about the public services. Just forget. I sometimes ask myself why the majority of politicians keep pushing for programs that didn't work in the past and won't work now or ever. Other than them being paid by lobbies, of course. Honestly, it might be genuine and blind ideology and philosophy. Whether its Ayn Rand or Ralph Nader, true believers are on both sides. No matter practicality, no matter details and no matter history, they'll work and use every tactic they can find to desperately cling to the notion that they're amount of control and power is justified. They'll make it work, by gum. And if they can make themselves and their friends some pocket change in the process, it's win win, right?
It's all pretty irrational and illogical, and yet makes perfect sense. We can count on officials, time and time again, to repeat their actions over and over. The biggest charity of all in Big Charity isn't the untold story coming out but the re-revelation that, next to death and taxes and occasional generosity, what we can always count on is the cold heart and greedy intentions of the people we keep electing. They keep it up, we keep them in. What's the definition of insanity, again? Who is this in reference to?
4. Moore or Less Michael Moore's most recent documentary Capitalism: A Love Story ended on a call to arms / act of throwing arms up in frustration. He wrapped crime scene tape around Wall Street while explaining in voice over how he has just about had it with everything and everyone. I couldn't believe my ears that he was telling his audience this, and in such a passively threatening way. Did he reach my conclusion before me? It could be argued that we're at some sort of turning point fork in the road, but that might be too clichĂŠ. It could be argued that we're in a heavy state of corporatism, ruled by a New World Order of sorts, but that's too Alex Jones. I think we're right where we've been for decades now, perhaps since Reaganomics. Stuck in a rut, over consuming and under-understanding. If The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans showed us the encouragement of and potential for evil deeds on all sides of our current socialeconomical political system, then Big Charity explained how we're all crazy exploitable and just plain crazy because of it and for continuing it. That glimpse in the mirror at our face may have been somewhat brief, but it keeps poking out once in a while, with one tragic story after another. For example, I read that the director of A Most Violent Year would be doing a film about Deepwater Horizon, but was soon switched out of the directing chair for the guy from The Great White Hype. Believe it or not, Michael Bay might be a good third option here. I mean, at least this story involves an explosion that really happened. Where's my fist pump, bros? Should I put out a call to arms or just throw them up?
Facebook.com/CRITICALNO Twitter.com/BillReviews Patreon.com/CNO