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Ford uses photographs as his tools of communication with the viewer, tracking changes in their appearances as well as their survival. Through Ford’s mother Barbara Dunmore Ford’s testimonials, we are brought into their world and see how William’s murder shaped the way they understood the rules of living under the forces that govern their existence. Barbara’s pride oozes with every word as she bursts into tears while recalling the terrifying events that lead to her son’s murder. Viewers are left uneasy with every scene in which she appears. Ford keeps the camera rolling in testimonial scenes to involve the viewer in the feeling of helplessness that he and his family went through. Barbara Dunmore Ford was a pioneer. She was a principal at Thomas Jefferson High School and later opened a school for women and girls on Rikers Island. Her testimonial is deeply moving as is her emotional connection to a past she knew could never be retraced. In interviews, Ford chose to close up on the hands, showing how a life of struggling to retain black identity amid the ghost of poverty resulted in coarse skin and engraved fingers. Ford used medium shots rather than close-ups on interviewees’ faces, to try to make an emotional story less emotional and more of a reportage. However, when Ford’s mother talks about her son, you can’t help but cry. Ford only allows himself to be filmed close up.
Strong Island Documentary Filmmaking as a Coming-of-Age Tale BY JAYLAN SALAH
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t’s always the women, the queer, and the blacks. They are the ones who tell stories. They are the ones who dig deep into their families’ histories. They are the ones who try to uncover the truth and make amends with the past so they can live a different future. It’s always people like us—those who stray from the predominant skin color, gender, and sexual orientation—who are intrigued by the injustice around them. They try to make the world a better place because they have not been born within a sheltered confinement. They are empaths because they know what would happen in a similar situation. “Strong Island” (2017) is a powerful and emotional tale. Director Yance Ford, a transgender, African American man, tries to comprehend the injustice of how authorities handled his brother William Ford Jr.’s murder in 1992. William’s killer was a white truck mechanic who was, unsurprisingly, never charged. 10
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Ford’s struggle with being a queer, black, transgender American is heavily reflected in the family footage he bravely shares with the viewers. It’s a collection of pre-transition and post-transition footage that is not meant to confuse but to throw us into the mayhem of having to struggle with both sexual and racial identity in a country where your own existence is challenged. For non-white artists, understanding that the world does not hand you the right to express, become, and evolve both as a person and an artist, that you have to earn it, is a sharp slap in the face. How Ford discusses coming to terms with his sexual, gender, and racial identity are all testaments to what being a non-white artist truly means. In the film, Ford evolves as a queer black man while learning that to bring justice to his brother’s name, he has to earn it. Justice was not a basic right for William Ford Jr. but more of a twelve-labors spiral that one had to climb, where each step represented another conquest to retain a basic need. Technical wise, Ford kept the film simple, with no excessive camera movement or angles. There are no insertions of newspaper clippings or interviews with bystanders. “Strong Island” reads like a eulogy but with an unresolved ending. “Strong Island” is more than a formulaic true-crime drama discussing race and how it’s a block within the social injustice system. It deals with elephants that we pretend we cannot see yet block our way with each step in every room. ■
A Poem for the Mother BY JAYLAN SALAH Who lost her son…
Wander the face of the Earth
In a car crash
Whereas a mother’s pride and joy
In a dog fight
Leaves the Earth
Amid the dust mines of recessed memories
Abandons her at an intersection
A poem for the agony
Running from the law
For the fear
Running into the law
For the future
Of blazing guns filled to the rim with chocolate shots
Remembering to call her before you go to sleep
His name was William
When the gunshots start pouring
Mother Barbara
When the enemies roll their
Come to me hither,
Triggers
Said the holy Mother of Nature,
Fingered and plastered
Your poor, your tired, your ancestors, your soiled hands
In blood and honor
And I’ll let them breathe free.
Holistic experiments
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The Burden of Heartbreak BY ATAVIA REED
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hen the lights in “Strong Island” (2017) begin to dim and the credits start to roll, the viewer is left with an echo of a scream ringing intensely in their ears. Director and filmmaker Yance Ford has just spoken with the District Attorney in charge of his brother’s case and learns a story left untold is one of the reasons a jury of twenty-three white individuals did not return a true bill for the death of his brother. It is one of the film’s most shocking moments. Ford, composed, stone-faced, and viewed in a close shot for the majority of the documentary, has finally broken down. His scream is the epitome of pain and grief coiled into a tight ball. It is the burden of heartbreak finally unraveling in one short shot.
harder for her child. When she recounts walking into the room and seeing twenty-three white faces barely glance up to notice her arrival, she notes that they must have thought of her as another black woman that “should have raised her child better.” She knows that the murder of her son is an injustice, but she holds herself accountable for not fighting harder in a system working to fight against her.
William Ford Jr. lived a normal life. He had parents who loved him, siblings who idolized him, and friends willing to go the extra mile. He was joyful, exuberant even, in photos shared by his family and friends. When his best friend Kevin Myers reflected on William’s personality outside of his home, he couldn’t help but smile. William was the man.
William’s father, William Ford Sr., is captured by his wife and children as a hard worker. He leaves early in the morning to provide for his family, and he arrives home well after dark. His marriage suffers because of his time away from home, but there is always food on the table and a roof over his family’s head. When William Ford Jr. is shot in the street, his father is working, providing. He doesn’t hear the news until he arrives home.
We learn through journal entries read by Yance, however, that William was more than his family and friends perceived. On one end, he was a poet flowing effortlessly through lines of love and desire, and, on the other, he was dangerously tough on himself. He held himself accountable for the path that his life would take. When becoming a corrections officer required weight loss, he starved himself to the point of exhaustion. He was a complex man blended with hidden and known truths. He could have been any man seen riding the subway or talking to a friend in the street. To many, he was. But being an African American man raised in a lower-middle-class suburb of Long Island came with a price. William paid the ultimate sum. Willam’s death and the decision to not persecute the man responsible for his murder were more than nails hammering in the burden of being a black family in America. It was a chainsaw that ripped the very essence of the family apart. Barbara Dunmore Ford, William’s mother, captures the essence of strength. When she speaks, her back is straight and her eyes are focused intensely on the camera. She is not afraid to speak of a system that failed her child and her family. Yet, when she mentions her son, her eyes dim. Her speech slows. It is as if reliving his life through her memories is a painful path difficult to walk. Her love for her children, for her son, practically jumps off the screen. But when she speaks more and more of William, she murmurs through tears that maybe she should have fought 12
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When we learn that Barbara has passed, it’s shocking. Her strength appeared undeniable, her will to stand for her child seemed endless. Her death leaves a chilling afterthought: maybe the burden of heartbreak can lead to more than pain.
The aftermath of his son’s death leads to a saddening end. He shuts his wife Barbara out. She has to bring his silence to his attention before he finally lets the tears fall. Before Yance’s graduation from college, he suffers from a stroke that leaves the left side of his body paralyzed. Shortly after, Yance arrives home one day to find his father’s wheelchair folded in the corner and placed to the side. While sitting in his favorite spot on the porch, he slipped away. It is as if his son’s departure broke him steadily down. The Hercules figure and the eye of Barbara’s affection is gone in an instant. The burden of losing a child is unimaginable, and, from Yance’s lens, heartstopping. Perhaps Yance’s burden is the most heartbreaking because it is, as any sibling knows, the most relatable. William gives Yance a call and tells him a wild story. Someone disrespected their mother at the local car shop. So he showed them who was boss. He picked up a car door and slammed it on the ground. He picked up a vacuum cleaner and waved it overhead like someone looking for business. Yance egged him on, encouraged him. He was defending their family, he was a superhero. When Yance learns this story is what leads to his brother’s unjust case, he is left stunned. The burden of the secret weighed him down for years, but the heartbreak of knowing it led to the freedom of his brother’s murderer is earth-shattering. In the end, “Strong Island” is the story of a strong family, living in America, trying to beat the system. The burden of heartbreak eventually led to the demise of the family, but their story and pain ring as loud as Yance’s scream when the credits roll. ■
A Conversation Between Cinema Femme Founder Rebecca Martin and Film Critic Danielle Solzman CHICAGO REBECCA MARTIN: When you started writing about film, you were in Chicago? DANIELLE SOLZMAN: I moved to Chicago in 2008, initially for the improv scene. In hindsight, I should have probably started writing about films then, but I didn’t. I remember that sometime in 2009, somebody told me about Gofobo, and I would go and look up the codes, or in the RedEye or The Onion, or email so and so to get free passes to a screening. I moved here when the economy was crashing so finding a job did not happen. MARTIN: Yeah, that’s difficult. SOLZMAN: Yeah, I never would have guessed that. Without winning the passes that I did, I would not have seen nearly as many movies as I saw that year. MARTIN: That’s awesome you were so driven. So you were just seeing films at that time? SOLZMAN: Yes, I didn’t start seriously writing about films until 2013. In 2014, it was my goal to have enough in my portfolio to land on Rotten Tomatoes. I’ve been on Rotten Tomatoes since November 9, 2017.
SOLZMAN: Looking at it from a diverse standpoint, I think Hollywood has started to finally get the message that we need to stop casting cisgender actors in transgender roles. This summer, you had the whole Scarlett Johansson fiasco with the film “Rub & Tug.” She backed out of it after the backlash. A few months earlier was when “Girl” (2018) premiered at Cannes. That film was getting so much awards love, but the trans community is so upset about this because the only people who have been writing about the film are cisgender film critics. Granted, this was until more trans critics started having the opportunity to see the film in December. The experiences from cisgender and transgender film critics couldn’t be more different. I wrote an article on the film in early December after having heard the film described as trans trauma porn. As of the end of 2018, I’ve yet to see the film. MARTIN: Wow, OK. SOLZMAN: Thankfully, the film didn’t advance to the Foreign Language shortlist. Otherwise—make no mistake—it would have been seen as a huge step back after “A Fantastic Woman” (2017) won last year. MARTIN: I haven’t seen “A Fantastic Woman” yet. What were your thoughts on it? SOLZMAN: It was really good. It was really great for me to
TRIBECA FILM FESTIVAL AND JUDD APATOW SOLZMAN: One theater is in Battery Park, that was a bit of a schlep to get to, but pretty much every press screening is at the Cinépolis Chelsea on 8th and 23rd. They had a few things at their Spring Studios headquarters, including “Freaks and Geeks: The Documentary” (2018), which was followed by the Paul Feig Q and A. MARTIN: That must have been awesome! SOLZMAN: I was tweeting during the Q and A a little bit, and Judd Appatow was retweeting me that night. MARTIN: Oh my god, that is really neat! SOLZMAN: I met Judd originally at SXSW. I’m friends with Kay Cannon, so I was at the world premiere of “Blockers” (2018) sitting right in front of Kay. Judd and Leslie are two rows behind me. MARTIN: Wow. SOLZMAN: I walked in to the theater, I see Judd standing at the end of the red carpet, so I walk up, introduce myself. MARTIN: That’s great! Do you feel it’s easy for you to connect with directors and actors in interviews? Is that pretty natural for you? SOLZMAN: Yeah, it is, although there are still times that I get starstruck. I did not get starstruck around Judd although I got starstruck around Chris Elliott, and I’m friends with both of his daughters! I grew up watching “Groundhog Day” (1993) all the time.
DIVERSE REPRESENTATION MARTIN: I’m interested in hearing your thoughts on diverse representation in films. In the past few years, have you seen any changes?
see a film that was getting awards contention and with a trans woman in a leading role. MARTIN: Yeah, that was a first, right? SOLZMAN: Yeah. The same year we had Yance Ford get an Oscar nomination for “Strong Island” (2017). While the film ultimately did not win, it was major progress in my book. MARTIN: So you’re seeing some changes, just not necessarily a lot of change? SOLZMAN: Yeah, this past season, GLAAD did their report, and there’s been an increase of trans actors in series, but a lot of that is because of “Pose” (2018). So it would be nice to see more trans actors taking on roles. But I’d like to see, not so much because of the story, but casting directors being like, “Hey, you don’t necessarily need to write this character as cis; it can be a trans person.” “The Sisters Brothers” (2018) and “Colette” (2018) both had trans actors playing cisgender characters. Follow Danielle Solzman on Twitter at DanielleSATM and visit her website Solzy at the Movies at solzyatthemovies.com.
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