FILM REVIEW: CESAR CHAVEZ

A scene from Cesar Chavez.

Sí lo hicieron!

By John Esther

It has been a long time coming, but finally somebody has made a theatrical film about Cesar Chavez. And it is my favorite 2014 film, so far. 

Born March 31, 1927, in Yuma, Arizona, Chavez grew up knowing what it was like to be exploited. After the Chavez's lost their home during the Depression, they worked in the fields for very little compensation. As all hands were needed in the field, Chavez did not attend school past the 7th grade.

After serving two years in the Navy, Chavez returned to the fields. From there he quickly rose through the ranks of the American labor movement working for the CSO (Community Service Organization), a humans rights organization which encouraged Latinos to register to vote.

In the early 1960s Chavez started focusing on the farm workers of Central California. While the workers of the United States had gained considerable rights since the 1930s, the Latino (and Filipino) workers who mined the agricultural crops in Salinas, Fresno, etc., were left behind to toil in working conditions too similar to those found in the recent film, 12 Years a Slave -- which took place 100 years prior to the time of Cesar Chavez.

To any person with an ounce of tenderness, this was unacceptable. But anger and indignation were hardly enough to start an organized labor movement. The poor workers were scared and rightfully so. They could be fired, deported, beaten and, in a few cases, killed, without any legal recourse. Even if the workers were not afraid, white people, who were raised racist, were afraid of the Other. Any attempt to win over the hearts and minds of the dominant race had to be done through peaceful resistance. 

So in the early 1960s Cesar (Michael Peña) and Helen (America Ferrara) packed up their kids and drove toward the fields of Central Valley, California (in a scene which may be amusing to racists) and began to organize the men, women and children who were being exploited by unbridled capitalism. (If you want to see what the U.S. would look like without a federal minimum wage, see Cesar Chavez.)

Helen (America Ferrara) and Cesar (Michael Peña) in Cesar Chavez.

Fortunately, this is where the film begins. Rather than dwell on Cesar's childhood and other phenomena as to what motivated Cesar, his lack of education, his service in the Navy, etc., -- although we do get pieces of the puzzle along the way -- the film focuses on Cesar's brilliant non-violent organizing skills and the founding of the National Farm Workers Association, AKA the United Farm Workers (UFW). Moreover, to focus solely on Cesar's biography would betray the film's underlying message: Cesar could not have made the kind of history attributed to him without the help of countless others (see War and Peace).  

Rather than offer the typical Hollywood hagiography (see Noah) about how one man changes the course of history, director Diego Luna, along with co-writers Keir Pearson and Timothy J. Sexton, illustrate that great change comes from the multitude of players involved in any movement. 

Helen Chavez. A woman of fierce convictions, Helen was no stranger to radical protest and getting her hands good and dirty. She may have been the mother of eight children, but Helen was not going to submit to any Latino machismo ideas about taking a backseat -- domestically or politically. (Pardon me: The scene in Cesar Chavez where Helen deliberately gets arrested for defiantly yelling the banned word, "Huelga" or "Strike" may be the hottest scene of any woman in film this year. A woman who does not "know her place" is extremely attractive.) 

Cesar Chavez also takes the time and effort to illustrate the contributions of UFW co-founder Dolores Huerta (Rosario Dawson). Not only was she a force in working class solidarity, but sisterhood solidarity as well. The UFW would never have succeeded without the participation of so many brave women.

Then there was Gilbert Padilla (Yancy Arias), the UFW area director, who provided structure by establishing service centers where people could convene, organize and strategize. Then there was Cesar's younger brother, Richard Chavez (Jacob Vargas), who had his older brother's back and counseled wisely when Cesar's emotions got the better of him. They and others, from here to Europe, created the solidarity necessary for positive change.

Indeed, Luna and film editors Douglas Crise and Miguel Schverdfinger take the appropriate efforts to show the numerous faces of a movement. A movement by "an army of boycotters" that sparked a statewide, then nationwide, then worldwide boycott of table grapes. 

To the film's credit, it also reminds us what an extraordinary politician, Sen. Robert F. Kennedy (Jack Holmes) was to the working class. Kennedy actually visited the epicenter of the strike and boycott, talking to the people and challenging the belligerent local authorities to read the U.S. Constitution. His behavior was a stark contrast to then-California Governor Ronald Reagan, who called the grape boycott "immoral" and the collaboration of then-U.S. President Richard Nixon (who was born in California), to get the military to subsidize the grape growers in order to break the proletarian defiance. 

Cesar may have been the auteur of the crew, but as any organizer or filmmaker knows, the ultimate vision of a successful movement, whether it is for the rights of the worker or a film, is the work of many visionaries, and not solely the performance of its spokesperson or director. 

The film also reminds us that whatever fruits Chavez enjoyed on a professional and personal level came at the cost of a parental one. As the eldest son of America's most reviled Mexican American, Fernando Chavez (Eli Vargas) was bullied at his predominately-white school while being ignored by a father too busy working outside the home. Fernando was too immature to understand the sacrifices his father was making for the good of the nation. Fernando needed a father, not a martyr. 

Ultimately, they both got what they wanted and lost what they had. 

Riveting, inspiring, agitating and fortifying, smartly directed, very well acted, and demonstrating a sophisticated attention to detail, Cesar Chavez is a film worthy of its subject. 

This Monday marks the 87th anniversary of Cesar's birthday, an official holiday in California, Colorado and Texas. If you want to honor the man and the movement by patronizing an excellent educational experience illustrating Latino-American history, organized labor history and California history, your opportunity has arrived.

THEATER REVIEW: NICKLE AND DIMED

A scene from Nickel and Dimed.

Good sense and bad cents

By Ed Rampell

Barbara Ehrenreich’s 2001 Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By In America is something of a 21^st century counterpart to Frederick Engels’ 1845 The Condition of the Working Class in England. Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By In America grew out of an article for Harper’s magazine wherein the accomplished author clandestinely worked for three months in a number of blue collar low wage jobs to see if one could survive doing so. Playwright Joan Holden’s adaptation, Nickel and Dimed, is a superb, moving dramatization based on the then-50-something Ehrenreich’s undercover misadventures in minimum wage-land.

Zachary Barton is stellar as the protagonist who is alternately called “Barbara” -- when she’s in authorial mode -- and “Barb” when she is waitressing at the “Kenny’s” eatery chain, folding and sorting clothes at “Mallmart”, cleaning homes for “Magic Maids” and so on. Barton expertly expresses Barbara/Barb’s smoldering outrage. The veteran stage actress’ visage actually bears a resemblance to Ehrenreich’s face, and she is simply splendid and outstanding as the writer who proudly proclaims early in the play: “I’m a radical.” Later on a character ponders about Barb: “I wonder if she’s a communist?”

The ensemble cast is likewise first-class as (mostly) working class stiffs Barb encounters when she goes through the plebian looking glass. From restaurant to big box store employees, fast order cooks to cashiers, Veronica Alicino, Kathleen Ingle, Jackie Joniec, Carmen Lezeth Suarez, Johnnie Torres and Matthew Wrather all play multiple roles, and do so convincingly, with pathos and humor. These thespians are cannily cast, as they don’t, in general, have that glossy Hollywood pretty boy/girl look, but rather appear to be “real people” in various sizes, ethnicities, shapes and ages.

A standout moment in the play is when Wrather as a Mallmart manager seems to ad lib with audience members as he rationalizes the chain’s hyper-exploitation business model, which allegedly includes forcing laborers to work extra hours for no additional payment. (A bit about how the “Mallton” family members are among the richest individuals in America would enhance the dialogue.)

Kudos to Richard Kilroy, who adeptly directs the ensemble and also, tellingly, has the set design credit. This is crucial because Nickel and Dimed has many scenic transitions as we move from one of the peripatetic Barb’s places of employment to another, from Florida to the Northeast. The rapid set changes keep pace with Barb’s odyssey.

The oppressive, humiliating conditions of underpaid, non-unionized, hyper-exploited workers who are low paid and generally don’t receive benefits is first and foremost in the drama. But the rift between intellectuals and manual laborers is also explored -- the highly educated Barbara has options her blue collar comrades don’t. Spunky Barb is puzzled by what seems to be their subservience, as the least of those among us may have little, but much to lose if they get fired from their low paying jobs. Without much of (if any) a safety net, this wage slavery is all that stands between them and sheer, utter destitution.

Although Barbara may be an intellectual and author, the compassionate writer and Montana-born daughter of a copper miner remembers her own humble origins (Ehrenreich was also married to a Teamster organizer for 10 years), and yearns and burns to shine a light on their proletarian plight. Barbara’s crusade causes a fissure to grow between her and her white collar boyfriend (one of the many parts Wrather plays), but Holden’s script fails to resolve this plot-wise and to fully show how Barbara’s underground escapades among the wretched of the Earth have changed her.

But this is a mere quibble. Nickel and Dimed powerfully, poignantly demonstrates why the millions of unrepresented workers need to be unionized, and how this is arguably the cause of our time. (During the last Depression the unionization rate grew by 300%, and Ehrenreich founded and has been the president of United Professionals, a membership organization for white collar workers.) All those who argue against raising the minimum wage should be forced to live on it themselves.


Bright Eyes Productions’ Nickel and Dimed runs through August 25 at the Hudson Mainstage Theatre, 6539 Santa Monica Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90038. For more info: 323-960-5770; www.pays411.com/nickelanddimed.

SFF INDIEFEST 2013: BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO

A scene from Berberian Sound Studio.

Giallo figura magnifico

By Don Simpson

An extremely shy Englishman, Gilderoy (Toby Jones) has just arrived in Italy to essentially become a one-man sound team for The Equestrian Vortex, the latest film by Italian giallo maestro Santini (Antonio Mancino). Up until now, Gilderoy has only worked on English documentaries and children's programs; so Gilderoy approaches his surreal new position like a frightened mouse (an analogy that is visually hinted upon by the juxtaposition of Jones' height with his taller Italian counterparts). A foreigner in many senses of the word, Gilderoy's naiveté is showcased by his lack of understanding of the Italian language as well as his obliviousness to the cinematic language of the giallo genre. What Gilderoy does understand is sound recording, so as long as the perpetually angry Francesco (Cosimo Fusco) agrees to speak English to him, Gilderoy can timidly proceed with the task at hand. From here on out, Gilderoy devotes everything to his work in a fruitless attempt to forget about his homesickness.

As time wears on, Gilderoy’s constant exposure to extreme cinematic violence gnaws away at his psyche until he becomes fully immersed in the graphic images of the film. Berberian Sound Studiowriter-director Peter Strickland cleverly ensures that we never see a single frame from The Equestrian Vortex -- other than the masterful title sequence designed by Julian House; we only ever hear brief audio descriptions of the on-screen scenarios and the over-dubbed dialogue and Foley sounds. This is a purposeful, and effective, statement by Strickland to stress the significance of sound in the giallo genre. With all of the sound recorded in post-production, this creates a very literal disconnection between the sound and image. The deconstruction of the signature giallo sounds is what Strickland cares about the most. For example, in a few absurdly comedic asides, Strickland shows Foley artists re-creating the spine-tingling sounds of stabs, slashes, squashes and splats with a produce market's variety of fruit and vegetables. (Oh, yes, Gallagher would most certainly be proud of these sound artisans!)

While the confoundingly subdued Berberian Sound Studio refuses to deliver much in the way of thrills or chills, it does offer a very poignant critique of the Italian giallo film industry. This is a film about the exploitation of actors and crew -- by directors and producers who wholeheartedly believe that the privilege of working on such fine pieces of cinematic “art” legitimize their sexual (and psychological) harassment -- as well as the stingy bureaucracy of low budget film productions. Strickland's film also embellishes upon the cultural and societal differences between machismo Italian men and navel-gazing Englishmen, because nobody else accepts this potent brand of psychological torture like a stuffy Englishman.