Shaul Schwarz'

NARCO CULTURA is a documentary which was beautifully shot, but deals with an intense, many times gruesome subject matter. The story line follows a Narco Corrido singer. Since he is sure to get tons of exposure ima skip him in this piece. Instead ima briefly describe the heavy grief of family members that pepper the documentary.

For example, in the very beginning three youths sitting by each others side, after the midst of a blood bath, are just there. Calm. Saddened. One of the children is the nephew of the murdered victim. The kid bravely holds back tears, and explains in his little man type of way that his uncle choked on his own blood. This hit me hard since they looked strikingly similar to the three boys I helped raised. One cousin & two brothers. I realized how those three junior high school aged kids could have been my little ones. Connected by motherland blood, but disconnected by border lines.


One of the first people I called after viewing Narco Cultura was my dad. We rambled about how the USA engineered this a long time ago (he was sure he sat in between CIA agents in his classes). You see, if Mexico was corruption free and used to their fullest capacity their superior math skills (I've seen Campesinos do elaborate math equations better than some high school students. Something about carrying the gene of the makers of the near perfect calendar that happens to double as a sun dial), and didn't have to deal with the diabetic epidemic (thanks Dick Chenney!) which has assaulted most of the Mexican nation, then Mexico would be a direct competitor to the U S of A. Instead we have to endure the polka, played by doughy, tacky garment wearing ignoramuses who need to invest in treadmills (as do I).

One of the most fiercest scenes that is sure to force tears, is the one of the wailing mother in some government office. She is pleading with imaginary officials, describing how her son was decapitated alive. Her massive pain a testament to her ripped apart soul. Or the beautiful woman at a microphone who gives an amazing speech asking the nation to stand up and to bear conscious. Or the scene of someone sweeping away a sea of blood in front of an establishment during navidad. Or how about Juarez' SEMEFO, a government department who just collects "evidence" that never indicts no one. Or how about when a narco traficante cemetery (apparently the drug cartels have their own cemetery) handler/manager is telling us how some narcs get buried in their SUVs!! When I told my mom this latter piece of information she was appalled and wondered how the Mexican government allows this. I don't think aluminum rust seeping into Cualican's dirt is one of their problems.

And So, Hopefully a little Bob Marley or a young Che Guevara or a Cesar Chavez in the making will watch Narco Cultura and feel compelled to be a thorn in D.C.'s & el D.F.'s side. Until than I don't see Obama sending any of his kids to vacation to Ciudad Juarez any time soon.

Overall, Schwarz is all over the place, but in a good way. He is a photo journalist by trade, but his transcendence to the moving image is impressive. Him covering diaspora, hellish landscapes and bleeding hearts has penetrated his psyche. This is apparent. Now he is taking that anguish and handing it over to me. You. Us. Just as long the story gets told, I say. My anger and sense of helplessness smacked me in the aura. What do I do? For starters, ima take a couple of young dudes who think they are grown, to see this doc, because every time I look at them, all I see are those cute chubbsters - like the ones in the beginning of Narco Cultura.

When Narcissistic Supply Is Actually A GOOD Thing

Sacha Baron Cohen is an unlikely filmmaker. On his Wiki he's listed as an actor, writer, producer, etc., but the fact of the matter is: Sacha is a master of ceremonies. A creator. Sure he's not holding the camera, positioning the boom or editing, but because of his crazy genius & big cojones (in spirit at least) we are responding to affirmatives with Yeskovich in honor of Borat (2006). At least I do. 

It's self explanatory. His outcomes are beasts in their own right. Docs or comedies? Fiction? Obviously. Whatever the case, there is constant rewinding until there is a glitch, such as when he gives a ghost a bj in Bruno (2009), or how about when he demonstrates oral to than co-star Rhona Mitra in Ali G Indahouse (2002). Recently when he acquaints w/himself for the first time inside a utility closet in the The Dictator (2012). If not for these - the world's events and circumstances would only be tallied in newspaper journals only 3% of the world read. 

All in all, for recent times (under 50 years) Sacha is an important filmmaker. His daring ventures and incessant boundary pushing becomes boundless for the greater good, of course.

Seriously. 

His marketing savvy transcends, rivaling the old school glamour Hollywood era. An era I have no doubt, Sacha is a vessel for an old soul, who reincarnated into him.  His exaggerated characters bellowings embed into lexicon. Full blown world wide web permanence & his red carpet fandangos hold testament to his -  right for the jugular - infiltrating. Shameless & in your face. My type of man.

Always a social commentator he proves time after time, all is dumb and that he's at the center of the schmuckness. There is no remedy like silliness. His dramatic structure is forgiven since the overall message in his work is for the purpose of seeing the ridiculousness people possess or how they find themselves in surreal circumstances. Examples? How about when Bruno asks concernedly, "Isn't pita the real enemy?" Or how about when he points out to angry looking Hamas leader that their leader looks like a dirty wizard or a homeless Santa. In my opinion, the real dare & ballsy part is telling Mr. Hamas that his hair is sun damaged. C'mon! This is genius! I don't see too many - anyone - doing this! When was the last time anyone flew into the middle of the night, stalked, arranged and than cornered, say Hillary Clinton, and asked her in front of a rolling camera, "Hay! Shouldn't the masses be scare of you cuz you covet power so much, and what really happened at Whitewater?" This will never happen because said person will get shot by the SS (Secret Service, dumb ass). Maybe the Brits don't take themselves so seriously a la Pythons.

I don't care if he's secretly funded by the boule, Knights of The Orange Orchid or whatever, or from her Majesty herself, but his relentless take on how clueless people are or his poking at the insanely antiquated, perturbed or whatever -is only amplified because he knows first hand the pitfalls of megalomaniacness & a disturbed soul syndrome. I think. Obviously he's astute. The balance comes when he does all this lunatistical (lunatic + egotistical = lunatistical, thank you very much) antics with an air of high regard for the targeted person. This is where his genius shines through. He gives most people their moment, us always in on the joke. Either way, his unabashed understanding of  the inner cogs of a disturbed personality is apparent. 

I pray he makes more contained havoc in the guise of self promotion, but really a tallying of humanities sorry state of affairs. As he ages, will he prove to be like expensive vino or get stale like an open can of soda? I don't know, but I welcome whatever he throws at me. As a devout goofball it's my duty to support the contained insanity that is Sacha. For now, I will just have his collection on a loop. 

Steve McQueen's

12 Years a Slave is an honorable, well directed film that deals with the tragic odyssey of Solomon Northup. A freeman with a young family who resides in Saratoga Springs, NY. However, his lifestyle is only exposed to us as fragments of memories, as Solomon is recounting the events surrounding the detailed kidnapping plot which was precipitated by contemptuous jealousy.

Jealousy. Ahh,Yes. Jealousy. A recurring theme all throughout 12 Years. Sometimes subtle & sometimes practically reeking out from greasy plantation overseers. Many times obvious. Such as when a porcelain dish is violently thrown at a beautiful "Negress" face, done so by the wife (who is bravely portrayed by wonderful Sarah Paulson) during a jealous fit. Back to the demon we know as jealousy. We all know it leads to contempt. It resides in the subconscious envious brain. Do you ignore it?

Overall, the film is very impressive in many departments. For instance, in sound/music. At one point the score doubles as sound effects, but in a very refined way, and to the well trained 80's Industrial music listener, a slave ship vessel is oiled along by a composition which is very music forward, sounding very somber & progressive, yet appropriate for the scene and times. Or when a cello is initially mistaken for an electric guitar over the decrepit aura of Paul Dano's character. Serving as a foreshadowing of the future generations of faded black, skinny legged jean wearing inhabitants in some tornado ridden corn town. Or the recurring melodramatic, yet subdued (if that's possible) strings that only lasts about 5 to 8 seconds at a time, always queuing up Solomon's tattered depressed soul. It works.

Clandestine. Hidden. In the dark. When one's life is in danger - suddenly things which were taken for granted like writing, reading, or I don't know, things like FREEDOM, suddenly need to be occult. Solomon who was warned to not say where he came from and to never mention he had a family also had to hide the fact he was educated. That was to survive. To persevere so he can one day, maybe, see his family again. Last week was national Coming Out day. October 13th, which fell on a Friday. Exactly seven days later 12 Years will come out on the 18th. What does this have to do with anything? Well, everything. What do you occult, hide, not tell, (however you want to word it)? Imagine having to supremely dumb down your intellect to the point where your soul is beaten down, your posture personifying your inner and outer strife? I can not. Kinda. Like those two groups of friends you keep separate. What you mention or choose to not mention will most likely solicit a, "That's weird.", or personal projected assumptions & short comings justified. Whatever. Suddenly my hidden sexual preferences seem very minor after watching Solomon carving his children's and wife's names unto the bottom of his fiddle. The spot carved resting under his chin some inches away from his bleeding heart. My being afraid telling my racist, homophobic mum that I'm bisexual and heavily into women's rear ends takes a back seat for another 5 years or so, with absolutely no regrets. Everything turns into an apparition anyways. Like the band of assimilated Native Americans who disappear just as quickly as they appear, in the dense woodlands of Solomon's new hell.

The real issues here are the sorry putrid souls which were rotten & ridden with psychosis, vice, fetishismo and master/slave mentality shackles. Who needs who most? Wait. Am I describing the mid 1800s or the new teen 2000's?? Mr. Fassbender's rendition of the forefather to the crazy, empathy lacking, enslaved to their testostorone, on the low lover of whatever, S&M, bondaged, sad soulless, bad asses which make our economies go around, is nothing short from a hard-on.

Wait! There is hope!

Brad Pitt is smart. As a producer and keeping it cute with a cameo (thank you GOD - because for some seconds, I was tempted to take my bathroom break when I suddenly saw him Quaking) we are blessed by his short appearance, but most importantly Solomon is blessed. For it is this hairy faced, God fearing, dutiful traveler who extends his neck and connects Solomon to his distant life, freeing him from the insanity which runs through the veins of most if not all.

Than if all that crazy shit is not running through you, than who are you? A distant relative of a former bi-racial slave? A great, great, great grandson of a lunatic who secretly coveted and publicly shamed? Or just a person who abides by the rule that Knowledge Reigns Supreme? It truly sucks that Solomon was put on this path, but because of him an account, a reminder, would have never graced my eyes, penetrating my soul. If you're still in you're zombied out, Eyes Wide Shut, state of mind than the laws right under your noses are gonna to continue being re-written and the kidnapping of souls continuing. The demands of the unsympathetic, hateful, cruel task maker forever creating havoc. The cycle never ending.