With all due respect to Gil Scott-Heron, today's revolutions are not only televised
but Webcast as well, complete with streaming audio of guerrilla leaders' fiery stump
speeches and links to Trotsky's The Permanent Revolution at Amazon.com. Canadian
filmmaker Wild, an obvious old-school activist who's also blessed with a cultural
critic's sharp eye, sees how the game has changed in the Nineties and uses those
observations to enliven her award-winning 1998 documentary. (A Place Called Chiapas
won the Audience Award at last year's Los Angeles International Film Festival.) Her
subject is the long struggle between poor subsistence farmers, government forces,
and sundry irregular factions, both pro- and anti-government, in the Mexican province
of Chiapas. The troubles began when the government abandoned its policy of distributing
land to peasants for their ownership and use. This move was not only unpopular but
inexplicable because, as Wild points out, the tiny plots in question comprise some
of the nation's least desirable land. Protests by the farmers eventually led to violent
clamp-downs by the army and a group of allied paramilitary thugs with the bitterly
ironic name, Paz y Justicia. The peasants' main ally is "Marcos," a ski-masked,
pipe-smoking academician who leads an indigenous guerrilla force called the Zapatistas.
Like Fidel Castro and the Ortega brothers before him, Marcos shrewdly courted international
policymakers by appealing to their intellectual vanity as well as their consciences.
Media-savvy to an almost self-parodic extent, he posed for photo spreads in a French
fashion magazine, decorated his (largely English-language) Zapatista Web site with
trendy Dia de los Muertos artwork by Jose Guadalupe Posada, and convened a Woodstock-styled
multinational gathering of lefty revolution buffs. While I personally question the
tendency of some fellow liberals to seemingly reserve extra moral zeal for human
rights struggles that occur in exotic foreign settings and feature flamboyant leaders
with a gift for poetic oratory, Wild argues very effectively for the universal relevance
of this localized struggle. Present here in especially clear relief are the classical
elements of conflict between the powerful and the weak, and between social policies
driven by moral and economic imperatives. One of the people we meet is a peasant
boy named Clinton, whose hardships are due, at least in part, to government actions
influenced by his American namesake's economic policies. But policy arguments aren't
the focus of A Place Called Chiapas. Instead, Wild consciously zeroes in on aspects
of the Chiapas tragedy that are specific and personal rather than dogmatic. This
is a surprisingly beautiful, even lyrical, movie that appeals far more to the heart
than the head. For example, Wild states in passing that the Chase Manhattan Bank
pressured the Mexican government to quash the Zapatista rebellion, yet offers no
elaboration upon this devastating charge. Wild's calculatedly emotional approach
may cost her film some credibility with the serious folks who like to talk global
politics over breakfast at Las Manitas, but it may also enhance its effectiveness
with the rest of us. And as all good revolutionaries know, you can't subvert the
dominant paradigm without first getting the rabble roused.
--Russell Smith
Interviews
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