MOVIES AT LA PLAZA—THE OLD OAK: "Solidarity, not charity!"

Movie Review by Sergio Martinez

"Solidarity, not charity," says T.J. Ballantyine (Dave Turner) in one of those defining moments in the plot of The Old Oak. Before that happens, however, a series of events will be unleashed on the small northern English seaside town where the action takes place. The village had once seen better times when it had been an active coal mining centre. With the closure of the mine had come the inevitable decline and the men, old miners now retired, only find a moment's recreation in the local pub, The Old Oak, the very same - its sign with its last letter dislocated - witness to the village's decline.

Even the pub's sign is a witness
to the village's decline

Director Ken Loach, undoubtedly one of the leading exponents of cinema with a social connotation, once again presents us with the consequences of economic policies, such as the closure of coal mining under the Thatcher administration, and the effects on the people who suffer them. However, on this occasion, Loach uses more emotional mechanisms than in other films. It is difficult not to be moved by several of the scenes, which show on the one hand the toughness and determination of these men, and at the same time their vulnerability.

Dave Turner as T.J. Ballantyne
delivers a solid and emotional performance

The arrival of a group of Syrian refugees introduces an element that will change the place and arouse various reactions. While the villagers are already going through difficult times, the arrival of the refugees, sent there by the central government, tends to inflame tempers and awaken the hitherto hidden prejudices.  In fact, the reception of the refugees by the locals is far from welcoming: in one incident, one of them, enraged because a young Syrian woman carrying a camera has taken a picture of him, reacts violently against her, and the camera is damaged in the melee.

Yara (Ebla Mari) is a young
refugee and a photographer

Yara (Ebla Mari) is a young refugee, one of the few fluent English speakers. She finds support in T.J. Ballantyne's attempt to repair her camera. The pub owner along with Laura (Claire Rodgerson) deploys a relief effort by collecting some necessities for the refugees and toys for their children. This work, however, generates some resentment on the part of those who point out that the citizens of the country have also needs, some families have problems putting food on their table, so they do not see well that the refugees are helped and not them: "charity begins at home" says one of them.

The Syrian refugees introduce
a new factor in the already troubled village

The awareness of the situation of many of these English families will lead them to look for a new approach to solidarity: immigrants and refugees are not the cause of the state of affairs that preceded their arrival. Refugees and locals must then look for a formula to alleviate part of the crisis affecting the whole community. Even so, not everyone will be very happy with the transformation of their pub into a sort of community cafeteria and will try to derail the project.

Only a distant event will bring back a sense of solidarity to the small community, and then both the local inhabitants and the newcomers will feel that they are sharing in the pain of one of the families.

Running time: 1 h 53 min.

CINE EN LA PLAZA—THE OLD OAK: “¡Solidaridad, no caridad!”

Comentario de Sergio Martínez

“Solidaridad, no caridad” dice T.J. Ballantyine (Dave Turner) en uno de esos momentos definitorios de la trama de The Old Oak. Sin embargo, antes que ello ocurra una serie de acontecimientos se desencadenarán sobre el pequeño pueblo costero del norte de Inglaterra donde transcurre la acción. El poblado alguna vez vivió mejores tiempos, cuando había sido un activo centro carbonífero. Con el cierre de la mina había llegado el declive inevitable y los hombres, viejos mineros ahora retirados, sólo encuentran algún momento de esparcimiento en el pub local, The Old Oak, el mismo --su letrero con su última letra descolocada— testigo de la decadencia de la aldea.

El pub también ilustra el declive de la aldea

El director Ken Loach, sin duda uno de los principales exponentes del cine de connotación social, nos presenta una vez más las consecuencias de las políticas económicas, en este caso el cierre de la minería del carbón bajo la administración Thatcher, y los efectos sobre las personas que las sufren. Eso sí, en esta ocasión Loach hace uso de mecanismos más emocionales que en otros filmes. Es difícil no sentirse conmovido frente a varias de las escenas, que muestran por un lado la dureza y determinación de estos hombres –típicos exponentes de la clase trabajadora, en especial T.J. Ballantyne, el dueño del pub— y al mismo tiempo su vulnerabilidad.

T.J. Ballantyne (Dave Turner) junto a su 
perrita Marra

La llegada de un grupo de refugiados sirios introduce un elemento que trastocará la fisonomía del lugar y despertará variadas reacciones. Mientras los residentes del lugar ya están viviendo momentos difíciles, el arribo de los refugiados, enviados allí por el gobierno central, tiende a encender los ánimos y despierta los hasta entonces escondidos prejuicios.  En los hechos, la recepción a los refugiados por parte de los lugareños dista de ser una bienvenida: en un incidente, uno de ellos, enfurecido porque una joven siria que porta una cámara le ha tomado una foto, reacciona con violencia contra ella, la cámara resulta dañada en el entrevero.

Yara (Ebla Mari), la joven
refugiada siria

Yara (Ebla Mari) es una joven refugiada, una de las pocas que habla inglés fluidamente y que encuentra apoyo en T.J. Ballantyne en su intento de reparar su cámara. El tabernero junto a Laura (Claire Rodgerson) despliegan una tarea de ayuda recolectando algunos objetos de primera necesidad para los refugiados y juguetes para sus niños. Esta labor, sin embargo, genera cierto resentimiento de parte de quienes remarcan que ellos—los nacionales del país—tienen también necesidades, algunas familias tienen problemas para llevar alimentos a su mesa, por lo que no ven bien que se ayude a los refugiados y no a ellos: “la caridad empieza por casa” señala uno de ellos.

Los refugiados sirios introducen
un elemento inédito en el pueblo

La toma de conciencia de la situación de muchas de esas familias inglesas llevará a buscar una salida solidaria: los inmigrantes y refugiados no son los causantes de ese estado de cosas que antecedía a su llegada. Refugiados y locales entonces deben buscar una fórmula para tratar de paliar en parte la crisis que afecta a toda la comunidad. Aun así, no todos estarán muy contentos con la transformación de su pub en una suerte de comedor comunitario y procurarán descarrilar el proyecto.

Sólo un evento lejano devolverá el sentido solidario de la pequeña comunidad, donde tanto sus habitantes locales como los recién llegados, se sentirán compartiendo en el dolor de una de las familias.

Duración: 1 h 53 min.

MOVIES AT LA PLAZA—FOG OF FEBRUARY: The man, his work, and his actions

Movie Review by Sergio Martinez

The subject of this documentary recently released in Montreal should stir up some old quarrels and reopen the discussion on a case that many would prefer to keep closed. Most likely, however, this will not be the case: Fog of February (Onze jours en février) is showing in only a few theatres in Montreal.

Claude Jutra (1930-1986) was, until 2016, one of the most revered personalities in the cultural milieu of the province of Quebec. Like many intellectuals of that time, he was also a fervent separatist, to the point of having refused to accept the Order of Canada, which had been conferred on him by the federal government. Considered one of the fathers of modern Quebec cinema, Jutra first became known for his film À tout prendre (1963) and especially Mon oncle Antoine (1971). By the 1980s Jutra began to succumb to Alzheimer's and in 1986 he committed suicide by throwing himself into the St. Lawrence River from the Jacques Cartier Bridge. Thirty years later, however, he would fall into disgrace and become practically a missing person in the province's modern history.

Once a revered Quebec celebrity,
Jutra became a non-person in a record time

This film directed by Jean-Claude Coulbois examines the eleven days in February 2016 between the moment a biography of the filmmaker written by journalist Yves Lever (1942-2020) was released, in which it is mentioned that Jutra would have sexually abused several children, to the moment when, after the controversy triggered, the provincial government, the film institutions in Quebec and even the municipal authorities, literally erased the presence of the filmmaker from the collective memory.

In his film, Coulbois makes a detailed presentation of the facts, beginning by situating Jutra's impact on Quebec cinema for an audience that has probably never heard of Jutra, except in a negative context, and then reconstructing, based on archival material and several interviews with people who knew the case, what this process of prosecution and condemnation, carried out in record time, was like.

Strictly speaking, it must be admitted that overall, the film takes a very critical look at the process by which Jutra went from being a key figure in Quebec culture and identity to a disgusting villain. Jutra was known to be homosexual but there had never been any indication that he engaged in acts of pederasty. Moreover, the revelations in Lever's book were more like hearsay or rumours as the people alluded to remained anonymous.

A monument to Jutra, now removed

It is precisely this speed of action that the film highlights: the then Minister of Culture, Helene David, appears giving instructions to remove the filmmaker's name from the annual Québec Cinéma awards, and the same orders are given to municipalities to change the name of streets or parks that honoured Jutra, the then federal Minister of Canadian Heritage, Mélanie Joly, moves with equal speed.  This is especially highlighted in interviews with lawyer Jean-Claude Hébert, filmmaker Denys Arcand, and producer Rock Demers.

Quebec filmmaker Denys Arcand
was surprised by the speed of the process

This is the central point of the film, which does not attempt to rehabilitate the filmmaker or to reopen a case that has never been heard in court. In this sense, Fog of February (Onze jours en Février) should make us reflect on the scope that an accusation as serious as pederasty can have.

Undoubtedly, the #MeToo movement that arose precisely in the film industry to denounce sexual abuse committed by powerful men in Hollywood has contributed to denouncing and -we hope- discouraging and criminalizing this type of conduct that occurs in many other spheres of public life. However, this is an important warning call that this film makes, in a democracy, there must always be due process. Before condemning and especially before erasing the artistic work of a person, it must be clear that his or her work should not suffer the consequences of the reprehensible actions which its creator may have incurred in his or her private life.

A COMPLEX SITUATION, BUT CAN PEOPLE AND THEIR WORK BE ERASED?

The issue of sexual abuse, especially in the artistic-cultural milieu, but also in politics and the business world, has been in the headlines for some time now. The #MeToo movement contributed in an important way to reveal these abuses, and it is certainly good that it has been so. But beware, this should not mean overlooking the fact that there are other dimensions to consider as well. In Montreal, there was the case of Charles Dutoit, controversial conductor of the Montreal Symphony Orchestra (OSM) who, on the one hand, made a remarkable contribution to the development of that musical ensemble. Dutoit, however, was also accused of sexual abuse and now when the radio plays a song recorded by the OSM when he conducted, his name is omitted.

Woody Allen, a celebrated director whose contribution to the art of filmmaking cannot be denied, was also the target of accusations that were nevertheless dismissed by the courts and the child protection agency. It was then determined in those legal instances that his ex-wife, Mia Farrow, had influenced the children to make those accusations. Despite that, Allen's films have been the target of hostility, and more than once exhibitions of his works have been cancelled.

Spanish tenor Plácido Domingo, meanwhile, has been accused of sexual harassment by some of the female singers with whom he has performed throughout his long career. In 2019 when those allegations came to public light he was forced to resign as artistic director of the Los Angeles Opera. The following year he issued a public apology for making some of his colleagues uncomfortable, however, he reiterated that he had done nothing to cause harm. The tenor no longer performs in the United States, but in Spain, he is still considered one of its iconic artists.

The problem is that while sexual abuse duly proven or recognized before judicial institutions should undoubtedly affect the personal reputation of the artist who engages in such conduct, on the other hand, it should not affect the access and study of his or her work, nor should it erase his or her artistic contribution.