World Order/Series2/Volume 35/Issue 1/Text

←Volume 35 Index

World Order, Series 2 Volume 35 - Issue 1

Issue 2→

Proofread onceReturn to PDF view

[Page i]

Celebrating World Order’s Thirty-Fifth Volume with Two Issues on Global Cinema

In this issue...

The Power of Art Editorial

Performative Art: Soulful Conversation with Our Spirits Jim Stokes

Spinning the Myth Pool: An Interview with Phil Lucas Robert Weinberg

Promoting Understanding: The Celluloid Contributions of Phil Lucas David Delgado Shorter

Phil Lucas: A Filmography

Christine Jeff’s Rain: Universality and Narrative in Cinema Negar Mottahedeh

Afterword The Cause and effect film festival, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada Nadia Rushdy [Page ii]WORLD ORDER AIMS TO STIMULATE, INSPIRE, AND SERVE ITS READERS IN THEIR SEARCH TO UNDERSTAND THE RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN CONTEMPORARY LIFE AND CONTEMPORARY RELIGIOUS TEACHINGS AND PHILOSOPHY.

EDITORIAL BOARD

Betty J. Fisher Arash Abizadeh Monireh Kazemzadeh Diane Lotfi Kevin A. Morrison Robert H. Stockman Jim Stokes

CONSULTANT IN POETRY Herbert Woodward Martin

INFORMATION FOR AUTHORS

World Order is published quarterly by the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States, 536 Sheridan Road, Wilmette, IL 60091-1811. The views expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the publisher or of the Editorial Board.

Peer review: Submissions to the journal will be subject to external blind peer review if they fall outside the expertise of the editorial board or upon request by the author.

Submissions and other editorial correspondence should be addressed to the Editor, World Order, 7311 Quail Springs Place NE, Albuquerque, NM 87113-1780 or e-mailed to <worldorder@usbnc.org>. Detailed information for contributors may be requested in writing or by e-mail.

Manuscripts may be typewritten or computer generated; manuscripts accepted for publication are requested on computer disk (Microsoft Word or WordPerfect preferred) or by electronic submission. Article and review manuscripts must be double-spaced throughout and prepared in a 12-point Courier font; the footnotes must be at the end of the text and not attached electronically to the text. Each manuscript should list on the first page the article title, the author(s), and the author’(s) addresses, including telephone, fax, and e-mail.

Articles may range in length from some 3,750 to 6,250 words.

Reviews vary in length. Review Notes run from some 125 to 150 words; Mini-Reviews run from some 1,000 to 2,500 words, and Review Essays, from some 3,750 to 6,250 words.

Poems should be single spaced with clearly marked stanza breaks.

World Order is indexed in the Index of American Periodical Verse, the ATLA Religion Database, and The American Humanities Index.

INFORMATION FOR SUBSCRIBERS

Subscription Rates: U.S.A. and surface to all other countries, 1 year, US $25; 2 years, US $48. Airmail to all other countries, 1 year, US $30, 2 years, US $58. Single copies US $7 plus shipping and handling. Make checks or money orders payable to Bahá’í Distribution Service. Send address changes to and order subscriptions from the Bahá’í Distribution Service, 4703 Fulton Industrial Boulevard, Atlanta, GA 30336-2017. Telephone: 1-800-999-9019, United States and Canada: 404-472-9019, all other countries. Or, please e-mail: <subscription@usbnc.org>.

Back issues still in print may be obtained from the Bahá’í Distribution Service at the mailing address above or by e-mail <bds@usbnc.org>. Orders for back issues on microfilm and microfiche can be obtained from ProQuest Information and Learning, 300 North Zeeb Road, P.O. Box 1346, Ann Arbor, MI 48106-1346 USA. Telephone: 1-800-521-0600. E-mail: <info@il.proquest.com>.

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

Copyright © 2004 by the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States; all rights reserved. World Order is protected through trademark registration in the U.S. Patent Office. Printed in the U.S.A. ISSN 0043-8804.

ART CREDITS

Cover design by Richard Doering, cover photograph, courtesy CreatingOnline <www.creatingonline.com>; p. 7. Steve Garrigues; p. 8, Glenford E. Mitchell; p. 14, Steve Garrigues; p. 19, Darius Himes; pp. 20, 29, 32, Steve Garrigues; p. 39, reprinted by permission from Rain’s director Christine Jeffs; p. 42, Steve Garrigues; p. 46, Camille O’Reilly; p. 48, Judith Noyes-Farnsworth. [Page 1]

CONTENTS

The Power of Art Editorial

Interchange: Letters from and to the Editor

Performative Art: Soulful Conversation with Our Spirits by Jim Stokes

Black Butterfly Moon a poem by Druzelle Cederquist

Spinning the Myth Pool: An Interview with Phil Lucas by Robert Weinberg

Promoting Understanding: The Celluloid Contributions of Phil Lucas by David Delgado Shorter

Phil Lucas: A Filmography

The Mountain of God a poem by Paul Mantle

Christine Jeffs' Rain: Universality and Narrative in Cinema by Negar Mottahedeh

Afterword-The Cause and effect film festival, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada by Nadia Rushdy

continental drift a poem by Diane Huff

Every Diamond Would Be a Stone a poem by Julio Savi [Page 2]

Editorial

The Power of Art

Our society has tended to equate science and its applications with the most serious kind of knowledge, while art is often thought of as "mere entertainment" or as somehow dispensable. In reality, art also disseminates knowledge, however subtly. It heightens our awareness, deepens our sense of the aesthetic, and teaches us something about the artist or ourselves, about human nature or the world. To borrow a phrase from Walt Whitman, art "expresses what cannot be expressed by any other means." As both a conveyor and repository of knowledge, art can be seen as an equal to science, although different in its methods. Like science, art can make sense out of chaos and can offer a framework for bringing order to our world.

In ancient times Greek tragedies entertained their audiences but also taught powerful lessons about the essence of humanity—mortality, weakness, passions, nobility of spirit. Rich traditions of folktales from around the world bury within their often humorous or homely context deceptively simple lessons about how to behave, how to treat others, how to deal with the consequences of one's actions, how to distinguish choice or chance from destiny. Because the gamut of human emotions remains somewhat of a constant, one can also trace a connecting thread in art from one age to another, from one medium to another.

In Europe in the Middle Ages, religious art was ascendant. The vaulted cathedrals soared heavenward and their stained glass windows told the stories of the Bible, bringing images to life for the populace. Illuminated manuscripts taught through words but were also designed to give aesthetic pleasure—and perhaps the beauty of the illuminations also led to a fuller contemplation of the message of the book itself.

Before the advent of the printing press, knowledge was transmitted orally or pictorially. Then books became a far more efficient way of disseminating knowledge and of offering entertainment, leading Victor Hugo to remark, "The book will kill the edifice." To some extent Hugo was right. The making, and perhaps the relevance, of stained glass windows, for example, declined after the invention of the printing press, dramatically so after the widespread circulation of books and the growth of literacy. However, these beautiful windows are still valued precisely for their aesthetic merit and for the reactions they evoke in us, if not so much for their storytelling.

In a sense, we have come full circle in the artistic world—from visual or performance art to the supremacy of the written word and now again to the primacy of the visual. Film was arguably the most important, or at least the most pervasive, [Page 3]art form of the twentieth century, and there are no signs that its popularity will decrease. Like folktales and the Greek tragedies, enacted before the massed citizens of relatively small polities, film is a democratic art form, combining the powerful modern concept of economies of scale with the portability of the book, thus making it accessible to all but the poorest of the poor. Like the art forms before it, film can both entertain and enlighten, increasing our aesthetic sense and knowledge of ourselves and others.

Victor Hugo spoke of the book supplanting the cathedral; one can apply his words to art and its metamorphosing forms in general: Thought, he said, had, with the invention of the printing press, converted itself "into a flock of birds," scattered itself "to the four winds," and occupied "all points of air and space at once. . . . It was solid, it has become alive." This is the power of art and also its place and purpose in our lives: to bring our thoughts to fruition, to serve as a vehicle of human and historical continuity. Especially in times of upheaval and change, such as the present, art can both inform and transform its audience. Hugo observed that revolutions in art forms can accompany or be the cause of chaos. However, he also recognized that "the new world which emerges from this chaos will behold, on its awakening, the thought of the world which has been submerged soaring above it, winged and living." [Page 4]

Interchange

Letters from and to the Editor

World Order is launching its thirty-fifth volume with a two-issue series of articles and interviews exploring global cinema from artistic, social, cultural, political, and spiritual points of view. The sheer fun of working on thoughtful, insightful, and informative essays about a medium often associated with weekend respites from work has been a joy for the Editors. But exploring, from a Bahá’í perspective, the broad social concerns in cinema has had other benefits: Of the eight articles projected, five are written by authors being published in World Order for the first time.

"Performative Art: Soulful Conversation with Our Spirit," an essay by Jim Stokes, provides a framework for the discussion of cinema in our increasingly global world. It raises questions about the role that performative art (drama, music, dance, film) plays in our lives and invites us to participate in "film's flickering and soulful conversation with our spirits."

An interview with Native American filmmaker Phil Lucas (conducted by Robert Weinberg, a London-based radio producer, journalist, and first-time contributor to World Order) provides insights into the life and art of a filmmaker who has devoted virtually all of his filmmaking life to personifying indigenous Americans through their own voices. In "Promoting Understanding: The Celluloid Contributions of Phil Lucas," David Delgado Shorter (another first-time World Order author) surveys Lucas' prolific and varied contributions to indigenous film and introduces us to some specific Lucas films. Lucas' films, Shorter notes, have "left an indelible mark on the canon of cinematography promoting understanding, on a variety of social and cultural issues, among Natives and non-Natives." Lucas, he says, succeeds in creating "representations that speak to both the cultural insider and the cultural outsider" and interprets "the dynamics of a community. . . without betraying the trust of the community members or the sensibilities of the intended audience." A filmography of Phil Lucas' works provides an overview of his quarter-of-a-century career in film.

Negar Mottahedeh, yet another author making a first appearance in World Order, tackles the complex topic of universality in film. Through her analysis of Christine Jeffs' Rain (2001-available on DVD and VHS), Mottahedeh argues that to speak of cinematic universality requires an understanding of the specific ways in which filmic techniques generate feelings of the universal. Thus she challenges the tendency to see film as able "to speak across cultures" through [Page 5]

INTERCHANGE

universal themes and, along the way, gives us a lesson in understanding a number of filmic techniques.

To complete this issue on cinema, Nadia Rushdy, another first-time World Order contributor, provides a report on the Cause and effect film festival held October 6-8, 2003, in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.

The next issue of World Order will include articles on Iranian cinema, international film festivals and global understanding, animé films, and an annotated bibliography providing the reader with an overview of the directions in which scholarly and popular film criticism have been moving in recent years.

Given the level of demonstrated interest, the Editors are looking forward to making discussions of film a recurring (rather than a now and again) feature of the magazine and invite authors to continue to submit articles or reviews on the world of cinema.

Two useful websites have come to our attention. Robert Weinberg, one of the authors in this issue, invites us to check out the new site <http://www.bahai-artsacademy.com> prepared by the Bahá’í Academy for the Arts located in Somerset in the U.K. Under "Cool Stuff" you will find a compilation of extracts from the Bahá’í writings called "The Importance of the Arts in Promoting the [Bahá’í] Faith."

The second web site, which may be found at <http://temple.cl.bahai.org/flash/temple62en.html>, provides up-to-date information on the design for the House of Worship to be constructed in Santiago, Chile. World Order, in its issue on spiritual space and place (Vol. 34, No. 3), featured a photograph of the design on its cover and, on pages 5 and 6, printed extracts from the June 2003 announcement about the selection of the architect for the building. (Copies of available back issues may be obtained from the Bahá’í Distribution Service, 1-800-999-9019.)

You need ten or so uninterrupted minutes to savor the design for the Santiago House of Worship in what is called a "fly-through," a visual excursion in flash format. Launched by the Bahá’í International Community in both English and Spanish, the web site (see <http://temple.cl.bahai.org>) also provides an HTML version without the fly-through for dial-up and a fly-through only version in Quicktime and Media Player.

In a recent press release from the Bahá’í World News Service, architect Siamak [Page 6]

INTERCHANGE

Hariri (from the Canadian architectural firm Hariri Pontarini Architects) elaborates on the design for the Chile House of Worship. He says that the starting point for the design was to create "a glowing temple of light, inviting to people of all faiths." He goes on to say that "Light, the connecting force of the universe, shapes all aspects of the design. By day, light draws you into the building, and concentrates at the oculus. Light creates an interior experience of ever-changing texture and unpredictable iridescence as it is filtered through the inner tracery of wood. The stone shell glows with a dreamlike serenity at night. Golden light spills out between the leaves, and the inner form of the building is revealed."

The South American House of Worship will join the seven existing continental Temples in Australia, Germany, India, Panama, Uganda, the United States, and Western Samoa. The press release goes on to say that the winning design is a "glowing temple of nine gracefully torqued translucent alabaster 'leaves' that floats over a large reflecting pool and nine prayer gardens. The translucent leaves of stone form the Temple’s outer shell, with a delicate wood tracery as an inner layer. Space for communal and private meditation and prayer is provided by two distinct spaces: the area under the dome seating 600 people, and nine intimate, light-filled alcoves nestled between the wings beneath a mezzanine that rings the Temple perimeter. Although visually light, the building is structurally strong to respond to its location in a seismic zone. The structure is designed to accommodate ground movement and flex under lateral loads, with each wing composed like a leaf whose primary steel stem and secondary veins support the two layers. Three supporting bands tie the leaves into one integral whole."

The American Humanities Index (AHI) has recently begun indexing World Order. AHI indexes creative, critical, and scholarly serials in the arts and humanities and is available to libraries worldwide.

We apologize for a typographical error that crept into Arash Abizadeh’s poem "X-Yugoslavia, May 1994" (Vol. 34, No. 4, page 7). "Glorified" in the final line should read "gorified." The corrected poem follows:

X-Yugoslavia May 1994 X marks the spot and the house and the city and the mountain and the heart and the body of the refugee where mention of God hath been made, and His praise gorified.

Finally, we have the sad task of telling you that the poet Susan Atefat-Peckham, whose interview by Kim Meilicke Douglas appeared in our most recent issue (Vol. 34, No. 4) was killed, along with her six-year-old son, on February 7, 2004, in an automobile accident in Amman, Jordan, where she was on a Fulbright Fellowship. After winning the 2000 National Poetry Award for That Kind of [Page 7]

Interchange

Sleep (published in 2001), Susan had been working on a sequel, but she had not been publishing. Douglas' interview perhaps gave voice to Susan's last public thoughts about poetry; it has been used widely in memorial services. Not long before she was killed, Susan had this to say about death: "I am not afraid of death. The only thing that makes me uncomfortable about dying is leaving my children, and causing anyone any sadness or feelings of abandonment. Otherwise, I know where we come from, and that this place is just a short stop back home. I think that souls come here to learn lessons, and once the lessons they come here to learn have been learned, they go back home. I think our purpose is to love one another. I don't have regrets I keep learning. Like I tell my students, there are no mistakes in living, only lessons."

[Page 9]

Performative Art: Soulful Conversation with Our Spirits

In Shakespeare's comedy A Midsummer Night's Dream, Theseus the king and his new bride Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, are watching a play called "Bottom's Dream," being performed in their honor by a company of rustic Athenian workmen. "Bottom's Dream" is probably the worst play ever written, and at one point Hippolyta says impatiently to the king, "This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard." Theseus responds, saying, "The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them." "It must be your imagination then," she answers, "and not theirs." Yet a few moments later when Bottom, the ham actor, as the grieving Pyramus declaims on the presumed loss of his Thisby (thinking her to have been eaten by a lion), the testy critic Hippolyta, moved in spite of herself, says, "Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man."

The comic exchanges between Theseus and Hippolyta actually reflect serious questions about the nature and value of performative art-whether drama, music, dance, or film. Is it but shadows and, therefore, something essentially inconsequential? If so, why do we (and most other societies) reward our favorite performers with great wealth, privilege, and public esteem? Why do we queue up around the block to see the latest film or concert? Why do we have unshakeable, passionately held, opinions about the "best" work of the year, or the decade, or the century, in our favorite medium? Why do people still read and quote Homer some three thousand years after his death?

The comment by Theseus (that art is shadows) reflects an ancient recurring argument by the harsher critics of art: If art is shadows, it is an illusion and,

1. A Midsummer Night's Dream 4.2.210-14, 290, in G. B. Evans, ed., The Riverside Shakespeare, 2d ed. Boston: Houghton, 1997.

JIM STOKES is a professor of English at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point where he is a Eugene Katz Distinguished Faculty Member. In 1996 he published with the University of Toronto Press a two-volume work in its Records of Early English Drama series and is now working on two additional volumes in the same series. An admitted film addict, he has led several three-week summer courses on Theater in London. [Page 10]therefore, a kind of trickery and deception, even a form of lying. And if that is so, it is only one step removed (in the eyes of the medieval Christian Church and other religions) from sorcery and deviltry. In that view, art is, at the least, a distraction from properly serious contemplation and, at the worst, a path to catastrophic, even apocalyptic error as a form of false knowledge. Thus Plato would have banned poets from his Republic; thus the Church Fathers and the sixteenth-century Protestant reformers alike condemned and circumscribed drama (even while being among its greatest patrons); and thus in our own time do many people complain about the dangerous excesses in music, literature, and film, often with good cause. Supporters of art have, like Theseus, often had a more difficult time making their case. The ancients defined the noble twin purposes of art as being to teach and to delight. In the sixteenth century Sir Philip Sidney argued in his "Defense of Poesy" that art is more philosophical than philosophy because it gives us ideas, and ideals, in concrete form. Perhaps in its implications Sidney’s argument is, by extrapolation, the strongest one of all: that art arises from and communicates to the imaginative faculty within us all—that part of our soul that "sees" thought and feeling. In the chambered city that is the self, art comes from that inner neighborhood where language is images and from whence come dreams of "what is past, and passing, and to come." From that perspective, art is not illusion or deception, but a bridging form of knowledge unlike any other and one especially valuable because it is uniquely and universally accessible.

The comment in A Midsummer Night’s Dream by the surprisingly subtle critic Theseus gets at another important aspect of performative art—that to exist it must be amended by the imagination of the audience. That is, the performative arts are uniquely communal in nature, requiring an agreement between artist and audience to suspend together their focus on the merely actual and jointly to construct an "idea’d" world. Rather than being a threat to society, such art helps to regenerate society and to help it grow into something new and better. Such art is the closest thing we have to collective public meditation. Moreover, one might argue that, at its best, it partakes of some of the qualities that we associate with prayer (almost all great playwrights share a common quality—the urge to "repair" the world; they give their characters words that we wish we might have said, or actions that we wish we might have had the spirit and insight and courage to have undertaken).

As a form of knowledge that presents concepts concretized as images, performative art (indeed, all art) does its work by representing little worlds that the poet Marianne

2. W. B. Yeats, "Sailing to Byzantium," in The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats (New York: Macmillan, 1956) 192. [Page 11]

PERFORMATIVE ART

Moore called "imaginary gardens with real toads in them." Thus they proceed by imitation (the most important word in thinking about art) that enables us to feel and to see. But what worlds do they imitate? What precisely do (and should) they want us to see?

In its most limited sense, imitation seeks to provide a near photographic snapshot of the surface world, a form of what has been called servile imitation. However, great artists do not seek to imitate nature by representing its every external feature but rather by using selected details to represent some one of nature's general and essential truths. In the sixteenth century Sir Philip Sidney confronted the problem of the meaning of imitation in his famous sonnet sequence, Astrophel and Stella. After writing a series of conventional lover's complaints slavishly rendered in the manner of earlier masters and producing nothing but pale and lifeless imitations, the frustrated speaker of his most famous sonnet fairly shouts from the page: "Fool, look in thy heart and write." If his poem is to live, it must itself be a small and utterly new creation that somehow also correlates with the larger world of experience but that must have its own beating heart, and shape, and life. In art's paradox, it must simultaneously mirror, yet be entirely new.

Because a successful work of art creates real toads but sends them hopping off into imaginary gardens, it deals with that part of human consciousness freed from time and space-the mind and soul and spirit. Because art comes ultimately from the spirit of the artist, it is capable of exerting a profound effect-for better or worse on the spirit of the one who receives it, the audience. Indeed, its main purpose is to affect the spirit.

The Bahá’í writings express a profound appreciation of the power of art and the essential role that it plays in the life of humanity; indeed, they express a sublime vision of what the arts should be. Bahá’u’lláh describes music as "a ladder for your souls, a means whereby they may be lifted up unto the realm on high." In speaking to those who will someday build Bahá’í houses of worship, he counsels them to "make them as perfect as is possible in the world of being." ‘Abdu’l-Bahá declares that "in this wonderful new age, art is worship." He describes music as a glass, "perfectly pure and polished," and its power as "divine and effective," a "food of

3. Marianne Moore, "Poetry," in A. W. Wilson, et al., ed., The Norton Anthology of Poetry, rev. ed. (New York: Norton, 1974) 1016. 4. Bahá’u’lláh, The Kitab-i-Aqdas: The Most Holy Book, pocket-size ed. (Wilmette, IL: Bahá’ Publishing Trust) 1993) K51. 5. Bahá’u’lláh, Kitab-i-Aqdas K31. 6. From the writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, 6th quotation, in "The Importance of the Arts in Promoting the Faith <bahai-artsacademy.com>; also in Compilation of Compilations: Prepared by the Research Department of the Universal House of Justice, 1963-1990, vol. 3 (Maryborough, Victoria, Australia: Bahá’í Publications Australia, 2000) no. 33. [Page 12]"the soul and spirit," especially useful in teaching children, since their hearts are pure and highly receptive. Though music, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá observes, is mere vibrations "which reaching the tympanum, affect the nerves of hearing," yet, paradoxically and mysteriously, "they [those vibrations] have the keenest effect upon the spirit." He notes that the ancient Greeks and the Persian philosophers first played music, then delivered their discourses, and further cites King David and his enrapturing singing of the psalms as an illustration of music's spiritual power. Most strikingly, He quotes Bahá’u’lláh as observing that, if there had been musicians among their number when Bahá’u’lláh and His companions were imprisoned in the dungeons of Acre, "it would have charmed everyone."

8 Such a vision of art is, indeed, an acknowledgment of its wondrous powers.

Yet the Bahá’í writings also offer cautions and warnings that separate art as a form (which is by nature pure as glass) from art's uses. Bahá’u’lláh counsels the artist not "to transgress the bounds of decency and modesty." ‘Abdu’l-Bahá likewise urges the artist to fill the glass with water that is "perfectly fresh and limpid," for "then it will confer Life."10 The Bahá’í writings also counsel artists and communities alike to avoid prescriptions as to what art should look like. In a striking phrase, Shoghi Effendi’s secretary, writing on his behalf, says bluntly: "The further away the friends [the Bahá’ís] keep from any set forms, the better."

Film is the most vital dramatic form of our age, attracting global audiences and, increasingly, giving rise to thriving national and independent cinema projects around the world. The particular "grammar" of filmic art is often accessible to audiences of every language, culture, age, and ethnicity, though presently the how and why of that process is very much a matter of study. Therefore, when the idea of a special issue exploring global cinema was proposed, members of the World Order Editorial Board reacted with great enthusiasm, not only because most of the board (as it turns out) are film buffs but because they realized that the opportunity to foster discussion of a genuinely global phenomenon is particularly suited to the pages of this maga- zine. Like Theseus and Hippolyta attentive to their play, we welcome film's flickering and soulful conversation with our spirits. And we welcome what the film-minded authors in this issue have to say.

7. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, in "Compilation of Extracts from the Bahá’í Writings on Music," in Compilation of Compilations: Prepared by the Universal House of Justice, 1963-1990, vol. 2 (Maryborough, Victoria, Australia: Bahá’í Publications Australia, 1991) nos. 1421, 1420. 8. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, in "Compilation of Extracts from the Bahá’í Writings on Music," in Compilation of Compilations, vol. 2, no. 1421. 9. Bahá’u’lláh, in "Compilation of Extracts from the Bahá’í Writings on Music," in Compilation of Compilations, vol. 2, no. 1409. 10. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, in "Compilation of Extracts from the Bahá’í Writings on Music," in Compilation of Compilations, vol. 2, no. 1421. 11. Shoghi Effendi, in "Compilation of Extracts from the Bahá’í Writings on Music," in Compilation of Compilations, vol. 2, no. 1429. [Page 13]

Black Butterfly Moon

The moon names in the poem refer to Native American names of the months of the year. The names, in order starting with Black Butterfly Moon, come from the Cherokee, Kiowa, Creek, Osage, Cheyenne, and Tewa Pueblo Indian tribes.

I step into September-Black Butterfly Moon- like a diver steps with quickening heart to the edge, springs into the sweet pulse of air, reaches and arcs into the last hovering moment before descent. So many moments gather into the soft, black wings of September, gleanings of moons gone by- Leaf Moon, Mulberry Moon, Yellow Flower Moon-bundled like sheaves of light ripened into this one taking-off moment, gathering strength to strength like prayers unfolding between heaven and earth. It is not yet the hard lean Moon When the Wolves Run Together, not yet the Ice Moon. It is the Black Butterfly Moon of September, and all things are possible

-DRUZELLE CEDERQUIST

Copyright 2004 by Druzelle Cederquist

DRUZELLE CEDERQUIST is a poet and the author of a forthcoming biography of Bahá’u’lláh.

[Page 15]

Spinning the Myth Pool: An Interview with Phil Lucas

Phil Lucas is a pioneering indigenous filmmaker of the Choctaw tribe. He started out as a musician in New York clubs in the early 1960s. After a near fatal bout with alcoholism at the age of twenty-two, he turned to photography and film studies in Arizona and Washington. With a degree in visual communications from Western Washington University, he moved to Honduras in 1970 where he formed an ad agency and then worked as a freelance photographer among the Miskito Indians of Nicaragua. After surviving the devastating 1972 Managua earthquake, he returned to film production in the Pacific Northwest. In an extraordinary career spanning four decades, Lucas has written, produced, and directed more than one hundred projects, including feature films, television series, and documentaries. He was honored for his work at the 1999 Sundance Film Festival. He is currently in post-production on a major PBS series about Native Americans in the twenty-first century. -ROB WEINBERG

You are one of the first Native Americans to be working in an industry where Native voices are rarely heard. When did your fascination with the medium begin?

I became a filmmaker at about the age of twelve, not literally but figuratively speaking. I had gone to a movie theatre in Phoenix. In those days, they'd show movies and cartoons on a Saturday morning, so you could get dropped off and spend the whole day there just watching movies. That particular day, they were showing Stagecoach, starring John Wayne.... The stagecoach is being attacked by Indians, and pretty soon you hear the bugle blow, and the sol-

ROBERT WEINBERG is a radio producer and journalist based in London. His film show, Classic FM at the Movies, broadcast nationwide in the United Kingdom, is listened to by half a million people a week. In 1987 Weinberg received a Bachelor of Arts honors degree in expressive arts, specializing in videomaking, visual arts, art history, and music, from the University of Brighton. He began his radio career with the BBC and joined Classic FM in 1994. He has published a biography of Ethel Jenner Rosenberg, a pioneering British Bahá’í, and edited Spinning the Clay into Stars, a collection of the writings of potter Bernard Leach. His photographs have appeared in Sacred Earth. [Page 16]diers come rushing to the rescue, and everybody's cheering in the audience! And what was remarkable was that the audience was filled with Indian kids. Everybody was cheering for the cavalry- including me! After I thought about it, I was so in shock. I walked the ten miles home. I just couldn't deal with it. At that point I realized that we were manipulated into, basically, cheering for our own people to "get it." And I asked myself, "How could that happen?" That led me to a curiosity about the way people's emotions are manipulated, but it took quite a long time before I finally went back to school and got a degree in film.

Did you explore a variety of subjects, or was it your main interest from the very beginning to use film to talk about the Native American experience?

I came right to it once I got started in film. Before that, as soon as I graduated, I went down to Honduras, and there, with two Bahá’í friends, started an advertising agency, which I thought was going to be great. But I hated it, trying to make people buy things they didn't need. I was also working for two photographic agencies in New York, so I spent a great deal of time in Nicaragua, shooting photographs of the Miskito Indians, and that's how I earned my living at that point. Then I was running out of money so I moved to Managua and opened a photo-finishing lab. I'd been there just about six weeks and was doing quite well when the earthquake happened on 24 December 1972. I was right at the epicentre of the quake and got buried at ground zero. Fortunately, I was rescued, and the earthquake gave me the opportunity to assess what I was doing. I decided to break with everything, go up to Seattle, and start working at the United Indians of All Tribes Foundation, which ran classes and supported Native arts. There I made my first film.

Having seen your work, it strikes me that there is a great deal of compassion in what you do and that you seem attracted to subjects who are very honest.

Yes, that's actually true. We have five hundred years of misinformation, so it's an attempt to give another perspective that is usually not seen. I tend to look for subjects that are going to be uplifting, that will help change and create change, that explore the spiritual side of things. I sometimes approach it in an obtuse way. I really do try to show the very positive aspects of these cultures, in spite of everything that's gone on. It's one thing to get dealt a hand of cards. It's another how you play the cards, and that's what I look for-how are the cards played? Who are the heroes today and what are they doing? How are they dealing with what's been given to them?

Do the more political Native Americans criticize you for presenting people in too compassionate a light and perhaps not coming to grips with the struggle?

I really don't get involved with tribal politics, and I don't, for the most part, deal with the political. I try to deal with the spiritual aspects. The political issues are a can of worms, and I really don't get into them because you please nobody and tend to make everybody else mad. It's a no-win situation. Tribes are pretty much divided into political and spiritual groups. Generally speaking, the people who were raised in boarding schools and the institutional model tend to gravitate toward the political. Those [Page 17]

SPINNING THE MYTH POOL

who escaped that and were raised in a traditional way tend to be divided away from them so we have those factions everywhere. It's a very difficult thing.

In one of your films, In the Hands of Alchemy, you profile the artist Jerry Wennstrom, who is one of your rare subjects who isn't a Native American. But, nevertheless, there still seems to be that thread of interest in someone who has almost a magical relationship with the natural world.

That is one of my rare deviations away from Native themes, but this film has to do with art, and art has to do with spirit and heart. When I was approached to do the film, I was really quite moved by Jerry. I spent a great deal of time talking to him before I agreed to do the film, and I found him to be genuine and real. I was so moved by his commitment and sacrifice he decided to destroy all his work and trusted God to take care of him for the next ten years, living with nothing. He's a gem, a tremendously spiritual human being and an example of how people can live their lives in a good way, and that's another reason why I did the film.

Do you think Hollywood, post-Dances with Wolves, is getting the depiction of Native American people right now?

Hollywood hasn't really made an Indian film yet. It's always about the white hero, while the Indians are the backdrop or the catalyst for the action and provide the drama. Hollywood filmmakers, for the most part, look for conflict to create drama. The conflict is always between the "good guys" and the "bad guys," and Indians are usually the "bad guys." That continues. Or the Indians are portrayed as the good guys only inasmuch as they have become allies with the white guys against their own people.

Dances with Wolves was seminal. In his book, Danse Macabre, Stephen King writes that, if you do not pay homage to the "myth pool," you will not be successful as a writer. He cites American Myth, American Reality by James Oliver Robertson, who describes the myth pool as a body of belief held by a society or people in spite of facts.¹ Belief is what people die for—it's a very difficult thing to define because it is built not on fact but emotion or manipulated fact. In order to change the "myth pool" you have to address it; you have to spin it. You can't hit it head on because it's what people believe. What you have to do is say, "Here's the myth pool, and this is what you believe," and they agree. Then you have to say, "Why don't we look at it this way?"

That essentially is what Dances with Wolves did. It took this "myth pool"—the story of the everyman soldier who believes that the savages live out West. Then he goes out West, and he finds something very different. Through the process of finding this very different thing, the audience goes with him and discovers it as well.

The film spins at the time when he is dancing around the fire, and you hear his voice. He's writing in his journal, and he says, "I miss my new friends; I miss my new family." At which point, the audience also says, "I miss my new friends; I miss my new family. Holy Toledo, we are related!" Then, for the rest of the film, it's devastating! I went specifically to five or six showings just to

1. See Stephen King, Danse Macabre (New York: Everest, 1981) and James Oliver Robertson, American Myth, American Reality (New York: Hill, 1980). ED. [Page 18]stand outside and watch the audiences come out, and they were blubbering, in tears! The reason they were so moved was because they felt this connection, which they never knew they had or never felt before. So that picture is really important. But it's not an Indian picture.

What, then, did you make of Ken Burns's series, The West?? That's not a Hollywood production, but it provides perhaps the most honest portrayal of Indians and Indian/American/European relationships that has been seen.

I have a difficult time with Ken Burns. I actually know him. As implied in the title of the series, the programs are "looking West" and not "looking East." In essence, while it gives fairly accurate facts, what we see is still measured by the dominant society's yardstick and framed within that culture's matrix. I spoke with several of the Indian people involved in the project, and they were, for the most part, not pleased with the approach, especially being asked to do and say things that were not consistent with their own cultural ways. Contrast it to Dee Brown's Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, and you'll see what I mean.3 At the beginning of each chapter in his book, there is a paragraph "looking East" that talks about the opening of an opera in New York, what's going on in Paris, etc., at the same time that the genocide against Indians is being played out a little further west. He places the horrors we sustained within the context of the time.

What you don't see in The West, among many other things, is that when the "Indian Wars" began in the 1840s, there were already forty million immigrants living on the East Coast. New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and many other cities were already metropolises, thriving and bursting at the seams. The Ivy League universities were already two hundred years old. This is the platform from which the invasion into the West was launched. When teaching a course on "Images of Indians in the Media," I toss out the following question to my students to give them a notion of which perspective they're coming from, based on their answer. This has to be done very quickly, and the reply has to be right off the top without a lot of thought. I ask: "How many survivors were there at the battle of the Little Bighorn?" Almost every answer I get will be "none." However, there were over four thousand survivors, all American Indians. That's the perspective that is always missing when our vision is looking "West."

Yet recently there's been a wave of indigenous films, for example, Rabbit Proof Fence from Australia and Whale Rider from New Zealand. Is that a sign that we are moving closer to films made by and for aboriginal peoples?

Well, there's a lot happening in Canada where the government supports Native filmmakers. But not here in the States. In fact, it's just the opposite. If you want to do anything Native, and you are Native, you can't get funding. Which is why I do a lot of coproduction work with people who aren't.

2. Ken Burns' The West was shown on public television in the United States and is available on VHS.-ED. 3. See Dee Brown, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West (New York: Holt, 1991)-ED. 4. Rabbit Proof Fence, directed by Phillip Noyce, was released in 2002; Whale Rider, written and directed by Niki Caro, was released in 2003.-ED. [Page 19]

SPINNING THE MYTH POOL

Film is, of course, a medium that employs light and is dependent upon light. To what extent do you see film as a spiritual medium?

As far as I am concerned, there's no record of human behavior being changed as a result of intellectual argument. It takes an emotional event to change behavior. And in the absence of emotional events where you are actually present, film and television can create that for people. What film does is convey emotion. People use film in many different ways, but mostly it's ineffective because they are trying to use it to convey information. But information is better conveyed on the net or in an encyclopaedia or in books and newspapers. With information in such forms, you can always refer back to it. To use it in film is very unproductive and boring. What film does best is emotion, which has the potential to lead people to changing their lives.

What would you say the relationship is between your Native identity and your Bahá’í identity and how does that affect your filmmaking?

First, I really don't make a hard distinction between my "Native" and my "Bahá’í" identity as there's really no conflict between the two. The problem is in the perception of these identities within the general Bahá’í community. Lately, within the Bahá’í community, I have come not to expound upon my Native roots, culture, or cultural beliefs, as what I have to say usually flies in the face of the Bahá’í myth pool and is, therefore, either misconstrued or dismissed out of hand. On the other hand, all of my "Native" friends and family are quite well aware of the fact that I am a follower of Bahá’u’lláh. As both of these "identities" are life ways, they influence everything I do and don't do as a filmmaker. All of the films that I have made are consciously centered on the spiritual reality underlying each story.

[Page 21]

Promoting Understanding: The Celluloid Contributions of Phil Lucas

In Phil Lucas’ 1989 documentary film, Healing the Hurts, a man stands in front of a small group of workshop participants asking, "What do we need to solve the problems in Israel, between the Arabs and the Jewish people?" His sweater is reminiscent of Pendleton blankets used for gifting and healing rituals in Native communities across the United States and Canada. He asks, "What do we need to solve those between the Catholics and the Protestants in Ireland?"

With hand gestures, a powerful voice and compassionate eyes, Phil Lane, Jr., an Associate Professor at the University of Alberta and an internationally recognized leader in human and community transformation, seems to be speaking to the people at the workshop, the cameraman and crew, and somehow across time and space to us, the film audience: "What do we need to solve the problems between the people in Southeast Asia? What is the basic spiritual quality they need, that without it they cannot go ahead?" Before we can frame an answer in our minds, a member of the workshop answers with assurance, "Forgiveness." Not missing a beat, Lane concurs, "Forgiveness."

"Forgiveness" is seemingly an easy answer, both easy to say and easy to believe. But even the most optimistic among us may have problems seeing how one word can change the tides of history or ameliorate the suffering experienced by generations in the geopolitical battlegrounds of the Middle East, Ireland, and Asia. Moreover, in Canada and the United States we are rarely faced with the day-to-day experience of ideological violence in our streets, schools, and homes. That is, unless we are Native.

Copyright 2004 by David Shorter.

DAVID DELGADO SHORTER is an Andrew W. Mellon Postdoctoral Fellow in Latin American Studies at the Center of the Americas at Wesleyan University in Middletown, Connecticut. His fields of research include Yoeme (Yaqui) religious traditions, ethnography, postcolonial theories, cultural studies, method and theory in religious studies, and performance studies. He has taught courses in the anthropology of religion; ritual, myth, and symbol; religion and conflict in the Americas; U.S.-Mexican borderland studies; transregional religions; and American Indian film and video. In the fall of 2004 he will be joining the faculty of the Folklore Department at Indiana University-Bloomington. [Page 22]

DAVID DELGADO SHORTER

Although we rarely think of ourselves as currently living in colonies, many First Nations people wake daily to face structural colonization or its embodied feel. Because the effects of displacement, collective shame, and cultural genocide remain active; because many Native people themselves have internalized the colonial mentality of the "Indian problem"; and because these issues have received little attention, colonization is still very much a part of many Native communities. Working actively to confront the problems associated with Postcolonial Stress Disorder, as many Native intellectuals call it, filmmakers around the world have sought to represent Native communities in documentaries, independent films, and community-awareness videos. Few filmmakers have been as prolific as the producer of Healing the Hurt—Choctaw filmmaker Phil Lucas.

Founder and president of one of the first Native-owned production companies in the United States, Lucas' career spans four decades. Having written, directed, and produced more than eighty films, Lucas has left an indelible mark on the canon of cinematography promoting understanding, on a variety of social and cultural issues, among Natives and non-Natives. His resumé includes feature films, documentaries, and television series. His accolades include Emmy nominations, Official Selections at the Sundance Film Festival, and a long line of festival "bests," including Best Long Documentary, Best Short Documentary, Best of Show, and Best of Festival. On several occasions the American Indian Film Institute has recognized his celluloid contributions to indigenous communities.

With a list of accomplishments that is truncated here for matters of space, you might be asking yourself why you have not heard of Phil Lucas or his films.² The answer brings to mind the conundrum faced by many anthropologists, ethnographers, filmmakers, and, indeed, anyone who hopes to represent indigenous cultures: How does one create representations that speak to both the cultural insider and the cultural outsider? Can one interpret the dynamics of a community, which is, in fact, many communities, without betraying either the trust of the community members or the sensibilities of the intended audience? In the works of Lucas we have proof that such representations are possible. His films provide testimony to indigenous survival, vitality, and sovereignty. They also witness for Native communities the power of collective action toward individual and social health. And they open doors of understanding for non-Natives.

Lucas' approach to making films for both Natives and non-Natives differentiates his body of work from others. In one of his earliest projects, Images of Indians (1979/1981), Lucas wrote, coproduced, and codirected a five-part series exploring the

1. For a small sample of the well-recognized indigenous filmmakers around the world, consider the following artists: Zacharias Kunuk (Inuit) received critical acclaim for his film Atanarjuat/The Fast Runner (2001). Arlene Bowman (Dine/Navajo) is well known for both Navajo Talking Picture (1986) and Song Journey (1994). Shelley Niro (Mohawk) received several well-deserved awards for her 1998 film Honey Moccasin. Also look for Lumbee director Malinda Maynor's 1996 documentary Real Indians; Dunghutti (Aboriginal Australian) filmmaker Darlene Johnson's Stolen Generations (2000); Carlos Martinez Martinez's (Zapotec) short Espiritulidad Mixe/Aywukh Spirituality (1996); and Caimi Waiassé's (Xavante) Tem Que Ser Curioso/You Have To Be Curious (1996).

2. For a partial listing of Phil Lucas' works, see pages 26-29. [Page 23]stereotypical American Indians portrayed in Hollywood’s Western movies. For instructors of American Indian film and video courses, Images of Indians has been an essential teaching tool because of the large number of movies addressed (more than forty), directors discussed (twenty-three), and dates of releases (from 1923 to 1979). More important, however, is the depth of Lucas’ analysis. He shows the relationship between the preconceptions writers had about American Indians when they had heard about them but not had firsthand contact with them and the representations those same writers constructed about them in early Wild West shows, plays, stories, and films. But Lucas then delves more deeply into the topic, explaining how such representations and narratives support legislative and judicial actions that further the colonization of American Indians in the United States. As Lucas tells us at the end of the series, the impact on young American Indians has been enormous. At several points in the series, Lucas returns to his narrator, Muscogee Creek actor Will Sampson. In one scene Sampson is clearly frustrated by seeing American Indian children surrounding a household television that is playing one of the problematic Hollywood Westerns. Sampson turns off the TV and gathers the children around for a story about “real” American Indian history. By placing American Indians in front of the images, Lucas emphasizes that Hollywood misrepresentations affect how the larger society understands American Indians and how American Indians come to see themselves.

In the 1986 film, The Honor of All, which he wrote, produced, and directed, Lucas focuses on the Alkali Lake Indian Band (also known as the Esketemc First Nation) of British Columbia. Although the community had very little access to alcohol before World War II, by 1970 the number of adult tribal members who were alcoholics was close to 100 percent. Lucas demonstrates how two individuals, Andy and Phyllis Chelsea, bring themselves, their families, and, in time, their community to 95 percent sobriety by 1985. By using powerful narrative, talented reenactment, and a step-by-step description of community involvement, Lucas describes why alcoholism grips colonized people and explains how they can shake off that grip. For both Natives and non-Natives, The Honor of All is at once historical and instructional.

In Healing the Hurts, Lucas documents the healing processes of a group of Native men and women who are boarding-school or residential-school survivors. The individuals came from the United States and Canada to work with Phil Lane, Jr., the workshop facilitator. The workshops were planned and conducted by the Four Worlds Development Project, the Faculty of Education at the University of Lethbridge, and New Directions Trainings at Alkali Lake, British Columbia. Although the film was directed by Larry Gibbs, Lucas’ craft as a writer and producer is evident. As in his other films, Lucas takes care not to simply say that problems exist in Native communities. He details the history of the problem and offers examples of locally initiated solutions. [Page 24]In the case of Healing the Hurts, Lucas films a workshop that deserves international attention. Lane explains why healing deep hurts must entail ceremonial attention. He describes how the boarding schools in England became the training ground for the colonial administrators who would later manage the residential schools in the United States and Canada.' He then demonstrates how the boarding schools led to a collapse in kinship systems and culturally appropriate ways of healing. Because of the breakdown of internally organized crisis management, Native people have inherited a cycle of anger and hurt that has been passed down from generation to generation. One can easily imagine this video's being used by all indigenous peoples as a means of inspiring them to begin the recovery process needed to heal the effects of painful boarding-school experiences.

Healing the Hurts explains how the four-day workshop is organized, how the participants create kinship names for each other (sister, brother, father, and so on), how the anger and sorrow of the participants is released, and why the workshop is important for anyone who experiences the generational effects of boarding schools—that is, fear of rejection; fear of commitment; domestic violence; and sexual, alcohol, and drug abuse. The film focuses on the personal, making use of emotionally raw scenes of adults coming to terms with childhood traumas. For example, Lane asks one man to relive the experience of being dragged to the residential school and of having to separate for the first time from his brother and parents. After breaking down into tears and fitful anger, the man's jaw is obviously too sore to close. Lane asks if, perhaps, the teachers and administrators ever gagged him in the residential school. The man replies, "Yes." Starting around the age of eight, he was frequently gagged anytime he was caught using a Native word or telling a Native story.

Lane encourages another workshop participant to deal with her loneliness and the fear of abandoment that she has carried into adulthood. Lucas films the insightful way in which Lane asks the woman to address directly her sense of aloneness, to converse with fear itself. The woman begins screaming at the oppressive loneliness she feels, and Lane hugs her tightly, reassuring her, "You are not going to be abandoned. You are not going to be abandoned." Confronting her fears, she becomes physically weak, melting into Lane's arms, and says, through tears, to her memories, to her childhood abusers, "Get off my back." Then she notices blood on the ground. Lane, too, notices the blood and asks her to remember when she was abandoned. She tells him that she was forcibly sterilized at the age of twelve. Using "something made of metal," the school administrators sterilized her and then left her tied up for three days before sending her back to class without any medical care. The blood on the ground and the man's sore jaw both show how survivors from boarding schools can gain much-needed emotional, psychological, and physiological healing. In these scenes Lucas demonstrates the real, present continuation of the effects of embodied subjugation and colonization.

3. For a depiction of how the boarding-school mentality developed in Australia during the first half of the twentieth century, see the film Rabbit Proof Fence (Phillip Noyce, 2002). [Page 25]

CELLULOID CONTRIBUTIONS OF PHIL LUCAS

These are just two of the scenes in Healing the Hurts in which Lane facilitates a person's recovery, ownership, and release of an extremely personal trauma. At one point Lucas comes out from behind the camera and joins the workshop participants, explaining that he had been researching residential schools for three years but that it was not until he started filming that he realized the depth of the problem and the level of the schools' effects on the students. He goes on to say: "This is at the heart of what we are dealing with as Native people. If we don't break the cycle, we don't regain our power. If you can see an alternative, you can see a way to change." Lucas' comment epitomizes the intelligence and heart that he brings to each of his projects. Whether he is discussing the renewal of traditional carving techniques of the Potawatami, Ojibwe, and Ottawa (The Broken Chain, 1993) or recounting the life and art of Apache artist Allan Houser (Haozous: The Lifetime Work of an American Master, 1998), Lucas transforms the medium of film into a pedagogy of American Indian philosophy. In both his documentary on the American Indian Dance Theater (Dances for the New Generation, 1993) and his directing of Public Broadcasting Systems programs on Native self-determination and identity (Story Tellers of the Pacific, 1996), Lucas highlights the many ways in which indigenous people present and represent themselves in contemporary society. Unlike other directors, producers, and writers, his steady focus on Native communities provides alternatives leading to greater understanding for Natives and for non-Natives.

When considering what Lucas gains from addressing both Native and non-Native audiences, we might best return to the conversation in Healing the Hurts described at the beginning of this review wherein the workshop facilitator is explaining the effects of forgiveness in healing the pain that comes from the collision of two cultures. Phil Lane continues his questioning: "But who can teach forgiveness unless you have had done things to you that were totally unjust? How can you learn what forgiveness is about unless someone does something to you that you don't deserve?" Before we can consider a response to Phil Lucas' work on film, we are answered: "There is only one person who can teach the person with the whip what love is about, and that's the person who is being whipped." [Page 26]

Works in Progress

1. Native Tongues A 1-hour special contrasting two performance artists-one Native American and the other Australian Aboriginal-for PBS Vis--Vis series. In post-production. Director of U.S. portion.

2. Native Americans in the 21st Century A series of two 90-minute movies for PBS. In production. Senior Producer.

3. The Keepers A feature film based on an original screenplay. In development. Producer/Director.

Producer/Writer/Director

1. Eiteljorg Museum (2002) An introductory video on a new American Indian installation and video vignettes on the six featured artists. Producer/Director/Editor.

2. Restoring the Sacred Circle (2002) A 30-minute training video on the prevention of elder abuse in Indian country. Hosted and narrated by Gary Farmer. Produced for Oregon State DHS. Producer/Director/Editor. Received Best Film Award in the Public Service Category at the seventeenth annual American Indian Film Institute's Film Festival, San Francisco, 2002.

3. One House (2001) An advocacy video created to raise money to build straw-bale houses for Indian elders on Reservations. Narrated by Robert Redford. Co-writer/Director.

4. Siletz Indian Children's Stories (2000) Six 10-minute videos depicting traditional Siletz Indian stories adapted to ages K-12. Producer/Director/Editor.

5. In the Hands of Alchemy (2000) A 30-minute documentary on the life and art of Jerry Wennstrom. Co-producer/Director/Editor.

6. American Indian Film Festival (2000) A 5-camera shoot of this live event. Director.

7. Stories Given. Stories Shared (1999) The centerpiece of the New Cultural Center in Anchorage, Alaska. Editor.

8. Rockin' Warriors (1998) A 1-hour documentary for PBS on American Indian Rock and Roll artists. Aired November 1998. Co-produced by Phil Lucas Productions and Lynx Productions, Luxembourg.

9. Haozous: Allan Houser: The Lifetime Works of an American Master (1998) A 1-hour documentary on the life and work of famed Apache artist Allan Houser. Producer/Director/Editor. Won the Red Earth Film Festival's Best Long-Form Documentary Award, 1998; the Best Documentary Award at the Santa Fe Film Festival, 1999; and the Taos Mountain Award at the Taos Talking Pictures Film Festival, 1999. Official Selection at the Sundance Film Festival's Native Forum, 1999.

10. Healthy Nations (1998) A 25-minute informational video on the Healthy Nations Initiative of the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. Writer/Director/Editor.

11. Backbone of the World (1997). A 1-hour documentary on the struggle of the Blackfeet Indian Nation to retain the pristine nature of their homeland. Editor.

12. Beyond Reservation Road (1995-96) A 30-minute documentary for PBS on the resurrection of the dysfunctional Cherry Tree Community on the Cherokee Reservation. Editor.

13. The Voyage Home (1995-96) A 1-hour documentary of the Northwest voyage of the Hawai'iloa, the first ocean-going sailing catamaran constructed by Native Hawaiians from logs in the twentieth century. Aired on PBS, 1996. Editor.

14. Story-Tellers of the Pacific (1996) A 4-hour series co-produced by PBS; ABC Television, Australia; TV-New Zealand; and TV Ontario. Aired on PBS in Fall 1996. Supervising Producer for U.S. and Pacific Island segments and Director of U.S. segments. Won Best of Festival Award at the Dream Speakers International Film Festival, 1996. [Page 27]15. The Native American Series (1994) A history of American Indians from their own perspective. Director of a 2-hour episode of a 3-part 6-hour documentary series, for Turner Broadcasting System. Premiered October 10, 1994. Won National Emmy Award for series, 1994.

16. American Indian Dance Theatre (1992-93) A 1-hour performance documentary on the American Indian Dance Theatre for WNET's Great Performances series. Aired nationwide on PBS, May 21, 1993. Director/Co-producer. Nominated for a National Emmy. Won the Red Earth Film Festival's Best of Show Award, 1993.

17. Navigating the 90's (1992-93) A 13-part series on substance-abuse prevention for Grand Cayman Television. Began airing in September 1993. Producer/Director.

18. Broken Chain (1992-93) A narrative drama based on the history of the Iroquois Confederacy and their relationships with the British and the American Revolutionaries. A feature film for Turner Network Television starring Wes Studi, Floyd Westerman, Buffy Ste. Marie, Pierce Brosnan, and Graham Green. Aired December 12, 1993. Co-producer.

19. Healing the Nation (1992) Two half-hour programs documenting efforts of the Nuu-chan-ulth Nation on Vancouver Island to break the cycle of sexual abuse within their community. Producer/Director/Writer.

20. Earth Ambassadors (1991) A 16-minute video production documenting the implementation and training for the Earth Ambassador project initiated by the Four Worlds Development Project, Lethbridge, Alberta, and United National Indian Tribal Youth, Inc., Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. Producer/Director/Writer.

21. Voyage of Rediscovery (1990) A television program documenting the story of Frank Brown, who as a young Heiltsuk Native boy from Bella Bella, B.C., found himself in serious trouble with the law. In an agreement between family and judge, traditional Heiltsuk law was applied. He was exiled from his village to a remote island for eight months; as a result, his life was transformed, and Frank has become a key figure in the rebirth of the ocean-going canoes of the West Coast People. Producer/Director/Writer. Won Best Long Documentary at the Two Rivers Film Festival, 1990.

22. I'm Not Afraid of Me (1990) A profile of Barbara Bryon, a woman in her twenties just beginning a career as a singer and songwriter, and her seven-year-old daughter who are infected with the AIDS virus. Examines the impact of AIDS on the entire family. Producer/Director/Writer. Won Best Short Documentary at the Two Rivers Film Festival, 1990.

23. Beyond Hunting and Fishing (1990) A 30-minute television program documenting economic successes in the Native Indian community of British Columbia. Producer/Director/Writer.

24. Face to Face: Native Americans Living With the AIDS Virus (1989) A series of interviews with Native Americans infected with HIV. Producer/Director/Writer.

25. I Have AIDS: AIDS Epidemic: Rubbers (1989) Three 30-second PSAs. Producer/Director/Writer.

26. Indians Are Good Medicine (1987) A 20-minute documentary designed to attract Native young people to careers in medicine. Produced for Health & Welfare, Canada. Producer/Director/Writer.

27. Accu-Guard (1987) A 30-second and a 60-second commercial starring Max Gail. Producer/Director/Writer.

28. Journey to Strength: A Native Celebration (1985-86) A 1-hour television special presenting the notable achievements of the Native peoples of British Columbia. Aired on CBC. Producer/Director/Writer.

29. The Honour of All (1985-86) A 56-minute docu-drama of the successful rehabilitation from alcoholism of the Alkali Lake Band of British Columbia. Reenacted by the people who lived it. Aired on PBS in 1987. Producer/Director/Writer. Selected to represent the United States at Input '88 Official Selection at the Sundance Film Festival's Native Forum, 1999.

30. The Honour of All-Part II (1985-86) A 47-minute television documentary describing the combination of traditional Indian beliefs with modem treatment methods for alcoholism that helped bring the Alkali Lake Band to its current level of 95 percent sobriety. Producer/Director/Writer. [Page 28]

PHIL LUCAS

31. Sharing Innovations That Work (1985-86) A 26-minute video documentary of an in- ternational conference hosted by the Alkali Lake Band in May 1985. Producer/ Direc- tor/Writer.

32. The Great Wolf and Little Mouse Sister and Walking with Grandfather (1984) A 16mm color/illustrated film pilot for PBS. Producer/Director/Writer. Won Best Animated Short Subject Award at the American Indian Film Institute, 1984.

33. Where We've Been and Where We're Going (1983) A 2-part videotape series on Indian alcohol- ism produced for the University of Leth- bridge, Alberta. Producer/ Director/Writer.

34. Nez Perce: Portrait of a People (1982) A 23-minute, 16mm color film on the cul- ture and history of the Nez Perce Tribe. Produced for the National Park Service. Pro- ducer/Director/Writer.

35. Images of Indians (1979-81) A 5-part (30 minutes each) PBS series ex- ploring the problem of Indian stereotypes as portrayed and perpetuated by Hollywood Western movies. Hosted and narrated by actor Will Sampson. Aired Fall 1980. Writer/ Co-producer/Co-director. Won a Special Achievement Award in Documentary Film from the American Indian Film Institute, 1980, and the Prix Italia Award, 1981. Selected to repre- sent the United States at Input '81.

Producer/Writer

1. Chempro (1990) An industrial film showing a new process to extract PCBs from air transmission lines and air receivers at natural gas transmission fa- cilities.

2. Healing the Hurts (1989) A 1-hour documentary on healing the hurt and shame of the residential school experi- ence.

Producer/Director

1. I'm Not Afraid of Me (1990) A music video of the song written and per- formed by Barbara Bryon.

2. Circle of Warriors (1989) 3. A 25-minute documentary about Native Americans infected with the AIDS virus.

Lookin' Good (1988) A dramatic 1-hour series in two parts on drug and alcohol prevention at the junior high school level. Produced for the U.S. Department of Education and distributed to all major U.S. and Armed Services school districts and schools.

Walking with Grandfather (1988) A 6-part, 16mm series of illustrated films dramatizing traditional Indian children's sto- ries. Funded by CPB for ITV. Completed in March 1988. Began airing in April 1988.

Producer

1. Native Indians: Images of Reality II (1990) An 11-part series broadcast on the KNOWL EDGE NETWORK that explores the real- ity of Native Indian lives, told from their point of view. Combines the works of many noted Canadian and U.S. filmmakers.

2. Native Indians: Images of Reality (1989) A 15-part series broadcast on the KNOWL- EDGE NETWORK that explores the real- ity of Native Indian lives, told from their point of view. Combines the works of many noted Canadian filmmakers. Hosted by Roy Bonisteel.

3. Winds of Change (1989) 5. 6. Produced episode one (Indian Sovereignty) for WHA-TV, Wisconsin. Consultant for episode two (Family).

CBC Forum of the World Indigenous Peoples' Conference (1988) A 50-minute televised forum co-produced with the Canadian Broadcasting Corpora tion as a highlight of the 1987 "World Con- ference: Indigenous Peoples' Education" held in Vancouver, British Columbia.

Tradition, Change, and Survival: Indigenous Peoples' Education (1988) A 30-minute documentary on the week- long "World Conference: Indigenous Peoples' Education" held in Vancouver, British Co- lumbia in 1987.

Water and the Yakima People (1987) Filmed appraisals to provide alternatives to the Yakima tribal membership for the devel- opment of their water resources.

Writer

1. Night of the First Americans (1984) Co-writer of a stage presentation sponsored by the Council of Energy Resource Tribes, performed at the Kennedy Center Opera House, Washington, D.C." [Page 29]

A FILMOGRAPHY

Technical Advisor on Cultural Content Northern Exposure (1991) CBS series, eight episodes. Northern Exposure (1990) CBS series, eight episodes.

Actor 1. Broken Chain (1992) Role: Iroquois Sachem in Turner Network Television feature directed by Lamont Johnson.

2. Northern Exposure: "What I Did For Love" (1991) CBS series. Role: Indian Man. Directed by Steve Robman.

3. Northern Exposure: "Soapy Sanderson" (1990) CBS series. Role: Accountant. Directed by Stephen Cragg. [Page 30]

The Mountain of God

PAUL MANTLE

What is real? What is beauty? Be greeted by the songs of birds sounding from fragrant recesses and purling rills of water descending in narrow channels beside stone stairs you ascend. Flanked by stately cyprus candelabra and expanses of emerald green slopes, encounter fountains shimmering in their pools, curved stone balustrades, the verdancy of palms. Past purple jackaranda, trailing bougainvillea, venerable old olive, red roses, you tread. The varied pathways make you hear your own footsteps augmenting awareness of holy environs, skirting on the edge of mysteries. Statues of victorious eagles direct your gaze outward, from the heights, across the Bay of Haifa to the Door of Hope. Turning upward, sight the exquisite Shrine, the Queen of Carmel, standing domed and pillared, the focus of forces of divine civilization- the center of these gardens. The orisons of Zion swell from hearts within; the orange trees outside bear fruit glowing in the sun. Tears of joy and burdens are shed behind rich wooden doors. Wonder throbs in an atmosphere of awe emitting from sweet-scented Threshold. Communion of souls gives birth to sacrifice and meaning, directions sensed for future grasp. [Page 31]

THE MOUNTAIN OF GOD

Walk from prayers with reverence as a pilgrim from the terraces to a far- flung arc. Faces beam and breaths are held beholding archives of sacred relics and resting places radiant with luminous light. Here monuments of living knowledge and justice and love are housed in white marble. Along this horizon gleams the promise of peace, a noble caring for the family of nations, a cherished gift for future generations. This celestial vision is more than a treasure of thought or a spirit yearning for unity. Attain your heart's longing the end of one journey, the beginning of another. It is real. It is beauty.

-PAUL MANTLE

Copyright 2004 by Paul Mantle

PAUL MANTLE, who worked three years in Information Services at the Bahá’í National Center in Wilmette, Illinois, has moved back to a rural area of the Sierra Nevada foothills of Northern California.

[Page 33]

Christine Jeffs' Rain: Universality and Narrative in Cinema

NEGAR MOTTAHEDEH

To begin, let me pose the question that defines the parameters of this essay: What is it about cinema that warrants a constant appeal to universality? It is commonly held that "film has since its inception been a transcultural phenomenon." In its matter-of-course-ness this position posits film's visuality as the capacity that allows the medium to transcend the specificity of "culture" and to "create modes of fascination which engage audiences in ways independent of their linguistic and cultural specificities."2 Such assertions, which are based in what one might call the "a-literate visual," are vindicated every time we enter a darkened theater where we are told in a plurality of languages that "The language of cinema is universal."³

Indeed, academic arguments rooted in a modernist conception of cinematic mediation appeal to the "originary iconoclasm" of the medium, maintaining that film can transcend verbal languages to communicate cross-culturally. In that way,

Copyright © 2004 by Negar Mottahedeh.

1. See Rey Chow, "Film and Cultural Identity," The Oxford Guide to Film Studies, ed. John Hill and Pamela Church Gibson (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1998) 174. 2. Chow, "Film and Cultural Identity," Oxford Guide to Film Studies 174. 3. I refer to the a-literate visual as shorthand for a conception of visuality that assumes the uniformity of human perception throughout time and in all cultures. Theorists such as Jonathan Crary have shown the evolution and transformation of vision in modernity. My evocation of the a-literate visual here aims to suggest not only that perceptions change along with transformations in the media and modes of perception but also that each evolution and transformation in visual media demands a kind of literacy in order for the visual to be comprehensible to the perceiver. 4. By the phrase "originary iconoclasm," I am suggesting that iconoclasm is part of the very makeup of the technologies of filmmaking in that these are from the start technologies of mechanical reproduction. Although we tend to assume, from an anthropomorphic perspective, that an image of a person in

NEGAR MOTTAHEDEH is a professor of film and literature and the co-curator of the Reel Evil: Films from the Axis of Evil film series at Duke University. She received her doctorate from the Department of Cultural Studies and Comparative Literature at the University of Minnesota, where she wrote her doctoral thesis on the history of visual productions in nineteenth-century Iran. Her work has been published in Camera Obscura, Signs, Iranian Studies, Radical History Review, and Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East. She is currently working on a monograph on national variations in cinematic language and the new Iranian cinema. [Page 34]they argue, film is able both to produce and unsettle fixed categories of identification. The medium can cut both ways, in other words, so that we can call upon it to speak across cultures, regardless of linguistic barriers, and in that way melt away cultural fixities on both sides of the cultural divide.

Notions of cinematic universality assume that film language is embedded in the visual and that visual representation speaks to everyone everywhere without difference. This articulation of the visual has been challenged by many theorists, including Robert Sklar, Mary Anne Doane, Johnathan Crary, and Tom Gunning. In film studies the question of the transnational comprehensibility and transparency of the visual in film has been discussed at length and challenged in various issues of the film journal Camera Obscura by cultural theorists Keya Ganguly and John Mowitt as well as myself. But perhaps a short excerpt from Iranian film director Mohsen Makhmalbaf about the constraints and possibilities of speaking to an Iranian audience in a visual language may clarify the problematics of claiming visual representation to be auto-expressive. Elaborating on the difference between Iranian cinema and other world cinemas and building on the observation that behind every European filmmaker is a painter, whereas behind every Iranian filmmaker is a destitute poet, Makhmalbaf says:

I see that whenever we use montage or a metaphor that denotes a single meaning, then the [Iranian] spectator is capable of grasping the meaning of the image but as soon as the representation carries a plurality of meaning... the spectator fails to understand.... Sometimes the language of cinema is spoken by using shadows.... Sometimes the language of the image rests in the use of the (camera)

4. film has an origin in a real person that gives rise to a visual record of that person, for film, the assumption of an original in the "real world" is not essential. A movie is an original in its own right and has an "independent, mechanically reproducible existence of its own. With the passage of time more and more reprints can be made, and every one of them will be the same. The original. . . will no longer be of relevance." Film thus displaces the "sovereignty of the so-called original. It is in this sense that literary theorists such as Rey Chow argue for the iconoclastic roots of cinema." See Chow, "Film and Cultural Identity," Oxford Guide to Film Studies 171-72.

5. As Robert Sklar argues, film was once hoped to be the technology that would unite the globe. Its primacy in the visual was seen as its capacity to communicate to everyone everywhere as a visual Esperanto. See Robert Sklar, Movie-Made America: A Social History of American Movies (New York: Random, 1994). On the transformation of perception and visuality, see Mary Ann Doane, The Emergence of Cinematic Time: Modernity, Contingency, the Archive (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 2002); Johanthan Crary, Suspensions of Perception: Attention, Spectacle, and Modern Culture (Cambridge, MA: MIT P, 1999); and Tom Gunning, "The Cinema of Attractions: Early Film, Its Spectator, and the Avant-Garde," Wide Angle 8:3-4 (Fall 1986).

6. See Keya Ganguly, "Carnal Knowledge: Visuality and the Modern in Charulata," Camera Obscura: Feminism, Culture and Media Studies 37 (Jan. 1996): 157-87; John Mowitt, "Sembene Ousmane Xala," Camera Obscura: Feminism, Culture and Media Studies 31 (Jan.-May 1993): 73-95; and Negar Mottahedeh, "Bahram Bayza’i's Maybe Some Other Time: The un-Present-able Iran," Camera Obscura: Feminism, Culture and Media Studies 43 (2000)(15:1): 163-91. [Page 35]lens.... it is the effect of repetition and pedagogy and the becoming cliché [of a technique] that [allows] the majority [of the audience] to get it. . . . But when the language of cinema speaks through framing, by way of broken [sight] lines or direct ones, or by using color or mise-en-scène, or through the relationship between objects within the frame, or by [the use of] light, or by [the use of visual] concept[s], not one person understands. This is because the language of cinema arrives by way of, and is borrowed from [Western traditions of] painting. And Iranian film audiences are not familiar with painting. This is why Iranian filmmakers must be answerable to the fact that a whole people are uneducated in the history of Western visual arts.

THE PROBLEM WITH MAINTAINING

The problem with maintaining that the cinema speaks a universal language, according to the Iranian director, is that this visual language, more often than not, requires training in cinematic grammars and, further, involves developing habits of seeing. Audiences in Iran understand the use of crosscutting or montage in film because of the early popularity of Russian films in Iranian theaters. Accustomed to seeing films by Eisenstein and Vertov, audiences have been habituated to read meaning in the combination of shots.

THAT THE CINEMA SPEAKS A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE IS THAT THIS VISUAL LANGUAGE, MORE OFTEN THAN NOT, REQUIRES TRAINING IN CINEMATIC GRAMMARS AND, FURTHER, INVOLVES DEVELOPING HABITS OF SEEING.

The problem with claiming universality in cinematic communication is amplified, however, when the cinema communicates meanings in a visual language that is not habitual to its audience—for example, in the language’s use of color and lighting or in the relationships among objects within the film frame. It is obvious from Makhmalbaf’s discussion of the problematics of cinematic representation that filmmakers are aware that visual languages exist and that there are differences in visual literacy and comprehension between one national audience and another. Claims to universality in film, then, cannot be supported by turning to the transparency of the visual. Might one seek recourse in the narrative to explain a film’s universal appeal?

In reading about what we call "world cinema" in North America, I have come across repeated examples of reviews by critics and audiences who raise their voices, as it were, in choreographed odes of praise for one film auteur or another, reiterating the familiarity of such and such foreign-film narrative and its unquestionable global appeal, subtitles aside. Such euphoria is hard to dismiss, so what can be made of this claim for cinematic universality?

Christine Jeffs’ feature debut, Rain (2001), serves as a prime example of the type of film recognized and praised for its universality. Jeffs’ cinematic adaptation, like Kirsty Gunn’s widely translated novel of the same name (1994) on which the film

7. Mohsen Makhmalbaf, "Dastfurush: Interview," Gong-e Khab-dideh (Tehran: Nashrani, 1375) 137-79. [Page 36]is based, has evoked an overwhelming emotive response from readers and audiences around the world. Describing her experience at Cannes, where Rain competed for the Palme d'Or in 2001, Jeffs observed with amazement that the members of the audience were "passionate about how they felt about the film" and that the film received a standing ovation from its international audience. In an interview with Hannah Dickson, Jeffs recalled:

We had a Japanese buyer who came into the office later and burst into tears. She was laughing and crying at the same time and went on about how she related to the story and how it was her story. A Korean lady saw her performance and bought the film straight away [sic] I don't think she had even seen it.

Recounting the exceptional force of the film, critics alternate between narrating the film's story and lauding the magnificent landscapes that both intrude upon and provide the context in which the story's familial relations play themselves out. Though both Gunn and Jeffs refer to the "untouched," "plangent," "speechless," and "inchoate" New Zealand landscape as a source of inspiration permeating the story, there is nothing truly remarkable about the beachside coming-of-age story that makes up the film's plot.' Shot in the spring of 2000 on the eastern coast of New Zealand's North Island, the film, set in the early-1970s, narrates "the kind of beachside vacation community that would spell equal parts boredom and opportunity to any teenager." 10 Janey (thirteen) and her younger brother, Jimmy, make time pass on the beach as their parents drink, anesthetizing their crumbling relationship. The plot elaborates intermittently on an adulterous affair between Janey's mother (Kate) and Bill Cady, a photographer, who is eventually seduced by Janey. It is during one of these interludes between Cady and Janey that Jimmy drowns near the cottage, and his body washes up on the shore. The family is, needless to say, heartbroken. Then, quite unexpectedly, the film comes to an end. Otherwise, nothing much happens. Nothing substantial is said. The extent of the plot is just that: a teenage girl's younger brother drowns during a summer vacation.

Salon.com film reviewer Stephanie Zachrek says it best when she writes of Rain that "This New Zealand coming-of-age movie isn't really about anything."" Hence it is perplexing, if not exasperating, when critics resort to an exhaustive description of the narrative to explain the global audiences" "universal desire for emotional resonance" which may just be another way of saying what Jeffs herself has said elsewhere: "Universally, . . . people respond to the emotion in the film."12

8. Christine Jeffs, "The Director's Cut," interview with Hannah Dickson, She (Sept. 2001) <http://www.thegirl.co.nz/rain.html>. 9. See "Interview with Christine Jeffs by Beth Accomando," revoltinstyle (Apr. 2002) <http://www.thegirl.co.nz/rain.html> and "Kirsty Gunn After Rain: Sarah Putt talks to writer Kirsty Gunn," Reuters (21 Mar. 2002). 10. Stephanie Zachrek, Salon.com, Apr. 26, 2002 <http://www.salon.com/ent/movies/review/2002/04/26/rain/index.html>. 11. Zachrek goes on to say (in Salon.com, 26 Apr. 2002 <http://www.salon.com/ent/movies/review/2002/04/26/rain/index.html>), of course, "When it's this rich and luscious, who cares?" 12. Christine Jeffs, "Up Close and Personal," interview with Barbara Sumner Burstyn, Urbis (Spring 2001) <http://www.thegirl.co.nz/rain.html>; Jeffs, "Director's Cut," interview with Hannah Dickson, She (Sept. 2001) <http://www.thegirl.co.nz/rain.html>. [Page 37]

CHRISTINE JEFF'S RAIN

My unreserved annoyance with narrative-driven reviews generally arises, one could say, from my own investment in the specificity of the media through which stories are told. It strikes me, for example, that it is one thing to say that Gunn's novel Rain has been translated from English into more than a dozen languages with great success but another to say that the film based on it, produced in English and provided with subtitles for foreign distribution, communicates with equal ease. On a very basic level, one has to note that the film's non-English speaking audience has to shuttle back and forth between the visual and the textual, between the foreignness of sound and the scripted familiarity of the national tongue. Many who watch foreign-language films would agree that that kind of shuttling does not sustain emotion. Hence the narrative cannot in itself be what ensures the universality of audience reaction.

We should not dismiss the global audiences' emotional response to a film but rather attempt to understand "the whys" of this universality, beyond an appeal to the undifferentiated category of the universal legibility of film based on cinematic iconocity, or on internationally shared childhood experience of the summer vacation, in this case, or on the humanist's sympathetic response to a familial tragedy on screen. Statements about the emotional appeal of the film as something that can be explained by focusing on the narrative, alone, effect an erasure of the apparatus, by which I mean a forgetting of the fact that making and watching film involves processes of mediation as well as media through which the story is told. In light of this, I am more tempted to ask how the emotive is mediated, in Rain, and to try to explain the universal recognition generated by cinematic mediation.

While this query returns us to the question that opened the essay, it does so by suggesting that we consider the universality of the film's appeal in the cross-cultural encounter by way of a formal analysis of film, a formal analysis that would consider cinematic constructions of scenes in great detail. Such an analysis would not only take into account the history of cinematic technologies, or what film scholars call "the apparatus," but also study how a film is produced by these media. These mediating processes, according to the film scholar and semiotician Christian Metz, are covered over by most film stories to represent themselves as believable and real on the screen. 13

To come to terms with the issue of cinematic universality, we need to study that which the narrative covers over. We need to ask what strategic uses of filmic technology the story hides to create the effect of reality out of a world of fiction. How does this film communicate its narrative as "real"? How does it summon up real emotion? How does this "real" become universal? Three things distinguish this New Zealand version of a girl's coming-of-age from similar films released in the year

13. Christian Metz, Imaginary Signifier: Psychoanalysis and Cinema, trans. Celia Britton, Annywyl Williams, Ben Brewster, and Alfred Guzzetti (Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1982) 91. [Page 38]of its production alone: 14 (1) the film's reliance on the handheld sixteen millimeter camera, (2) its frequent use of slow motion, and (3) its cutaway close-ups that detail the objects and movements that stray from the plot.

It is precisely the three cinematic techniques that give shape to the cross-cultural and universal acceptance of the realness of the narrative. The techniques mediate and transform a trite narrative into an individualized reality, not by tapping into a collective unconscious or a universal childhood experience of summer vacation by the beach, but through formal investments in the use of detail. These details repeatedly tell the viewer that "I," the screened narrative, “am real"- -or rather, that "I am real to you."

Such specificity is not unique to Rain. As both the linguist and sociologist Roland Barthes and the literary theorist Walter Benjamin have suggested, detail is the defining characteristic of cinematic mediation. But Rain's unconventionally exaggerated adoption of the medium's specificity is what allows the intentionally emotive in the narrative to project universally as if it were real. This "as if" is what Barthes has called "the reality effect."16 An arbitrary sequence of the film demonstrates the director's use of detail as a means of creating reality effects. Janey, Jimmy, and their father, Ed, pay a visit to their mother's adulterous lover and photographer, Cady, on his yacht. Here detail and slow motion operate to signify the reality of childhood memories. As Janey steers the family motorboat toward Cady's small yacht, we get a close-to-mid-shot slow-motion sequence of Janey with her hair fluttering in the sea breeze (see figure 1). This is followed within a few shots by an extreme long shot of Cady working on the deck of his boat. Having approached the boat, Jimmy asks Cady if he would like to have one of the fish he has caught, while Janey flirtingly asks, to her father's disapproval, if Cady is willing to take a picture of her, just as he did of her mother.

On shore once more, the camera cuts to a close-up, detail shot of a bowl of lemons beside a foot (see figure 2). It then frames Janey's mother, Kate, in a long shot sitting out on the lawn in the back facing the house. She smokes a cigarette and sips from a clinking glass of whiskey. These shots are followed by a close-up of piled-up ash of a cigarette that falls to the ground in slow motion mirroring an earlier shot in a bathroom love scene to which Janey is a witness (see figures 3-4). Kate's husband,

14. Jeffs, "Director's Cut," interview with Hannah Dickson, She (Sept. 2001) <http://www.thegirl.co.nz/rain.html>. Around the time that Rain was made, two independent French films, Filles ne savent pas nager/Girls Can't Swim (2000) by author and director Anne-Sophie Birot and A ma soeur!/Fat Girl (2001) by director Catherine Breillat narrate similar tales of girls' coming-of-age by the beach. Both films have far more intricate plot lines than Rain.

15. See Walter Benjamin, "Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction," in Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt (New York: Schocken, 1968) 217-51, and Roland Barthes, "The Reality Effect in Todorov," French Literary Theory Today, trans. R. Carter (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1982); 11-17.

16. Barthes, "Reality Effect in Todorov," French Literary Theory Today 16. [Page 39]Figure 1 Figure 2

CHRISTINE JEFF'S RAIN

Figure 3 Figure 4 Figure 5 Figure 6

Ed, enters the backyard and stands in the doorway to ask Kate about her day. She made them all a cake, she responds. A cutaway close-up in slow motion shows Kate's hands breaking an egg into a bowl by the kitchen sink (see figure 5). A discontinuous edit returns us to the scene of the conversation where she invites Ed to have a drink with her. Having turned down the offer, Ed moves to the front of the house, and the camera cuts to a slow-motion close-up of his bare feet pushing behind a manual lawn mower (see figure 6).

The cutaway close-ups and slow-motion shots in this and almost all other [Page 40]sequences in the film (indeed, the film's exaggerated use of detail, called out with cutaway shots and slow motion) signifies the category of the real-the category itself, write Barthes, "not its various contents." He means by this that filmic reality is not reality in itself but a certain conception of reality created by the technologies of filmmaking. In other words, as in all film, the real itself is absent, yet the filmic detail is "what points in the direction of the real." In this case, the camera's attention to detail through the use of frequent cutaway close-ups, handheld shots, and slow motion constructs the effect of the real, making viewers experience a mediated image as the real thing. The viewer experiences the image produced and transmitted by cinematic technologies as the real itself. As Barthes would have it: We are, in fact, in the grips of a "reality effect," where what we are given is "a category and not a thing."¹⁸ In Rain this category finds its roots in the sense of heightened detail that Freud attributes to memories associated with childhood. A brief digression will bring us full circle to the question of universality.

Freud described the concept Deckerinnerung (cover memory or screen memory)— a term he coined while analyzing his own thinly disguised childhood memories- as a reconstructed phenomenon about childhood that carries a stamp of its formation branded upon it. In other words, screen memories are memories relating to childhood but not derived from the period of childhood itself. They are grounded in memory-traces from childhood that are supplemented at a later time by unconscious impulses that are unsuitable for expression in conscious adult social life. These unconscious impulses, Freud claimed, are made innocent through their association with images of youth or childhood.²⁰

When Freud wrote about screen memories, and especially when he referred to a "recollection" of a childhood scene involving dandelions, he suggested that screen memories are mnemonic fragments that feature heightened details. These details create the reality effect of a forged childhood memory.

Freud argued that a childhood reminiscence, in which the subject appears, suggests that a memory trace is worked over and translated into a plastic and visual form at a later date-namely, the date of the memory arousal. The visual formation of the memory is a delayed or deferred effect, but no actual reproduction of the original memory takes place.²¹

One could conclude, therefore, that the visual memory of childhood is not the real childhood memory but the deferred real effect of a recovered memory trace.

17. Barthes, "Reality Effect in Todorov," French Literary Theory Today 16. 18. Naomi Schor, Reading in Detail: Aesthetics and the Feminine (New York: Methhuen, 1987) 86. 19. Sigmund Freud, "Screen Memories," Standard Edition of The Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, Volume III, trans. James Strachey with Anna Freud (London: Hogarth P, 1962). 20. Freud, "Screen Memories," Standard Edition 318. 21. Freud, "Screen Memories," Standard Edition 321. [Page 41]

CHRISTINE JEFF'S RAIN

The result is that the reconstructed memory’s sense of heightened detail gives the visual image the packaging of childhood.

Drawing on these insights on screen memories, I would like to suggest that the film Rain replicates the process that takes place when childhood memories are formed in adulthood. Using cutaway close-ups and slow motion, Rain achieves its universal appeal, not by appealing to a cross-culturally available visual narrative, but by appealing to a process that produces the category "childhood memory" and constructs it as reality. This is not a real memory formed in the period of childhood but rather a screen memory formed in adulthood.

While the claim to the universal efficacy of films in general cannot be categorically sustained by the appeal to screen memories, it is clear that in Rain the use of detail in the form of cutaway shots and slow motion achieves the film’s universal appeal by attaching detail (detail being what makes the language of cinema unique) to the specific processes of childhood memory formation. Replacing the psyche’s process of childhood memory formation by heightening the medium’s own historical attachment to the category of detail, the technology of cinema in Rain produces the reality effect of childhood. It is the heightened engagement with cinema’s formal and technological specificity in Rain that allows a film about a girl’s coming-of-age to be read as universally capable of communicating the emotional appeal of a virtually bankrupt visual narrative across cultures to each one of us.

Challenged by the question of universality in film, I have attempted to argue that neither visual nor narrative representations can be relied upon to answer why films appeal universally. In analyzing the ways in which Christine Jeff’s Rain uses the category of detail in her filmic representation of a girl’s coming-of-age, I have attempted to emphasize the need to trace the universality of a film’s appeal to what is unique to cinematic technologies. To understand the universal appeal of a film, we need to start by attending to and identifying the processes employed by cinematic mediation to create real effects. I have argued here that the specificity of cinematic mediation, its unique character in representing and transmitting images of the world as real, rests in its investment in the category of detail—that is, in its ability to capture images in close-up and to slow down motion by slowing down the reel. It is Rain’s use of slow motion and the close-up in cut-away shots—and especially in its appeal to the category of heightened detail—that invokes the processes involved in the recollection of childhood memories. In appealing to the category of the real by using the formal devices that create a sensation of details in film, the film appears to be representing real childhood memories. These memories, according to Freud’s psychoanalytic theories, are characterized by a sense of heightened detail. Appearing with the formal qualities of childhood memories (that is, heightened detail), the filmic images become recognizable to all of us as real memories, memories of childhood shared by all, universally.

[Page 43]

AfterWord

NADIA RUSHDY The Cause and effect film festival, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, October 6-8, 2003

The Cause and effect film festival, the first Bahá’í international film festival, was held October 6 through 8, 2003, on the University of Alberta campus in Edmonton, Canada. Drawing some twenty-five participants from the greater Edmonton area, Calgary, and California, the festival screened twelve films. The purpose of the event, according to organizer Jacqueline Russell, was "to promote the use of film in the Bahá’í community, to support the artists involved in Bahá’í-inspired film projects, and to bring greater awareness to both the Bahá’í community and the world at large of the nature of Bahá’í films and filmmakers."

The festival was divided into two parts: screenings of films and panel discussions. The films were chosen based on two themes: how much they reflected the history and/or development of the Bahá’í Faith or how accurately they reflected some of the basic principles of the Bahá’í Faith, such as the oneness of humanity, the equality of men and women, or the elimination of racial prejudice. Films were sought in five categories: Feature-Length Documentary, Documentary Short, Feature-Length Fiction, Short Fiction, and Animation. The twelve films screened at the festival fell into three categories: one was a Feature-Length Documentary; ten were Documentary Shorts; and one was Short Fiction.

The film that drew the largest audience was the Feature-Length Documentary What Hath God Wrought!: A History of the First Century of the Bahá’í Dispensation, written, narrated, and produced by Joel Cotten. Completed in 2003, the historical documentary explores, according to Cotten, "a profound pattern of connection among the messianic traditions of Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and the newly emergent Bahá’í Faith." An excellent introductory film for those unfamiliar with the history of the Bahá’í Faith and with Bahá’u’lláh’s fulfillment of religious prophecy, What Hath God Wrought! is also an emotionally compelling narration of the suffering sustained by Bahá’u’lláh.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá: Glimpses of Perfection, a Documentary Short by Faramarz Rohani, explores part of the early history of the

NADIA RUSHDY is majoring in English literature at the University of Alberta in Edmonton, Canada, where she is studying for a Bachelor of Arts degree. Her interests include English literature and photography. [Page 44]

NADIA RUSHDY

Bahá’í Faith in the West, as it follows ‘Abdu’l-Bahá (Bahá’u’lláh’s son) on His journey through Europe and North America in 1911 and 1912. It places ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s travels in an historical context as it explains the significance of His visit on the development of the Bahá’í Faith in the West and His role as the chosen interpreter of Bahá’u’lláh’s revelation. What Hath God Wrought! and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá: Glimpses of Perfection, viewed in conjunction, provide a window into the history of the Bahá’í Faith from its beginnings in the nineteenth century into the twentieth century.

In contrast to the historical entries, I Think You'll Like It Here, a Documentary Short by Angela Rout, is set in the present-day and focuses on a young Bahá’í as she undertakes a year of service, a time when young Bahá’ís travel to other locales to serve the community. In sharing how she overcame the many challenges she faced as she tried to serve her adopted community-Dawson City in the Yukon Territory in Northern Canada-Rout has provided both an illustration of an aspect of Bahá’í life that is not often recorded on film and an encouragement to other young people who may be considering a year of service.

Skowak: The Bribri of Mojoncito, Costa Rica, a Documentary Short by Shar Mitchell, studies the effect of community-inspired social and economic development projects on the indigenous Bribri peoples of Costa Rica. The story is an encouraging one, as the Bribri are one of the few indigenous groups in Costa Rica that have managed systematically to preserve their language, culture, and way of life in the face of drastic social and economic change. The film outlines the methods through which the Bribri have adjusted, with the aid of Bahá’í principles, to competing with outside influences while passing on to the next generation a unique cultural identity and group-consciousness. As I Think You'll Like It Here, Skowak focuses on the practical application of Bahá’í precepts-in this case through social- and economic-development projects in which the villagers use Bahá’í tenets and Bahá’í skills, such as group consultation and cooperation, to ensure the equality of women with men, to improve the economic status of the villagers, and to provide education for all.

When Your Spirit Goes Wandering, a Short Fiction piece by Ramin Eshraghi-Yazdi, was the only work of fiction to be submitted to the festival. Implicit in the short film are themes exploring the Bahá’í concept of truthfulness and the effects dishonesty may have on one's spiritual development. The film consists of fast-paced action, which, combined with music, builds to a dramatic climax as a Bahá’í quotation is cited near the end. Simple and straightforward, When Your Spirit Goes Wandering is effective in raising our consciousness about the importance of truthfulness and the possible results of dishonesty and leaves us with the understanding that we have the power to choose a positive or negative course of action. At the same time, the film's tone invites reflection.

The screenings of the twelve films were supplemented by two panel discussions—one on "Individual Initiative" (led by Angela Rout) and one on "Basics of Film Making" (led by Shar Mitchell). Both panels were geared toward participants who wanted to become involved or who were already involved in the first stages of the filmmaking process. Stressing that filmmaking should not be an [Page 45]

THE CAUSE AND EFFECT FILM FESTIVAL

intimidating process, Rout said she wished to "encourage youth. . . to get their hands on it, to start working with it."

The festival was planned by Tara Rout, a first-year law student at the University of Alberta who worked in concert with the Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of Edmonton, the Bahá’ís’ local governing body, to ensure the event's financial and logistical success; Tobin Smith, a Vancouver filmmaker whose Song of Songs won the Best International Picture award at the 2002 New York Independent Film and Video Festival; and Jacqueline Russell, a theater student at the University of Alberta.

In reflecting on the significance of the Cause and effect film festival, Rout said that "the purpose of the Bahá’í Movement is to better the world through changing people's hearts, and making use of the arts-particularly film, as it is such an accessible medium-is the best way of speaking to people's hearts and of transcending the intellect; people are not so guarded and cynical when enjoying a piece of art."

The festival's name, Rout added, refers to the effect the Bahá’í Cause can have on artists, audiences, and the world in general. It is also a pun on the phrase "Bahá’í Cause," which is often used to describe the Bahá’í Faith, as only the word "Cause" is capitalized in the festival's title.

The second Cause and effect film festival is planned for late summer 2004. The organizers hope that it will provide an avenue for diverse kinds of artistic expression.

Copies of the twelve films shown at the inaugural Cause and effect festival may be available for viewing. Readers should contact Tara Rout at <cebfest@yahoo.ca> for information. The twelve films are:

The Trials of Eve by Gretchen Jordan-Bastow Myth and story-telling combine Canadian West-Coast imagery with the Adam and Eve story to create a positive vision of change and transformation for both women and men.

Morning Stars: A Profile of Kevin Locke by Shar Mitchell Kevin Locke, an internationally renowned hoop dancer from the Sioux Nation, says that the teachings of the Bahá’í Faith are the fulfillment of his people's traditional prophecies. His flute music, hoop dancing, and oral traditions express aspects of his culture.

What Hath God Wrought!: A History of the First Century of the Bahá’í Dispensation by Joel Cotten This documentary tells the story of the fulfillment of nineteenth-century expectations and reveals a pattern of connection among the messianic traditions of Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and the newly emergent Bahá’í Faith.

Seasonal Soil... Singing Stones by Jennifer Maas The story of a diverse neighborhood in Seattle where a park to commemorate Cesar Chavez, the Latino civil-rights leader, is being built. A local man involves a childhood friend, Jesús Moroles, a well-known Mexican-American artist, in leading the neighborhood in carving huge rock columns into musical instruments, "Singing Stones," for the park.

Navajo Sand Painting: The Healing Tradition by Gretchen Jordan-Bastow Native American Bahá’í, Mitchell Silas, takes the viewer on a journey into the ancient world of the Navajo healer and demonstrates the connection of native traditions to the Bahá’í revelation.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá: Glimpses of Perfection by Faramarz Rohani Visuals and narration depict stories of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s trip to Europe and America in 1911 and 1912. [Page 46]

NADIA RUSHDY

A New Faith Is Born by Faramarz Rohani An account of the growth of the Bahá’í community from a small, persecuted band of believers in Iran into a vibrant, international body.

Sherbrooke Bahá’í Youth Congress by Tobin Smith In 2001 more than one thousand Bahá’í youth from all over the world gathered in Sherbrooke, Quebec, to celebrate the international Bahá’í youth movement. This film captures and communicates the spirit and the essence of that event and, by extension, of the youth movement itself.

I Think You'll Like It Here by Angela Rout A young Bahá’í finds herself in Northern Canada during her year of service, a year marked by many challenges.

Skowak: The Bribri of Mojoncito, Costa Rica by Shar Mitchell An in-depth look at the Bribri people and their success in maintaining their traditions in the face of modern development.

Zamir: Red Grammar in the U.S.S.R. by Shar Mitchell Just before the fall of Communism, a Bahá’í children's performer tours the Soviet Union promoting the principles of world unity and love for all humanity.

When Your Spirit Goes Wandering by Ramin Eshraghi-Yazdi The cause and effect of our spiritual actions and responsibilities and the consequences of attempts to escape or deny them. [Page 47]

continental drift

if you think about it, we were bound to meet in the natural course of things sure to yield to the forces of attraction that order the universe and keep it in touch destined, in this small backwater, to hold a family reunion sooner rather than later if nothing else the ineluctable continents would have eventually drifted closer -DIANE HUFF

Copyright 2004 by Diane Huff

DIANE HUFF is an editor of English and Spanish for CTB/McGraw-Hill. Her interests include community literary projects, sustainable development, desktop publishing, and web design.

Every Diamond Would Be a Stone

Bologna, 12 November 1965

Should not Thy light imbue this clay of ours every diamond would be just a hard and cutting stone.

But upon this swamp of stagnant waters Thy reviving breath is wafting. -JULIO SAVI

Copyright 2004 by Julio Savi

JULIO SAVI, a poet and an author, is a gynecologist. He has written many articles on Bahá’í scripture and spirituality as well as The Eternal Quest for God (Oxford: George Ronald, 1989) and Remoteness: Selected Poems (Rome: Casa Editrice Bahá’í, 2002).

[Page 49]

CALL FOR PAPERS

A Special Issue on Theater SUBMISSION DEADLINE: October 1, 2004

Theater, together with music and dance, is among the world's oldest expressive art forms. Nearly every society known to humanity has left traces indicating that it used some form of public performance for one purpose or another. The reason for the enduring presence of theater is clear enough. As the "imitation of an action in the form of action" (in Aristotle's phrase), drama promises to hold the mirror up to nature, as Shakespeare put it, giving us images of ourselves as we think we are, as we might once have been, as we wish to be.

As is true of other genres, drama flourishes in some eras but not in others. Like poetry or prose, it may lie relatively fallow in one century, then spring forth with new life in another. Drama tends to emerge revitalized when a society is trying, with great intensity, to "imagine" its new self, or to reimagine a self that it feels in danger of losing, or both—as was simultaneously the case in Classical Greece, Elizabethan England, and sixteenth-century Japan, for example.

We seem to be living in such a time. In spite of (or maybe because of) the power of film, theater has reemerged as an essential form of expression. Once again it is vital, thriving, bumptious, challenging, sometimes offensive, often moving.

To discuss contemporary theater is to discuss one of the most compelling ways in which our fellow human beings are addressing the important matters of the age. For that reason we are devoting a special issue of World Order to the topic of theater in all its forms. We invite submissions reflecting diverse approaches to this rich subject. Topics and approaches might include (but are certainly not limited to):

• Theater and religion
• Theater and education
• Theater and social change
• Reviews of specific performances or of trends and developments
• Theatrical traditions, both contemporary and historical, that are often overlooked
• Themes, issues, and concerns being explored in contemporary theater
• And many more

Manuscript Submission Information

For a copy of the World Order style sheet for preparing a manuscript (and other tips), send an e-mail to <worldorder@usbnc.org>, or write the address below.

Submissions to the journal will be subject to external blind peer review if they fall outside the expertise of the editorial board or upon request by the author.

Manuscripts (in Word or WordPerfect) should be sent to World Order, Dr. Betty J. Fisher, Managing Editor, 7311 Quail Springs Place, NE, Albuquerque, NM 87113-1780, USA or <worldorder@usbnc.org>.

World Order has been published quarterly since 1966 by the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States. [Page 50]

Forthcoming...

Another special issue devoted to Global Cinema

Anne Gordon Perry surveys Iranian film

Gary L. Morrison examines Pacific-Rim film festivals and the role international film festivals play in the growth of world community

A biographical review of selected materials provides grist for studying and appreciating film

Charles V. Carnegie responds to essays on his Postnationalism Prefigured and...

Reviews of Making the Crooked Straight and Reason and Revelation

Jim Stokes discusses Shakespeare as a touchstone in modern London theater

Julio Savi reflects on Alessandro Bausani, an Italian scholar of Islam

ISSN 0043-8804