Hot Docs 2012: Reviews #3

Reviews of screenings from the 2012 Hot Docs Canadian International Documentary Festival, Toronto, Canada.

Made In China (Dir: Jian Du, 120 minutes, China)

In one sense, the irony is almost palpable. Working long, long hours for insecure wages in poor conditions, the small garment factory profiled here (one, we are told, of thousands like it in the "workshop of the world") presents a textbook-perfect case for the conditions required for the emergence of a socialist system. Such is the position of the working masses in China's "economic miracle".

But socialism seems very far away from this cut-throat capitalist society, where workers have the right to choose their job and when to leave that job, but not much else. The boss at Jin Yuan Factory is no bloodthirsty, exploiting tyrant, but he's under intense pressure to deliver orders faster and cheaper. In this sense, there's no villains in the piece — just a system that squeezes and squeezes.

Sticking with a hands-off observational style, director Jian Du hints at some of the more immediate problems the workers face, such as the open-frontier lack of the rule of law, as well as the tyranny of the hukou (residency permit) system, which denies migrant workers access to education and social services. As we see them, however, the workers largely shrug and accept the system as it is, trying to make enough money to improve their lives and create opportunities for their children.

The pace is measured and there aren't a lot of big payoffs here. But the film conveys the insecurity and struggle to keep going, and the hope that next year might be better. Along the way, we see them play the lottery, go home for the New Year celebration, and argue with children who are falling in love and dreaming about a life outside the factory walls. Some will find this too slow to engage them, but I enjoyed it. Each of us who slip on an article of clothing with a MADE IN CHINA tag are part of this story — and part of the same system — and I was glad to have a chance to witness the sweat and toil and dreams of the people at the other end. In our global system, we're all closer than we think.

Oma & Bella (Dir: Alexa Karolinski, 75 minutes, Germany/USA)

A delightful portrait of the director's oma (grandmother) and her closest friend, this film is a testament to Jewish resilience and Jewish cooking — as well as the power of friendship. After breaking her hip, Regina invited Bella to stay with her while she recovered, and she has stayed ever since. Now, their days are filled with each other's company as they do the shopping and sightseeing and spend plenty of time cooking the food they remember from their childhoods.

Part of the small community of Displaced Persons who settled in Berlin after World War II, we slowly learn about the incredible lives these women have lived. Both survivors of the Holocaust, Regina and Bella carry some psychic scars from those terrible times, but have persevered with their pluck and fortitude. And though it shaped them, it hasn't kept them from finding joy throughout all their years.

That makes for a sweet and engaging film, well-constructed by Karolinski to give us hints about a lot of their background without getting swept up in historical exposition. Instead, we get a living portrait of Bella and Regina, busy in their kitchen, warm with friendship and love. Recommended.

Screens with the short Grandmothers (Dir: Afarin Eghbal, 9 minutes, UK) which takes an impressionistic look at the work of Las Madres de Plaza de Mayo, the crusading Argentinean human rights organization who marched for decades to raise awareness of the "disappeared" victims of their country's past dictatorship. Layering old footage over stop-motion animation, this has a dream-like tone that took a few minutes of its scant running time to establish its theme. Mothers of the disappeared are now also grandmothers of the found, as children born in detention (who had been adopted off to their captors) are now reclaiming their true identities. Befitting its length, this serves more to present us with this issue than to investigate it in depth, but it still registers emotionally.