SLIFF 2021 Reviews: Procession, Belfast, Ferguson Rises, Jockey
The St. Louis International Film Festival (SLIFF) began its 30th festival this past Thursday, November 4th, 2021. Despite this being my 11th year living in St. Louis, this was the first year I was able to attend the festival. I was pleased to find out that the festival was adopting a hybrid in-person/virtual model and the famous Tivoli Theatre would be temporarily reopened as a festival venue. Here are my thoughts on some of the films I have seen so far.
Procession, dir. Robert Greene
“We are just beginning to scratch the surface of trauma as a society,” said director Robert Greene at a Q&A after the screening of his new documentary, Procession, which follows a group of survivors of sexual abuse by Catholic priests as they work with a drama therapist to write, perform, and record their most painful memories as a means of moving past them. If you haven’t heard of drama therapy, you’re not alone. Drama therapy is using theatre practices to help those struggling with trauma or other mental health issues. The subjects of the documentary are Joe Eldred, Mike Forman, Ed Gavagan, Dan Laurine, Michael Sandridge, and Tom Viviano, each of them at different stages in their fights for justice for the horrific events that occurred to them in their childhood — sexual abuse at the hands of Catholic priests. Each of them is tasked with writing and performing a scene from their past.
Dan Laurine said during the Q&A that we are often taught to take our trauma, put it in a box, bury that box, and never open it. Then, we can move on. But the truth is that this method does not work. In order to truly be able to grow and move past trauma, we have to open the box, unpack it, and face it head on. At its core, Procession is a film about the importance of community. So, it is important to remember that you don’t need to face that trauma alone. The men consistently put themselves in difficult situations — scouting locations in which the abuse occurred for each other, donning priestly garments for a scene, or simply entering a church — for the sake of one another’s safety, comfort, and later, the catharsis that comes out of performing these scenes. The men decide to cast child actor, Terrick Trobough to play their younger selves in each scene. Despite his youth, Terrick understands the seriousness of the situation and the gravity of these dramatic scenes.
Procession is also about dispelling many toxic ideas about masculinity. Greene gives us a glimpse into the lives of these men, essentially bringing the audience into their therapy sessions. We feel their anger, confusion, pain, sorrow, loss, and shame, but also their breakthroughs, moments of catharsis and fellowship. They are given a unique platform to comprehensively and unabashedly express themselves, and we see firsthand how freeing this exercise is for them. There is a sense of freedom that comes from being able to control your own narrative: to say (or scream) what you should have said to those who dismissed your credibility, to reveal the true, evil, and demonic nature of your abuser, to write a letter to your younger self, to confront your worst memories head-on. Procession is a revelatory film that not only gives survivors of sexual abuse a voice, but also gives them back the power and control that was so unjustly stolen from them.
Belfast, dir. Kenneth Branagh
Belfast is a personal film for Kenneth Branagh as it tells the story of his early childhood years in Belfast during “the Troubles,” an ethno-nationalist conflict in Northern Ireland that lasted from the 1960s to 1998. Despite what the film will have you believe, this was a very complicated issue that cannot and should not be reduced to a simple and easily digestible religious conflict between Protestants and Catholics. There was certainly a religious element to the conflict, as we often look to larger, spiritual motivations to back up our causes, but it was not impetus of the movement.
The opening scene shows us modern-day Belfast in beautiful and vivid color before the camera rises upon Buddy’s (Jude Hill) street, switching to black and white. Immediately we learn everything we need to know about the people on this street, they are a kind-hearted, tough, working class community. The camera floats through the streets until we find Buddy, who is called back home for tea by his Ma (Caitriona Balfe). But this idyllic scene is soon disrupted by Protestant rioters, hell-bent on getting rid of all the Catholics.
As many other critics have noted, there are some emotionally manipulative and cliche aspects to Belfast. It is the kind of movie that because it is about a very serious, historical event cannot possibly be anything less than an incredibly moving and stellar film. When you take away the Oscar buzz and star power, though you are left with a solid, perfectly fine film, but nothing extraordinary or life-changing.
There were many things I liked, even loved about the film. The performances are definitely the film’s strength, specifically Caitriona Balfe, who commands each scene she is in with brazen authority. Jude Hill also gives a very earnest and sweet performance as Buddy. Ciarán Hinds as Pop, Buddy’s grandfather, was also a highlight of the film. He delivers some of the best lines in the film, which unfortunately were also in the trailer.
Belfast continues in what seems to be a running theme throughout the film festival, so far, which is the importance of community. It is a visually striking, well-acted, overly simplified film with an Academy veneer that is sure to attract and seduce many audiences. There’s nothing really wrong with that, but keep your expectations to a realistic standard.
Ferguson Rises, dir. Mobolaji Olambiwonnu
As a white, St. Louis County suburbanite, the conflict in Ferguson, Missouri did not directly affect me in the ways it affected so many in Ferguson and beyond. But it did have an impact on me. I remember feeling anger toward my classmates at my majority white, conservative, Catholic high school, when I heard things like, “I hate that the media turned this into a race issue” or “Usually, I don’t side with the police on stuff like this, but Michael Brown had just committed a crime, so this is different.” Or when their families, who lived in all-white, West County neighborhoods stocked up on guns and ammo in case these “violent rioters” came for their sequestered homes next.
It was the first time I witnessed inappropriate and exaggerated white fear of imaginary issues. This situation was not about white people needing safety and protection from anything.
I have seen documentaries mention Ferguson before (I Am Not Your Negro, Whose Streets?), but Ferguson Rises is the first documentary to give an in-depth examination of the how this issue affected the city of Ferguson and its residents. Framed by the timeline of events that took place between August 9th, 2014 and the present day, Ferguson Rises takes an honest, hard look at Michael Brown Jr.’s life, death, and the revolution that arose out of the tragedy. With interviews from pastors, activists, family members (most notably, Michael Brown Sr.), former police officers, and Ferguson residents from both sides of the aisle, Ferguson Rises tells the entire, true story surrounding this tragedy. Those who side with the police are given their turn to speak; their words proving exactly the point the film is trying to make: there is a clear bias in how police treat Ferguson’s white residents versus its black residents.
The word “life-changing” gets thrown around so often, I fear that it is beginning to lose its meaning. To call this film powerful and life-changing feels like a disservice that does not give the film full credit. It is both of those things, but it is so much more. As director, Mobolaji Olambiwonnu said after the film’s screening, “This movie isn’t just about Ferguson. Ferguson is everywhere.” It is about the resiliency of human beings, about (there’s that theme again) building a community and creating positive change for communities, like Ferguson, who have serious issues to address.
What I love most about Ferguson Rises is its fearlessness in facing these issues. It is not afraid to get personal with Michael Brown’s family or any of the people protesting this injustice. We get a unique look into the thoughts and feelings of these protestors — the deep anguish they feel. Ferguson Rises needs to be seen by every American, certainly every St. Louisan. When I say it is life-changing, I truly mean that.
Jockey, dir. Clint Bentley
Clint Bentley’s feature film debut, Jockey, follows aging jockey, Jackson Silva (Clifton Collins Jr.) as he struggles with an ALS diagnosis, and a young rookie, Gabriel (Moises Arias) claiming to be his son. He hopes to compete and win one last title with his long-time trainer, Ruth (Molly Parker).
Jockey is a slow-building, character-focused film. Bentley often chooses to linger on Silva’s face as he races, rather than giving us the full picture of the action. And the most important plot points happen through conversation. Collins is a character actor I recognize from a few different projects, but I have never seen him as dynamic and focused as he is here. His chemistry with Molly Parker is natural and comforting. Parker, whose previous work I am not at all familiar with, is forceful and funny. Moises Arias continues to prove that he can take on serious, layered roles and excel at them. All the performances are quiet, reserved, and proof that the most challenging performances come from the simplest scenes.
What I loved most about Jockey was the innate sense of authenticity. I never felt like I was watching a movie. Despite the dramatic potential of a main character grappling with terminal illness and finding out about a long lost son, there are no overly dramatic, crying or yelling scenes where everything falls apart. Instead, the drama is carefully crafted and speaks to the realities of life. I think particularly of a scene between Jackson and Ruth in his trailer or one in a locker room between Jackson and Gabriel. The depth of these scenes come from the thoughtful dialogue and delivery rather than the usual melodrama which feels stale.
It recalls the quiet brilliance of another, indie debut about jockeys, Chloe Zhao’s The Rider. Both films also include real jockeys with little acting experience, which adds even more to the realistic feel of the film. I hope to see more from Bentley, and this talented cast of actors.
Conclusion
I was a little surprised to find so many similarities between these 4 vastly different films. In one way or another, they are all about community, family (real or chosen), and facing trauma in all its forms, whether it be physical, emotional, spiritual, or all of the above. I can’t wait to see what else SLIFF has to offer!
