New Voices New Visions

The American Indian Community House may have moved on to their new space by the time you're reading this, and as much as we will all miss the old Broadway space, it's clear that AICH has its eye on the future.

On April 21st 2006, AICH hosted a Native Film Screening with a group of new filmmakers, spotlighting new voices and visions with fresh perspectives on the Native experience. Its clear AICH weren't the only ones who sensed the new momentum. When I arrived almost every seat was taken. The crowd was primarily Indian, but with a good mix of non-natives as well. By the time the program started, several more rows of chairs had been set out and were instantly filled. As I watched people pour into the room, amidst warnings to scoot up to keep the fire exits free, I realized this just might be an epiphany moment for our community.

A musical introduction from DeArmond Williams (Dineh, Caddo, Pottawattamie, Delaware and Kickapoo) set the tone of the evening. A traditional flute-player, Williams began with a modern piece inspired by Miles Davis. Dressed in a ribbon shirt, Williams and his accompanist, Saeed, set the tone for edgy modernism.

The first piece was a last minute entry by Ginew Benton (Chippewa, pictured on page one). Monotony is autobiographical piece, inspired from a summer spent in a factory boxing cigarettes. Ginew's short piece emphasized the frustration of being "boxed in" when your spirit wants to dance. The film was very intimate. "It has to be personal", Ginew said when questioned about whether he felt the need to address the big picture of current Native issues. "When all the little pieces are there, the big picture will be there. "

Next in line was the refreshingly funny piece Smokebreak by Sally Kewayosh (Ojibway/Cree). The only filmmaker to shoot in black and white, and also sans dialogue, Sally's clever film had a few brilliant set-pieces that needed no translation. Starring our Joe Cross, it was an ironic look at a hapless fancy dancer trying to take time for a coffee and a cigarette outside of the Museum of the American Indian.

Sally too, doesn't feel the need to literally address the issues, nor does she specifically aim her work at a Native or non-native audience. "If I can make my Dad laugh, it's a good thing. As long as it's funny, enjoyable...that's a good thing. First Nations people are intrinsically themselves; the big picture will be self-evident".

When asked if being raised in Canada affected her perspective, Sally outlined the basic difference in the perspectives. "Being Native is really a big deal here, which is odd, because back home, Native identity is accepted without being questioned, but I'm questioned constantly in the U.S. It‘s a little surprising."

(Blackfoot) Brook Swaney's piece was next. The most overtly political of all the pieces, The Indigenoids managed to address the question of media exploitation of the Native image, and whether we should simply be a good sport and just deal with it. It‘s clear why The Indigenoids, Brooke's first film, was nominated for Best Short at the American Indian Film Festival in San Francisco. It managed to provoke a strong and lengthy debate which escalated when a non-native audience member asked why we get upset about Chief Wahoo. Brooke was delighted with the reaction. "I feel a personal responsibility to be part of the dialogue. That's part of the dialogue. I don't believe our people can change things without other people."

Nanobeh Becker (Dine) presented two films. Beautifully shot, elegantly angled, her pieces were both resonant, personal stories with strong female characters. Her first piece, Flat, was actually a Latino story. Inspired by the prison outside of her home town, and a song by Eyrkah Badu, Nanobeh's first story was a beautiful, hopeful tale about a young single mother struggling to keep her family connected despite unconventional circumstances. Convergence, her second offering, was a story of Christianity coming to the Navajo, and the consequences for one family.

"The newsreel footage of the Medicine Men, they're all my family. I made this film for my people, but if other people get it, well fine."

Nanobeh is a little shocked when I suggest filmmaking might take the place of traditional storytelling.

"I don't think so, I mean...the technology's there, the kids will just DO it, you know? But I don't think it'll replace storytelling."

The last sets of films were from Terry Jones (Seneca). The first, a collaboration between writer/editor Laala Matias (Cherokee, Arawak, African American, Carib)and producer/editor Terry, entitled Frybread: A Traumedy, was an interesting sketch of the culture clash that occurs when a Vegan City Indian visits the family on the reservation and tries to reject their offering of a frybread taco.

It's an interesting commentary on doing what's good for us versus wanting to seem a "proper" Indian. Considering its uniquely Native perspective, it's interesting that this piece managed to get support from ABC/Disney Fellowship. Terry's frustration at trying to make the executives understand the nature of the stories is evident. "It was all about ‘What do you want to do with this film? What are you trying to say?' We paint with different colors, you know?"

What the Hell is Corn Soup? was a simple documentary about the process of making traditional Haudenosaunee corn soup. The audience watched rapt as Terry carefully demonstrated the traditional preparation of a good Indian delicacy. The crowd was quiet and reverent, clearly conscious that Terry was sharing a gift with us, the gift of a tradition.

The additional footage Terry added on the end, his corn soup party, a very mixed multiethnic party enjoying a traditional Haudenosaunee delicacy brought the evening full circle.

As I looked around the room and watched while everyone munched on their yummy sample of corn soup, I realized that despite the blackberries and the lap tops and the musical experimentation and the edgy new voices, it was still a reliably Indian evening. After all, when Ginew stood to introduce his film we were over an hour late, and I had problems hearing him introduce it in Chippewa, as a woman behind me opened up a bag of something that smelled like tortilla chips.

Ah! So good to know that the new media plans on maintaining the traditions!

Vickie Ramirez

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