Gittoes at AFA: Soundtrack to War

George Gittoes is a filmmaker who is not afraid of a little controversy. However, when Michael Moore rather casually lifted scenes from Gittoes’ boots-on-the-ground Iraq documentary, it was the sort of media kerfuffle he would never expect his work to generate. While Gittoes has been critical of the war in Iraq, and all wars in general, his films are never kneejerk, which is why he was somewhat leery of finding himself associated with Moore. Indeed, his film in question, Soundtrack to War (trailer here) deserves to be considered separate and apart from subsequent uses, “fair” or otherwise, when it screens this Saturday as part of the Gittoes retrospective at Anthology Film Archives.

Rather than trying to trick soldiers into revealing troop movements, Gittoes went to Iraq to learn what was in the American soldiers CD players. Intuitively, it seems like there is a great deal of validity in Gittoes’ unspoken premise: if you know their music, you will know the soldier. Who were they listening to? Diana Krall.

Okay, so that was only one squad listening to Krall and it was never during times of battle, but it is still a cool endorsement. As one might expect, rap and heavy metal were far more popular, particularly to crank up during times of tension, including even combat engagements. Country is also represented, as is Gospel, which again fits our preconceptions of military tastes and values. There were also the occasional punks, but they were rather few and far between.

As Gittoes talks to the soldiers it is becomes plain some have no idea why they are there and are openly skeptical of the justifications for overthrowing Saddam Hussein. (Obviously, this was the real music to Moore’s ears.) However, many soldiers expressed unabashed patriotism and pride in their mission. Indeed, the latter were often (but not always) the more articulate of Gittoes’ interview subjects. The real take-away is that the military is not monolithic. There are considerable differences of opinion within the ranks. Yet, when deployed, they must act as one.

Although it is ostensibly all about music, most of the rap and metal tunes heard on Soundtrack’s soundtrack have a one-note repetitiveness. Still, there are a handful of originals performed a cappella or with Spartan guitar accompaniment that are quite engaging.

While Soundtrack might offer an up-close, beyond-the-headlines perspective on the realities of everyday life for American military personnel in Iraq, it is even more revealing about Gittoes’ approach to filmmaking, at least when seen in the context of AFA’s retrospective. Somehow, the servicemen immediately open up to the old school gonzo journalist. The respect is also clearly mutual, prompting his concern when their words taken out of context in Moore’s propaganda broadside.

Gittoes does not simply point, shoot, and forget. He also follows up. In fact, he would revisit one of the soldiers he documented rapping in Uday Hussein’s “gangster palace” when he returned to the mean streets of Miami in Rampage, which also screens during his upcoming retrospective. Notably balanced and once again shot at some risk to his own well being, Soundtrack is not a mind blowing revelation like Miscreants of Taliwood, but it is certainly well worth seeing when it screens this Saturday (with Rampage to follow) at the venerable Anthology Film Archives, currently celebrating its fortieth anniversary.

Gittoes at AFA: Love City Trilogy

Pashto cinema has an unlikely godfather: an Australian graphic artist and documentary filmmaker, who seems more at home in a war zone than walking the red carpet. To get inside the oppressed Pashto film industry, George Gittoes financed his own Pashto films. The results, as seen in The Miscreants of Taliwood, look rather awful, but they were just a start. Perhaps mindful of previous lost opportunities, Gittoes and an entirely Afghan cast and crew produced an interconnected trilogy of films that directly address issues of gender roles, religious intolerance, and political corruption. They are also love stories. A significant cultural accomplishment (if not necessarily high art), the Love City trilogy has its American premiere this weekend as part of the Anthology Film Archives’ Gittoes retrospective.

If (like myself) you have not seen the first film, also titled Love City, not to worry. Gittoes essentially shotguns the gist of it into the first five minutes of Talk Show. Basically, it is Romeo & Juliet with a happy ending. A young filmmaker falls in love with Jasmin, the daughter of a former mujahedin who happens to own Love City, a Jalalabad wedding hall, but he opposes their love match. Eventually, true love wins out, but this is the exception rather than the rule in Afghanistan.

In the second film, Talk Show, the focus shifts to Jasmin’s older sister Asma, who is studying in Peshawar with her Afghan-American friend Ghuty. Unfortunately, they are kidnapped by Taliban terrorists while returning home from the wedding. Enlisting the help of Karim, a reputedly mobbed up restaurateur, her father orchestrates their rescue. Unfortunately, Asma falls for Karim in the process, forgetting about cousin Ikram, who has long carried a torch for her. Of course, getting involved with the wrong sort of man is exponentially worse in Afghanistan. However, Asma is not without her own resources. As the host of a groundbreaking issue-oriented talk show, she has a forum to challenge the caddish and corrupt Karim.

With Tailor’s Story, Ghuty takes her turn in the spotlight. Also a media trailblazer, she hosts a radio call in show devoted to love stories and song dedications. When two star-crossed lovers use her show to tell their tragic tale, her ratings take-off. Their story takes on additional significance for her, as she pursues love with Zaki, a fixer working with the American military, against her parents’ wishes.

The better written of the second two films, Tailor deliberately evokes Scheherazade with its serialized tale of forlorn love. It also ties together the various characters’ backstories rather neatly and convincingly. On the other hand, just like the previous films of the series, it also has unusually long musical interludes that largely involve a romantic couple spinning round and round in a field to the sounds of syrupy sweet Pashto love songs.

Frankly, it is not fair to judge the Love City films on the same criteria applied to western films, made under peaceful circumstances with a ready infrastructure available to support independent filmmaking. The fact that they even exist is significant. Yet, the sometimes contradictory commentary they provide on Afghan society is genuinely fascinating. Sometimes the films are rather forthright criticizing the Taliban, whereas at other times they appear to hold back, but they are rather consistent in their disdain for the burqa.

Not surprisingly, the talent of the ensemble varies widely. Given the themes discussed, one wonders if it is even prudent to single any out for praise in a western source. The bottom line is there are several charismatic cast members who manage to pull the audience into their characters’ lives, despite the ragged edges of some of their costars’ work.

Though they have been very well received in Afghanistan, American audiences will admittedly probably have to want to like them going in. Yet, the Love City films open an intimate window into the lives of moderate, well educated Afghan citizens that viewers are not likely to see anywhere else. They certainly prove Gittoes is not a drive-by filmmaker. Having committed to a second trilogy of Love City films, he clearly is invested in both his colleagues and their characters. Those who are in any way intrigued by the films (and how can you not be?) had better see them now. All three films screen this Sunday (11/6) at Anthology Film Archives, as part of their Gittoes retrospective.

Gittoes at AFA: The Miscreants of Taliwood

If the Taliban mullahs want to call you something heavy, they will probably label you a miscreant (a villainous heretic). Unfortunately for entertainment-starved Pakistanis, just about everyone involved in artistic endeavors are automatically considered miscreants, most definitely including actors and filmmakers. Ironically though, the cottage Pashto film industry was largely based in the Taliban stronghold of Peshawar, which is where Australian filmmaker-artist George Gittoes took his camera for an up-close and personal look at militant intolerance in The Miscreants of Taliwood (trailer here), which screens during Anthology Film Archives’s upcoming retrospective of Gittoes gonzo-ish filmmaking.

If truth be told, Gittoes was probably fortunate to live through the first thirty seconds of Miscreants. Fortunately, he was only roughed up a bit while filming Islamists building a bonfire of CDs and DVDs in Islamabad, a city that Gittoes reminds viewers contains nuclear weapons. However, as Gittoes pursues his story, he becomes increasingly a part of his own film, at considerably further risk to his own well being.

While it is ordinarily annoying to see filmmakers inject themselves into their own documentaries, Gittoes was hardly motivated by self-aggrandizement. To gain access to the world of Pashto filmmaking, he became an actor himself, forming a fast friendship with his co-star Javed Musazai. When the Taliban terrorized Taliwood into submission, Gittoes finances two films on his own, in order to keep the documentary going. Though hardly well-heeled, Gittoes is able to scrape together seven grand, sufficient funds for two Pashto films.

Frankly, Gittoes’s self-financed Pashto films look dreadful (particularly his comedy) and the director is the first to admit he is an awful actor. Based on the clips seen in Miscreants, Pashto cinema in general looks like low rent Bollywood, if that, but Gittoes offers an important caveat. Pakistani filmmaking is in its infancy, and it will presumably develop in interesting directions, provided the Islamist authorities allow it the basic freedom to exist.

Gittoes probably risked bringing a fatwa down on his head simply for championing “Miscreant” filmmaking as an infidel outsider. However, Miscreants delves far deeper, addressing sensitive cultural subjects no previous film has had the guts to touch. Pulling no punches, Gittoes explains how the extreme segregation of the sexes caused most men in the North-West provinces to go on the down-low, regularly engaging in homosexual sex, despite their hetero orientation. Again, Gittoes is probably lucky to be alive.

Miscreants is a blockbuster doc that alternates between moments of high camp and utter horror. Viewers should understand from the outset that the film often reflects the idiosyncratic aesthetics of Gittoes’s Taliwood colleagues. The result is unlike anything most viewers have seen before, particularly in a deadly serious documentary.

Even if you are not easily surprised, there are moments in the film that will drop any jaw. From midget comedians to mad mullahs, Miscreants pretty much has it all. It is also one of the few documentaries that can legitimately be called bold, since Gittoes undeniably put himself in harm’s way to make it. Highly recommended, it is the can’t-miss selection AFA’s retrospective, screening Friday (11/4) and Saturday (11/5) at the landmark theater.

Documentary Fortnight ’10: The Miscreants of Taliwood

If the Taliban mullahs want to call you something heavy, they will probably label you a miscreant (a villainous heretic). Unfortunately for entertainment-starved Pakistanis, just about everyone involved in artistic endeavors are automatically considered miscreants, most definitely including actors and filmmakers. Ironically though, the cottage Pashto film industry was largely based in the Taliban stronghold of Peshawar, which is where Australian filmmaker George Gittoes took his camera for an up-close and personal look at militant intolerance in The Miscreants of Taliwood (trailer here), which screens during the MoMA’s annual Documentary Fortnight.

If truth be told, Gittoes was probably fortunate to live through the first thirty seconds of Miscreants. Fortunately, he was only roughed up a bit while filming Islamists building a bonfire of CDs and DVDs in Islamabad, a city that Gittoes reminds viewers contains nuclear weapons. However, as Gittoes pursues his story, he becomes increasingly a part of his own film, at considerably further risk to his own well being.

While it is ordinarily annoying to see filmmakers inject themselves into their own documentaries, Gittoes was hardly motivated by self-aggrandizement. To gain access to the world Pashto filmmaking, he became an actor himself, forming a fast friendship with his co-star Javed Musazai. When the Taliban terrorized Taliwood into submission, Gittoes finances two films on his own, in order to keep the documentary going. Though hardly well-heeled, Gittoes is able to scrape together seven grand, sufficient funds for two Pashto films.

Frankly, Gittoes’s self-financed Pashto films look dreadful (particularly his comedy) and the director is the first to admit he is an awful actor. Based on the clips seen in Miscreants, Pashto cinema in general looks like low rent Bollywood, but Gittoes offers an important caveat. Pakistani filmmaking is in its infancy, and it will presumably develop in interesting directions, provided the Islamist authorities allow it the basic freedom to exist.

Gittoes probably risked bringing a fatwa down on his head simply for championing “Miscreant” filmmaking as an infidel outsider. However, Miscreants delves far deeper, addressing sensitive cultural subjects no previous films has had the guts to touch. Pulling no punches, Gittoes explains how the extreme segregation of the sexes caused most men in North-West provinces to go on the down-low, regularly engaging in homosexual sex, despite their hetero orientation. Again, Gittoes is probably lucky to be alive.

Miscreants is a blockbuster doc that alternates between moments of high camp and utter horror. Viewers should understand from the outset that the film often reflects the idiosyncratic aesthetics of Gittoes’s Taliwood colleagues. The result is unlike anything most viewers have seen before, particularly in a deadly serious documentary.

Even if you are not easily surprised, there are moments in the film that will drop any jaw. From midget comedians to mad mullahs, Miscreants pretty much has it all. It is also one of the few documentaries that can legitimately be called bold, since Gittoes undeniably put himself in harm’s way to make it. Highly recommended, it screens at MoMA on Thursday (2/18) and Friday (2/19), with Gittoes in attendance for post-screening Q&A’s.