"The ABCs of Book Banning" discusses many of the literary titles that have been banned, restricted, or challenged in schools across America. The hook of the doc is that it interviews children in these schools, asking them what they think of the various challenged titles and why anyone would ban them. This is interspersed with short glimpses at the books themselves, often with scenes animated or text highlighted. The idea here is that those who wish to ban these titles have already had their words heard, so this film is devoted to letting the authors and the children ostensibly meant to be protected by these bans speak their minds on the topic.
That's an interesting approach but, ultimately, one that doesn't allow for a lot of depth. "The ABCs of Book Banning" is the definition of a feel-good documentary. It presents us with a bunch of bright-eyed, insightful children who are clearly baffled by why these books – almost all of which deal with queer identity, black history, or prejudice – would ever be made unavailable. The obvious moral here is that even kids, some young as eight years old, know that book banning is only meant to limit our access to information, not "protect" us. There is some value in this, in showing the titles that right-wing agitators seek to ban today. If all of these books are about gay people, black people, women, or Jews, it's not hard at all to figure out why certain authorities would want these things removed.
Yet, despite its title, "The ABCs of Book Banning" doesn't actually get into the process of how these things happen. No discussion is made of how right-wing policy makers come into places of power, of how they begin the process of challenging or restricting a title. Without this context, all we are left with is the inspirational message that everyone – children, most of all – can see that book banning is ridiculous. This shallow approach is apparent in how much of the short's runtime is devoted to passages from the book appearing on-screen before the words "BANNED" or "RESTRICTED" appear over them. The film is bookended by a 100 year woman giving an impassioned speech about how her husband died in World War II to protect Americans' rights to read and write whatever they want. And that's nice. But it's not very informative about how our access to knowledge is being challenged these days. My guess is that "The ABCs of Book Banning" is mostly for children themselves, to prompt discussion on this topic and motivate them to seek out these answers themselves. [6/10]
“The Barber of Little Rock” is about Alro Washington who is, yes, a barber working in Little Rock, Arkansas. He also runs People Trust, a non-profit community bank that operates in the town. Washington mostly gives out small loans to individuals in desperate situations and small businesses. The film details how Washington came to form the small bank, which largely serves the local black community in Little Rock, a town that still has sharp economic and racial divides. It also shows him going about his daily business, teaching people how to cut hair and sharing the stories of those who seek out his financial assistance.
Unlike “The ABCs of Book Banning,” “The Barber of Little Rock” does a much better job of illustrating how and why these injustices come to be. The film briefly details how districts are divided along racial lines in Little Rock, how a major highway clearly separates the rich (and predominately white) part of the city from the poor (and largely black) areas. Banks in the nicer parts of city frequently do not give out loans or see customers from the other side of the tracks, an all too depressing and easily believable illustration of how America is still far from united and equal. Some of Washington's barber students are also ex-convicts, another stark reminder of how communities are separated and segregated.
Yet “The Barber of Little Rock” is also a depiction of a man and the people he helps. Washington talks frankly about economic inequality and the small steps he has taken to fight it, to help those in need. The film devotes plenty of time to people telling their own stories, talking about their hardships and their definition of the “American dream.” The film highlights all too clearly how we do not all live in the same America, how systems are designed to keep the poor down. Yet it's also an inspiring story, showing that there are people out there willing to help and doing what they can to make things better. [7/10]
“Island in Between” is a deeply personal documentary made S. Leo Chiang, the son of Chinese parents who grew up in Taiwan but has spent most of his adult life in the United States. The titular location is Kinmen, a series of islands situated between Taiwan and the Chinese mainland. A frontline during the various military conflicts between China and Taiwan, the island is still littered with tanks and other reminders of the violent past. In 2001, a direct ferry between Kinmen and China was opened up, allowing Taiwanese citizens – such as Chiang – to visit the Communist country that he heard vilified his entire life. Yet the pandemic and rising political tensions between the countries has closed the ferry more recently. “Island in Between” observes life on this small island, torn between two countries.
I don't know anything about S. Leo Chiang but I get the impression that he must have worked as a photographer. “Island in Between” is frequently a gorgeous film, in its shots of tank cannons emerging from the sands of the beach against a sunset. Or its footage of the buildings, structures, streets, and people of both China and Taiwan. These images provide the backdrop for the personal reflections of the filmmaker. He compares himself to a child pulled between three parents. He recalls propaganda songs he was taught as a child, about killing and crushing the Communist Chinese. He reflects in awe of how beautiful mainland China was when he actually visited it for the first time. In just twenty minutes, the filmmaker illustrates the confusion and struggles he's faced as the child of different, competing cultures.
“Island in Between” is also a good depiction of the tension between these two countries. Here in America, we don't learn much about the conflicts between Taiwan and mainland China. Chiang's films makes it clear that, even in the modern day, the wounds are still decidedly fresh. We see footage of women separated from their families because of the ferry closing. People repeatedly reassure themselves that war will never happen again. However, we also see Taiwan increasing their military presence in Kinmen. We hear nationalistic songs played in Taiwan and in mainland China. It's clear that tensions are still brewing between these countries, that the past is far from over for either of them. “Island in Between” can't confront these ideas in too much depth and it's not supposed to. Instead, this is a melancholic statement from a filmmaker reflecting on the country that birthed him and how he feels about the contradictions within it. [8/10]
From the directors of “The Queen of Basketball” and “A Concerto is a Conversation,” comes another frontrunner in the Documentary Short category. At L.A.U.S.D., a system still exist where students in music programs can have their instruments repaired if they are damaged. “The Last Repair Shop” follows four craftsman, in different parts of the warehouse, devoted to fixing and reassembling specific types of instruments. Dana specializes in string instruments. Paty takes care of the brass. Duane handles woodwinds. Steve does double duty as a supervisor and a piano technician. Each individual have stories of their own, coming from varied backgrounds. They relate their own tales of being broken and how the job of fixing broken things has helped put their lives back together too.
In a year where most of the documentary shorts are of the feel-good variety, “The Last Repair Shop” is probably the most feel-good of the lot. It's an inspiring tale of how finding something you love can keep you moving forward. For the students interviewed, they discuss how their love of music and their commitment to practicing and playing brightens up their lives. Brief mentions are made of mental illness and struggles. For the craftsman that repair their instruments, they divulge their backgrounds. Dana is a gay man who had trouble coming out as a young man. Paty is a single man who had to struggle in a male dominated field in order to take care of her children. Steve is an Armenian immigrant who lots his father to war back home and came to America with almost nothing. Duane describes being an outcast as a youth.
These stories tug at your heart strings. Of course they do. They come from genuine places, real life experiences. Yet what I really liked about “The Last Repair Shop” is the personal details that emerge from their tellings. How Duane's love of “Frankenstein” as a boy and a chance encounter with a fiddle at a market led him down the path he's on now. How Paty has a jar full of the bizarre objects she's fished out of tubas and trumpets over the years. This gives us such a touching insight into who these people are. It makes them seem very real. “The Last Repair Shop” doesn't quite have the emotional impact of “the Queen of Basketball” but it is a sweet and touching story, about the importance of music and the overlooked artisans that make that dream possible. [7/10]
Another very personal nominee this year is “Nǎi Nai & Wài Pó.” It's a portrait of director Sean Wang's two grandmothers, ninety-six year old Nǎi Nai – his father's mother – and eighty-six year old Wài Pó, his mother's mother. After the deaths of their spouses, the two move in together and become such close friends, they might as well be sisters. They even sleep in the same bed together. Filmed during the pandemic, the documentaries finds the two old ladies afraid to leave their own homes. During this time, they fill their days by dancing, doing tai chi, watching movies, and farting a lot. They seem incredulous at their grandmother's idea to turn them into movie stars.
Like I said, this is a mostly light-hearted batch of nominees this year. “Nǎi Nai & Wài Pó” is definitely the fluffiest of the bunch. It's devoted to little more than how cute and cool old people are. Sean Wang's grandmothers are adorable, yes. Watching them dress up in trendy clothes and pretend to act like rap stars is amusing. So is watching them watch R-rated movies, dance, or describe their sleeping arrangements. You do get a sense of who these old women are through these scenes.
However, I do wish there was a little more depth to “Nǎi Nai & Wài Pó,” as cute as it is. Both women talk about loosing their husbands and how hard it is, watching the time pass around them. They look at pictures of their kids and grandkids, discussing how quickly young people grown up. I do wish there was more discussion of what their lives during the pandemic was like, about their philosophies during difficult times like that. Instead, Wang takes an intimate approach to putting us in this space with his grandmothers. I guess you could compare “Nǎi Nai & Wài Pó” to hanging out with these fun, old ladies for a few hours. But I do wish it had a little more of a purpose beyond just that. [6.5/10]
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