|
West By Northwest.org
Saving the Planet At the Movies
by Michael Lundblad
How would you define an environmentally
oriented film?
The answer might be trickier than you think. Most of us would probably talk about
something like an explicitly environmental message. Some would point to nature documentaries
on the Discovery Channel, while others would look to films like Gorillas in the
Mist, Never Cry Wolf, or even A Civil Action. But wait a second. Aren't
films like A Civil Action and Erin Brockovich more about humans than
the environment anyway? Pressed further, we might come up with very different conceptions
of what the "environment" means to us as individuals. And the point is
that "environmentalism," of course, is difficult to pin down once we get
past stereotypes. Spectrums emerge, and each of us continues to plot a path somewhere
between various points of contention, such as preservation vs. conservation, deep
ecology vs. social ecology, wilderness protection vs. environmental justice, and
monkey-wrenching vs. less "direct" forms of activism. But all of these
coordinates operate in a larger plane that can be characterized as a desire for change,
a recognition that things are not well in the biosphere. Certainly films have helped
to shape our perceptions of various social and environmental problems around the
world, so it makes sense to think about how film can be used as a way to effect change.
If we can't get more people to read the amazing proliferation of nature writing out
there in the last few decades, why not give them a few recommendations to pop in
that VCR? I offer the following suggestions, then, with two primary goals. The first
is to merely draw attention to the dozens of films out there with "environmental"
messages you may or may not agree with. I've focused primarily on fictional or fictionalized
narratives, even though there are scores of great documentaries out there as well.
My second goal is to point out that sometimes the hard-to-find movie and the film-that-seems-to-have-nothing-to-do-with-nature
can be the most effective way of showing people how to find that plane of empathy
for the non-human world.
Save the Planet!
Most of us would agree, right? But which parts of the planet do we want to save?
For those of you most interested in saving wild animals, Carroll Ballard's
Never Cry Wolf is a classic (mostly) true story about persecuted wolves
in the Arctic. Ballard also directed Fly Away Home (where a little
girl teaches Canadian geese how to migrate), and The Black Stallion (you
all know this one, right?). Other family-oriented films along these lines include
Free Willy (and its two sequels), which focuses on an Orca whale harassed
in various ways, and Born Free, the true story of Elsa the lioness,
raised by game wardens in Kenya.
The animated adaptation of Dr. Seuss's The Lorax is great for younger
viewers, but also raises serious questions about the Lorax's hysterical rhetoric
(if you're interested in this argument, check out Ian Marshall's "The Lorax
and the Eco-Police" in ISLE 2.2).
If you want to shift the emphasis to protecting the land, you might try Steven Seagal
defending Alaska against an evil oil company in On Deadly Ground (if
you can stand the one-man wrecking crew), or Graham Greene fighting back against
a timber company magnate in Clearcut. But two films in this
category raise significant issues that deserve more extensive descriptions.
- Gorillas in the Mist (1988). Few films have
generated as much direct action as this one, which resulted in an outpouring of money
by viewers interested in saving mountain gorillas like those depicted in the film.
Based upon the life and work of Dian Fossey (played by Sigourney Weaver) in the mountains
of Rwanda, Zaire, and Uganda, the film chronicles clashes between Fossey and local
people who don't share her (at times fanatical) reverence for the gorillas. As she
sets up research stations to study their behavior both in and out of national parks,
Fossey enlists help from locals to protect against poachers, but has little room
in her imagination for the way the exploding indigenous populations might view wildlife
and wilderness protection differently (i.e. natural resources as revenue to feed
a family or provide a shelter). The danger in this film, beyond the extinction of
mountain gorillas, is the insensitivity reflected in dismissing all perspectives
except the preservationist one embraced by Fossey and most "Western" viewers.
- Medicine Man (1992). Starring Sean Connery
and Lorraine Bracco, this film presents a rather different perspective about natural
resources. In this case, Connery plays an American scientist who has found the cure
for cancer in the Brazilian rain forest, but can't duplicate the formula. Bracco
is the supervisor sent to find out what he's been up to, while both represent the
attitude that says biological diversity needs to be protected primarily because regions
like the rain forest might well contain cures for any number of other diseases and
ailments. Certainly we'd all like to do away with cancer, but is this utilitarian
argument the best we can do when it comes to developing empathy for both indigenous
species and indigenous peoples?
Toxins in My Backyard
What happens when environmental concerns seem much closer to home (and much more
immediate) like polluted water and air? Even though many films can easily fit into
several different categories, some are focused primarily on the effects of toxic
waste or radiation. Silkwood and The China
Syndrome, for example, show us the dangers of nuclear power plants, On
the Beach contemplates the fallout from a nuclear war that has destroyed
most of the world. A Civil Action investigates a different form of
toxicity, in this case industrial pollutants in rural Massachusetts.
- Erin Brockovich (2000). Along with A Civil
Action, this film presents the lives of individuals and families seriously impacted
by big-time polluters. Julia Roberts stars as Brockovich, working for a law firm
to prove that an electric company in the California desert has been dumping chemicals
in the surrounding area. In one of the film's most powerful moments, a husband and
father, with a wife dying of cancer as a result of the pollution, screams in utter
frustration at the faceless power plant just out of reach in his backyard. Director
Steven Soderbergh films the scene without any sync sound, so that the man's cries
are literally silenced as well as figuratively voiceless in front of a power company
that just doesn't care. The film raises interesting questions, though, about the
fact that power plants (and, in other contexts, toxic waste dumps) are usually located
in the poorest, most underprivileged parts of town. While Erin Brockovich focuses
on human victims, these issues of environmental justice cannot be ignored, even as
we lament the degradation of the ecosystem.
- Safe (1995). The victims in Todd Haynes' Safe
are far more privileged than the families that Julia Roberts represents in Erin Brockovich.
Julianne Moore plays an affluent suburban housewife who has apparently become allergic
to all the everyday toxins and chemicals in the air. She can afford to take a retreat
to a New Age ranch in New Mexico, but the film probes the vacuous nature of human
relationships as well and makes us wonder if Moore is suffering from more than just
"environmental" pollution.
Visions of the Future
While films about pollution and conservation would headline any list of environmental
films, the science fiction genre has a lot of potential as well. For
industrialized visions of life in the future, even further alienated from the natural
world, check out 1984, Brazil, and A Clockwork
Orange. Films like The Terminator (and its sequel), The
Matrix, Twelve Monkeys, Gattaca, and Total Recal offer
interesting explorations of undesirable worlds, both jumping back and forth in time
and in and out of various simulated or imagined "realities."
The Truman Show picks up this theme by creating the fantasy of a completely
human-controlled environment, complete with storm machines and the sun rising and
setting on cue. In Jurassic Park the engineering impulse focuses on
reviving dinosaurs that can't keep their aggressive natures in check, while Stanley
Kubrick's classic 2001 soars above and beyond to consider human ingenuity
in the context of space travel and extra-terrestrial interaction. For other possibilities
of future worlds you might be interested in Waterworld, where the entire
planet is covered by water, or the Mad Max series (Road Warrior, et.al),
where desert bandits fight over scarce fuel for renegade vehicles.
- Dune (1984). Okay, so the special effects
are painful to watch. But David Lynch's film makes the cut primarily for its ability
to stimulate conversation. The story, based on Frank Herbert's novel, focuses on
a futuristic planet that has a surface consisting primarily of huge sand dunes and
enormous sandworms that cruise underneath the desert. The economic value of the planet,
though, lies in the coveted "spice" drug that can be mined at huge profits
if the sandworms can be avoided. A glimpse into the lives of natives, who live in
underground caves and are remarkably adept at conserving water, shows us the impacts
of mining interests, desertification, and messianic religious hopes.
- Blade Runner (1982). For a starkly different
vision of the future, Ridley Scott's Blade Runner is my pick for best film
in this category. Be sure to get the 1992 Director's Cut, rather than the initial
Hollywood release, to get simply a better movie as well as a few more nods in the
direction of the novel it's loosely based on, Philip K. Dick's "Do Androids
Dream of Electric Sheep?" Set in near-future Los Angeles, the film presents
a polluted world that privileged citizens are leaving behind for the benefits of
the "off-world" colonies, where one of the perks is androids working as
personal slaves. When some of these android "replicants" disguise themselves
as humans and return to earth, we are faced with interesting questions about how
to distinguish between humans and androids, as well as real and fake animals. Harrison
Ford plays a bounty hunter on the trail of the replicants who can be caught, supposedly,
by a test that is presumed to reveal their lack of empathy for animals. But would
all humans pass this kind of test?
Dare to be Avant-Garde
From all the glitz of Hollywood exhibited in most sci-fi films,
it's a big jump to the world of avant-garde cinema and films that set out to critique
the sense of place on display in theaters near you. The biggest difficulty with these
kinds of alternative films is that they're not likely to be available at the neighborhood
video store, but they can be incredibly useful for screenings in the classroom, for
public film series, discussion groups, and so on. Film critic Scott MacDonald
has been a pioneer in the study of place-based film and video, in published interviews
with alternative filmmakers, as well as other publications and presentations.
His recent article on "Ten (Alternative) Films and Videos on
American Nature" (ISLE 6.1) highlights individual works as well as ways of obtaining
copies (Canyon Cinema in San Francisco is a good place to start: phone (415)
-626-2255.
- Bouquets (1994-5). Looking at nature through
the eyes of an alternative filmmaker, we can examine our expectations as viewers
and consider how diverse subjects and techniques can help us come to a new understanding
about place. In Rose Lowder's Bouquets, the production strategy can be compared
to cultivating an organic garden. Rather than wasting any film, she has "planted"
in alternating frames of the film various images of flowers, gardens, and people,
so that the result is what MacDonald calls a "retinal pile-up."
- Fog Line (1970). Larry Gottheim's film represents
a sharp contrast to Lowder's, with a single-shot, real-time image in which "nothing"
happens for ten minutes (with the exception of fog lifting over a pastoral scene
and tiny horses sauntering across the frame). The potential metaphors this film could
suggest include simply paying attention to everyday scenes, coming to understand
through a fog, and having the patience to enjoy a meditative experience. The film
also calls attention to the way we tend to over-consume images in mainstream films
and television; Gottheim's film can be seen as a corrective for our expectations
of a million images at once and for our generally consumptive lifestyles.
Can We Use the Land?
Depending on your particular form of environmentalism, the pastoral scene in Gottheim's
film could stimulate a range of emotions. Are you sympathetic to a lifestyle that
includes raising horses and relishing the spiritual side of fly-fishing? If so, you've probably already seen Robert Redford's big-screen adaptations
of A River Runs Through It and The Horse Whisperer, or
Kirk Douglas in Lonely Are the Brave, adapted from Edward Abbey's "The
Brave Cowboy". For those of you interested in mountain men living out in the
wild, try Jeremiah Johnson or Kurosawa's Dersu Uzala.
Chinatown offers quite different perspectives on land development,
while Bitter Springs considers disputes over water rights between Australian
homesteaders and the indigenous population. In the context of "developing"
countries, land use is often inextricably linked with attitudes about indigenous
peoples, who are frequently presumed to be "uncivilized" or "primitive":
part of nature that needs to be tamed. See for example At Play in the Fields
of the Lord, The Mission, The Mosquito Coast, Out of Africa, and The
Gods Must Be Crazy.
- Where the Green Ants Dream (1984). The indigenous
people in this Werner Herzog film are also regarded as backwards, or primitive, by
a big mining company in Australia bent on bulldozing land in search of uranium. The
conflict comes over a particular piece of land that is sacred to aborigines, because
it is "where the green ants dream" (you'll have to watch it to find out
what this means). Even with a sympathetic local administrator for the mining company,
the stand-off escalates in this lesser-known but worthwhile film.
- The Milagro Beanfield War (1988). Conflicts
over how to use the land form the basis of this Robert Redford film as well. Based
on John Nichols' sprawling novel, the film captures some of Nichols' whimsical humor,
even as it addresses serious water rights issues in New Mexico. Although smaller
parts are played by well known actors (like Christopher Walken), the major roles
in this endearing film are played by relative unknowns. The end result is sympathy
for ordinary families who have lived in this particular region for generations, and
who represent the everyday, common plight of individuals faced with the wealth and
power of commercial developing interests.
Wilderness = Adventure
Perhaps some of you are hankering for the kind of movie that can take you away from
all these land disputes and commercial interests. There are certainly plenty of films
that present the glories to be found in experiencing the wilderness, and the argument
might be that we need to love wild landscapes first before we are moved to protect
them. I must admit that I am biased toward climbing movies, even if many of them
are really bad, beyond the stunning mountains they showcase. If
you don't mind scenes that are totally unrealistic, you might try Vertical
Limit, Cliffhanger, and K2, but you can also look for documentaries
claiming absolute realism like the Imax version of Everest. Older climbing
films are out there too, such as The Mountain and Clint Eastwood in
The Eiger Sanction, or even the utopian dream of climbing to a paradise
tucked away in the Himalayas, as represented in Lost Horizon. Two recent
films capitalize on our fascination with Tibet, Kundun and Seven
Years in Tibet, but Kundun is by far the better of the two
in my opinion.
- The Blue Light (1932). Film aficionados might
know this one by Leni Riefenstahl, but others are more likely to know her notorious
documentary Triumph of the Will, about the Nazi party rally at Nuremberg
in 1934. Known for her pioneering film techniques, Riefenstahl focuses her talents
in The Blue Light on a fable about mountaineers in the Alps who are lured
to their deaths by the spirit-maiden of the mountain. The gendered representation
of nature and the seductive power of wilderness present interesting points of discussion
for contemporary wilderness adventurers as well as environmentalists.
- Deliverance (1972). Seeking to experience
those last "wild" places on earth drives the adventurers in Deliverance
to a remote and "untouched" river in Georgia, a river that is doomed to
stagnation once a dam is completed closer to civilization. But this adaptation of
James Dickey's novel forces viewers to consider the larger context in which these
kinds of romantic visions take place. Turning the rough backcountry into a stage
for violence (like the more contemporary film The River Wild), John
Boorman's film is a haunting example of how class constructs the environment, with
the result that some adventurers, after viewing this film, might just want to stay
home.
Thank God(frey) It's Reggio
My final category is defined by a single director, Godfrey Reggio, as well as a single
musical composer, Philip Glass. The collaboration of these two men has resulted in
three films that should probably form the core of any list of environmental films
designed to make people think about the ways we treat the natural world. With their
non-narrative structures and lack of what we might traditionally call plot or fictional
characters, these films might seem more like documentaries, but they are actually
quite different than what you'll typically find on the Discovery Channel.
- Koyaanisqatsi (1983). An instant classic,
this film takes its inspiration from the Hopi word which means, among other things,
"life out of balance." Reggio and Glass give us a stunning experience of
sight and sound that begins with slow pans of the Grand Canyon and other desert vistas.
Using slow-motion and time-lapse cinematography (which were innovative at the time),
Reggio turns to "civilization" with faster and faster cuts of industrial,
urban life. Although the glorification of nature and the demonization of the city
are perhaps over-done, the result is a film that challenges us to consider whether
or not our culture is spinning out of control.
- Powaqqatsi (1988). The "sequel"
to Koyaanisqatsi, this film offers a more nuanced and subtle approach to human interactions
with nature, specifically in the context of countries such as Peru, Brazil, Kenya,
India, and Israel. The Hopi word that forms the title means, "an entity, a way
of life, that consumes the life forces of other beings in order to further its own
life." Accordingly, the film presents mesmerizing images of human labor, contrasted
with the "achievements" of industry, commerce, and technology, through
slow-motion and time-lapse techniques once again. Reggio offers countless portraits
of everyday people staring at the camera, exhibiting a wide variety of expressions.
As viewers we might be tempted to narrativize each sequence, but Reggio's intent
is often harder to read here than in Koyaanisqatsi. Although none of these
people are given a literal voice in the film, the process of trying to decipher the
images calls attention to the ways in which we construct meaning based upon our own
biases and beliefs.
- Anima Mundi (1992). The spirit or soul of
the world that the title refers to is exhibited in this short film in the form of
a series of animal portraits. Once again we are urged to interpret images, in this
case various animals staring at the camera, but Reggio's conservationist leanings
are much more apparent here than in Powaqqatsi. Anima Mundi, though,
challenges us to think of the entire world as being infused with spirit or soul.
The inevitable conclusion, then, is that we need to stop destroying wildilfe as well
as the planet itself.
What About All the Monsters Out There?
Some of you might be wondering about films that turn wildlife into monsters or blood-thirsty
killers. I've tried to keep this list focused on works with positive messages about
the natural world, but films like Jaws, Congo, and The Edge
can be useful too, if only to point out how sharks, gorillas, and bears are demonized
(and therefore presented as deserving elimination). Jumanji
would fit into this category as well. Even the monsters in Godzilla, Swamp
Thing, and others like these can be productively analyzed, along with films
that scare us by showing how presumably awful it would be to become more animal-like:
An American Werewolf in London, Wolf, and The Fly
(or even Tom Hanks in Cast Away). But as we consider the various
monsters given to us by Hollywood, it is my hope that we will resist the impulse
to turn humans in general and urban environments in particular into the environmental
monsters of today. Our questions about the "environment" should be just
as persistent in films like Do the Right Thing, Boyz in the Hood, or
Candyman, as they are for the other films I've listed above.
All kinds of people live their daily lives with very different opportunities to experience
"nature," and we can think of ecosystems as including concrete as well
as humus. Considering "environmental" films, then, the next question might
be which films, if any, could not be included in this context, especially as our
definitions expand and even include the inability to experience nature in one form
or another. But as we struggle to save the planet, I hope we can continue to use
film to draw attention to both "environmental" and "human" concerns.
*** *** ***
Michael Lundblad writes: I'm currently working on my Ph.D. in English at the U. of
Virginia, with an emphasis on environmental literature and cultural studies. I have
articles forthcoming on such topics as the Patagonia mail-order catalog, postcolonial
ecocriticism, and gender issues in the college classroom. I've also published reviews
in journals such as Film & History and ISLE: Interdisciplinary Studies
in Literature and Environment (forthcoming). My film background comes from working
for an independent documentary producer in Washington, D.C., for whom I worked on
several projects as writer, editor, 2nd camera, and production assistant.
|
