Burnett’s daughter Angela behind the mask
Angela Burnett
KILLER OF
SHEEP A
USA (83
mi) 1978 d: Charles
Burnett
This bitter earth
Well, what fruit it
bears
What good is love
mmmm that no one
shares
And if my life is like
the dust
oooh that hides the
glow of a rose
What good am I
Heaven only knows
Lord, this bitter
earth
Yes, can be so cold
Today youre young
Too soon, youre old
But while a voice
within me cries
I’m sure someone may
answer my call
And this bitter earth
Ooooo may not be so
bitter after all
“This Bitter Earth,” by Dinah Washington
A spare, near documentary examination of everyday life in
the poverty stricken black neighborhood of Watts, Los Angeles in the mid
1970’s, brought to near poetic poignancy by Burnett’s obvious affection for his
subject matter, and like Cassavetes, certainly Shadows(1959)
and Faces (1968)
come to mind, in his early independent ventures he uses many of his own family
and friends, made for about $10,000 shooting mostly on weekends, a film that
was submitted as his UCLA film school thesis. Written directed,
filmed, produced, and edited by Burnett, what’s particularly affecting in the
film are his naturalistic shots of so many children at play, many throwing
rocks in dusty vacant lots, abandoned construction zones or railroad yards,
jumping off and climbing on roofs, hanging out in back alleys, fighting and
playing taunting word games with one another, and occasionally a child will be
seen crying or getting hurt, but the playing immediately resumes
afterwards. The affection that Burnett displays for children is
simply amazing, catching a young 4-year old girl unawares as she puts her
clothes on all by herself, observing unsupervised kids eating at the breakfast
table, where sugar is the obvious condiment of choice, or eavesdropping on
conversations, as one girl notices the other was missing in school, warning her
that she might fall behind. While some may find the repeated
images of a lambs to the slaughter metaphor a bit heavy handed, but there’s no
disputing what the future holds for these children and how accurate Burnett’s
reflections are, as today one-third of all black males under 30 are
incarcerated at some point, and this film was made 40 years ago (see: The
Crisis of the Young African American Male and the Criminal ...).
Mostly we spend time with the family of Stan, played by
Henry Gayle Sanders, a slaughterhouse worker who lives paycheck to paycheck,
who is too proud to think of himself as poor, but he obviously struggles how to
get by each and every day. While there’s no real narrative, instead
there’s a fluid dynamic of Burnett’s camera observing life as it happens, where
kids engage one another, adults have typical problems that are difficult to
discuss, friends come and go, opportunities present themselves, people have to go
to work, and it’s hard for parents in this neighborhood to ever find some free
time for themselves. One of the most telling images in the film is
the look on the face of Stan’s wife, Kaycee Moore, a sensuously expressive
woman who is simply glaring at him as he’s refusing her outright requests for
affection and is instead allowing their young daughter (Burnett’s daughter,
Angela) to hang all over him and get the affection that she obviously
needs. Her slow burn is unforgettable — and painful to watch. When
a couple of shady characters attempt to engage Stan as a partner in a robbery
attempt, Stan’s wife steps from out of the background and speaks her mind,
aggressively placing herself between these guys and her husband, holding her
ground, never backing down. Earlier the couple slow danced together
to the music of Dinah Washington’s “This Bitter Earth,” Dinah Washington - This
Bitter Earth 1960 - YouTube (2:28), where she made her
feelings imminently clear, but he was strangely unresponsive, which is typical
of Burnett, demythologizing the overactive black male sexual myth by simply
showing how easily one man’s thoughts can drift elsewhere from time to
time.
Mostly this is a gentle, occasionally humorous, lyrical film
with fleeting images presented as vignettes that respect the world we live in
rather than cast judgment, much of it wordless set to evocative music, from the
historic bass tones of Paul Robeson’s “The House I Live In” "The House I Live
In" (Paul Robeson) - YouTube (3:12) or “Going Home” Going Home - YouTube(4:41)
to the classy lyricism of Dinah Washington, from the harmonica led, blues
infused Little Walter’s “Mean Old World” Little Walter-Mean Old World
- YouTube (2:55), to an undaunted 4-year old singing along to the more
pop culture of the era, Earth, Wind, and Fire’s “Reasons” Earth, Wind & Fire -
Reasons - YouTube (4:58), from Elmore James’ Chicago blues classic “I
Believe” Elmore
James - I Believe 1952 - YouTube (3:19), which wails over a back door
craps game, to the joyous, free-spirited strutting music of Louis Armstrong's
“West End Blues” Louis
Armstrong - West End Blues 1928 - YouTube (3:20), which accompanies
the couple’s attempt to step out for a change, all of which adds a classical
dimension to the film’s structure, shading each sequence with yet another layer
of intimacy and grace, providing a musical heritage to black people’s
lives. Made about the same time as David Lynch’s ERASERHEAD (1977),
these films couldn’t be more opposite, yet they aren’t like anything else from
that or any other era, which makes them especially significant, as first films
have a unique tendency to unleash the artist’s imprint. This is an
elegant, uncompromising film, a time capsule from a soft-spoken man of quiet
dignity who raises our eyebrows with the elegiac images he composes from one of
the least accurately portrayed neighborhoods in films. This has the
feel of a fervent prayer.
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