Showing posts with label Great Plains. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Great Plains. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 1, 2021

The Plow That Broke the Plains




 


















Director Pare Lorentz

Composer Virgil Thompson













 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE PLOW THAT BROKE THE PLAINS             C+                                                          USA  (25 mi)  1936 d:  Pare Lorentz

This is a record of land . . . of soil, rather than people -- a story of the Great Plains:

the 400,000,000 acres of wind-swept grass lands that spread up from the Texas panhandle to Canada . . .

A high, treeless continent, without rivers, without streams . . .

A country of high winds, and sun . . . and of little rain . . .

By 1880 we had cleared the Indian, and with him, the buffalo, from the Great Plains, and established the last frontier . . .

A half million square miles of natural range . . .

This is the picturization of what we did with it.

—Opening Prologue

One of only two government-sponsored films coming out of Roosevelt’s New Deal era, the other being THE RIVER (1938), made by the same director, both produced by the Resettlement Administration, which was established in 1935, merging into the Farm Security Administration in 1937, which captured the nation’s imagination by producing legendary photojournalists capturing the stark Depression-era conditions faced by rural Americans, like Walker Evans, Dorothea Lange, Arthur Rothstein, and Gordon Parks, among others, but the office eventually dissolved in 1946, becoming what is now known as the Farmer’s Home Administration.  The film explores farming practices on the Great Plains, suggesting a combination of ill-advised farming practices as well as severe drought led to the Dust Bowl of the 1930’s, without even mentioning a great economic calamity.  What’s interesting is that the filmmaker had never made a film before, but worked as a freelance film critic, even co-authoring a book, Censored: the Private Life of the Movie in 1929, basically railing against established censorship practices in Hollywood, which made him persona non gratis within the industry itself, with Hollywood refusing access to stock footage owned by the studios.  But what jumpstarted his career was editing a book of news photos entitled The Roosevelt Year (1934) documenting in dramatic fashion the first year of FDR’s Presidency.  An ardent New Dealer, he was disgusted and disappointed that Hollywood’s way of dealing with the Great Depression was to largely ignore it while continuing to produce escapist fantasies.  Believing we were living in momentous times that “cried out to be filmed,” this led him to Washington where he became a film consultant within the Resettlement Administration, troubled from the outset, one of the more controversial New Deal programs, as critics felt Roosevelt’s reforms too closely resembled the collective socialization more commonly implemented by the Soviet Union under communism, where the film was designed to raise awareness of an environmental catastrophe.  During the making of the film, Lorentz fired all but one (the uncredited Paul Ivano) of his four cameramen over philosophical differences, Paul Strand, Leo Hurwitz, and Ralph Steiner, radical leftists out of New York City who felt communism was not a dirty word, all contending capitalism was at the root of the tragedy, finding the film overly scripted and not sufficiently visual, preparing their own shooting script, but Lorentz rejected it.  Scrounging for Hollywood stock footage afterwards, Lorentz was successful in getting material smuggled out of the studios, who were not happy with having to compete against government films, describing Lorentz as the president’s propagandist, eventually known as FDR’s Filmmaker.    

For a government film it is uniquely poetic, bordering on melancholic.  Lorentz described it as a “melodrama of nature” that “tells the story of the Plains, and it tells it with some emotional value—an emotion that springs out of the soil itself.”  The melodramatic narration is the bone of contention, spoken by Thomas Hardie Chalmers, a former opera singer in the days of Caruso who switched to theater following an unfortunate throat operation, associated as the newsreel voice of The March of Time, where the hyperbolic reading resembles Whitmanesque poetry, supposedly telling a uniquely American story, yet it’s more theatrical than informative, or even helpful, failing to mention the changing historical time periods, as it begins with Woodrow Wilson as President, presumably in the aftermath of the First World War, with cheap land offerings to veterans, promising vast quantities of open farmland, focusing on the challenges faced by wheat farmers and cattle ranchers living in the Great Plains, while making no reference whatsoever to a Great Depression, a term that was used prior to 1930.  So that aspect is confounding, as well as the racist Manifest Destiny implications in the opening Prologue about “we had cleared the Indian,” which sets the wrong tone, describing genocide as a noble duty and achievement.  Perhaps most baffling is the repeated claim to a land “without rivers, without streams” clearly outlining the geographical area in question, which includes some of America’s greatest rivers.  The Great Plains in question is a vast expanse of grasslands stretching from the Rocky Mountains to the Missouri River and from the Rio Grande to the timberland forests of Canada, which happens to include legendary rivers known as the Missouri, Platte, Yellowstone, Colorado, Rio Grande, Arkansas, Kansas, Pecos, and Red Rivers, among others, Encyclopedia of the Great Plains | RIVERS.  So the narration itself is highly questionable, as it’s not even accurate.  The theatrical manner in which it is spoken and interwoven into the film suggests other motives, as the filmmaker is clearly trying to persuade the hearts and minds of the viewers, conveying images of downtrodden families in a mass exodus leaving a bone dry land, “Blown out, baked out, and broke.  Nothing to stay for. Nothing to hope for.  Homeless, penniless and bewildered they joined the great army of the highway,” leaving it open to claims of New Deal propaganda.  Largely inspired by Soviet films of the 20’s and 30’s, like the documentaries of Dziga Vertov, both fall under similar critiques, but so what if it is?  Released just a year after Leni Riefenstahl’s controversial THE TRIUMPH OF THE WILL (1935), excerpts of which played alongside the official opening of the film in May 1936, sponsored by the Museum of Modern Art, the film will stand on its artistic merit, historical value, and the complexity of the imagery that is shown, added to the Library of Congress National Film Registry in 1999.  Adding to the film aesthetic, a symphonic composition was written for the film by American composer Virgil Thompson, adding a contextual layer of gravity that sounds distinctly American. 

What may remain lost to many viewers are the underlying human errors that are ultimately responsible for damaging the soil, with the film never explaining the effects of soil damage in the narration, instead viewers experience a photogenic assault of mechanized farm machinery supposedly cultivating the land, yet ripping apart the unanchored topsoil, which immediately turned to dust, becoming darkened clouds in the sky blown by the prevailing winds.  Like a Soviet montage, tanks of war are juxtaposed against the tractors, suggesting an armed military assault, depleting the soil of its needed nutrients.  Unfamiliar with dryland farming techniques, mechanized equipment cut too deeply into the soil, displacing the topsoil and deep-rooted grasslands that normally contained the moisture, even through extended dry periods.  Because there is such infrequent rain, perhaps only ten inches per year, made worse by extensive periods of draught, as long as eight years in some regions, there was insufficient moisture to hold the soil together, allowing it to evaporate into dust, creating the conditions that arose during the Dust Bowl era, with farmers and their families packing up their belongings and heading west, a migration documented by John Steinbeck in his 1939 novel The Grapes of Wrath, also depicted in John Ford’s The Grapes of Wrath (1940).  Filmed years earlier, Lorentz provides the first documentation of the uncommonly grim plight of the farmer.  Times were good during a WWI wartime agricultural drive to produce food, with wartime slogans “If you can’t fight, farm:  food will win the war!” or “Plow to the fence for national defence,” converting millions of acres into farmland.  But international demand for grain plummeted after the war, especially for farmers that over-extended their operations.  The Agricultural Adjustment Act was the first major measure by the new administration to combat rural poverty, advocating crop restrictions, which had disastrous consequences.  In 1930, shortly after the stock market crash that created the Depression, as banks across the country closed in record numbers, 45% of all farmers were tenants and in some states up to 75% of tenants were sharecroppers, who were tenants who gave landlords a share of their crops in return for land, housing, and farm equipment. Landlords responded to the crop restriction measures by setting aside tenanted land and evicting 100,000 farm families, which began the steady flow of migrants westward to the cities and California, and with it the derogatory slur of being labeled “Okies.”  The belief at the time was that farmers over-cultivated the land through ignorance and human folly, turning 400 million acres into arid wasteland instead of fertile soil.  Part of the problem with the film is that it provides little context and presents no solutions, only accentuating the crisis, where the end feels like something of a thud. 

The Plow That Broke the Plains The entire film may be viewed on YouTube (25:26)

Friday, July 29, 2011

Roll Out, Cowboy















ROLL OUT, COWBOY                        B                                 
USA  (75 mi)  2010  d:  Elizabeth Lawrence                 Official site  

The question this film asks is whether the world is a better place with singing cowboys in it?  Popularized in the early B-movie westerns of the 1930’s and 40’s, cinema introduced Gene Autry to the world, and later Roy Rogers who also appeared on television with Dale Evans along with the Sons of the Pioneers.  While the initial novelty may have worn off through the years, this film documents a revival of sorts, showcasing the special talents of Chris “Sandman” Sand, a rapping cowboy influenced by the rap craze of the 80’s, a young man from Dunn Center, North Dakota, population 120, where he purchased his old broken down house for a cool $1000, as that’s all he had in his pocket at the time, stuck in the middle of the vast emptiness of the Great Plains where there are considerably more livestock animals than there are people.  Sandman acknowledges suffering from occasional bouts of depression, also that the previous two tenants of his home were musicians that committed suicide.  This seems to motivate him, however, serving notice to the world that he’s a force to be reckoned with.  A good natured, self effacing and completely unpretentious individual, Sandman often takes his talent on the road where he sings a combination of home grown personal ballads that he writes, which are more typically cowboy songs alongside rap and rhyme adventures that he learned to appreciate while living on an Indian Reservation as a teen in Western Montana in the 80’s. 

Sandman’s personal hero is Will Rogers who he claims was a Cherokee Indian born in Oklahoma Indian Territory, dropping out of school to become a full time cowboy joining traveling Wild West shows, particularly known for his roping prowess using multiple lassos.  Eventually known more for his folksy style of wisdom, humor, and social commentary, Sandman tries to emulate Rogers’ warm, down home influence across the national landscape.  What becomes obvious to the viewer, however, is the stark emptiness of most of the places Sandman plays, even when booked in urban cities, where the venues might more commonly be called dives or holes.  But this in no way diminishes his skill level or the enthusiasm he generates, mostly positive vibes from his genuine personality that rubs off on other people.  The film documents a road tour he made in the year leading up to Obama’s election in 2008, where he wanted to be part of a movement where he felt the country coming together.  History shows the post-Obama era of politics to be filled with even more divisiveness and rancor than anyone could have predicted, which gives this film the dated appearance of a time capsule, but it hardly matters, as Sandman fills the screen with the infectious spirit of his own upbeat outlook, as he wants the world to get along and with his music hopes to do his little part in bringing everyone closer together.

What feels unique in this small, upbeat, and more often than not delightful film is authentic showcasing of people living on the fringe, both rural and in the cities, who aren’t that far removed from homeless people, as they are just barely scraping by.  It’s reminiscent of the remaining elements of the post 60’s counter culture, where Sandman has a much more evolved tolerance for racial and sexual diversity than people that normally live in the wide open spaces of the West, who tend to be more elderly and hard core conservative.  Sandman’s following includes an idealistic youth movement that sees a brighter day ahead, who see him on the vanguard of a coming social change, as his songs advocate a different kind of world than the one we live in, a kinder, gentler place where despite obvious differences, people have fewer insurmountable obstacles and almost no one uses confrontational tactics.  Messages tend to be artistically expressed in songs or poetry instead of political demonstrations which they have little use for.  Sandman spends a good deal of his time holed up in the remote isolation of his rural home, where there are few neighbors nearby, but instead hills and vast plateaus that extend to the far reaching horizons, where a sunset may pass for his weekly social communion.  Living with this degree of loneliness built into his life, it comes as no surprise that his songs are so intensely personal, reflecting the spare reveries of another passing day living alone, where friends and his connection to the world seem to have more nobler, far reaching ramifications.  Skillfully directed by a Columbia College graduate who accentuates distances and a notable emotional sparseness, unfortunately few will ever see or hear Sandman, but he’s the genuine article.