Tribute to Frederic Wiseman: High School II

 

Director Frederic Wiseman

Deborah Meier

Tribute to Frederic Wiseman:  HIGH SCHOOL II               A                                                 USA  (220 mi)  1994  d: Frederick Wiseman

High School was the second movie I made, and whether anybody else thinks so or not, I like to think I’ve learned something in the intervening 24 years.                                                            —Director Frederick Wiseman

One of the best films about education ever made, alongside Jan Troell’s 1969 Swedish film EENY MEENY MINY MOE, and one of the better Wiseman efforts, simply a brilliant observation of an excellent school as it goes about its business of educating, the first of Wiseman’s films to revisit an earlier subject, a pretty clear answer to what was just his second film, the brilliant HIGH SCHOOL (1968) shot 24 years earlier, choosing in this case the Central Park East Secondary School in Spanish Harlem on Manhattan’s upper East Side, a diverse inner city New York City alternative school of gifted kids that graduates more than 90% of its students, as opposed to 50% for the city as a whole, and has an excellent record in sending and preparing students for college.  While the earlier film looked at a predominately white school in Philadelphia, it presented a collage of images and sequences portraying life inside of the school, capturing the way institutions, in this case schools, molded the people operating inside of them, with the teachers doing the majority of the talking, establishing absolute authority, where a teacher was always patrolling the hallways like a prison guard, often relying upon rigid rules of conformity to supersede classroom learning, expecting students to simply obey.  What stands out today is how utterly mind-deadening an institution it was, as the school was desperately trying to maintain its position of authority in the face of enormous social change of the 60’s, with the pressure of the Vietnam War and the “counterculture” pushing from the outside, all but ignoring the assassination of Rev. Martin Luther King that occurred during the filming, where the ideology and repressive values of the school emerged as they reproduced social conditioning from generation to generation, where even today many will still recognize the familiarity of the experience.  The relationship of domination and submission to authority were placed at the same level as the institution’s purely educational missions, becoming, in essence, a time capsule of an earlier era, added to the Library of Congress Film Registry in 1991.  Here the student body is largely black or Latino, 45% black, 45% Latino, and 10% white, the faculty and administrative staff are largely white, which is directly brought into the discussion with a black student who claims at times he vehemently dislikes his white teachers, while his mother is there reminding him that he could just as easily dislike a black teacher, that the real focus should be that nothing should deter him from making his best effort in the classroom.  Unlike the earlier film, there are scenes of students talking among themselves, as students are encouraged to talk openly, providing a look at styles and behaviors while also offering classroom activities, discussions of race, class, and gender, faculty meetings, family conferences, disciplinary problems, sex education, conflict resolution by students, and student council meetings, all of which illustrate the school’s approach to learning.   

A purely observational film, from the very first moments you can tell this school has a completely different agenda from the earlier effort, allowing student input and topical interests, reflective of a more diverse humanity, extolling the virtues of progressive education, where there’s a sincere effort to understand all the different points of view.  The nearly four-hour runtime of the film is essential, as it allows Wiseman to follow discussions and their shifting points of view in greater detail, discovering the classroom sizes are smaller, while the subjects being discussed reflect the social realities faced by the students, with an emphasis on tolerance and respect for other minorities.  We hear an interesting conversation with the principal, who happens to be one of those fussy grandmotherly types who always seems active and alert along with a few advisors who are talking with a returning 15-year old Latina girl who recently had a baby, with her mother and the baby’s father present, discussing the kinds of problems she would likely encounter, including a possible violent conflict with another girl now out of school who may still have unresolved issues to settle, the huge amount of time a newborn demands, the lack of sleep, the pressures of wanting to be with other kids and still having time for her schoolwork, while politely advising her that there are alternative schools that allow young mothers to bring their babies to class.  This is an interesting introduction to some of the school staff while also revealing the special accommodations they are willing to make for students, while at the same time offering a brief glimpse of the student’s home life.  Later we see two students called on the carpet for creating a disturbance, where one teacher is trying to get to the bottom of the problem, and is meandering around the subject, never really getting to the point when one kid bluntly states that the other kid is just trying to be annoying, which brings a smile to this kid’s face, like a light goes on in his head that finally somebody understands.  An hour or so later on into the film, we see this same kid in a peer mediation group discussing a punching and pushing incident over some ill-advised verbal taunting.  This session was one of the more aggravating of the entire film, as they again speak at length talking around the issues, with two older black students as well as a teacher never really holding either kid accountable for their behavior, where the annoying white kid continually states he has no interest in being this black kid’s friend, where the recommended solution is simply to ignore one another, yet they are in every class together, spending more time in each other’s company than with their own families, so this felt like a feeble and untenable solution, never addressing the racial conflict and obvious disrespect the white student was showing his fellow black student.   

Without utilizing any narrative, music, or inner-titles, just a fly-on-the-wall approach to observing what is taking place, always withholding judgment and allowing people to figure things out on their own, it’s clear the filmmaker’s respect for civic institutions makes him a champion of democratic values, yet it takes a while to familiarize ourselves with the players, as there are multiple discussions among students about the recent Rodney King incident where four white Los Angeles police officers were legally absolved of any responsibility in the senseless beating of a black man who offered no resistance, despite incontrovertible evidence of a videotape showing the brutality of the violence inflicted, where he may have suffered some brain damage from the severity of their actions.  The kids were outraged, so some were organizing a student march to city hall to protest the decision, while also displaying a civility about voicing their displeasure, something they felt was lacking in other schools around the country who advocated or resorted to violence.  Of interest, an out of town high school from Michigan was visiting the school, where we witness an all-white, all-girl glee club sing an ultra-whitebread choral rendition that brought many snickers from the audience, all of which was preceded by a young Latino’s speech about getting along, that he was aware of the anger many students felt, reminding them that they needed to greet these kids with respect, that this chorus was not their enemy.  We hear a meeting of the faculty discussing the best way to coordinate the curriculum, where the AP teachers appear challenged by the others, as if they are some kind of elite ivory tower establishment separate from the reality that the rest of the school faces.  One teacher skillfully reminds them that when she attended an AP seminar earlier in the year where some 40 schools were represented, all were private schools except two public schools from New York City, of which they were one, explaining it was exceedingly difficult to remain competitive with these schools and their seemingly unlimited resources, so any extra push AP classes could provide to prepare their kids for college was not only a fairly common practice, but a vitally necessary one. 

We witness classroom sessions discussing the different kinds of love in Shakespeare or Lorraine Hansberry’s changing views on the American Dream, a debate class arguing multiple points of view of the same argument on immigration, a sex education training class for teachers explaining the proper use of condoms, after-school tutoring or in-class help with class assignments or homework, conferences with parents, students and teachers, and occasionally we get views of quiet, empty hallway corridors, where the brightly colored drawings and paintings by the students are decoratively displayed on the walls.  What we never see is any physical education or sports activities, focusing entirely on academics.  The most devastating segment is near the end, when a young boy is being lectured to and berated by his own mother for not being totally forthcoming about his academic deficiencies, where the teachers are all praising his obvious intelligence and ability, but believe he is coasting along, failing to complete certain assignments.  When an interim report of “does not meet expectations” is sent home, the embarrassed mother wants answers, which only places more unbearable pressure on her kid, in a searingly emotional segment that is simply painful to endure.  After a long protracted silence filled with tears, when the kid finally begins to stand up for himself, we learn he’s one of the brightest kids in the class, and probably better than most all other students in the exact same categories for which he was being negatively evaluated, where he has to one by one disagree with the teacher’s ratings, offering his own assessment, which by the end of the discussion is accepted by all as probably being closer to the truth, but this is the school’s way of “motivating” him.  Despite the obvious good intentions, this is an agonizing scene to witness, which is calmly followed afterwards by an uninterrupted speech by the principal, who is never acknowledged, but turns out to be Deborah Meier, the school’s founder, recipient of a MacArthur Fellowship (as is Wiseman) as an innovative educator, perhaps the most renowned educational reformer in America, as she speaks to a group of disinterested, vacant-faced people, describing for them her reasons for what education can provide in people’s lives, a quiet, analytic perspective on intelligence that began with her approach on capturing the attention of kindergarten-age students, utilizing the same approach for elementary and secondary schools, claiming college should be no different, that life itself is a continuing dialogue that we have with ourselves searching for more than what we already know.  

Filmed by John Davey on 16mm, directed, edited, and sound by Wiseman, this is easily one of the most intelligent and skillful approaches to filmmaking that one is ever likely to experience on how to approach the aspirations of knowledge with every new generation, offering as exhibit A an engaging group of students and faculty, capturing some of the more enlivened discussions on the subject of education that we could ever hope to find, with an intensive support system in place, where the remarkable brilliance of youth is simply captivating, where it’s impossible not to be reminded of what it was like to be feverishly young again, a time when our horizons were unclouded, where anything was possible, and where everything that troubles us today was not continually getting in our way of knowing more.  

Half-Nelson

 

Ryan Fleck and Anna Boden

HALF-NELSON        A                                                                                                                   USA  (106 mi)  2006  d: Ryan Fleck

There’s a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, makes you so sick at heart that you can’t take part, you can’t even passively take part, and you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you’ve got to make it stop, and you’ve got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it that unless you’re free, the machine will be prevented from working at all.                            —Mario Salvo, student activist and leader of the Free Speech Movement at a rally in UC-Berkeley, California after the students seized control of an administrative building on campus, 1964

Reminiscent of Jon Voight’s empathetic humaneness in Martin Ritt’s CONRACK (1974), yet also the anguished impressionistic journey in Lynne Ramsay’s MORVERN CALLAR (2002), which takes place nearly entirely inside someone’s head, this is a muddled odyssey through the present day and age, as seen through the eyes of a sympathetic white 8th grade teacher in a predominately black inner-city school in Brooklyn, who scores crack on the side and thinks he can handle the situation.  While teaching history, he asks his students to explore the two opposing forces that confront one another in determining change, as “Everything is made of opposing forces” and “turning points,” both sides fighting for what they believe is right, which he contends is the catalyst or determining factor of history.  Yet it’s also seen through the eyes of a young student in his class who actually catches him smoking crack in the bathroom, but is sympathetic and keeps her mouth shut, as her brother is in prison for selling crack, while the dealer, in a favor to the brother for not turning him in, owes her family.  An expansion of Fleck’s short film GOWANUS, BROOKLYN (2004), as it takes place in the abandoned lots and desolate streets of an ungentrified Brooklyn neighborhood near the Gowanus Canal, co-written by the director and his live-in partner Anna Boden, who also edited and produced the film, Ryan Gosling (in his first Oscar nomination) is unerringly believable as the teacher, Dan Dunne, who isn’t selling anything in the classroom except the freedom to speak one’s own mind while making their own choices, though he’s held on a tight leash by the school principal, often appearing in class in a disheveled state from his previous late night binges.  His open defiance of authority and institutions raises red flags, as he frequently veers away from the “official” curriculum, yet that’s what’s so compelling about this film, as a teacher’s moral dilemma in the classroom comes down to a struggle to do what’s right as opposed to being blindly told what to teach by an often faceless administrative entity.  And while his own choice selection is hazardous, not to mention personally destructive, this issue is not side-stepped in the film, and his deplorable behavior is a force to be reckoned with, including a drunkenly pathetic attempted rape scene, but so is his commitment to stick with these kids, to be honest and not sell them a bill of goods.  Thinking that he can write a children’s book about dialectics on the side, instead he spends all his free time getting wasted, seemingly without friends, with no stable relationships, remaining aloof and emotionally disconnected.  The title is a reference to an immobilizing wrestling hold that is difficult, if not impossible, to escape from, evoking a metaphoric sense of entrapment.  Born out of a frustration with the malaise hanging over America following 9/11 and the Iraq War, this film is about a developing friendship between an adult and a child, with each taking turns taking care of each other, avoiding any overt sexual overtones, as Shareeka Epps plays the inquisitive Drey, a 13-year old latch-key student caught between moving forces, a dead end school, a tired single mother who works too hard to have any time for her, a brother in prison, a dealer that offers money and protection, and a white teacher who, despite his personal problems, actually makes sense.  Her hesitation in exploring each world is the heart and soul of the film, as she’s remarkably appealing, tough and soft at the same time, with an open mind to finding a new way other than the route of her brother or the dealer, but she doesn’t know where to find it.  An amalgamation of race, class, idealism, and self-destruction, with a nod to the rebellious instincts yet surprising honesty of J.D. Salinger’s Holden Caulfield, the film is also about finding forgiveness.     

The always compelling Anthony Mackie plays Frank the dealer, and in the model of Coppola’s THE GODFATHER (1972), which features likeable men who kill for a living, or Craig Brewer’s HUSTLE AND FLOW (2005), which features a likeable, hard-working man who pimps for a living, Mackie has his own appeal, is soft-spoken and considerate, and doesn’t push Drey too hard while gently attempting to persuade her to take over her brother’s business, luring her deeper into his world.  When Dan sees the paternal and potentially dangerous influence, he attempts to intervene, and in an especially effective scene, he confronts Frank in front of his own home and tries to steer him away from Drey, but realizes he’s hardly the role model to be making this request, as his example is no better.  Frank, in a masterful stroke of understated psychological swagger, completely takes the air out of his sails, and therein lies the real complexity of the film.  When have drug dealers been painted with ambiguity and complexity?  And if we’re to be honest, how can we blame black dealers for being dealers, considering the bleak economic options in their ravaged communities and the lure of a lucrative lifestyle?  In fact, what drives the demand for dealers in the first place?  Who are the biggest drug consumers?  In America, it turns out to be the comfortable middle class whites, who may be in denial about the consequences of their actions, like Dan in this film, believing he can handle it, while remaining oblivious to the economic disparity between blacks and whites, and the social injustice contrasted between the races, considering who the police routinely target.  But this film places the responsibility front and center on the white middle class, on the Baby Boomers, the ones who marched against the war in Vietnam, or for voting rights in the South, the ones who supposedly offered an alternate moral view, as reflected by the black and white newsreel footage that Dan shows his kids, such as Attica, where, with the exception of the Indian massacres of the 19th century, the police assault on prison inmates and their hostages was the bloodiest one-day encounter between Americans since the Civil War, or the assassination of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay elected representative in the U.S, or Cesar Chavez, whose boycotts helped establish rights and benefits for migrant farm workers, or America’s CIA advocating the overthrow and assassination of a freely elected leader of Chile, Salvador Allende, replacing him with a U.S. puppet, General Augusto Pinochet, now up on war crimes charges, while Henry Kissinger expressed the U.S. view that the issue was too important to leave to the Chilean people, or Mario Savio leading the Berkeley free speech rally, with students suggesting they could help open up a crack in “the Machine.”  Why believe in a system that takes away your rights, or takes away your freedom?  While explaining to his students the ways they are oppressed by the system, that the Civil Rights movement is essentially about the injustice of the system, where protests were created to expose that unfairness and have their voices finally heard, Dan, a true child of the 60’s, one of the most misunderstood decades in the movies, makes the connection that by truthfully analyzing the problems of the past, which all of us are a part of, we might find some clues into how to solve these problems in the future.  Like disillusioned characters in a Jean Eustache film, whatever happened to this moral optimism from the 60’s, this belief that people could work together to fight against social injustice?  Everything’s become so comfortably compartmentalized now, so specialized, each looking after only their own interests, which is the modern era status quo, there’s no longer any belief that we are all in this together or that concerted action can make a difference. 

This kind of film could never be made today, where a wave of censorship and conservatism has not only swept across the country, but around the world, as corporate sponsors would never approve of overt drug use and the message that sends, completely missing the larger point of making such a daring and provocative film.  So rather than allow viewers to learn from a film like this, it’s instead tossed into the dustbin of history, like an ancient relic.  Radically departing from the cliché of historical cinematic educators who appear in the teacher savior role, this completely subverts that genre, as Dunne’s left-leaning political orientation stands in stark contrast to those seen in other teacher films, as there are no miracle transformations happening here, with kids seen sleeping in his class, or missing altogether, and no one is spared from the looming trauma of the streets, even the teacher, whose personal struggles with drug use complicate his classroom impact, yet there is a sense of triumph over adversity, with just the briefest hint of hope, choosing moral complexity over easy solutions.  Enhanced by the edgy, somewhat vacuous style, the film at times resembles an amorphous blur, yet it’s grounded in the raw vulnerability of several brilliant dramatic performances, shot on gritty 16mm, often in tight close-ups by Andrij Parekh, capturing every emotional nuance.  But identifying with the film isn’t easy, as it’s disjointed, sometimes out of focus, and the handheld camera keeps physically being knocked around a bit, so there’s a rough quality, a mood of ambiguity, with occasional eerie industrial or electronic sounds along with a psychologically probing indie soundtrack by Canada’s Broken Social Scene.  Despite the film’s unsparingly honest, near documentary style, never lapsing into cheap sentiment, it occasionally departs from naturalism, such as a noticeable scene when Drey visits her brother in prison, which takes place in perfect quiet, unlike the raucous noise that is typical of overcrowded prisons today, or when the students stare straight into the camera and repeat memorized moments in history, like similar set-up scenes in Woody Allen’s Annie Hall (1977), but it also perfectly captures the wretched state of Dan’s wasted mind when a proud parent comes up to him in a bar to thank him for his daughter’s success at Georgetown and he can’t even remember her.  Still, this accurately points out how badly we need good teachers with challenging, inquisitive minds like Dan in the public school system, despite his obvious damaged goods, as his painful honesty is heartfelt and believable, made all the more compelling because the unconventional person behind the message is so openly flawed.  Kids remember being in his class, and not the automatons pushing standardized testing that school boards would prefer, as he is not condescending, yet Dan finds it difficult to find a balance between the demons of his dark personal life and the positive outlook needed to plant the seeds of discovery and self-realization in the classroom. The power dynamic between the teacher and student is inverted in this film, as the wisdom and maturity Drey exhibits in reaching out a hand of friendship, particularly during Dan’s heavy descent into drugs, is something we don’t normally see, actually finding a connection and a chance at redemption.  Born to radical parents on a commune in Berkeley, and growing up in the same area, director Ryan Fleck shares much in common with Dan’s travails, as picking up on the residue of leftover 60’s themes comes with paying a high price for disillusionment, where the loss of that collective spirit feels so defeating, as the crushing reality is that the catastrophic circumstances that so many of these kids come from are not getting any better, despite all good intentions.  This film begins to explore finding a way out by linking some of our cultural connections to our human imperfections, by literally building a bridge of mutual tolerance.  Well worth a look, as you won’t find anything like this in theaters today.   

The film that changed my life: Ryan Fleck | Do the Right Thing  Ryan Fleck from The Guardian, April 17, 2010