Entschuldigen Sie bitte

Well. It's been a while. Too long, really - months. Edward Yang, Ingmar Bergman and Michelangelo Antonioni have all passed away and are probably now in heaven, being assaulted by the vicious ghost of Klaus Kinski. We will miss them.

Meanwhile, Kino-Eye has been suspended in limbo for the last few months, and for that I apologize. Summer employment came to monolpolize most of my free time, thus preventing me from updating this site as often as I would have liked. But today is my final day as an espresso jockey and, from here on in, I should (school work aside) be able to devote myself to this site in a way that I haven't been able to recently.

And I am happy to report that as soon as I finish this little update-cum-apology, I will be able to post an interview that has been in the works for sometime now, one which I'm quite happy to have secured. In terms of postings to come, there are a few things in the works but, as usual, the content of this site will largely be determined on the spur-of-the-moment. And by all of you, who I am hoping will contribute articles and keep me posted on film-related happenings in Toronto.

So, again, big apologies for abandoning this site - it won't happen again.

The Great Happiness Space

Way back in May, a friend of mine sent me an email asking me if I wanted to check out a class at the Anarchist Free University called 'Hell in Eros: Desire and Japanese Cinema'. Looking at the course website, I found I was familiar with some of the film makers featured in class (Takashi Miike, Nagisa Oshima, Kinji Fukasaku and Koji Wakamatsu) and unfamiliar with others (Kaneto Shinoda and Shuji Terayama). With my formal, communal experiences with Japanese cinema largely restricted to retrospectives at Cinematheque of critical favourites like Kurosawa, Ozu, Naurse and Immamura, I was interested to see how the work of these often maligned film makers would be investigated in class, given the course mandate to problematize the 'facile distinction' between the arthouse and the grindhouse.

So I and another friend headed on over, neither of us adequetly prepared for the screening that was to follow. The first film was Koji Wakamatsu's 'Go, Go, Second Time Virgin' and by the end of it the class was left, quite literally, speechless (for reasons I'm sure you're familiar with if you've seen the film). Subsequent screenings have been, if not as damaging (and I use that term reverentially, if that's at all possible), then certainly as interesting - Kinji Fukasaku's 'Black Lizard', Kaneto Shinoda's 'Onibaba', Takashi Miike's 'Audition', Nagisa Oshima's 'Diary of a Shinjuku Thief', Shuji Terayama's 'Throw Your Books Away, Rally in the Streets!', Masahiro Shindo's 'Double Suicide', and Jake Clennell's 'The Great Happiness Space: Diary of an Osaka Love Thief', among others.

After a healthy game of email tag, I managed to secure an interview with the instructor of the course, Ryan Mitchell, who reveals (among other things) what motivated him to launch the course, what 'Hell in Eros' actually means, and what Zizek and Lacan have to do with Japanese cinema. Class resumes in September and I appeal to all of you, as cinephiles and as students (who I am sure, come September, will realize what a drag formal education can be), to check out 'Hell in Eros' at the Anarchist Free University. The course website, with all the details related to class times and location, can be found here.

Hell in Eros Interview, Part I - 'It's more fun to respond to the ending of 'Audition' than it is to pore over Hegel.'

Kino-Eye: What motivated you to found this course originally and how did you come to found it?

Ryan Mitchell: The course came about over a drunken conversation with another AFUer who had done numerous courses before. The idea was to do a split Peter Greenaway and Takashi Miike screening course where we would alternate weeks and screenings. Although the pairing seems a bit random — Greenaway is often considered ‘art’ whereas Miike comes from the ghetto of manga/yakuza adaptations — we did find affinities between the way each of them with certain themes: desire, frustration, decay, the uncanny. Not only that, we felt that Greenaway and Miike approached these themes with two seemingly different vehicles — Greenaway uses sex whereas Miike uses violence. Our idea for thecourse was to try and get at what each of these filmmakers were try to discuss through the use of sex or violence (or both). There seems to be some sort of unspeakable place that is only accessed through such acts.

Anyway, for whatever reason, this course didn’t happen. I had, however, done quite a bit of work on my Miike weeks so I basically had half a course planned and was looking for an outlet. At the sametime I was also planning on putting on a theory course on the political theory of desire. I basically decided to put the two courses together but expand Miike course to a broader Japanese cinema course.

KE: Beyond this, were there any more reasons why did you decide to approach Japanese cinema exclusively in your examination of desire as represented in film?

RM: Sure. This goes back to my intention to do a theory/philosophy course on desire. I had thought what it’d be like to gather people around to read something out of, say, Hegel’s “Phenomenology of the Spirit” and I figured this would be such a drag and it would simply replicate what’s going on in “real” universities where people sitting around and do a type of intellectual archaeology of playing with fossils. Pairing the two courses together and having a weekly screening would always make for a concrete object of discussion that we could project the abstract theory on to. I’d like to think that the format worked for everyone involved. Even if you necessarily didn’t understand the readings, or even do them, the film could be something you could respond to and that as a viewer you were as much as an expert as anyone else in the room since you could respond with your feelings and how the film affected you. Besides it’s more fun to respond to the ending of 'Audition' (1999) than it is to pore over Hegel.

Oh! That doesn’t directly answer your question, does it? Okay, even though I don’t want to say anything broad or essentialist about Japanese cinema — and especially about Japanese national culture — I kept coming across certain themes in Japanese cinema over and over again that I wasn’t seeing elsewhere. Specifically I was seeing the theme of “desire” in just about every other film I saw. What I was seeing was the violent, hellish reactions that desire produces in us. Again, I think this is an attempt to deal with this unspeakable/unknowable aspect that is at the heart of not only our desire but the human condition. I can’t say why the Japanese are so good at this but they sure seem to be!Beyond this, I also had a philanthropic urge where I felt a duty to get people out to see these films. Some of the greatest films in cinema history have been made by people like Wakamatsu, Masumura, Shindo, Oshima, and Miike, but outside of Jack Hunter’s wrong-headed “Eros in Hell” (1998) book these films are rarely discussed, let alone seen.

KE: So the title of your course is a play on Jack Hunter’s “Eros in Hell” (1998) book?

RM: Absolutely! Being the silly guy that I am, I wanted something pretentious and important sounding for the course, but at the sametime my reasons behind it are a bit more playful. The “Eros in Hell” book is pretty awful in that it plays up to the tiresome and offensive Japanese “blackface” stereotypes of young-girls-in-Sailor Moon-school-uniforms-getting-caned-across-the-ass that we in the West use to demonize Japan as a “degenerate” country. Although I’m largely dealing with the same group of filmmakers/films as “Eros in Hell” is, I wanted to give the actual films a bit more of a serious treatment rather than delegating them to the mondo/exploitation ghetto. The book, for example, plays up the “exploitation” elements of Masumura’s 'Blind Beast' (1969) and Shindo’s 'Onibaba' (1964) in that it simply gives a synopsis of the sex and violent content of these films. Needless to say, I think he seriously does a disservice to these important films.

Also, the book’s main thesis is that because of Japanese unique censorship laws — the ban on the onscreen depiction of genitals — has lead to an extreme cinema where all other boundaries are broken — again playing up the mondo/exploitation angle. I have to say I’m not convinced of this argument at all.

So, yeah, it’s simple. Beyond being a response to Jack Hunter’s book, my course is called “Hell in Eros” in that there’s something “hellish” about being in love, something hellish about desiring. I wanted to explore this idea in the course. Not only that but there’s been a few Japanese films that play to this idea. Chusei Sone did a pretty good “roman porno” with 'Hellish Love' (1972), Susumu Hani’s great New Wave film 'Nanami: The Inferno of First Love' (1968) and of course Yoshishige Yoshida’s 'Eros Plus Massacre' (1970).

Hell in Eros Interview, Part II - 'This is fucking awesome!'

KE: You admit that your critical approach to these films is rooted in Lacanian psychoanalysis and the writings of Zizek. These writers, along with writings by critical thinkers such as Foucault, Deleuze and Guattari, make up the course's theoretical focus. What is it about these writers that appeals to you and why are their ideas relevant to discussion on Japanese cinema? Why have you decided to utilize their writings more often than texts that explicitly deal with Japanese cinema?

RM: Before starting the class I had an idea of what readings I’d like to do and some of the concepts that I’d be playing with. To be honest, I felt that none of the readings were going to go over well with the rest of the group since they were “difficult.” I made the pretentious mistake of handing out an essay by Felix Guattari, “A Cinema of Desire,” during thef irst class to show how cool and well-read I am. I hadn’t read it in some time and only got to read it after the first class, so I came back for the second class apologizing for handing out such a “difficult” piece, but the majority of the class enjoyed it and really wanted to discuss it. Although I had only intended the readings to be secondary to the screenings I found that as the course went on and we were reading things by Bataille and Zizek people were really wanting to discuss the readings and go further with theoretical side of the class. I have to admit I was caught off-guard about this since I never planned “lectures” or discussion entry points into the readings. Actually, the one time I tried to do a formal lecture — with chalkboard illustrations and everything — I got heckled! I totally deserved it too!

So, again this goes back to my intention for the class — that the screenings would serve as a vehicle for a discussion of desire. I guess the course fits in somewhere between a philosophy course and film course and for this reason I didn’t assign too many film history/theory texts. I really didn’t want too much to get in the way of a discussion of how the films address the question of desire. That said, as the course progressed I found it was necessary to contextualize the films within not only a historical context but also an artistic one.For example, I found when I screened Wakamatsu’s 'Ecstasy of the Angels' (1972) and Oshima’s 'Diary of a Shinjuku Thief' (1968) that it was necessary to talk not only about the student movement in Japan in the late 60s but also how the Japanese New Wave was aligned with the Art Theatre Guild and they were making films in response to the same thing the students were rallying against. So, yeah, maybe it was naïve for me to completely leave out the film history/theory side of the course. I have to admit to not being a huge expert on this side of things so I think I was maybe hesitant to provide such information.

KE: In Hannah Arendt's introduction to Walter Benjamin's 'Illuminations', she describes Benjamin's conception of the collector as a revolutionary, one who 'redeem[s] the object as a thing since it now is no longer a means to anend but has intrinsic worth' (that is, redeems the object 'from the drudgery of usefulness') and in so doing complements the redemption of people from their labour. You yourself are a collector of films and I believe have laid claim to ownership of hundreds of movies. Do you understand what you are doing in Benjamin's terms, or is there a more prosaic motive behind your collecting?

RM: I think collecting is what little boys do, and I fully admit that my collection is borne of the fact that I’ve yet to graduate into full adulthood and that in many ways the 2000+ films I have are the collection of a little boy! I know I’m never going to have the time to watch even half of them. I have no idea, for example, when I’m going to feel in the mood to watch Charles Bronson in Death Wish 1 through 5 or all of Fassbinder’s films.

My life has been a succession of different collections. I started collecting comic books as a youngster so I’d be chasing every appearance of “Tiger Shark” in the Sub-Mariner comic. I then moved on to collecting vinyl records so I’d be chasing stupid 7’ singles of this or that obscure band. Somewhere along the way I took up collecting dolls and action figures and I’d be chasing a mint condition carded Mego Captain America doll. It must be a sublimation for something! I’m going to have to ask my therapist…

In many ways I think collecting is a perfect metaphor for desire — we’re always chasing something and when we finally catch it we’re always disappointed because it was the case and not the catch. That’s why collections are absolutely predicated on lack — a collection is never complete and when it is, we often find reasons why it’s not or we move on to another collection to start again. I mean I would often look my various collections and be absolutely miserable because there was something missing from it: “If I only had the 8-inch Fist-Fighting Batman with Karate Action I could be happy!” Manufacturers aren’t stupid, that’s why they create obscenely small print runs of that Charizard hologram card so that they can make every 10 year-old Pokemon collector miserable. Actually, they probably make their parents miserable who have to put up with their kids.

Jesus! I really didn’t answer your question! Benjamin? Arendt? Films? Japanese? Want to repeat it again? I tend to rile myself up like this… I think I should go lie down…

KE: What objectives did you set for the class upon establishing it this summer?

RM: I’m not sure if I have any concrete objective for the course other than facilitating a space where we can watch film and discuss it. The reason for not having a specific objective is that I know people are coming to the class for different reasons and I’m completely fine with that. Some people are there to learn more about Japanese cinema, others are there for the desire component and some just show up to goof around. It’s all good.

Just the other week we were watching Yasuzo Masmura’s 'Manji' (1964) and in the middle of the screening someone from the group bursted out laughing: “this is fucking awesome!” I guess you can say that is the type of audience member I had hoped to attract! Objective met!

KE: How is your class in particular and the AFU in general advertised? Have these methods been successful?

RM: This is an interesting question and it’s something we’ve often grappled with at the AFU. My quick and immediate answer would be to say “no” and that we could benefit from more exposure for what we do — I think more people would be involved if they knew we existed! We were just recently written up in the Globe and Mail and have received some other “mainstream” exposure, but we’ve tended to stay low on the radar. I dunno, maybe it’s for the best?

This Fall we’re doing outreach with some alternative high schools in the area and we’re going to have some of our classes count as school credits. We’re also trying to create better connections with various universities. We’ll have to see how this all works out.

For my own class I did absolutely no advertising—just what was put on the website. Although weekly attendance wildly varied from 5 to 25, I was happy with the enrolment for my individual course where I had about 30 students. I figured anything more than 30 would have been unmanageable. I’m still debating actually promoting any of my future courses since I prefer things to be more intimate rather than have more people show up to my class just to allow me to feel popular.

KE: What films are you planning to screen in the coming weeks?

RM: Well, we’re on hiatus for the summer - I’m just too busy with other projects during August. Also, with the weather being so nice it gets hard for me to commit every week. I am, however, restarting/rebooting the class in September for the Fall semester.

There were about four films that I intentionally didn’t get around to showing the first time around — Miike’s 'Imprint' (2005), Masamura’s 'Blind Beast' (1969), Oshima’s 'In The Realm of the Senses' (1976) and Miike’s 'Ichi The Killer' (2001) — and I’m using them as “bait” to encourage the folks who showed up to the first instalment of this class to come back for the second. The reason I held off on showing these films also had a practical purpose because I think they all exemplify what I’m doing with this course — it would just be a good way to wrap up all the themes of the course.

KE: What do you hope attendees of your class will take away from the experience?

RM: To come away from the class saying “this is fucking awesome!”

On Reginald Harkema’s Monkey Warfare - an essay by Kohei Usuda

Hey everybody,

Sorry for the lack of new material as of late. Chalk it up to days spent moving and unpacking, as well as hours of grueling labour in the salt mines (I swear to God I'm going to quit).

That being said, I have exciting news: Kino-Eye finally has it's first contributor. A friend and local film maker, Kohei Usuda has generously contributed a short essay he has written on Reginald Harkema’s film 'Monkey Warfare', a 2006 feature shot largely in Parkdale. I won't say too much about the article (too many cooks in the kitchen and all that) other than to say that I'm always pleased to read Kohei's writing on film, given that he brings to his essays a critical and yet sensitive appreciation of cinema as a medium and as an art.

Read and enjoy (and then contribute something yourself).

* * *

'On Reginald Harkema’s Monkey Warfare'

By Kohei Usuda

Writing on the current state of Canadian films in the new issue of Cahiers du cinéma, Mark Peranson lists Reginald Harkema’s 'Monkey Warfare' – which was shot largely in Toronto’s Parkdale district – as two of 2006’s most unique Canadian films alongside 'Radiant City' by Burns and Brown. Yet, upon reading the reviews of 'Monkey Warfare', one cannot but be alarmed by all the discussions regarding the political implication of the film, such as the theme of “burned-out post-radicalism” that Harkema’s film is supposedly commenting on. At any rate, that is how Toronto Star’s Geoff Pevere begins his review, going on to say that Monkey Warfare “is about things that have gone stale. Things like marriage, idealism, old records and yesterday’s hopes.” Indeed, for NOW’s Cameron Bailey, “Monkey Warfare is that rare Canadian film that takes politics seriously”; likewise, for Eye’s Jason Anderson, “Monkey Warfare returns repeatedly to questions about how one is supposed to go about changing the world and whether violent acts are ever justified.”

Of course, the critics are not wholly mistaken in speaking of Harkema’s film in terms of contextual aspect of the film; however, in doing so, the same critics must not fail to notice the other equally important subject of 'Monkey Warfare': i.e. the subject of recycling, exchanging, and trading. That is how, as we see throughout the film, the Parkdale couple Dan and Linda (Don McKellar and Tracy Wright) make their living: gleaning up offbeat vintage items off the street, and selling them on to the buyers through their website. Harkema obviously underlines this theme by showing the gestures of his characters passing objects from one character to another. As a matter of fact, it is this gesture that the relationship between each character is established. For instance, we recall that it is through the gesture of the young pot-dealer Susan (Nadia Litz) passing a joint to Dan that they strike up their friendship (see OutNow.ch). But obviously we must wait until once that Dan passes his radical ideology to her – as presented in the forms of books and records – that they move beyond their simple association as a dealer and a client. Finally, their relationship based on exchange is fully complete when Susan uses his theory into practice, that is, when she actually transforms Dan’s idea into action. (But unfortunately the story doesn’t end happily for her since Dan refuses to pass on his know-how of making a Molotov cocktail!) Of course, the danger in passing on an object is that, sooner or later, it might come back to its original owner, hence making a full circle: thus, in no time, the young Susan emerges as a radicalized revolutionary, transforming herself into Dan’s older self to haunt his hidden past. This is a classic image of a snake swallowing its own tail. Perhaps that is why there are numerous circular objects in the film, such as bicycle wheels, vinyl records, and so on.

In this sense, despite many critics’ allusion to Godard – Cameron Bailey name-drops 'La Chinoise' as well as 'Two or Three Things I Know about Her' – Harkema’s film is closer to Bresson in essence than to the filmmaker of 'Week End'. Indeed, it was Bresson – and not Godard – who used to film the movements and circulations of objects passing from one hand to another. (The images of hands snatching wallets in 'Pickpocket' are probably one of the most graceful moments in the history of cinema.) Yet, save for one fleeting shot, in this film about objects passing from one hand to another, Harkema refuses to present banknotes in the image. That is to say, unlike Bresson’s 'L’Argent', he refuses to show the transaction of money and goods, the act of which the French director saw as an evil deed. If there is no place for banknote in 'Monkey Warfare', perhaps it is because money is something people use to dispense with; a banknote as an object is nothing more than a piece of paper, without a value in itself other than its symbol as the currency.

In final analysis, we can say that Reg Harkema is a materialistic filmmaker. In the sense that, firstly, he presents interaction between people by filming the movements of objects that pass between them; secondly, he shows things such as knowledge, revolution, politics, history – all elements without substance, therefore un-representable in the image – in filmable objects such as vinyl LPs of left-field music, books on history, on revolutions, etc.

Brunswick Theatre Interview, Part I - 'We won't shy away from screening a controversial documentary'

The first time I saw the poster adevertising a film on 'Vatican Sex Crimes', I thought I was in for a sleezy sexploitation flick centred on the busy fingers of a parish priest. Examining the fine print, I found the poster actually advertised the screening at the Brunswick Theatre of a film on the recent sex scandals that have plagued the Catholic church. I don't know whether the owners of the Brunswick intented to foster in the public this sort of initial misreading of their ad, but I had to admit, it was effective - I now wanted to find out more about this local cinema that so brazenly advertised the moral short comings of the Catholic clergy.

A bit of digging on the internet (read: Googling 'Brunswick Theatre Toronto') soon turned up the contact info for the programmer of the Brunswick, a Mr. Scott Gilbert, and I requested a brief interview. Arriving early for our meeting, I had the chance to peruse the shelves of videos and books the theatre stocks for sale. The videos ranged from documentaries on 9/11 and the Iraq war to global warming and the connection between mardi gras beads and Chinese factory labour, while the books stocked featured the usual suspects: Chomsky, Nader, Hersh. Next to the popcorn machine was a table littered with pamphlets and books on Cuba and the Cuban revolution, most of them in Spanish. This seemed to be a favourite theme of the theatre, as when I later wandered into the screening room I saw displayed prominently on one of the walls a banner calling for the freeing of the 'Cuban Five'. The theatre was a hodgepodge of political views and sympathies and, in a way, I admired the earnestness of it all. While I didn't completely share the theatre owner's obvious enthusiasm for progressive politics, it was certainly preferable to the affected apathy that passes for trenchant social insight among Toronto's hipster crowds.

Meeting Scott outside the theatre (which is on Brunswick Ave., just off Bloor and next to Futures Bakery), I was able to put to him some questions regarding the motivation behind launching the Brunswick, the theatre's politics, and it's connection to Toronto's activist community. (Once again, the interview has been divided into smaller parts to make for easier reading.)

Kino-Eye: Why and how did you come to found the Brunswick?

Scott Gilbert: We decided to start this more as a vehicle for social change than as a commercial venture. It's kind of an extension of our earlier work - we've now been open here for four months, but for a year before that we were renting the Bloor Cinema and doing documentaries there, anywhere from two to five (documentaries) a month, and before that for three years in Guelph, as students on the student union, we were involved in various activities that included bringing in speakers and holding talks. So we've got a lot of experience over the last several years and we're now trying to give it a shot and make it a business.

KE: Now, I'm going to jump ahead in my list of questions, as you've already touched on something I had planned on bringing up later. You seem to be screening quite a lot of politically-themed documentaries and have seemed to have carved out a niche market for yourself screening films that other theatres are uninterested in. What motivated you to screen these films and why do you believe these films are of importance?

SG: Well that's just it. In light of the fact that so many other theatres in the city closing down, we knew we had to have an edge on the market, and we're definitely not going to make it anywhere if we're going to be showing just the big mainstream films. Most of the other theatres around the city do the mainstream fictional films, the comedies and stuff like that, and when they do bring on documentaries, it's usually only the big ones like 'The Corporation' or something by Michael Moore. But there are literally thousands upon thousands of other documentaries out there that none of the big cinemas screen. Most of the time you can't get these films from Blockbuster or other local video stores, and a lot of the time they're not available for download off the internet, and if they are, they are difficult to find.

That's kind of our edge on the market - we've turned this space not only into a screening room but a video rental store for a lot of these films. We're starting to archive them and make them available for people, either for rental or to see on the big screen. The additional edge we have on the market is that we hold a discussion after each film. We won't show documentaries of some guy in his ski trip - we'll show documentaries that have a political, social, or environmental mandate to it.

KE: So your response to someone who would be disinclined to go to one of your screenings because they believe they can simply rent the film at their local video store would be that these films just aren't widely available for rent.

SG: Exactly. I would say that probably about 16-20% of our titles you can get at Queen or Suspect Video, but the vast majority are just not available at either of those locations. I really don't understand why - there is a market for them and people certainly want to see them. But I think most video stores simply aren't aware of these films because most documentary film makers and distributors don;t have the budgets to allow for mass marketing campaigns in multiple cities. Most of these films are made for the university and high school market, so what we do is contact different school boards and different university libraries and go through their collections and that's how we learn about a lot of these titles.

KE: You just mentioned that a lot of these films are being produced for the university market. Do you find that your principle audience is students, or are you reaching a much wider audience?

SG: We are trying to reach a lot of university students but are just not getting the kind of numbers we were expecting from that crowd. We find that most of our audience is actually in the range of 35 and older, which is actually surprising. It could be that most students don't have a lot of time or money, so we're trying to make some changes to encourage them to come out more, but by and large most of the people who do come are middle aged.

KE: You have started a pretty aggressive marketing campaign, postering many major streets with ads for these films. Is this campaign recent and, if so, have you noticed an increase in turnout due to the postering campaign?

SG: We use postering primarily because it is what we can afford. We go around on a moped and do major intersections. On key strips, like along Bloor from Bathurst to Yonge, we'll do every pole, but most of the time we'll just bounce from intersection to intersection, trying to cover the widest range possible. We've found it to be very effective in getting random people that we otherwise may not reach. But it is also limited because there are simply so many posters out there that many people do not see them. City workers tear them down, as do people that disagree with the films. So there are pros and cons to postering - sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

KE: You say that there are people who tear down your posters because, politically, they find something objectionable in the films you are screening. How can you distinguish between those individuals and the city workers who are paid to tear down every poster they come across?

SG: Oh, they tell us. We'll see them do it and they'll yell at us from across the street as we are putting up other posters. Our web designer got a phone call asking him not to make a website for us. The biggest opposition has been surrounding around the screening of 'The God Delusion' by Richard Dawkins. Our position is that we won't shy away from screening a controversial documentary and encourage people to come out to express their views. We respect all view points in our audience and we encourage people to come out and criticize the films. We'll never turn away anyone based on their view point and in fact we often offer critics free tickets to our screenings so that we can get them in there and diversify the view points in the room and facilitate a free and open discussion on the topic.

KE: Are these post-film discussions meant to make the film-going experience more active and less passive?

SG: Exactly. We always try to block off at least 45 minutes after each screening after each film. The idea is that we really want to get a dialogue going on these films. A lot of these films are really powerful and they take a lot of you and it is important to get a discussion going on them because a lot of the time people feel that they do need time to bounce ideas off other people in the audience and think about constructive ways of dealing with the issues raised in the film. If you see any of these films at another theatre, you just see the movie and go home - you're not provided with this opportunity for social discourse.

Brunswick Theatre Interview, Part II - 'We're really about getting a social movement going'

KE: You've mentioned repeatedly that there is a political motive to what you are doing. And looking upstairs in the theatre, I see the theatre also stocks fair trade clothing and books by such writers as Chomsky, Nader, Hersh, and Caldicott. It seems that you have set your sights on something much larger than merely screening films. Do you consider the Brusnwick Theatre as having a, and I use this term very loosely, political agenda? In other words, are you trying to galvanize public interest or support around certain key issues or concerns?

SG: Absolutely. We don't identify ourselves with any particular political party - we keep our personal political views to ourselves. But we certainly do advocate for certain cause. We promote fair trade, we promote social justice, we promote general community involvement - these are all things that do have a political edge to them. Many of the books that we offer are in the realm of the programming that we deal with. All the documentaries that we deal with are of the a political or socially progressive nature, whether it be global warming or resource depletion. We're really about getting a social movement going and less so about just being a bookstore where we sell books on any type of issue just to make money or screening any kind of film just to fill seats. It really does have a specific focus and we've coined our mandate as loosely covering the issues of social justice, politics, and the environment. Something like 'The God Delusion' doesn't really fall neatly into any one of them but does fall loosely into the political theme and to a certain extent social justice as well. We do try to keep all our programming within that range and of course support it with he products as well.

One of the things we are thinking of doing is to retail energy efficient light bulbs. We deal with global warming through our screenings and we want to supply people with a quick and easy way of dealing with the problem. We sell fair trade clothing because we screen many films that deal with sweat shop labour and labour conditions in China and other countries where labour standards are very poor, and we want to provide people with the opportunity to support alternatives to sweat shop labour-produced clothing.

KE: So do you select you documentaries on their political or their artistic merits?

SG: For the message. The films are usually low budget, weren't very well made, or even they have points where the DVD skips, but we screen them anyways because we believe in the message. Some of the films we have we just taped off of TV, they're not very high quality, but people who come to see them, by and large, don't really care about the picture or sound quality. We go much more for the message.

KE: So how do you see your relationship to Toronto's various social movements, such as the Toronto Coalition to Stop the War?

SG: Well, we want to build coalitions and work in solidarity with them as much as possible. An example is that in the first month of June, there was a film festival that was arranged by a fellow who works quite closely with us in booking the space. It was called 'Occupation is a Crime' and it was a collaborative film festival and it was a collaborative film festival where several different groups from across the city each took one night of the week. So we had the Toronto Coalition to the Stop the War, there was the Toronto Haiti Action Committee, No One is Illegal, Not in Our Name, the Coalition Against Israeli Apartheid - a whole bunch of groups from across the city that all advocate for their own individual causes and what we want to provide is a hub for all these groups to come together. Even if their individual view points differ, we want to provide a communal space for them to raise their voices. We don't want to focus on one group over another.

KE: Have these groups solicited you for support or have you tended to approach them?

SG: It's been a mix. Certainly when we got going, we tried to do a lot of out reach through phone and email, letting these groups know that we existed, and over time there have been a few key people that have picked up the ball and run with it and done most of the organizing. On our end, we have a limited amount of time, but we have almost all the major players in the city that advocate for various causes aware of us and what we do and have either a night here and there or plan to in the near future.

KE: Your mandate seems quite similar to Uprising! Books in Kensington Market. Do you have any connection with them?

SG: We don't any direct relation with them. Funny that you mention it, though. I was born and raised in Toronto and then studied in Guelph for four years. And before i left for Guelph, I became acquainted with several groups in Toronto and really came to like what Uprising! was doing in Toronto and wanted to emulate it without stepping on their toes. I really liked to idea of books that were not always mainstream. The other group that we took inspiration from was Boiling Frog Productions. They used to rent the basement of a bar up on Keele and Dudas and do screenings of documentaries on a weekly basis, which was a pay-what-you-can or $5 type of deal, and they combined that with DVD and book sales. So when we developed our business plan, we looked at these various examples and tried to take the best characteristics from each of them and try to determine what they were doing wrong and try our venture into something on a larger scale.

KE: Do you have any relation to the grindhouse films that are shown at the Brunswick?

SG: There are actually two different groups screening grindhouse films. One group was renting the space on Saturday nights sometime ago and has left and is thinking of setting up their own cinema, and we are now renting to another group on Friday nights. We don't have any official connection to them - it's an example of the kinds of private booking deals that we do.

KE: What do you see as the relationship between the Brunswick and the other theatres in Toronto?

SG: We're definitely very different. One of the major differences is that we don't do any actual film projection - we don't do 35 or 16mm. All we do is DVD, VHS, or laptop projection. So that's definitely one of the major differences. Most cinemas have fixed seating - we don't. Most cinemas screen films to make money, whereas we have a very clear mandate. We're definitely smaller than most cinemas. One hundred seats is our maximum capacity and we usually only have 65-70 out on the floor. And we're one of the only cinemas that does regular free screenings. We usually have 6-7 free screenings a month.

KE: What has turn out been like?

SG: When we charge at the door, we're averaging 15-20 a day right now. When we do free screenings, it's anywhere from 50-100 people. Overall, we've found that to be effective, because they buy popcorn and refreshments and we pass a hat around and we usually make more off of that than you do charging $10 at the door. The problem with that is that you deplete your resources pretty quickly as everyone will have seen the film. For it's a balance and we like to take a bit of each.

KE: Thank you very much for you time.

SG: No problem.

For more info on the Brunswick, check out it's website.