One of the pleasures of a regular regimen of video watching is the unexpected tributaries and whirlpools that gather around commonalities which might otherwise go unnoticed. This last week, for example, I watched the Region 2 DVD of 11’09″01 as well as the Criterion Collection’s latest DVD releases, Alain Resnais‘ Night and Fog (1955) and Hiroshima mon amour (1959). In general terms, these films address three significant human tragedies: the killing of US civilians in New York and Washington, the Nazi extermination of Jewish civilians, and the US atomic bombing of Japanese civilians. Watching all three films, I couldn’t help but to reflect on how we view tragedies of unspeakable horror through cinematic means.

11’09″01 is a compilation of eleven short films lasting 11 minutes, 9 seconds, and 1 frame regarding the tragic US events of that date, directed by filmmakers from around the globe. If you haven’t heard of it, you probably live in America, where distributors refused to release the film after it debuted worldwide on September 11, 2002. There were suggestions that the film was somehow “anti-American,” but having now seen all eleven episodes, I can honestly say that I never saw any trace of anti-Americanism, although several films do choose to equate the tragedy with their own national suffering (some of which is a result of US aggression), which seems to me like a perfectly reasonable and honest response.

As a whole, the short films are scattershot and not altogether artistically successful, nor do they provide “answers” or clarify “the issues,” if that were even possible. But they do offer diverse cinematic reflections on the event. As such, it’s unfortunate the film never received distribution in the US because if nothing else, its ambition and varied perspectives surely offers something network broadcasting memorials do not.

Of the eleven pieces, my two favorites are probably the first and last, respectively: Samira Makhmalbaf‘s piece about an Iranian schoolteacher’s efforts to convey the realities of the WTC and its destruction to her distracted, rural students, and Shohei Imamura‘s allegorical piece about a war veteran who believes he’s literally a snake. (Only fans of the latter filmmaker could possibly imagine what this might look like.) I appreciated the attention to communication and crosscultural meaning in the episode by Makhmalbaf (an extraordinary 23-year-old Iranian filmmaker whose first three movies have already earned her acclaim) and the enticing abstractions by Imamura (an extraordinary 77-year-old Japanese filmmaker whose career dates back to the 1950s). At the same time, I question my preferences knowing that these films are the most detached and politically disengaged of the whole series. Is it possible to explicitly represent the tragedy and its real-world implications with any degree of nuance?

Abstraction is a key component of Resnais’ films as well, although he certainly doesn’t shy away from harrowing footage. Made during a time when the horrors of the war were still relatively fresh and in many ways culturally unspeakable, Resnais created Night and Fog–a 31-minute essay film that many people consider to be the greatest film about the Holocaust (sans 1985′s 566-minute Shoah, which is getting a North American DVD release on August 19). Resnais juxtaposes increasingly horrifying archival footage intercut with present day views of the empty extermination camps. To this he adds Hanns Eisler’s peaceful, experimental score as counterpoint and a monotone narration written by camp survivor Jean Cayrol which oscillates between detailed description and philosophical inquiry. The result is a meditation on tragic horror and human memory, a strikingly coherent essay that is factual and poetic.

Subsequently, Resnais was asked to make a documentary about the atomic bomb and Hiroshima, and though he initially declined because of his conviction that the event could not be adequately represented, he chose to make his first fictional film–a love story–with Hiroshima as the setting and its tragedy as backdrop. Boldly combining fact and fiction, the first fifteen minutes of Hiroshima mon amour are largely a documentary about the effects of the bomb, which emotionally connects the event with the sordid romantic history of the protagonist, a French woman having an affair with a Japanese man. If this sounds complex, it is. But through Resnais’ remarkably fluid editing, the various elements converge to form an atmospheric treatise on love, memory, international relations, and personal suffering.  A critical sensation when it was first released, Hiroshima mon amour is a classic work of modernism that succeeds in addressing a specific human tragedy and extrapolating it toward universal concerns, without minimizing either reality.

From time to time, I’d like to spotlight reviews by some of the site’s regular participants. This one is from David, who was surprised by just how much he enjoyed Ang Lee’s latest superproduction, Hulk. And if you’re not up on your comic lore, peruse this informative primer for a historical overview.

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By David Shepherd

When I first heard the announcement, some two-odd years ago, that Ang Lee, fresh from the critically acclaimed Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000), would be helming the theatrical debut of The Incredible Hulk, I was excited. I didn’t read comics much growing up, but in the past few years I’ve been exploring graphic novels and the vast possibilities of the comic genre in the hands of groundbreaking writers like Alan Moore who consistently and creatively explore the dark corners of the human soul with a mixture of whimsy and unflinching honesty. The story of the Hulk–the man with a monster inside–is a classic theme of literature, full of twists and turns to explore, even if its run in comics has at times been as monosyllabic as the title character himself.

When I saw the first theatrical teaser trailer, my heart sank a bit. It seemed adolescent at best. Coupled with the rushed-to-get-it-out CGI of the SuperBowl trailer, it looked like perhaps the deeper underpinnings of the comic might be lost beneath a modern Hollywood action treatment. Comics are a delicately balanced blend of fantasy and reality, and with the modern film equation tilted heavily towards gloss and effects, it looked like perhaps the Hulk would be more cartoonish on the big screen then he’d ever been on pulp and paper.

Well my faith has been restored. I never should have doubted. Ang Lee’s Hulk is the least cartoonish, but most comic-like adaptation yet released. Where X-Men (at times) and Spider-Man (consistently) felt like an animated series with live actors, Hulk feels like a great graphic novel brought to life. There’s no sharp one-liners, no nod-and-a-wink ironic references (except for the “you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry” line which Lee places exquisitely), no attempts to prove how hip any of the characters are in modern terms. It’s about the story, the characters, and the tension it creates.

Be warned. Don’t go into this film expecting the usual Hollywood film experience. Lee does not attempt to impress out of the starting gate. Instead he paces the film steadily, taking his time, before building to several climaxes and going out with an impressive bang. Lee is willing to underwhelm at first in order to build momentum. It takes a while to get your first glimpse of green, but when you do, there’s a solid runway for the film to be launched from.

There’s not much that can be said about the plot without ruining the experience, but the standard story is there: a slightly nerdy, repressed scientist (Eric Bana) is exposed to gamma rays and develops a nasty habit of getting big, green, and ugly when under stress. The military gets involved, and there’s a redeeming love interest played by Jennifer Connelly, owner of the cutest front teeth in America.

The psychological tension is drawn out taut throughout the film. It occassionally bubbles over the top, but never boils over. Lee carefully sculpts the film using various scene cutaways (I could see a nomination for Best Editing for this film), and split screen techniques, and every scene serves a purpose. There are no gratuitous shots of mayhem and destruction, no cool effects used just to show them off, no fights included just for the sake of a fight. CGI has been redeemed, finding its place in service of a movie instead of the driver’s seat.

The Hulk himself is a wonder to behold. The childlike quality of his face conveys a wide range of emotions, and his resemblance to actor Eric Bana is a nice touch. In action he’s no less impressive. A scene where he runs through the desert churning up dust and sand is incredibly rendered. In fact, it’s in the desert scenes that Hulk truly shines. Wisely minimizing human/CGI interaction (the weak points of films like Spider-Man and The Matrix), Lee stages his battle royale with tanks and planes in an outdoor arena and it pays off with a spectacular look and feel.

Lee also allows the action to unfold as it would in reality–at times it’s blurry and almost too quick to see. Where another director might have been tempted to use slow- or stop-motion, Lee lets things unfold at a frenetic pace lending a sense of true urgency and tension to the fight scenes.

The actors acquit themselves well. Bana successfully underplays scientist Bruce Krensler/Banner contrasting his blank personality with the Hulk’s full blown rage, though we never get to see him fully wrestle with his darker side. Only time and a sequel will tell, perhaps, how well he can convey the struggles of Jekyll & Hyde. Nick Nolte chews up the scenery without tearing it down, and Sam Elliot is appropriately tough and leathery as General “Thunderbolt” Ross.

Commendations are also due to Lee’s partner and storyman/screenwriter James Schamus who manages to imbue a well-known yarn with twists and turns while maintaining a moving and gripping story. His unexpected and masterful inclusion of a classic Hulk villain is one of the best kept secrets in film this year.

This is the standard by which entertainment should be judged–the ability to craft a smart story and incorporate action without insulting a viewer’s intelligence. Lee has set the bar higher for comic book adaptation and shown the genre how it’s done by bringing his impressive directorial skills to bear. One can only hope he stays on for the sequel because it just wouldn’t be the same without him.

So I picked up the new Cineaste today at Borders and it’s a great issue. One of the more serious magazines on film widely sold in the US, Cineaste tends to emphasize political readings, but also expands to encompass a variety of commentary. Here are some excerpts:

ïAn interview with Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, the Belgian filmmakers who have been making documentaries since the ’70s, but whose first three fictional works (1996′s La Promesse, 1999′s Rosetta, and 2002′s The Son) have made significant waves in recent international cinema:

Jean-Pierre: “[The Son] is a story about transmission.”

Luc: “Yes, about what one gives to the next generation. We do not wish to get carried away with accusations against adults, against parents; as La Promesse suggests, we feel that these days it is as if we adults no longer want to die to allow the generation coming after us to live. In order to educate someone, you have to know how to die so that he or she can live; so that, simply put, they can take your place. We adults want to be immortal, we want not to die. Somehow it is as if, when all is said and done, we have this desire to eat our children, like the Greek god, Cronos. In short, we have nothing to say to our children anymore unless it is, ‘Hey, go play, get out of our hair! We like you. We give you birthday parties. We do everything you want, but we have absolutely nothing to say to you. We have nothing to pass on to you.’ That is a bit of what we felt and what we attempted to show, how adults were trying to be adolescents and not fathers, not mothers–just buddies.”

(The Son is available in Region 2 as a two-disc DVD in France that will also be released in the UK with English subtitles on July 28. La Promesse and Rosetta are available on VHS/DVD from a variety of sources. All three films are remarkable achievements.)

ïAn interview with Tilman B¸ttner, the cinematographer of two quite stylistically divergent films, Run Lola Run (1997), a fast-paced montage film by Tom Tykwer, and Russian Ark (2002), an entire feature shot within the Hermitage in one take by Alexander Sokurov. These comments relate to the latter film:

Cineaste: You used a Steadicam [a device allowing a cameraman to actually carry a camera and produce a gliding image], meaning that you were constantly in motion, running through the hallways, and following the actors–you were in good shape! And I don’t think there was any tracking.

B¸ttner: “No, but for some parts I had a special dolly built. The Steadicam was always on my body, but occassionally, for thirty seconds at a time, I would have to rest and stretch by half-sitting on a barstool placed on the dolly and wheeled over by a grip [or stagehand].”

Cineaste: Placement was obviously very important. The ensembles of actors and extras had to be placed so that the camera could move around them, and so on. Did you have anything to do with that, did you offer suggestions as to where they should be positioned?

B¸ttner: “The [Assistant Directors] were responsible for placing and moving. We weren’t able to have a complete rehearsal. Only some parts were rehearsed, and only with the lead actor. It was only on the day of shooting that Sokurov, my shooting team, and I saw the whole array of actors for the first time. The AD’s had done good work with the actors and extras–in churches and gymns. But it was the first time we were all together in the Hermitage! Eight people were always behind me–Sokurov, the translators, continuity people, my assistants.”

(Russian Ark will be released on DVD in North America on September 9 and various others countries throughout the year.)

ï A review of The Criterion Collection’s DVD of Andrei Tarkovsky‘s magisterial Solaris by Chris Fujiwara:

“All Tarkovsky’s films are nostalgic: they view the world as in danger of being lost, and see it from the point of view of someone striving to hold on to it. The heightened awareness of aural and visual detail in Tarkovsky’s films testifies to this emotional imperative, as does his astonishingly sensitive and elaborate evocation of the flow of time.

The melancholy opening of Solaris (1972) is characteristic. The hero, psychologist Kris Kelvin (Donatas Banionis), wanders alone by a pond near his father’s dacha. He, and the camera, linger over the pond’s depths and among grass and trees. Surprised by a sudden downpour, Kris stands with his eyes closed, as if memorizing the experience of rain washing over his skin. He is taking leave of Earth, perhaps for the last time, before his trip to a space station near the planet Solaris, where most of the film will be set. Set in a future when space travel is routine, the film affirms that Earth can always be, and is always being, created by the human spirit. The struggle to remain human–or, in the case of the simulacrum of Kris’s dead wife Hari (Natalya Bondarchuk), to become human–gives value to existence under the most hostile conditions.”

(More information regarding this DVD can be found here. The article also mentions the excellent website of my friends Trond Trondsen and Jan Bielawski, Nostalghia.com.)

Several years ago when I was a student at the University of Arizona, a friend of mine named Toru–an international student from Japan and also an incorrigible film buff–invited me to a Hayao Miyazaki film festival that was being put on by the campus animation club. Not having anything better to do and always being game for exploring the work of unknown filmmakers, I cheerfully tagged along.

Nothing prepared me for what I encountered. As I recall the festival, the exact plots and narrative details of the fantasy films elude me, but the colors and compositions, the visual sweep and gloriously-rendered worlds remain vivid. Huge, mysterious, beetle-like creatures, and castles suspended in the sky were revealed through imaginative stories with striking ecological themes–a far cry from the sort of sunny children’s musicals I associated with popular animation.

Nevertheless, I learned that Miyazaki was considered the “Disney of Japan.” But while he’s one of the most financially successful animators in his country (his latest film, Spirited Away, is the highest grossing movie of all time in Japan), his artistry seems unquestionably more pronounced than his Western counterpart. For starters, not only does he not turn every creature in his films into a cutesy anthropomorphic caricature but his ideas of mythical bedrocks like good and evil seem altogether more nuanced and complex.

Ironically enough, Disney acquired the US distribution rights to his films, and even though his last two theatrical features didn’t exactly set the box office on fire in this country, Disney has committed to releasing Miyazaki’s previous work on video over the coming months.

Recently, two of his earlier films debuted with the DVD release of Spirited Away, Castle in the Sky (1986) and Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989). I watched the latter film on DVD last night, and although it’s a simple story about an adolescent girl who dreams of becoming a good witch (shades of Harry Potter) in an urban seaside town, it’s told with such whimsy, human warmth, and visual delight that it kept me completely enthralled throughout its running time.

In the next few weeks, we’ll be expanding this site to include some information on the animation genre. In the meantime, be sure to check out Miyazaki central at Nausicaa.net.

The publication industry surrounding film studies is incredibly constrained by time. Books go in and out of print faster than you can look up last weekend’s box office gross. Because of this, I’ve enjoyed purchasing the bulk of my film books from used and second-hand bookstores. There has been a lot of good critical and historical analysis written about the movies, especially since the ’60s and the rise of film academia, and many wonderful books still exist in dark, dusty corners of neighborhood bookstores.

Recently, I came across one such findóCinema: A Critical Dictionary edited by Richard Roud, which is a collection of lengthy critical essays by British, French, and American writers (such as Bernard Eisenschitz, Henri Langlois, Andrew Sarris, and Robin Wood) on various directors and movements published in 1980.

Browsing the two-volume set has been a real treat. Here are some excerpts from Volume I:

Richard Roud on Robert Bresson:
“The first five films are similar in that they are films about redemption, films which because of this produce in the viewer a sense of exultation. Redemption is not necessarily a more worthwhile subject than despair or suicide; but it is the exultation born of the redemption theme which counters Bresson’s tendency to greyness, to a glumness . . . It is the dialectical struggle between glumness and glory that makes the first five films so enduringly effective.”

Richard Combs on John Cassavetes:
“Such a gestalt form of filmmaking is clearly part and parcel of what happens in the films, with their loose formation of encounter group situations for sounding out human problems.”

Jonathan Rosenbaum on Walt Disney:
“In some respects, there may be no cultural figure in the West as potentially controversial as Walt Disney (1901-66), even though love and hatred for what Disney represents are frequently felt by the same people. However, there is certainly no other filmmaker whose aesthetic and ideological preoccupations have permeated so much of modern life that, paradoxically, his omnipresence verges on invisibility.”

Tom Milne on Carl Theodor Dreyer:
“Although latterly Vampyr and Gertrud have become increasingly recognized as the most nearly flawless pearls Dreyer created, the critical norm has settled more or less definitively on the heavyweight spirituality of Jeanne d’Arc, Day of Wrath and Ordet, slow, majestic chronicles of human suffering illuminated by a piercing ray of divine grace.”

Richard Corliss on Robert Flaherty:
“There were, and are, three Robert Flahertys: man, myth and moviemaker. And to judge the third, it would be helpful if we had never heard of the first twoóif we could bring to the criticism of his films the same ‘innocent eye’ he brought to his film subjects.”

Penelope Houston on Alfred Hitchcock:
“But because with Hitchcock the means and the end are often indistinguishable, so that the films proceed with a series of impositions of the director’s will, his planned control of immediate reaction, larger meanings and mysteries slip through the cracks.”

Keep an eye out for this collection and the many other treasures of film writing.

Updates to the site have been slow the past week, but that’s because I’ve been temporarily focused on an article I’m writing for the online journal Senses of Cinema regarding the career of Krzysztof Kieslowski (see my blog entry for May 28). As such, I’ve had the pleasure of revisiting his earlier features Personel (1975), Camera Buff (1979), Blind Chance (1982), and No End (1985), as well as various books and documentaries. A new Region 2 DVD box set in France includes the latter three films as well as The Scar (1976), but without English subtitles. Stay tuned for my finished piece, hopefully to be published in Sense‘s July-August issue.

In other news, I managed to screen Facets Multi-Media’s new DVD release of Lars von Trier‘s adaptation of Carl Dreyer‘s script Medea (1987), based on the Greek play by Euripides, and I’m also writing a piece on that film for CarlDreyer.com. The DVD offers an abysmal video transfer, grainy and dark, but von Trier’s work largely adheres to the letter of Dreyer’s scriptóeven though the film seems more concerned with visual effects and melodrama than Dreyer’s nearly palpable studies of the human spirit.

Luckily, Facets fares better with their DVD release of MiklÛs JancsÛ‘s Electra, My Love (1974), a striking and unique adaptation of another story by Euripides, which fits snugly into JancsÛ’s usual political themes of social revolution and the overthrow of tyranny. The Hungarian filmmaker’s slow, mesmerizing camera movements and zooms weave throughout mind-boggingly complex choreography involving hundreds of actors, folk singers, dancers, animals, and elements of the landscape. A visual pageant of the highest order, the filmówhich takes place in a single barren fieldóis definitely not for all tastes, but offers plenty of rich metaphorical material to delve into. When King Aegisthus is overthrown, he kneels on the ground with a net draped over him. Like a cross between a Greek chorus and a maniacal circus act, the film utilizes long camera takes and enigmatic dialogue that slowly builds to a powerful dramatic statement. The DVD is full-frame (not widescreen), but the print used is clean and vivid.

Lastly, there’s been some great conversation happening on our Discussion Page. Drop in and let us know what you’ve been watching lately! I’m hearing good things about Finding Nemo…

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to attend the Amnesty International Film Festival in West Hollywood. It was a collection of revealing documentaries and short films covering a wide range of topics that US audiences seldom get a chance to see. None of the films were produced by Amnesty, who merely programmed the series. The following are personal summaries of the screenings I attended with links to more information:

Hidden in Plain Sight (2003, USA)

Previously, Robert Richter’s series of documentaries, School of Assassins (1994), Father Roy: Inside the School of the Assassins (1997), and Crossing the Line (1999) were acclaimed exposÈs (the first and last were nominated for Academy Awards) of a Latin America militia camp funded by US taxpayers. Established in Panama in 1946 to teach various methods of combat and psychological warfare to Latin American soldiers, The US Army School of the Americas (SOA) was moved to Fort Benning, Georgia in 1984. Pentagon spokesmen have admitted the SOA used torture training manuals through 1991 but claim they have been discontinued.  The school’s 60,000 graduates have included such figures as Manuel Noriega and Roberto D’Aubuisson (the notorious leader of the El Salvador death squads) and have been directly linked to the assassination of Oscar Romero and the El Mozote massacre in El Salvador.

Hidden in Plain Sight, directed by John H. Smihula, presents an update on the efforts of Father Roy Bourgeois, a Vietnam veteran and Catholic priest who is the leading figure in a grass-roots movement opposing the SOA (recently renamed The Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Operations) that has become one of the largest peace rallies in the US. Narrated by Martin Sheen, the film is a talking heads documentary which effectively intercuts a wide range of opinion, from protestors to army officials, politicians, commentators such as Christopher Hitchens, and Latin American victims of violence such as Sister Dianna Ortiz. Informative and chilling, the film offers a grim examination of US and Latin American relations. Click here to access the official site.

My Terrorist (2002, Israel)

One of the highlights of the festival was this personal essay video by Yulie Cohen-Gerstel. In 1978, she was wounded by a Palestinian machine gun attack onboard a bus en route to the airport. Recently, Gerstel (who served in the Israeli army) stepped outside her upper, middle-class life to work as a photojournalist in the occupied territories of the Gaza Strip and was shocked to discover the rampant poverty and living conditions of the Palestinians. Deciding that Palestinians and Israelis alike contribute to a cycle of violence, Gerstel located her attacker, a man named Fahad Mihyi who was beginning his third decade of a life sentence in a London prison, and began a coorespondence of reconciliation which culminated in her lobbying for his release. Immediately becoming a subject of controversy in the Israeli media for her willingness to forgive, Gerstel documents her hopes and aspirations — as well as her doubts and evolving complexity of feelings — throughout this transformative period. Personal and revelatory, Gerstel’s film offers a nuanced and challenging self-portrait. The film was distributed by Women Make Movies and won a Special Jury Prize at the Jerusalem International Film Festival.

Respire (2003, France)

A striking, 3-minute music video, Respire is a whimsical animated short film for most of its running time and maintains a precarious balance between clichÈd images of nature and inventive compositions. The craft of the illustration and CGI rendering are exemplary, but it succeeds in delivering a punch through its evocative twist ending. Click here to download the video.

To Free the Slaves (2002, Canada)

Over 27 million people (mostly women and children) are currently slaves, narrowly defined as individuals who have been denied freedom of will through forced labor. (This doesn’t include sweatshops or imprisonment or a myriad variety of definitional gray areas.) Skillfully organized by segments, this documentary depicts the actions of various present day abolitionists. Canadians Jane Roy and her husband Glen Pearson redeem Sudanese slaves for $35 a person through Christian Solidarity International; Michel Larouche and Save the Children Canada rescue kids in Mali (repatriating 500 children from nearby Cote d’Ivoire in two years) who have been kidnapped and forced into slave labor; ex-prostitute Cherry Kingsley and Prostitutes Empowerment, Education and Resource Society (PEERS) advocate for child prostitutes in Victoria, British Columbia; Vivek and Vidyullata Pandit work to free bonded slaves in India who’ve accrued debts from such things as marriages, sicknesses, or a death in the family and spend their lives working as collateral to the loan, thereby never repaying the debt. The film is concise and brimming with personal interviews between courageous ex-slaves and abolitionist heroes.

Bus 174 (2002, Brazil)

This brilliant Brazilian documentary by writer/director JosÈ Padilha, his feature debut, has played at various film festivals (including Sundance) and it artfully reconstructs a horrific tragedy that occurred in the streets of Rio de Janeiro on June 12th, 2000. A city bus was hijacked by a desperate street child, 16-year-old Sandro do Nascimento, and the event was immediately captured by the national media, which broadcast the ordeal live hour-by-hour until its devastating conclusion. Incorporating that footage and later interviews with captives on the bus and the surrounding police, Padilha significantly deepens the material by juxtaposing a detailed account of the lives of Brazilian street kids in general and the life of Nascimento in particular, who witnessed the murder of his mother when he was 5 years old. A wide-ranging and comprehensive portrait of a city with a keen eye toward its social organization, the film succeeds in vividly describing the tragedy and its setting in unforgettable, multifaceted complexity. Click here to access the film’s official site.

Bombies (2001, USA)

After the US signed the 1962 Geneva Accords which prohibited military activity in Laos, US forces dropped 2 million tons of bombs on civilian targets in Laos (more tonnage than it dropped on Germany and Japan combined in WWII) between 1964 and 1973 and succeeded in hiding the action from Congress and the American people. Most of these munitions were cluster bombs, designed to break apart and rain down hundreds of smaller bomblets upon widespread areas. Only 70 to 80 percent of cluster bombs initially explode, however, and millions of unexploded bomblets remain in trees or beneath houses, buried in mud for decades waiting for the occasional curious child or farming spade to stumble upon and detonate. This highly informative PBS documentary examines cluster technology and follows demolition experts around Laos who continue to laboriously remove thousands of bomblets each year from villages and farmlands. First instigated by the Mennonite Central Committee which continues to teach Laotian children songs and perform puppet shows to educate the populace about the dangers of the bomblets (or “bombies,” as they are called in Laos), activists around the world have called for a global moratorium on the use of cluster munitions, which continue to kill and maim hundreds of civilians each year. Unfortunately, cluster bombs were still used by US forces in Kosovo and Afghanistan and most recently in Iraq. Click here to access the film’s official site.