Thursday, January 31, 2008

Texas Black Film Festival 2008: day one report

Studio Movie Grill in Addison plays host for second year in a row.

By John P. Meyer

I sat in this afternoon (Jan. 31) on some of the day one events of the second annual Texas Black Film Festival (TBFF), and I've got to say it proved to be a harrowing experience.

Don't get me wrong: the hosts of the event were just as friendly and accommodating as they had been last year, and of course the Studio Movie Grill is an eminently comfortable place to take in screened events; it was the subject matter of the final film on the program's agenda that shook me up - and that's because it was intended to.

I arrived a bit early for the beginning of the two-hour block of documentaries and thus by chance partook of the final stages of a filmmaker workshop. Dallas producer (and Media 13 Productions chief) King Hollis was in the process of giving a few pointers from his own experience in the business, and his affirmative words were no doubt inspiring to those in the audience with aspirations in that direction.

Hollis emphasized action over excuses and told the modest assemblage about his own devotion to the art form, which he cultivated while auditing film classes. For two years he basically masqueraded as a student at the University of North Texas where - in addition to learning the trade - he earned the respect of his instructors thanks to his diligence and dedication. Lacking in the resources one would expect to be essential (i.e., money) he nevertheless found a way to make a number of films during this period of apprenticeship. Mr. Hollis came across as an erudite and inspirational speaker, which is probably one reason he's being honored this year by the TBFF with a special award. You can catch the presentation on Saturday evening (Feb. 2) at 8 p.m.

The first film of the three screened during my festival stay was A Little Bit of Love, which told the story behind a pop music initiative designed to bring the message of HIV/Aids prevention to the Ugandan public. Rather than dwelling upon the horrible toll the disease continues to exact on those afflicted, the project brought together a diverse group of musicians to produce an uplifting (and "wrap that rascal" advice-laden) entertainment experience designed to appeal to a youthful (i.e., sexually-active) audience. Bravo.

Next up was Freedom Flyers of Tuskegee, the second documentary I've seen this season to chronicle the lives and heroic struggles of a band of airborne brothers who fought for victory on two fronts: at home in the USA (where they were still treated as separate and unequal citizens) and in the skies over North Africa and Europe, where they were in danger of getting their asses shot off by the 30mm cannons of Messerschmidts. This 40-minute production incorporated interviews with some of the original airmen along with historical photos and film footage of the flyers in their prime. The film, produced by Lisa Boags, brings to light a number of previously untold tales, such as the fact that their white counterparts arranged for the Tuskegeans to miss their preflight briefings, and that German intel was pretty amazingly good (according to those who were shot down and taken captive, such as Alexander Jefferson).

As Second Lieutenant Albert Simeon puts it in the film, "this country wasn't worth fighting for in those days." Now, he opines, it is.

James Byrd, Jr.

The final film in the block was the one that shook me up: The Life and Tragic Death of James Byrd, which succeeded in personalizing the story of the African-American resident of Jasper, Texas who was chained behind a pickup truck and dragged to his death in 1998 - while President George W. Bush was Governor of Texas, as social activist Dick Gregory points out during the narration. Filmmaker Ricky Jason (of Beaumont, TX) and his lovely wife were in attendance during the screening, as were some very brave relatives of James Byrd, Jr.

Anyone who was old enough to watch the national news in 1998 will remember the terrible story: three white supremacist thugs encountered Mr. Byrd (then 49) on a back road and, under the guise of giving him a drink and a ride, assaulted him and then tied him behind their pickup truck and dragged him for three miles, resulting in a crime scene whose forensics would have horrified anyone with a pulse. The irony is that members of the Byrd family eventually lobbied for the overturning of the death sentence meted out by the court to two of the assailants.

James Byrd's two daughters are interviewed on camera, as are Dick Gregory, Martin Luther King III, Susan Sarandon and the county sheriff who oversaw the crime scene investigation. According to the last-cited individual, this was the worst murder he'd ever been called upon to document. (Out of two, it turns out.) Byrd's son, Ross, is a rapper working on his first album.

Filmmaker Jason, through interviews with friends and family, paints Mr. Byrd as a man who loved life and was something of a musician; he once proclaimed that he (through his musical talents) would "put Jasper on the map." In a horrible way, he succeeded.

I spoke briefly with TBFF organizer David Small following the three-picture doc block and asked him which films were "must sees" for attendees of the Friday and Saturday programs to come. In answer to this very unfair question, off the top of his head he suggested the documentary Nobody Knows: The Untold Story of the Black Mormons (screening at 2 p.m. on Friday, Feb. 1) along with the feature film Sister's Keeper, playing that same evening at 8 p.m. He also mentioned the kids' screenings on Saturday afternoon, the awards program on Saturday night and the fact that many of the remaining programs would be graced by the presence of the filmmakers and talent associated with their production.

For complete details, peruse the TBFF schedule, here.

Related stories

• The Black List screens for free at Arlington Studio Movie Grill (July 9, 2008)
• Week-in-view: Won’t you be ours? (Feb. 7, 2008)

See more stories in:

• Arts > Movies / Film > Film Festivals