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In conversation with Canadian capoeira master Colette Desilets

by Emma Avery on

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For 61-year-old Colette Desilets, becoming a capoeira mestre, meaning master, was never the plan. Yet today, she finds herself at the forefront of the Montreal scene. Capoeira is a type of martial art that originated in Brazil under Portuguese colonization. Originally developed by African slaves as a form of resistance, it combines martial arts techniques with music and dance. When the slave owners saw that their slaves were training to fight, the practice was prohibited, alongside a general attempt to ban cultural practices with African roots, such as the samba.

While capoeira was not recognized as an official sport by the Brazilian government until 1972, its long history under colonialism was central to the forms it eventually grew into. Desilets explains that in order to keep practicing capoeira, African slaves incorporated songs and instruments into the practice to disguise it as a dance. These traditions remain today and are part of what makes it such a fascinating sport.

“When [capoeira] was no [longer] prohibited to practice, those things, the dance and the singing, [remained], because [there is] a lot of ritual in capoeira too,” Desilets said. “So all that stayed, and it just makes the game more beautiful I think.”

Two aspects that make Desilets unique as a mestre are that she is not from Brazil, and that she is a woman. In fact, to her knowledge, she is the only female master practicing in Canada, and the only Canadian master who is not of Brazilian origin. Although growing communities exist in cities such as Montreal, Vancouver, and Toronto, capoeira is still not a well-known sport in Canada. Desilets is one woman spearheading the charge to increase its presence here.

“Many times, when I talk about what I’m doing to people who are not in my surroundings, they don’t know what capoeira is,” Desilets said. “[There’s] a place for improvement to make capoeira known all over Quebec and Canada.”

Desilets discovered capoeira by chance in 1990, after years of toiling away in ballet and jazz and feeling frustrated by her inability to master the moves. She quickly committed herself to capoeira, and has now been to Brazil 20 times.

During her second trip, while visiting a master who she had met once before in Boston, she discovered “capoeira Angola.” It is one of two broad umbrella styles, along with “capoeira regional,” that encompass many lesser-known regional variations. Capoeira Angola is the style she has practiced for 23 years now under the guidance of the same master. In capoeira, it is essential to have a continuous master whose philosophy you respect and admire. They must be knowledgeable, but also understanding and approachable. Given the sport’s origins, it is extremely important to incorporate its history—as well as the song, dance, and ritual—into teaching and participation in the roda, the performance of capoeira in a circle with others.

“You know it’s a serious school if they try to tell you all about [the history] and if you practice not just the movement, [but] you also practice the singing, and the instrument playing, and things like that,” Desilets said. “It’s very important, especially if you want to teach. If you want to talk about capoeira you have to know about capoeira, you have to study capoeira [….] It’s not just the practice.”

Desilets hopes that as capoeira continues to grow in Canada, female participation will increase. Among her students, she finds that many women stop training after having kids, whereas for men the same trend doesn’t exist. In her age group, she sees many male capoeiristas but few women. Although change is occurring in other areas, the sport is still a male-dominated one. For example, she describes a Quebec television program targeted towards a female audience that produced a segment on capoeira once. Although Desilets spoke with producers of the show, instead of inviting her in to teach it, they had a male master lead the class full of women, because it looked better to have a young guy without a shirt on than an older woman.

“In Canada, I can say [participation is] fairly even [between genders], even in Brazil now [too],” Desilets said. “But I cannot say that capoeira is not a macho world, you know? The old world is a macho world [and] capoeira […] is too [….] But it’s changing. It’s more and more women [and] that’s very nice to see. But I really think it’s harder for a woman. My master doesn’t like when I speak like that, but I really think it’s harder for women.”

However, Desilets still spoke very highly of her master and her respect for him, highlighting the fact that his giving her the title of mestre is in itself extremely progressive and open-minded.

“I’m sure he has been criticized a lot in Brazil about that, giving a master to me and everything, you know, because I’m not young no more and I’m white,” Desilets said. “But he did it, so I have to [accept] it.”

Ultimately, however, one’s gender or race matters much less to Desilets than the community that capoeira provides. It has the power to bring people together and help them maintain good mental and physical health.

“It’s really really good for your body and your mind also,” Desilets said. “It’s active because when you practice, you have to forget about everything if you want to improve yourself, or to do a good game [….] You just give yourself to capoeira for the time you train.”

It’s also both a local and global community. While her school is located in Montreal, she explains that it is a great way to meet people while travelling, as she finds capoeira communities in places she visits around the world. Capoeira is more than simply a sport—it’s a way of life.

“Capoeira is my life,” Desilets said. “If I stop doing capoeira I don’t want to be on that world no more. [Capoeira is] my family and my friends. It’s too much probably. I’m a bit crazy about it. I’ve given everything for capoeira. I did and I’m continuing doing it too. I love it. I love my students [….] I don’t do capoeira for money, but when I see my students doing a nice game and learning, it’s the best salary for me. It’s so nice to see people playing capoeira. It’s beautiful.”

Mestre Desilets is teaching a capoeira class during the Fall and Winter semesters at the McGill Sports Complex on Mondays and Wednesdays from 4:30 to 6 p.m. Students can visit the McGill Athletics and Recreation website for more information.

She also runs her own school in Montreal, Grupo de Capoeira Semente do Jogo de Angola Montréal, which organizes a roda every Saturday at 4 p.m.

Private, Student Life, Word on the Y

Word on the Y: What does balance mean to you?

by Amrit Grewal & Avleen Mokha on

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As midterms approach, the concept of ‘balance’ may begin to seem increasingly elusive. Navigating university life is no easy task, but remembering to keep the big picture in mind is one of the biggest lessons students learn during their time at McGill. The McGill Tribune asked passers-by at the Y-intersection about how they define a balanced life. 

(Noah Sutton / The McGill Tribune)

Mary Lynn, U1 Arts

“When I think of [balance], I mostly think of school [and] having balance between my work life and my social life [….] Just being able to have a hold on different aspects of my life. Taking time for myself, taking time for people that matter to me, my friends and my family, going to yoga class.”

(Noah Sutton / The McGill Tribune)

Mihir Kumar, U0 Engineering

“Balance is […] quite important, especially when you’re coming to a really good university like McGill. [Balance is juggling] studies and social work, and it’s quite important.”

(Noah Sutton / The McGill Tribune)

Jacques Campeau, MA French Literature ‘73

“[Balance means] a few things. It can be a sign of astrology [….] For me, balance means […] psychological, [physical,] and emotive stability.”

(Noah Sutton / The McGill Tribune)

Jérémie Alcindor, U0 Science

“Balance means staying healthy in what you do and trying to do as much as you can that’s healthy for your body, so exercising, getting a lot of sleep and staying focused in your studies.”

(Noah Sutton / The McGill Tribune)

Benjamin Joannette-Pilon, U0 Science

“I’d say balance is just [practicing] stuff in different spheres, […] to practice a sport, or to play an instrument, or [to] have a social life, and go to school as well.”

 
(Noah Sutton / The McGill Tribune)

Xu Tian, U0, Science

“[Balance means] I can control all the things in my life,  [that] I know what will happen and I [don’t] feel nervous.”

(Noah Sutton / The McGill Tribune)

Kaila Folinsbee, Staff, Office of Sponsored Research

“There’s physical balance, where you have your equilibrium, or there’s work-life balance [….] I guess it means that you have a couple of things in equal proportion.”

(Noah Sutton / The McGill Tribune)

Hubert Corriveau, U3 Science

“[Balance] means [keeping] a good level of stressful things and fun things, and trying to find the good equilibrium point.”

News, SSMU

SSPN restructures to allow general student body members

by Arvaa Balsara on

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At its Sept. 14 meeting, the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) Legislative Council unanimously passed a motion to restructure the Students’ Society Planning Network (SSPN), the committee responsible for organizing and executing student events hosted by SSMU, including 4Floors, Faculty Olympics, and Grad Frosh. This motion opens 13 of the 15 spots on the committee to members from the student body, reserving one seat for the Internal Logistics Coordinator and one spot for the SSMU Vice-President (VP) Internal.

Prior to the decision to restructure the committee, the Committee Terms of Reference stipulated that SSPN’s membership must be composed of the VP Internal, three legislative councillors, and 10 members-at-large chosen by the VP Internal and the Internal Logistics Coordinator. Under the new motion, there is no limit to the number of seats on the SSPN that SSMU Legislative Council members can occupy. However, joining the SSPN will no longer fulfill Legislative Councillors’ requirement to serve on one Legislative Council committee as per the Internal Regulations of Governance.

The purpose of these changes was, in part, to encourage more students to participate in the planning process of SSMU events and to promote and broaden the collaboration between SSPN and SSMU clubs, according to Maya Koparkar, SSMU VP Internal. The changes were also motivated by the fact that SSPN seats reserved for councillors are already occupied by members-at-large.

“[This motion] passed unanimously at Legislative Council because the specific terms of reference in question weren’t being followed for the past few years,” Koparkar said.

Members of the student body have been invited to apply to the committee since 2013. Now that the seats on SSPN are open to students who are otherwise uninvolved with SSMU’s operations, Koparkar believes that the committee will be able to plan a greater diversity of events.

“I think that it’s better to open up spots to members-at-large that might have the passion or the ideas for an event planning body rather than the legislative body, because we wouldn’t have access to those ideas otherwise,” Koparkar said.

Currently, the committee is composed of Koparkar, a Logistics Coordinator, and 12 members-at-large.

“There’s a variety of people from different faculties who are involved in different clubs [in the SSPN], and I think, in terms of reaching different crowds, there’s a good potential,” Manon Debuire, U3 Management and current committee member said.

The codification of these changes will likely bring attention to the possibility of a partnership between various clubs and SSPN, resulting in more diverse activities hosted by and for students. Debuire is responsible for contacting clubs to participate in SSPN events and is trying to approach clubs who may be interested in hosting activities at SSPN events.

SSPN is currently planning a joint Halloween event with the Macdonald Campus Students’ Society (MCSS) on Oct. 26 called The Cabin in the Woods: Halloween Party at Macdonald Campus. Various clubs will host activities for the attendees. Kiran Yendamuri, U4 Science student and president of The Film Society believes these changes will provide an opportunity for lesser-known clubs to promote themselves and increase their impact on the student body.

“I think working with SSPN would be something clubs would be interested in, provided all clubs had an equal opportunity to be visible,” Yendamuri said.

The changes to SSPN’s makeup will take effect immediately. The Halloween party on Oct. 26 will be SSPN’s first function this year, and will provide a framework for future events under the new committee structure.

Editorial, Opinion

It’s time to decide on AVEQ affiliation—whatever that means

by McGill Tribune Editorial Board on

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If you Google the acronym “AVEQ,” the top result is a Quebec electric vehicle association—Association des Véhicules Électriques du Québec. The website probably saw an unexpected spike in traffic during McGill's 2016 Winter Referendum, when students voted on the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) becoming a member of the Association for the Voice of Education in Quebec (AVEQ). The motion to join the provincial student advocacy organization failed to pass—although “fail” may not be the right word, given that 25 per cent of votes were abstentions, and voter turnout was 17 per cent. At its meeting on Oct. 12, SSMU Council will vote on resurrecting the question of AVEQ affiliation for the upcoming 2017 Fall Referendum period.

SSMU executives have recently cited a lack of student awareness and understanding of AVEQ as reasons why the motion failed the first time. That’s likely true, given the number of abstentions. This time around, if SSMU wants to see a vote that is decisive and reflective of student preferences—and by extension, legitimizing of its democratic mandate—it must provide effective, informative programming on AVEQ. Students, in turn, should take steps to educate themselves.

AVEQ is an organization of Quebec university student unions that lobbies student interests at a provincial level. SSMU currently holds non-affiliated member status, meaning it is represented in the organization’s deliberation processes, but doesn’t have a vote on final assembly decisions. Affiliated membership would grant that vote, as well as more significant resources for campus campaigns, but would also require an annual fee. It stands to affect student life in concrete ways—whatever the outcome, students should understand what they’re voting on.

AVEQ advocates on behalf of students on provincial issues such as tuition deregulation and sexual assault. That’s no small task: Universities operate within the confines of Quebec legislation, so substantial reform on campus often requires lobbying the provincial government. Instead of individual student unions pressuring their respective university administrations to push student interests with mixed success, AVEQ assumes the middleman role vis-à-vis the Quebec government. While that is always a fraught process, the results can be worthwhile: AVEQ was a key advocate for the Quebec government’s recent allocation of funds to developing campus sexual assault policies.

 

[AVEQ] stands to affect student life in concrete ways—whatever the outcome, students should understand what they’re voting on.

However, SSMU’s membership would mean a mandatory student fee of $3.50. For students who see AVEQ as an umbrella organization with only distant, trickle-down effects on McGill student life, that may be a tough pill to swallow. The organization also campaigns on political issues less clearly tied to student interests, such as pipelines and divestment, that some students may not want to pay to support. While the Fédération Étudiante Universitaire du Quebec (FÉUQ) recently disintegrated, another student federation, the Union Étudiante du Quebec (UEQ) remains active, meaning AVEQ is not the only organization that McGill may consider.

It makes sense to put AVEQ affiliation to referendum again—there are arguments for both sides, and either outcome carries consequences for McGill students. Further, as a non-voting observer, SSMU currently has de facto ties to an organization that McGill students haven’t explicitly signed off on. SSMU needs to move out of that limbo state one way or another—based on a decisive vote from its constituents.

However, as was the case in 2016, many students are still confused about what AVEQ even is, never mind what full membership would mean for them. That throws a wrench in the democratic process: SSMU can’t be representative of student interests if students aren’t informed enough to voice those interests. When a proposal has direct impact on student life—whether at the level of provincial advocacy or of individual student fees—it is students’ responsibility to educate themselves enough to vote decisively.

But, SSMU has a responsibility to provide students with the resources necessary to inform themselves about AVEQ. Vice-President (VP) External Connor Spencer has made strides on that front, via in-person tabling and online outreach. With the referendum campaign period coming up, more must be done to keep AVEQ membership on the campus radar—particularly, when it comes to presenting facts and arguments from both the “yes” and “no” sides. SSMU may see affiliation as the best path forward, but that cannot colour how students make their own decisions about it.

If the AVEQ question comes time to another referendum, students will be presented with a brief blurb on AVEQ, on the one hand, and the words, “mandatory student fee,” on the other. A cursory Google search will tell them, first and foremost, about electric cars in Quebec. If this referendum is to produce a definitive answer on AVEQ affiliation, SSMU and students need to lay the necessary groundwork to learn and understand its implications before the vote.

 

A previous version of this article stated that a majority of votes in the Winter 2016 AVEQ Affiliation referendum question were abstentions. In fact, 25 per cent of voters abstained. It also stated that SSMU voted on re-introducing the AVEQ question Sept. 28, when in fact they will vote on the motion at their meeting on Oct. 12. The Tribune regrets these errors.

 

McGill, News

Eating Disorder Program cutbacks reveal pre-existing flaws in the system

by Karim Wadjih & Calvin Trottier-Chi on

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At the beginning of the Fall semester, McGill University Student Services quietly closed its Eating Disorder Program (EDP). Since 2009, the EDP has provided professional healthcare, support, and group therapy for students grappling with all forms of eating disorders. September’s reforms dispersed these services across existing counselling and psychiatric departments, and have temporarily removed group therapy sessions and relocated the dedicated nutritionist for the EDP.

According to Martine Gauthier, executive director of McGill Student Services, several factors were at play in the decision to rearrange the EDP. These included the resignation of the EDP nurse, widescale changes to the structure of counselling and psychiatric services, and the adoption of a flexible, case-based Stepped Care approach to mental health treatment. Gauthier also pointed out that in 2013, $500,000 of the total Student Services budget of $11 million was going to the EDP in order to serve 50 to 70 students—which the administration deemed to be financially irresponsible.

Following the announcement of EDP cutbacks, McGill students voiced concerns that Student Services had discreetly cut valuable resources without patient consultations or recourse. Gauthier emphasized that—other than the resigned nurse—all the components of the EDP were reintegrated into the new mental health system. While the EDP dietitian was given additional responsibilities, such as collaborating with Healthy McGill to provide preventative services, Gauthier reassured students that the dietitian would be given an additional fourth workday to do so.

“The components of the [EDP] still exist,” Gauthier said. “For example, our psychiatrists are still doing assessments, we still have a dietitian attached to the psychiatrist unit who has a specialization in eating disorders. We have four psychologists in counselling services who have specialities in eating disorders, and also this winter we’ll be [re]starting […] group sessions.”

In the aftermath of the program changes, several students shared their personal stories with The McGill Tribune about the poor treatment they received under the EDP while it was still running. One student, Alex*, recounted being rejected for admission to the EDP because it was over capacity.

“In my first year at McGill I had debilitating anorexia that really put my health in jeopardy,” Alex wrote in a message to the Tribune. “The [EDP] was full and could not admit me for the next few months […and] mental health services was so backed up that it couldn’t even get me notes in time, which made me fail my exams and classes.”

However, even when there was room to join the EDP, only students with specific disorders were admitted, according to another student, Casey*. Casey urgently needed the EDP’s support, but was redirected to a different faction of mental health services.

“I was literally so weak I had to crawl to my kitchen [yet, when I tried to join the EDP, they] told me that they wouldn’t be able to see me without a doctor’s note,” Casey wrote in a message to the Tribune. “I spent 13 hours at the hospital waiting for a referral […but then the EDP] told me that they couldn’t help me because my [eating disorder] seemed more related to anxiety [and] stress.”

According to a student formerly in the EDP, Jamie*, the program had strict policies that, if broken, warranted student expulsion from the program. Jamie objected to the requirement that they inform their parents of their condition, and was consequently removed from the EDP.

“For them to kick me out for not letting them contact my parents, which shouldn’t even be a factor in me receiving treatment, I think was extremely unprofessional,” Jamie wrote in a message to the Tribune. “I ended up spending a ton of money on outside treatment in Montreal that wasn’t covered by McGill’s stupid international health insurance.”

While Student Services is still developing a timeline for the rearrangement of the EDP, students can access treatment resources through counselling services or independent resources such as Clinique Baca, the Argyle institute, Anorexie et boulimie Quebec, and many others across Montreal.

*Names changed at request of the students.

Commentary, content warning sa, Opinion

“What were you wearing?” and other questions to stop asking rape victims

by Phoebe Balshin on

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Content warning: This article discusses rape and sexual assault.

How much did you drink? Did you realize you were drunk? Did you take drinks from a stranger at the bar? What were you wearing? Why would you walk home alone? Did you try telling him to stop? These were some of the questions people asked me after I had been raped—including my roommates, the nurse who explained to me what had happened when I woke up, McGill counsellors, and even my mom at one point.

I had woken up in a hospital bed, stripped of my clothes and covered in bruises, but all people could ask were questions that sought to determine my responsibility. People were searching for ways to assure themselves that this would never happen to them, because they would never be naïve enough to put themselves in the situation that I supposedly had put myself in. Each day, a new person added their own opinion on why my rape happened and what I could have done to prevent it. Some days, I didn’t have the energy to talk myself into thinking otherwise, and would succumb to others, truly believing that I was at fault. This is how I came to discover victim blaming.

Victim blaming is when individuals try to justify sexual violence by focusing on the actions of the victim rather than the offender. Victim blaming is a large component of the “rape culture” that pervades university campuses and broader society: Women are predisposed to think they are to blame for their rape even before another person brings it up. From a young age, girls are told over and over again: “Don’t dress provocatively!,” “Don’t walk alone at night,” and “Always keep an eye on your drink.” They are constantly bombarded with techniques to prevent a potential assault. Going to university? Take a self-defence class first. Have class at night? Carry around pepper spray. Taking a cab alone? Stay on the phone with someone. This warped way that society views sexual assault needs to change, as it continuously discourages victims from coming forward and further shames them once they do.

Too often, the media focuses on the culture of binge drinking that correlates with reported assaults, failing to acknowledge the culture of rape that exists on campus. Rape culture describes an environment where rape is not only prevalent—and somewhat ignored—but sexual assault is normalized through the objectification of women’s bodies and misogynistic language. The tendency to focus on the risks of excessive drinking, instead of the root causes of sexual assault on campus, serves as a competing message in the university community. It gives administrators, peers, professors, and parents an immediate factor to blame when someone is sexually assaulted. University students are allowed to drink, and alcohol intake should in no way invalidate the stories of sexual assault survivors. It is crucial that society abandons this behaviour, and shifts its focus to survivor stories and campus reports that reveal the unfortunate existence and prevalence of rape culture.

 

 

Some days, I didn’t have the energy to talk myself into thinking otherwise, and would succumb to others, truly believing that I was at fault. This is how I came to discover victim blaming.

The tendency to teach women to “be safe” and “smart” perpetuates the false belief that they can prevent rape, and are therefore responsible if it happens to them. Parents in particular can be more mindful, teaching their daughters that it is not their fault, and being cautious in their choice of words when giving women of all ages advice.

Words cannot describe the shame, regret, loneliness, fear, and sadness a person who was raped feels. It is of utmost importance that university communities and society at large do not further contribute to the problem by engaging in questions that offer perpetrators an excuse. Upstream administrators, as well as friends and peers, need to realize how their questions affect victims, and (prepare to) be there for support, rather than interrogation. Instead, ask a victim what you can do to help them. It is difficult to know how to support someone during a traumatic event, but it is essential to think before you ask questions, and realize that certain questions may haunt a victim for years to come.

So, how much did I drink? Four shots and a beer. Did I realize I was drunk? Yes. Did I take drinks from strangers at the bar? No. What was I wearing? A black skirt and a beige tank top. Why did I walk home alone? Because I lived a block away and was tired. Did I tell him to stop? Yes.

Regardless of how much someone has to drink or what they are wearing, a victim of sexual assault is never the one to blame.

 

 

 

 

 

Phoebe Balshin is in her final year at McGill, studying Marketing. While she is excited to contribute to the Tribune, she actually has a phobia of newspapers and can't touch them or eat near them.

 

@mcgilltribop | [email protected]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Arts & Entertainment, Music

R.I.P. Tom Petty: A commemorative guide to the rock icon’s deep cuts

by Jordan Foy on

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On the evening of Oct. 2, legendary rock icon Tom Petty, age 66, passed away surrounded by loved ones after suffering from cardiac arrest. Petty, best known as the frontman of classic rock band Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, leaves behind a rich legacy of music that spans across four decades. Petty also contributed to over 13 albums with the Heartbreakers, three albums with The Travelling Wilburys, three albums with Mudcrutch, and three solo albums. Petty’s impact on the art of songcraft is undeniable, and he was an incredibly talented musician and performer. Only days before his death, Petty returned from a tour commemorating the 40th anniversary of his debut album,Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (1976). Nearly everyone is familiar with songs like “Free Fallin’” and “Refugee”—but Tom Petty made a lot of music, and much of his musical lexicon doesn’t make the typical classic rock radio fare. Here’s a playlist of some Tom Petty deep cuts that may be new to you.

Arts & Entertainment, Film and TV

Dual documentary screening looks back on Standing Rock protests

by Leo Stillinger on

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Cinema Politica is a series of politically-conscious documentary screenings, taking place in movie theaters across Canada and the world. The latest edition took place at Concordia on Oct. 2, showing a documentary about the 2016 protests at Standing Rock directed by Michelle Latimer, herself a Concordia graduate. 

The two-part documentary, featuring Sacred Water and Red Power, is part of the VICE series Rise: Telling indigenous stories from across North America.

The Standing Rock Sioux Tribe made international headlines in 2016 when protests against the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL), an oil pipeline whose planned construction passed through ancient tribal lands and burial grounds, evolved into the biggest gathering of Native Americans in living memory. A flashpoint for environmentalists and indigenous activists alike, the protests at Standing Rock grew from 20 people to hundreds in the span of nine months.  They brought together activists from around the country and the world, united in their struggle against the “black snake” of oil. Publicity grew following visits by celebrities, such as Shailene Woodley, to the camp, and reached a fever pitch when police turned rubber bullets and water cannons on protesters in freezing-cold North Dakota temperatures. 

Latimer was there from the beginning. Initially filmed as just one of many indigenous-centered films in the Rise series, Sacred Water documents the imminent destruction of a handful of residents’ ancestors’ burial grounds. Slowly, their efforts at resistance grow larger than ever anticipated. It is genuinely inspiring to see these same residents—such as Bobbi Jean Three Legs, a young mother whose reflections cast light on the greater problems of alcoholism and sexual assault within indigenous society—transformed into the leaders of a national movement, their voices broadcast to thousands over Facebook Live.

As Standing Rock continued to grow in size, Latimer received VICE’s permission to remain with the camp and make a second film, turning a room at a local casino into an interview booth. In this second film, Red Power, she mixes interviews and protest footage with historical context.

The story of indigenous people in the United States is one of broken treaties and colonial oppression. The American school system omits much of this shameful history; in school, I never learned that in the 1870s indigenous children were forced into white religious boarding schools, where it was illegal to speak their own language. Nor did I ever learn about the history of the American Indian Movement, whose controversial acts of resistance, such as the occupation of San Francisco’s Alcatraz Island in the 1970s, are the precursors to Standing Rock. This history places the 2016 protest in a wider context.  

What makes these documentaries powerful is the way in which they unapologetically leave the convention of “objectivity” behind. Latimer is herself an Algonquin, and in working with an indigenous film crew, she has created a proudly indigenous perspective of resistance. For a group of people that has for centuries gone voiceless in the North American mainstream, much to their historic detriment, it is a positive thing to have a strong native voice telling this story. 

Latimer returned to her alma mater for the screening, and in a Q&A afterwards, she reflected on her own personal journey as an indigenous person at Standing Rock. The most memorable moment, though, came when the audience’s enthusiastic response moved her to tears. As applause echoed through the auditorium, she lifted one fist in the air, and many in the audience responded in kind. It was a vivid, living moment of solidarity with a director whose films themselves are acts of solidarity.

Arts & Entertainment, Film and TV

‘Neo Yokio’’s deadpan elegance may prove inaccessible to Netflix viewers

by Luke Sarabia on

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We’ve been living in the supposed “Golden Age of TV” for the better part of two decades. In a time where blockbuster series are generated from obscure Netflix viewer preference data and showrunners regularly do away with the limitations of genre conventions, perhaps the emergence of a show like Neo Yokio isn’t as bizarre as it might seem. Netflix’s new anime-inspired comedy series, released late September, was created and co-written by Vampire Weekend frontman Ezra Koenig and stars the voice of Jaden Smith alongside Jude Law, Susan Sarandon, and Jason Schwartzman. If you find the terms “Ezra Koenig,” “Jaden Smith”, and “anime” exciting together, it’s unlikely that the show will disappoint. Beyond that, I can give no guarantee.

Neo Yokio follows the life of Kaz Kaan (Smith), a wealthy teenage socialite living in Neo Yokio, an imagined futuristic version of New York City. The anime-inspired twist to this otherwise Gossip Girl-esque setup is that Kaz’s elite social status results from his family lineage of demon-hunting magicians—a day job which he begrudgingly maintains in order to preserve his family’s wealth. The show’s narrative centers on the tension between Kaz’s luxurious lifestyle and the complications of being a reluctant teenage demon hunter. Kaz spends almost the entire show moping for one reason or another: Whether it is his dropping ranking on Neo Yokio’s list of most eligible bachelors, or the disinterest of one of his would-be girlfriends. He takes refuge in buying designer suits, listening to Vivaldi, and eating squid ink linguine—a dish he praises as “the most melancholy of all pasta.”  

Plot, however, is far from Neo Yokio’s primary concern. It works mostly as a freeform satire of the ridiculous decadence of its snobbish protagonist. The show is deeply aware of Kaz’s vapidity, as well as the absurdity of its premise. Its funniest moments are those in which Kaz is least likeable, or in which an obviously trivial event is given great narrative importance. In one episode, Kaz guards the Metropolitan Museum of Art from a demon during a ball, but his biggest fear is if his midnight blue tuxedo is appropriate for the event’s black-and-white dress code. Neo Yokio’s keen sense for pop culture shines throughout: The demon that haunts the Met possesses Damien Hirst’s sculpture For the Love of God.

For those without a taste for deeply rooted self-awareness and satire, the show is much more difficult to enjoy. Smith’s deadpan delivery of lines like “Demon, be gone from this Chanel suit!” is almost too ridiculous to accept as comedy, and many won’t. This isn’t the show’s only weakness; the sparse, basic animation style leaves a good amount to be desired, and some of the minor voice acting parts are genuinely hard to sit through. Granted, these are exceptions to the mostly well-selected cast. Jason Schwartzman as Arcangelo, Kaz’s hilariously snide rival socialite, is the show’s greatest comedic asset. Unfortunately, by the end of its remarkably brief season, it becomes apparent that Neo Yokio doesn’t have a great amount to offer besides comedy. Running character gags become tiresome, and the season’s final episodes take a turn for the dramatic that is hardly interesting enough to merit the change in tone. Barely surpassing two hours of total runtime, the show hardly demands a steep commitment. Ultimately, Ezra Koenig and his cast succeed in creating a unique and highly stylized comedy, albeit one that could benefit from better direction and plot points that stretch beyond social satire. Perhaps a lengthened second season will do just that. 

Arts & Entertainment, Film and TV

‘Professor Marston and the Wonder Women’ empowers its leads

by Danica Jekic on

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Wonder Woman, one of the most prolific female superheros, only recently entered the Hollywood spotlight, from the smash hit Wonder Woman (2017), to her allegedly expanded role in the upcoming film Justice League (2017). Created in 1941, the character’s incredible origins, however, remained largely unknown.

Written and directed by Angela Robinson (The L Word, D.E.B.S.) Professor Marston and the Wonder Women centres on William Moulton Marston (Luke Evans), a psychology professor at Radcliffe College, and his wife Elizabeth (Rebecca Hall), an underappreciated psychologist who is bitter that Harvard denied her a PhD for her work. When the pair take on a new research assistant—a young psychology student named Olive Byrne (Bella Heathcote), the initial sexual tension and jealousy between them blossoms into romance, and the three characters begin a bisexual polyamorous relationship that changes their lives. Marston, inspired by his brilliant feminist partners and seeking to teach the world about his psychological theories, creates Wonder Woman—an allegory for the modern empowered woman, and a revolutionary superhero.

Robinson’s impressive writing and directorial talents are evident throughout the film, from clever humour and intriguing character dynamics, to the stunning cinematography and evocative lighting. When combined with the subtle soundtrack that carries the film like a fluttering heartbeat, the visual aspects of the film are subtle and grounded, yet they masterfully convey the characters’ emotions. While the Easter eggs will be more obvious to comic book readers or fans of the Lynda Carter TV show, Wonder Woman (1975-1979) fans will find a trove of references to the costume and origins of Diana Prince and Steve Trevor—whether it be Olive Byrne’s hairstyle and silver bracelets, or William Marston’s past as a spy in World War I. 

At its core, the film is a biographical love story. Hollywood oftentimes presents unconventional relationships as fetishizing and degrading. In the hands of another director, Marston could have easily been presented as a manipulative, Hugh Hefner-like creep. However, the balance between Marston’s story and that of the two women ensures that the three characters are emotionally developed, and the relationship feels real.

Evans, Hall, and Heathcote portray their characters with passion and sincerity; their chemistry is intoxicating as their relationship develops. However, the standout performance of the film is easily Hall (The Prestige, Iron Man 3, Christine), who brings an incredible love, bitterness, and dry wit to Elizabeth Marston’s character.  She carries the bulk of the film’s humour and emotional stakes, as she struggles with the legitimacy of their relationship and seeks to be accepted and respected by the world around her as a woman and intellectual.

Professor Marston and the Wonder Women is a subtly brilliant film that maintains its focus on the love between its three main characters, keeping the audience invested through the actors’ passionate performances and its meticulous writing and direction. With the recent release of Wonder Woman’s first blockbuster film, and the revelation of her bisexuality by Wonder Woman comic writer Greg Rucka, this is an important film for fans to see, as it shines a positive light on the unconventional lives of the professor who created her and the wonderful women who embodied her.

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