MOVIES

real part of life for anyone living there. Those who are particularly sensitive to sharp words against Palestine may want to emotionally prepare before heading to the screening of Burning Land at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation on Feb. 23.

In his feature film debut, Israeli director Liran Shitrit takes us back in time to the West Bank in 2001 with color-rich cinematography. He also thrusts us into the world of right-wing Israeli extremism by way of protagonist Yair (Assaf Hertz), a delinquent runaway who finds a new home among a group of boys with outward extreme views who forcefully take a small hill from nearby Palestinians. Yair’s new pals help him enroll at the local yeshiva and introduce him to Rabbi Grunberg (Nathan Ravitz), who discreetly pushes the group of “hill boys” to embrace their settler views. Both external and internal conflict toss him as he finds camaraderie with his new friends yet is embraced with compassion by his new employer and vineyard owner, Naomi (Yael Levental).

Burning Land reminds us, not that the more things change, the more they stay the same, but that sometimes things just don’t change. Shitrit puts extremist views on full display, but also asks audiences to at least try to acknowledge even the most hateful views are part of, if not a defect, of the human condition. He shows how complicated humans can be and how easily those around us can shape our views. Burning Land offers up some spectacular views of northern Israel and the very real emotions of those who live there, even if lacking a clear view of the difference between right and wrong. But then again, we all have trouble discerning the difference sometimes.

(Andy Lyman)

Unitarian Universalist Congregation, NR, 88 min.

Roots Of Fire

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+ LONG STRETCHES OF MUSIC - TOO MUCH TIME DEVOTED TO RURAL MARDI GRAS

Chances are, you haven’t heard anything like this. The Cajun musicians who star in Roots of Fire play accordions and fiddles, electric guitars, keyboards and yes, chest-mounted washboards, while singing their hearts out in a brand of French with a decided Southern accent. It’s music that dates back more than a century, and it’s worth a listen.

Abby Berendt Lavoi and Jeremey Lavoi direct and produce the documentary, part of a series they plan on what they describe as “Louisiana roots music,” this being the second after a shorter work that zeroed in on accordion prodigy Andre Thierry called California Creole. The feature-length Roots of Fire follows five contemporary Cajun artists who are honoring the classics and putting their own spin on them, plus it includes the mandatory context: a colonial history of a group of Catholics exiled from Canada who settled in along the Gulf of Mexico and further inland, then intermingled with Spanish and Indigenous people already there.

The Cajun identity developed apart from the binary system of Black vs. white that came to dominate the American class structure. Sound familiar? This theme, along with the major artery of language lost to educational institutions that pushed English and punished others, is likely to resonate with local audiences.

Directors also take viewers inside the rural dance halls, but there’s a dire warning when looking closely at the dancers. These musicians, who might strike some as Cajun hipsters, are playing for a fanbase in its senior years—their bands kept alive by inner drive and travel gigs.

Jourdan Thibodeaux from Cypress Island sings with a nasal and gravel tone that sometimes seems discordant. He admonishes other Cajuns to pick up the mantle. “If you are not living your culture,” he screams into a mic at the Scène Ma Louisiane festival, “you are killing your culture, and there is no in-between.”

(Julie Ann Grimm)

Scottish

Rite Center, NR, 85 min.

THE ART WHISPERER

It might sound obvious to those who catch the new short documentary about Ginny Williams, The Art Whisperer, from director Flemming Fynsk, but it turns out listening to one’s heart— or gut, anyway—is almost always wise.

Williams was, of course, that late, great,

Santa Fe-based art collector who rose to prominence in the collection and institutional arts game(s) by amassing one of the world’s most notable stockpiles of art. A former senator’s wife, Williams found herself single and broke in the 1980s, but with a seemingly boundless curiosity and bizarrely spot-on internal divining rod for the good stuff. Somehow, she made it work, but rather than hoarding all the best art for herself, we learn through the film, her generosity was legendary, from a staggering number of donations made to the Guggenheim and other notable visual arts repositories to her own brief stint as a photographic gallery owner.

Williams’ collection, in fact, was so full of notable names—Georgia O’Keeffe, Helen Frankenthaler, Agnes Martin, Louise Bourgeois and so many more—that she started to tip the scales of commerce, bringing lesser-appreciated artists into the limelight and jump-starting various careers; she even paid a world record price for a Frankenthaler (world record at the time, anyway). Perhaps even more impressive, she did it all without succumbing to the academic hodgepodge or commercial desires; “If I’m still thinking about it two days later, I go back,” she says in Flemming’s film, describing her methodology—a wise reminder for us all that figuring out how to inhabit the same space as the art we love can sometimes be a must.

Flemming glosses over the cost specifics of putting together a massive collection, and we only get to meet Williams’ family briefly. Still, with talking heads from Sotheby’s and the aforementioned Guggenheim among others who chime in to sing her praises, we get a feel for the woman. Even better, we see her in her natural element, prior to her 2019 death, and she seems like the kind of tough art lover we all aspire to be. (Alex De Vore) Jean Cocteau Cinema, NR, 44 min.

“Where Is the Library?”—read-y or not.

by Matt Jones