Timed for release with Earth Day, this mini-documentary offers a feel-good follow-up to the 2019 feature-length documentary. The Biggest Little Farm: The Return feels like a celebration of the natural harmony and splendor achieved on the farm as well as of the family of director Chester, his wife, and their kids, all captured in golden light. Events from past years, like wildfires and storms, are spliced together and give only a taste of what life on the farm is like. The tight 29-minute running time just doesn't give a lot of room to develop the story, and a lot of time is spent on Emma the pig, a return character from the original film. Viewers who have seen the first film might appreciate this one more, but the sequel could also inspire audiences to seek out the original. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

At a time when public discourse in the US has been dominated by talk of walls, it’s ironic that a Mexican film has been knocking down figurative barriers all along its journey to this Sunday’s Oscar Awards. Director Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma, a black-and-white, Spanish-language film about a middle-class family and their live-in maid in 1970s Mexico City, has shattered multiple glass ceilings – or, perhaps more aptly put for a Netflix-backed film, screens. It’s nominated in a whopping 10 Oscar categories, matched this year only by Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos’ absurdist costume drama The Favourite. The inclusion of these two non-American directors and their arguably non-Hollywood films in top categories is already newsworthy. Roma star Yalitza Aparicio is also the first actor of indigenous heritage nominated for a best actress Oscar, and only the second Mexican. Roma has the potential to become the first non-English language movie ever to win the best film Oscar, and could take home both best film and best foreign-language film prizes. Other international works this year have also broken out of the foreign-language “ghetto,” as The Hollywood Reporter put it, like Polish director Pawel Pawlikowski’s 3-category nominee Cold War. As these boundaries evaporate in the global film industry, will the foreign-language Oscar category even make sense? The Netflix Debate In light of the success of Roma – including top prizes at the Venice Film Festival, the Golden Globes and the British BAFTAS, among others – debate about the role of Netflix in the film business has intensified. “A vote for ‘Roma’ is, on some level, a vote for Netflix, and some may not want to cast that vote,” one Variety columnist noted about the Oscars. Netflix sure wants to win: It’s reportedly outspent everyone and surpassed the film’s own budget on its Oscar campaign. At issue is more collapsing of walls – or in this case, “windows,” the term used for the traditional schedule of releasing films in theaters before streaming or TV. Roma had a theatrical release in select countries three weeks prior to its December Netflix premiere – in part to make it eligible for festivals and awards, which are under pressure to maintain the integrity of traditional windows. But other theaters refused to show the film with only three weeks of exclusivity. “Remember the ’90s, in which the big studio movie was coexisting in the multiplex with the foreign film and the film from Sundance? That’s the healthiest way of cinema,” Cuarón mused in an interview with Variety. “What these new options are providing,” the director told Deadline, “is more diversity of content. Diversity in storytelling, diversity in characters, diversity in countries, diversity in languages, but also diversity in the way in which you see films.” The Audience Cuarón’s view is supported by the buzz “Roma” has generated globally. If you haven’t seen the film, chances are you know people who have. When was the last time you could say that about a Mexican or foreign-language movie? Netflix is to thank for that reach, but so is the grassroots reaction that’s arisen organically on social media and around the world, especially Mexico. “I was mesmerized by how accurately the movie portrays my home country’s past and, in many ways, its present cultural and political landscape,” Ana Karina Zatarain wrote in an opinion piece on hyperallergic.com. Watch videos of Cuarón walking around the Mexico City neighborhood where he grew up and shot this film, and see people thanking him and crying over the memories he elicited with Roma, inspired by his own childhood and beloved live-in maid/nanny. A point of national pride, Roma marked the director’s return to Mexico after Hollywood films like Gravity and Children of Men. The movie has pushed the topic of the treatment of indigenous workers to the fore, bringing some stubborn racism to the light of day as well. It’s also been praised by awestruck critics as a “masterpiece,” “impeccable,” “an instant classic.” ​​The Critics A few reviewers have been less fawning. The New Yorker’s Richard Brody captures a theme among them – that Cuarón, as both director and cinematographer on Roma, prioritized style (see the film’s “silky, digital black and white palette” and meticulous staging) over substance (the lack of dialogue and thin development of Cleo, the protagonist maid). If you’ve seen the film, you may have had the sense you were watching Cleo from the outside, rather than identifying with how she felt or thought. The slow pace and painstakingly handsome framing may have contributed to that sense of detachment, or even disinterest. There was surely much intentionality here on Cuarón’s part, but for Brody and others, Cleo is limited to a “bland and blank trope” of the silent, stoic, noble worker – a comfortable yet undemanding viewpoint for well-meaning “intellectual filmmakers” and their “art-house audiences.” We’ll find out where the Academy stands on these debates Sunday.​ This article originally ran in the Daily Record. Click on the photo below to access it.

This isn't the first documentary about sexist treatment of female athletes, but the world of surf culture gives it an entirely unique feel. That's underscored right from the opening title sequence of Girls Can't Surf set to fun, neon-stroked text graphics and female punk rock. As one interviewee in the film describes it, there's always been a certain mystique around the surf community, encapsulated in blonde-streaked, bikini-clad "demi-gods" and golden-hued sunsets on the beach. The film capitalizes on its gorgeous cast of characters and settings with tons of archive footage from the 1970s on. The veterans interviewed mostly still surf today in their middle to late middle age, and it's inspiring to see how far their sport has come in their wake and what role they each played in breaking down barriers. They open up with tales not just about surfing, but also personal backstories about family strife, coming out of the closet (or actually being pushed, then ostracized), opting to pose nude in a magazine, suffering from anorexia or alcohol problems, dealing with an unexpected pregnancy, and more. The film captures and reflects on an era in a way that brings it to vivid and engaging life. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

It probably won't surprise you that, according to Nielsen, we spent double the time on streaming platforms during one rated week in March this year as we did last. Let's be honest, we needed the distraction. Even if the COVID crisis sometimes feels like a bad Hollywood movie, we've never devoured home entertainment quite this way before. If you're like me, you're craving uplifting stories that transport you to faraway places (or even just out the front door). Filmmaker Richard Levien is going one step further to offer the possibility of doing good while streaming his latest movie, immigrant drama Collisions. Levien is donating 50 percent of proceeds from DVD sales and streaming of his new film through April 30 to the National Day Laborer Organizing Network's Immigrant Worker Safety Net Fund. Collisions Collisions is the all-too-real story of a middle schooler forced to care for her little brother and enlist help from a wayward uncle when their mother, Yoana, is sucked into the labyrinthine detainment system of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). The film opens with the harrowing statistic that a US citizen child is separated from a parent due to deportation once every four minutes, and it closes with a drive through a border town revealing the heavy human toll of immigration policies. While the story might shock some, the New Zealand-born, San Francisco-based Levien said he tried to show "the average experience, not the extreme at all." "I was very concerned that the film should play truthfully," Levien told me in an interview last fall following the film's Los Angeles premiere. He based the tale loosely on the story of a young girl he knew as well as other interviews and documentation. But he didn't want to make a documentary. "I think a fiction film takes the audience on a slightly different emotional journey," Levien noted. "You're able to get inside the characters." The realism of the tale is elevated by sensitive performances from then 12-year-old Izabella Alvarez and veteran Jesse Garcia, who plays the uncle. It's not a leap to imagine the additional burdens that a person like Yoana (played by Narcos' Ana de la Reguera), who juggles four jobs to make ends meet in the film, would be experiencing now during COVID-19 shutdowns. "Some of the most vulnerable people in this pandemic are immigrants," Levien added this week, pointing to problems like access to paid sick leave, health care coverage, government assistance and remote work options. "That’s why the Immigrant Worker Safety Net Fund is so important, to help people who have nowhere else to turn." Contributions are made by streaming the film or buying the DVD at CollisionsMovie.com. Read my review of this film for Common Sense Media. The Farewell One of the more heartbreaking aspects of global coverage of the pandemic has been the stories of people not being able to say goodbye to their loved ones. Especially in hard hit areas of Italy, Spain and New York, the risk of contagion is keeping family members from seeing their sick relatives or even being allowed to gather for funeral services. (In Washington, Gov. Inslee lifted his total ban on funerals.) This reality makes director Lulu Wang's The Farewell, the story of a family that gathers on false pretenses to honor a dying matriarch without telling her why, even more poignant. It's a reminder to celebrate our loved ones while we can. The "actual lie" at the film's heart is not enough of a story to carry an entire film, which Wang balances with evocative visual framing – melancholic star Awkwafina alone in a crowd, the family's mood reflected in the different tables they gather around, relatives bowing in unison at a gravesite. Wang also adds layers of depth to the characters, half of whom left China for the US or Japan, offering a subtle subtext about the immigrant experience that echoes some of the same generational themes in "Collisions." On Amazon Prime. Un + Une Veteran French director Claude Lelouch's tale offers another carpe diem message about love, romantic and familial, this one colorfully set in India. Jean Dujardin (The Artist) plays a handsome and successful composer who attracts women like a magnet. And Dujardin is indeed magnetic, even as his character expresses self-doubt, betrays his partner, reveals his oversized ego and ignores a potentially life-threatening illness. When Antoine travels from Paris to India to complete the soundtrack of a new film, he finds himself falling in love with the French ambassador's wife, played by Elsa Zylberstein. The film's portrayal of attraction between two mature characters and of adults caring for parents and children is bestowed with an added layer of spirituality thanks to the lovingly-filmed backdrop of India, complete with healing guru. At nearly two hours, the film runs long. But you probably have a little extra time on your hands these days anyway. On Netflix. This article was originally published in The Daily Record.

In a bold move last year, the Mexican film Desierto used Donald Trump’s voice as part of its marketing campaign. Trump’s claims that Mexico is sending drugs and criminals north, and his plea that “It’s gotta stop fast,” narrate an early trailer for the film showing Mexican immigrants being shot in the back by a crazed American vigilante. “Words are as dangerous as bullets,” the trailer warns. None too subtle, but a reminder that Mexican artists have plenty to say about politics and social issues. This can be seen in the early films of Oscar-winning directors Alfonso Cuarón (Gravity) and Alejandro González Iñárritu (Birdman), two of today's most acclaimed international filmmakers. The pair, together with Guillermo del Toro, who won the top prize at the recent Venice Film Festival for The Shape of Water, are known as the Three Amigos of Mexican cinema. Many of their early films are now available online, as are other, newer Mexican works inspired by them – including Desierto, co-written and directed by Cuarón’s son Jonás, and the 2014 urban tale Güeros. Desierto Like any good action movie, Desierto serves up a nail-bitingly tense 90 minutes sustained by a charging rhythm, stunning locations, an uncomplicated storyline and archetypal characters. The desperate journey of a group of Mexican immigrants, forced by their smugglers’ stalled truck to cross the border on foot through the desert “Badlands,” turns into a race for their lives when a gun-toting trucker begins to literally hunt them down. The camera shifts between close-ups on the characters’ faces, wider shots of them racing over boulders, across canyons and through cacti, and screen-filling vistas of the striking, untamed desert and an infinite sky. The movie stakes an obvious political position in its broad-stroke depictions of the rival protagonists. The victim, a kindhearted immigrant played by the baby-faced Gael García Bernal, carries a teddy bear for his son back in California and risks his own life to help the weakest in the group. Contrast him to the vigilante, a scruffy Jeffrey Dean Morgan playing a whisky-chugging cowboy with a long-distance rifle and a ferocious hunting dog. “Welcome to the land of the free,” he jeers after he kills. What the movie may lack in story and depth, it makes up for in tension and thrill, winning a critics’ prize at the Toronto Film Festival last year. Y Tu Mamá También Alfonso Cuarón’s hip 2001 road movie is a socially conscious, stylistically self-aware film that helped launch the careers of García Bernal and co-star Diego Luna (Rogue One) and arguably influenced a generation. The two play best friends intent on squeezing the most out of their last summer of adolescence. They live by an 11-point buddy “manifesto” that includes getting high at least once a day, never marrying a virgin and never, ever moving to America. The opening sequence, for mature audiences only, introduces a technique Cuarón employs throughout the film, where he freezes the action to let a fast-talking narrator fill us in on related people, places and events. Permeating these voiceovers is quite a bit of social commentary, including about the financially disparate backgrounds of the two friends in a country plagued by corruption and a huge gap between rich and poor. We see this ourselves as they set off on a road trip across the Mexican countryside. In village after village, colorful festivities camouflage impoverished villagers inevitably portrayed as victims of abusive police and corporate or political injustice. Trailing along on the trip is a sexy Spanish woman (Maribel Verdú) who’s unhappily married to one of their cousins and, unbeknownst to them, just received a dire cancer diagnosis. The relationship between the three quickly becomes sexual, though her illness stays a secret. Her vivacious yet tumor-ridden body could easily read as a metaphor for Mexico. Güeros This coming-of-age tale made more than a decade after Mamá but set around the same time seems to tip its hat to the earlier film thematically as well as in its playful upending of cinematic norms. When Tomás is sent to live with his big brother, he finds him and his roommate barely subsisting in a half-abandoned apartment block while waiting out a student strike at their university. Caught splicing a neighbor’s electricity, they take off in their car and begin roaming the city. A subplot has them searching for a dying folk singer, but this feels like a device to give their journey direction. In fact, Güeros’ storyline takes a while to solidify. In one of several self-parodying, art-meets-reality scenes, a character opines that the movie’s script is actually “pretty bad.” You may agree with him. But Güeros has plenty to make it a compelling watch, including a melodious mid-century soundtrack and a stylized ‘60s-inspired black and white cinematography that continues to play in your mind well after the film ends. This review is dedicated to those affected by the earthquakes this month in Mexico. This column originally ran in The Daily Record.

Dear Pedro, Your conservative stance concerning Netflix at the Cannes Film Festival last week came as a surprise, especially from the master of transgression. As president of the Cannes jury, you said you didn’t think a film that wouldn’t be released theatrically could conceivably win the festival’s highest prize, the Palme d’Or. Your comments may cast doubt on the jury’s impartiality, but they don’t vary from the industry’s general attitude of anger and fear about the inclusion of two Netflix films in the official competition at Cannes this year. “In my opinion, what takes precedence is the size of the screen,” you said at the jury conference last week. Allowing that digital platforms constitute a new way of presenting a work of art, you also said they “must accept the rules already in place, particularly in financial and fiscal terms, and which have been adopted by all the networks.” “These are the only means by which cinema can survive.” Pedro, I invite you to come visit the town in Washington State where I moved from Madrid ten years ago. Here, you can see firsthand how cinema is “surviving.” Pretty typical of small towns across America, we have one movie theater here with nine screens serving several towns in the area. I cannot recall a single subtitled film to have premiered at the theater since I moved here. If I wanted to see your latest film “Julieta” on the big screen, I would have to catch a 2-hour shuttle to Seattle and a nearly 3-hour flight to Denver, the closest city to open your film in theaters (next August), according to your distributor’s website. The data available on boxofficemojo.com says that your films have been released in the US on an average 178 screens. If you take out Volver, which came at the height of Penélope Cruz’s popularity in the US, that average drops to 121. This, for one of Europe’s most internationally known filmmakers, in a country of some 40,000 screens. In turn, “Seven Years” (“Siete Años”), the first Netflix production in Spain, was available to more than 100 million subscribers in over 190 countries. The experience of the theater is grand and emotional and communal. Nobody who loves movies would dispute that. But sticking only to traditional financing and distribution models means severely limiting your audience. And not just that – it means limiting the creation of new audiences for your movies. Thanks to platforms like Netflix, American spectators have more access to international films now than at any time in this country’s history. These services turn people on to cinema from around the world. You could even make a case that the small screen fits a more intimate European cinema even better than it does big Hollywood movies. “We must humble ourselves before the big screen,” you said at Cannes. Maybe it’s time to also humble ourselves before the unprecedented access to the hearts and minds of viewers that streaming services like Netflix allow European filmmakers in the US and around the world... regardless of the size of the screen.

The summer may be coming to a close, and the Delta variant may be rearing its ugly head, but that doesn't mean we can't take to our small screens and at least imagine traveling to faraway destinations. To help you out, here are ten international films currently streaming, mostly on Netflix. There's something here for everyone, so happy travels! For the Whole Family "Skater Girl" is an uplifting film from India about a teenager who finds purpose and independence when she learns to skateboard. In a rural village where she is destined to be married off shortly and her family can't afford basic school supplies, Prerna discovers a new world in the simple act of skating. The film was inspired by similar real-life stories, which gives it even greater significance, and the actress playing Prerna is magnetic. You'll remember the contrasting colors of the local women's rich saris against the white-washed buildings of the village. An abusive father could scare very young children, but otherwise this film is fine for the whole family. 1990s-set Turkish film "Last Summer" offers some insight into the lives of teens in another part of the world. A group of lifelong friends gather for one last summer of increasingly less innocent fun at the beach. The gang is headed to college in the fall, and summer brings added suspense as they await test results that will determine their futures. They're coming of age in a time before cell phones, and the film does a great job of depicting the excitement and potential dangers of teen experimentation without judging any of it. The Mediterranean setting is stunning. For older teens and up. Austrian teen-led mystery "The Strange House" mixes a "Goonies"-ish ghost story with a "Stranger Things"-like gang of sleuths, all set in an isolated mountain town where the Austrian locals tease the German newbies for their accents. Not as memorable as the other titles, but this could still be a fun watch with teens. Rom-Coms to the Rescue The offbeat Brazilian comedy "The Secret Diary of an Exchange Student" sends two Rio-based twenty-somethings to upstate New York on an exchange program. They experience culture shock that rings quite funny for an American audience, though there is some gentle critique of the US in there as well. The unfailingly positive attitude of the characters infuses this movie with such happy energy that you'll find yourself laughing at the most ridiculous scenarios. It's also fun to watch some of the American actors struggle through Portuguese – tables turned, for once. From Indonesia, "A Perfect Fit" stumbles on some of its comedic timing and plays more like a soap opera than a serious film. But it's set in a sumptuous Bali, and the characters and their love story are ultimately very sweet. Worth a watch if this sounds like your cup of tea. Likewise, Brazilian comedy "Carnaval" is "Sex in the City" light starring a wannabe Instagram influencer and her seriously stereotyped gal pals. They're on an all-expenses-paid trip to the weeklong Carnaval festivities in Salvador. The sexy setting brings the entertainment, and this film – like the event itself – is one big, high-spirited, fabulous-looking party. In the affable "Tell Me When," a young Mexican-American man ventures from Los Angeles to Mexico City to discover his roots and maybe find himself as well. Along the way, he falls in love. Mexico's capital city is on lovely display here, as the couple strolls through cosmopolitan neighborhoods, lush parks, and stunning monuments. Though the comedy doesn't always hit its mark, the film offers some perceptive commentary on what it means to be an immigrant and to live between two cultures and languages. Looking for Some Action "Beckett" stars John David Washington, is filmed mostly in English and could appear to be an American movie. Instead, the Italian production follows an American tourist who finds himself the target of rogue cops chasing him across the Greek countryside. There's suspense, politics and a whole lot of action. The under-developed political plot might feel confusing, but you don't really need to understand why Beckett is on the run. The fun is in watching him repeatedly evade would-be killers in ways both believable and not so much. Two recent European films exploit the possibilities for suspense in claustrophobic settings. In French title "Oxygen," a woman wakes up in a coffin-shaped futuristic pod and has no idea how she got there or even where she is. She has limited time to figure things out before her oxygen expires. In German film "Blood Red Sky," terrorists hijack a trans-Atlantic flight without realizing there's a vampire on board. She's there with her son, on route to a last desperate attempt at treatment to save her from her animal nature. This is one seriously bloody flight. Buckle up and enjoy the ride. This column originally ran in The Daily Record.

A recent Hollywood Reporter article plodded into dangerous territory by questioning why so many adults can’t let go of childhood passions. “From superheroes, Star Wars and fairy tales to cartoons, the things many of us loved as children remain something we love today — protectively, passionately and even problematically,” suggested the author of “What Happens When Fandom Doesn’t Grow Up?” Such fierce nostalgia can have negative consequences, he warned – both for those treasured characters, who get stuck pleasing adult fans rather than finding younger audiences, and for the fans themselves, who can feel “incomplete” as adults. Before you get your Superman tights in a bundle, think about this: If our taste in movies gets stuck at 15, that golden target age of so much that Hollywood produces, how do we learn to appreciate other kinds of films, other ways of telling stories and seeing the world? Plenty of intelligent adults have no patience for movies that break with familiar Hollywood formulas. They’re put off by things like subtitles, unfamiliar settings or characters, non-linear or slow-paced narratives, unhappy endings or a lack of special effects. As a parent, I’m convinced exposure is the key to tolerance, curiosity and appreciation – of films from around the world and, maybe by extension, of others. In this spirit, I recently surveyed friends, some of whom work in the movies, to compile a list of international films they’d recommend to watch with children. Animation Animated films are an easy start, especially with younger kids. They’re familiar and dubbed, but can still open conversations about faraway worlds.​​ Japan’s legendary animation director Hayao Miyazaki has multiple titles popular among families, including “My Neighbor Totoro,” “Spirited Away” and “Kiki’s Delivery Service.” Same with France’s Michel Ocelot, director on the “Kirikou” films among others.​​ Afghanistan-set “The Breadwinner” teaches lessons about gender and war. It was directed by Ireland’s Nora Twomey, who was also involved with “Song of the Sea” and “The Secret of Kells.” Other suggestions from friends include Brazil’s “Castle Ra-Tim-Bum,” French fantasy tale “April and the Extraordinary World,” Italy’s “Lucky and Zorba” and the “Tad Jones” adventure films from Spain. Not animated, but reputedly fun for the littles, is Danish superhero trilogy “Antboy.” For older kids, the French stop motion “My Life as a Zucchini” addresses some heavy issues of grief, abandonment, bullying and adult misbehavior but, as one friend put it, also conveys a sense of the possibilities and growth in overcoming such challenges. Coming of Age There’s nothing like seeing your own struggles depicted on film. Some live action movies friends have recommended for tweens and above include 1950s-set Swedish dramedy “My Life as a Dog,” the Italian classic “Cinema Paradiso” and that whirlwind of Parisian whimsy, “Amélie.” One of my personal favorites is the New Zealand movie “Whale Rider,” about a Maori girl fighting to break gender barriers in her family and community. An Australian friend told me about the Perth-set “Paper Planes,” about a boy intent on competing in the World Paper Plane Championship in Japan. Other options for teens include the UK’s “Billy Elliot,” about a ballet-obsessed boy from a working-class family, or the more recent “Sing Street,” a Dublin-set coming-of-age story about a boy who starts a band to impress a girl. “Life is Beautiful” and “The Boy in the Striped Pajamas” are two kid-centered but still potentially upsetting (especially “Boy”) Holocaust movies. Classics If your teen enjoys realist fare, you might try Truffaut’s “The 400 Blows,” a French classic about a wayward lad that helped define a mid-century movement of mold-breaking filmmakers. Hitchcock is another great intro to film culture. Most of the sexual innuendo will go over younger heads, but the period look and mystery of favorites like “Rear Window,” “North by Northwest” or “To Catch a Thief” will stay with them, while the effects in “The Birds” or “Vertigo” are now low-tech enough not to scare. Older kids might enjoy the clever dialogues of “Strangers on a Train” or “Rope.” Classic movies tend to move slower and are often in black and white, a good exercise in focus for young viewers. Why settle for remakes when you can enjoy the original “Mary Poppins” or try older takes on favorite tales, like Jean Cocteau’s 1946 “Beauty and the Beast.”​​ Documentaries My family, like others, has appreciated both “On the Way to School,” a documentary following four kids from far-flung locations on their often-arduous treks to school, and “Babies,” which exposes vastly divergent cultural norms (and resources) in newborn care. The website www.kidworldcitizen.org, which has compiled its own list of kid-friendly films from around the world (some with lesson plans), also recommends “Which Way Home,” about the harrowing journey of several children emigrating from Central America to the US. Of them all, this may be the most relevant to watch right now.​​ This article originally ran in The Daily Record. ​

When news hit in December that the US would normalize relations with Cuba, lots of people started exploring how soon they could visit the enigmatic island. The film community was no exception. Within weeks, trade publications were chewing on that story like Fidel on a new cigar. “Will the island develop into a filmmaking destination?” Variety probed. “Industry Optimistic on New US-Cuban Era,” proclaimed The Hollywood Reporter. Conan O’Brien may have shot his late-night show there this past weekend, but purists can rest easy: the streets of Havana aren’t likely to be flooded by Hollywood types anytime soon. American film crews have been kept away for decades by the embargo, and it’s unclear how - or how quickly - things might change now. Even more exciting, though, is the potential for growth of Cuba’s own constricted film industry. New avenues for international distribution and financing could potentially open up. And, the Diario de Cuba newspaper has been reporting on a proposal by a group of artists for a new national film law that would, among other features, create a film fund for Cuban productions. Discussions about the new law have taken place at a cultural center in Havana known as the Centro Cultural Fresa y Chocolate, named for one of Cuba’s most beloved films of all times, “Strawberry and Chocolate.” Here’s hoping for an outpouring of Cuban movies as complex and gratifying as this 1993 classic which, in many ways, has taken on renewed relevance in the country’s current political context. “Strawberry and Chocolate” Co-directed by legendary Cuban filmmaker Tomas Gutierrez Alea with Juan Carlos Tabio, “Strawberry and Chocolate” uses the unexpected friendship between two men -- one a militant Communist student, the other a flamboyantly gay intellectual -- as an allegory to reflect on both the promises and the disappointments of the Cuban Revolution 20 years on. It’s 1979, and Havana is a vibrant but dilapidated city where locals stand in long lines for basic goods and dollars are traded on a bustling black market, where books from abroad are banned, neighbors spy on one another, and images and maxims of Fidel and Che are omnipresent. We’re introduced to this complex reality in the film’s opening sequences. David (Vladimir Cruz) has rented a grimy hotel room to finally seduce his girlfriend, but when she breaks down crying he vows not to touch her until they are married and can afford a 5-star hotel. Cut to the next scene and the girlfriend is getting married... to another man. Soon after, a depressed David is approached at a cafe by the outwardly gay Diego (Jorge Perugorria), who lures him back to his house on the promise of photos of his ex and forbidden novels.​​ Intensely put off by Diego’s mannerisms and not-so-subtle overtures, David only agrees to return to Diego’s house a second time at the insistence of his college roommate, a belligerent foot soldier on alert for the “enemy” 90 miles away (here’s looking at you, Florida).​​ The roommate wants David to gather information on the subversive activities of Diego, including an art exhibit he’s planning at an unnamed embassy. As repeated visits reveal increasingly common ground, the cultured Diego evolves into a mentor and guide for David, exposing him to new ideas and new forms of art, music and literature.​ ​ And as David grows more attached to Diego, and more attracted to Diego’s neighbor Nancy (Mirtha Ibarra, Gutierrez Alea’s then-wife), he is finally able to let go of his obsession with the ex-girlfriend -- just as he’s able to slacken his blind adherence to revolutionary dogma. “We’re going to teach humanity a lesson,” Diego says of their friendship, symbolic of the proposition that even those ostensibly unacceptable to the new Cuban society deserve a place in it and can still be ardent “believers” in both the revolution and the culture’s reigning Catholic faith. “Strawberry and Chocolate” solidified all three of the lead actors’ places in the lexicon of Cuban cinema. With the backing of Robert Redford and 90s-era foreign-language powerhouse distributor Miramax, it also became Cuba’s first and only foreign-language Oscar nominee (it lost to the Russian entry). The script for “Strawberry and Chocolate” was based on Senel Paz’s short story, “The Wolf, The Forest and the New Man.” Paz, who also co-scripted the movie with Gutierrez Alea, is currently among those helping to draw up the new film law proposal in Cuba. Be warned, for viewers concerned about such things: there is full nudity, some swearing and plenty of innuendo in this film. This column originally ran in The Daily Record.

Earlier this month, Donald Trump reportedly got into a heated argument with the Australian prime minister over an Obama pledge to accept up to 1,250 refugees in the US from detention centers down under. The figure represents one-fourth the record number of people the UN refugee agency UNHCR estimates died trying to cross the Mediterranean into Europe last year. That's more people lost at sea in one year than the entire population of Cle Elum, Kittitas and Roslyn combined -- 5,000 men, women and children, fleeing war, violence and persecution especially in the Middle East and Africa. It's tempting to minimize the plight of migrants and refugees when they're not washing up on your shores. Europe doesn't have that luxury -- over 360,000 are estimated to have arrived there by sea in 2016. European filmmakers are responding by bringing these pressing stories to screen. Some have earned top prizes at film festivals in recent years, like Cannes winner "Dheepan" (now on Netflix) and Berlin victor "Fire at Sea" ("Fuocoammare" -- up this weekend for a best documentary Oscar), among others. About "Fire," 2016 Berlin Film Festival jury chair Meryl Streep (yes, the "overrated" one) said: "It demands its place in front of our eyes and compels our engagement and action." Like the refugee crisis itself? Seeking Solid Land "Terraferma," also on Netflix, weaves a similar tale to "Fire" through fiction, and is set on a sister island off the Italian coast. The movie opens underwater on the belly of a ship casting its fishing net into the midnight-blue sea, and closes on the reverse shot following the same boat from high above as it races clandestinely across the waves. Scenes throughout the film return symbolically to the water, including one haunting sequence recording vestiges of lives left on the ocean floor - shoes, toothbrushes, ID cards. The Mediterranean is a lead character in "Terraferma," representing the vanishing livelihood of the island's elders, a paradise retreat for partying tourists, and a strategic route to freedom for thousands of desperate emigrants. We're a third of the way into the movie before its protagonists, 20-year-old Filippo and his fisherman grandfather Ernesto, happen upon a vessel overflowing with Africans, several of whom jump into the water and frantically swim towards them. Ernesto dives in to help.​​ The local police later seize their boat for failing to report the undocumented. What the police don't know is that the duo also pulled a pregnant woman out of the sea, and now she's hiding in their garage with her son and newborn baby. The film's characters and conflicts symbolize the larger dilemma facing Europe. Everyone has an opinion on how to handle the displaced masses, but nobody has the answer. In "Terraferma," political law, embodied by the rigid local police chief, is positioned as contradictory to the islanders' "law of the sea," which dictates you never leave a person behind. This opposition represents an overly simplistic narrative construct, but it allows for heartrending scenes of indifference to personal suffering and it sends a strong humanitarian message.​​ Filippo's mom, Giulietta, ​​embodies the more nuanced reality. She has plans herself to migrate to the mainland in search of steady work, of which there is precious little even for the natives. She's resentful of being asked to risk everything they have, which is not a lot, to help the stranger, played by real-life Eritrean refugee Timnit T. Yet the two mothers also forge an undeniable human bond that allows Giulietta no other option but to help, a clear moral choice underscored in a tender farewell scene shot in stark shadows and light. Swimming to Freedom A similar personal connection prompts a local man to embrace a Kurdish refugee in the French drama "Welcome," available from The Film Movement. The English Channel replaces the Mediterranean as the perilous passageway to a hoped-for new beginning, and the dreary northern clime matches the film's more deliberate realism. The 17-year-old Bilal has arrived to the encampments on the northern French coast (Google the "Calais Jungle") after a 3-month journey by foot from Iraq. He's running from war, and towards a girlfriend in London. He decides his only hope is to swim the Channel, so he signs up for lessons at the local pool. His instructor, Simon, is a lonely, aging man going through a divorce. He finds himself compelled to help Bilal, in the process awakening his own dulled spirit. But a neighbor reports Simon to the police, who tell him they will dissuade more migration by penalizing any local who offers them help. As in "Terraferma," the law is portrayed as contradicting basic human decency. In an early scene that inspires Simon, his ex-wife stands up to someone refusing service to refugees, declaring that indifference is worse than inaction. That's a message for us all. This column originally ran in The Daily Record.

An Interview with Director César Díaz Guatemalan director César Díaz's first feature film, “Our Mothers” (“Nuestras Madres”), screened Tuesday in the Critic’s Week section of the Cannes Film Festival (May 14-25). It tells the story of the victims of the country’s brutal 36-year civil war – not just the hundreds of thousands killed, the great majority Mayan, but also the tens of thousands “disappeared,” and their family members who still to this day search for some of them.​​ It does all this through the eyes of the tale’s protagonist, a young forensic anthropologist whose job requires him to sit through the heart-wrenching testimonies of indigenous women ​​raped by soldiers as they listened to their husbands and children be tortured or shot or both, then thrown into mass graves.​​​​ The protagonist believes his own father is still among the disappeared, giving the story a personal thread to follow. His mother has her own harrowing tale to tell.​​ Watching this tender, horrific, beautifully human film reminded me – again – of why we desperately need people from all corners of the world to tell their stories. And considering so many people fleeing violence in Central America are trying to find refuge in the United States, a humanitarian crisis made political, it’s even more urgent that we hear stories from this particular corner of the world. In fact, according to a report in The New York Times, Guatemalans represented the largest share of migrants in families apprehended by US Border Patrol between January and September of 2018, more than 42,000. Earlier this week, a 16-year-old boy who died in Border Patrol custody was the fifth Guatemalan minor to die since December after being apprehended on the US-Mexico border, according to Reuters. The Wounds of War Making a movie like this in Guatemala is no easy task. In an interview, Díaz explained to me how he pieced together financing mostly from Europe, kept local authorities in the dark about the project before shooting, and had to hire two circles of armed guards on location to protect the cast and crew from daily violence in Guatemala City once filming began. ​​Don’t think such security measures are unusual or excessive: Just two weeks ago, a Colombian filmmaker working on a documentary about victims of violence in his country was shot dead in the street. “Right now, it’s more dangerous to live in Guatemala City than in a country at war,” Díaz said. “It’s not just me saying that – it’s the statistics. In a city of 4 million inhabitants, there are 18 murders a day,” especially of young girls and women. For Díaz, the continuing violence is a legacy of the country’s still-fresh wounds of war and many of the same social inequalities that contributed to the civil war in the first place. His film, and other projects he has in the works, including a documentary about the stories behind the bodies at a Guatemala City morgue, are his way of contributing to that self-reflection and healing. “It’s really hard,” he admitted. “But at the same time, I think it’s important that we question ourselves about what’s happening, about that violence, and I think the only way to question ourselves is to confront it.” “We haven’t managed to heal our wounds.” The Power of Cinema Only a lucky few international movies get the exposure and promotional boost of an A-list festival like Cannes, but we live in an age where streaming services let us travel to these lands from the comfort of our own homes. In fact, your choice of what to stream this weekend can be a political statement. As Díaz suggested about getting his film made in Guatemala, where he said many former military leaders still hold a lot of power and some prefer a revisionist version of the country’s recent history, “The powers-that-be are pretty ignorant of the power of the image and cinema. If they had realized what was happening, they wouldn’t have let me film.” “Cinematographic creation, collective imagination was of no interest to them,” he added. “They do not know what impact a film can have.” And make no mistake: We need that impact. We need these films. We need them to teach us about each other, to send us to another place in the world, to put us inside someone else’s life and force us to see things through their eyes and experience their worlds. I’m sometimes overwhelmed by how long that feeling can last after just 90 minutes of film. “Our Mothers” isn’t yet available to stream in the US, but there are plenty of films from other corners of the globe that are. If you find a good one this weekend, let me know. Read More Read more of my interview with Díaz in The Hollywood Reporter, including details about his next projects. A version of this column originally ran in The Daily Record newspaper. Photo credits: Film still courtesy of Cannes Film Festival; César Díaz photographed by Mel Mencos.

Netflix may have been the first to crack the key European market with locally produced hit 'Money Heist,' but the streamer is now facing heated competition from the likes of Amazon, HBO, Viacom and local player Movistar, which are all vying for Spanish talent and content. When Netflix chief content officer Ted Sarandos took the stage at the world premiere of the third season of the streamer's international hit, Money Heist, in July, he was met with loud cheers and applause from the packed house at Madrid's downtown Callao Cinema. Outside, fans had amassed in front of the theater while ushers, donning red jumpsuits and Salvador Dali masks — as used by the outlaws in the series — managed the foot traffic. "It's a great honor to be with you tonight for the world premiere of La Casa de Papel," Sarandos said, pronouncing the Spanish title with an American accent to the delight of the audience. "This show is extraordinary. It is from Spain, but viewed all over the world. From Istanbul to Paris, from Rio to Los Angeles, fans love this show. They cannot wait, they cannot get enough of this infamous band, and they are clamoring for their return." It’s true. Money Heist has been one of Netflix's biggest international success stories and its most-watched non-English language series ever. It won an International Emmy and the third season was seen by more than 34 million households in the first seven days. Its lead actors are now internationally recognized. So it was noteworthy when Amazon Originals recently unveiled details of its first real slate of originals out of Spain, including the casting of Netflix's Money Heist and Elite co-star Jaime Lorente as the lead in its new series El Cid, made with Zebra Producciones and billed as one of Amazon's most ambitious series in Europe, as well as a 1940s-set mystery series in production with Bambu Producciones, known globally for its high-end period dramas for Netflix (Cable Girls, High Seas). Amazon is banking on Lorente's now-global appeal. It's also capitalizing on Bambu's proven track record with mystery dramas and Zebra's experience with historical productions, notes Concepcion Cascajosa, senior lecturer in media studies at Madrid's Carlos III University and a regular television columnist in El Pais newspaper. "The platforms aren't ordering new things — they're ordering productions that Spanish companies have experience in, and with good production values considering how cheap they are,” she says, calling the Spanish production sector "a well-oiled machine." Indeed, many of the companies and people working with Netflix in Spain also work with its competitors. In this relatively small territory, platforms are going head-to-head for projects and talent. Spain is an attractive market for multiple reasons, says Peter Welter Soler, partner in production services outfit Fresco Film and line producer in Spain on HBO's Game of Thrones and Netflix's Warrior Nun, among others. He cites relatively low prices and salaries for local productions, tax incentives with a payback cap that favors TV series more than feature films, a wide variety of geographic locations in a concentrated space and the infrastructure that comes with "a long tradition of training very highly qualified, international-standard crews" as factors driving the streamers to Spain. As the world awaits the new landscape of streaming to come in the year ahead — with the introduction of competitor platforms from Disney, HBO, Apple and NBCUniversal, and in light of the EU directive requiring streamers to carry at least 30 percent of content from the region — Spain can be seen as a case study for how they’re likely to compete. "For generations, one country and one culture has been exported around the world," Sarandos said at the Money Heist premiere. "What La Casa de Papel proves is that great stories can come from anywhere in the world and make the whole world happy." Read the complete story on The Hollywood Reporter.