Zootopia Documentary

[Eustolia Pennycuff]

Mymarch through the 62 films nominated for Oscars draws close to a successful end with these thoughts about films from Silence to Zootopia, with a few others that I watched since beginning this a couple of weeks ago.

But here's the thing: I may have seen all 62, but devoted film buffs here in Amarillo could have seen 54 of them in Amarillo without my press connections. All but eight films in this cycle screened here or were available online or on disc before Sunday's awards: Elle, I Am Not Your Negro, Land of Mine, My Life As a Zucchini, The Red Turtle, The Salesman, Toni Erdmann and Watani: My Homeland. That includes the 10 shorts coming Friday and quick in-and-out runs for films like Silence (see below), or Netflix exclusive like 13th, Extremis and The White Helmets. (Really devoted buffs could have traveled to Lubbock to see Elle and I Am Not Your Negro, or as far as Abilene, Albuquerque, Santa Fe and Oklahoma City to see all but Zucchini, Salesman and Watani.)

That speaks not only to the rapidly growing digital world and the ever-shortening window between theatrical release and home availability, but also to the slow but steady increase in the number of prestige films that screen here.

Fire at Sea: Director Gianfranco Rosi's documentary is about the thousands of refugees and migrants streaming into Europe, fleeing nightmares so profound that risking their lives crossing the Mediterranean in leaky, overcrowded boats is a better option. It's also about the ordinary lives of the residents of Lampedusa, an island south of Sicily that's only about 70 kilometers from the African coast, where boys make slingshots and grandmothers call in to request Italian standards on the radio and doctors treat lazy eyes. It's a considerably bifurcated treatment that, at first, is off-putting. The boy doesn't have any major encounters with the refugees. The grandmother whispers a prayer when she hears of the deaths of dozens of migrants, then goes right back to cooking. The doctor, though, also treats malnourished pregnant refugees and mourns over those who didn't survive the trip. Meanwhile, an African man half-cries, half-sings about fleeing ISIS killers: "The mountains could not hide us, the people could not hide us, so we went to the sea." A Syrian man literally cries tears of blood. It feels like two movies, and I think that's the point Rosi is making: The horrific trauma undergone by the refugees is an aberration against nature, against the mundane, calm rhythm of ordinary life. Once you realize that the two halves purposefully cannot be reconciled, it's a highly moral argument, ultimately, and a highly effective one. (Nominated for best documentary feature. Seen via iTunes; available on disc March 21)

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