2017 Central Illinois Feminist Film Festival Winners! High School and Undergraduate Documentary and Fictional Films

A. Documentary:

High School Winners

1st place: Letters to Lucy, dir. Lana Nguyen:

2nd place: TRANSaction: Stepping out of the Closet. Dir. Bridgit Galaty:

UG Winners

1st place: Gaining Altitude. Dir. Kristen Currier:

Film on Vimeo

2nd place: To the Brown Girl in the Room. Dir. Zoe Davidson:

Fictional Films:

High School Winners

1st place: Revelation. Dir. Catriona McLean:

Revelation on Film Freeway (ask permission to access)

2nd place: A Broken Match. Dir. Bridget Johnson:

UG Winners

1st Place: Sandra: Say Her Name. Dir. Jamie Walker:

Film Freeway VIdeo (ask permission to access)

2nd Place: Super Predator. Dir. Kalechi Agwacha:

FIlm Freeway Video (please ask permission to access)

Nemesis: Two Versions

Nemesis

I saved narcissus

from a frost; its reflection

echoes in the glen.

Nemesis

I saved

narcissus

from a frost

its reflection

echoes

in the glen.

Central Illinois Feminist Film Festival

2017 Central Illinois Feminist Film Festival Official Selections

Welcome to our virtual film festival! These selections will be available for screening until April 1, 2017.

To view films unavailable on Youtube or Vimeo, you can click on the links and insert the following user name and password:

user name: rlmurray@eiu.edu
pw: nib8.pet


A. Documentary Selections

High School Selections

Letters to Lucy
Luna Nguyen
downloadedvideo

Solidarity
Sylvia Gabriel, Ann Arbor, MI
downloadedlink

TRANSaction: Stepping Out of the Closet
Bridget Galaty, Denver, Colorado





Undergraduate Selections

Gaining Altitude by Kristen Currier from the Massachusetts College of Art and Design

To the Brown Girl in the Room by Zoe Davidson from Oberlin College in Ohio

B. Fictional Film Selections

High School Selections:

A Broken Match by Bridget Johnson:

Revelation by Catriona McLean: Filmfreewayvideo



Undergraduate Selections:

Super Predator by Kelechi Agwucha: Super Predator on Filmfreeway


Sandra: Say Her Name by Jamie Walker: Sandra on Filmfreeway



Selbst by Jeni Hudson

A Trinity Plus One

A Trinity Plus One

Because father warned

The Bad Eldils are watching

we tore off

only four squares

of toilet paper

ate no more than

four

marshmallows

poured

just four scoops

of coffee

in the percolator.

With pointed

horned and fanged shadows

eldils painted walls

with dunce caps

their dark angles canting

like the somnambulist

rising

from Dr. Caligari’s cabinet.

How could we know

they were angels,

C. S. Lewis

“imagining out loud”

a trinity plus one

The Father

son

with the angels

and

watching us through glass

the Bent One.

Autumn Drive

   Autumn Drive

1

What do you think

I thought

stuttering without sleep

calling out in my dream

for silence.

            2

After Thanksgiving

I can’t get past

Jacob tricking Abraham

stealing blessings

that should be free.

            3

More and more

I want to walk across

November cornfields

feeling mud

cement me to a ground.

Meek's Cutoff (2010) and Drought

Meek’s Cutoff (2010) presents water as a character, a goal, and a source of conflict. When water is abundant, the three pioneer families treat water as a necessary resource, a character in their journey across Oregon where they ford a river, gather and store water in communal barrels, wash clothes and dishes, and provide sustenance for a caged canary. When it is scarce, water transforms into an off-screen antagonist and yearned for Deus ex Machina.

The “lost” scratched into a dead tree forebodes the dry land beyond the river. It’s also a real detail drawn from women’s diaries and records of Oregon Trail journeys screenwriter Jon Raymond and Reichardt researched for the film. In the journals, the carved “Lost” message signifies “the discovery of what might have been gold at a time when the imperative was water.” And the super-distant shot of the group reinforces their connection to the landscape they traverse, with the horizon line framing them as they nearly disappear into the scrub grass. 

The three covered wagons cross in and out of on-screen space to heighten these connections, amplified by a hat blowing across the dry plain. When their wheels whine like the windmill at the opening of Once Upon a Time in the West, the cry heightens the settlers’ painful thirst. As A.O. Scott declares, the “small covered wagons look like coffins on wheels.” With this emphasis on the desert landscape as character, the film places the action off-center, showing the men talking at a distance, so we overhear only a few words or revealing a late-night conversation between Emily and Solomon only through the light of a decorative lantern.

The film reveals the consequences of drought in small ways. When women’s faces are shown in close-up, they look hot, dry, and dusty like the parched land they cross. They sip water from a communal cup while their men sit in the shade of a rocky hill. One woman quietly states, “We should have taken more at the river” and wonders how the oxen will survive, dumping extra weight out of wagons to help them. And they gaze into barrels, showing their despair as they seem to see the whorls and knots of wood at the bottom. 

Reichardt’s on-location filming amplifies these responses. As she explains in a Guardian interview, “The desert is beautiful. But it’s 110 degrees. Everything’s so unfriendly and prickly, and the fine dust gets in the vehicle wheels…. There was a struggle to get to set every day with all the animals, but it put everyone in the frame of mind to think about what conditions were actually like on the Oregon Trail.” The film is also a good way to explore the continuing conflicts over water and the land.

Walking with Dolly and Him

 He’s on the stoop, phoning me for a walk.

It’s Sunday, and I pull wind pants over tights

and a sweater too long, tucked into panties.

Sweating, I harness Dolly

and shoot down the street,

startling squirrels and grackles and the kids

who are all chalk.

We meet across from the water tower

and enter a cul-de-sac, its slow track

of sand cracking in the slanted cold. We cough

and kick rocks into gaps,

grinning like fences

 as we march.

Because it’s Sunday, early enough to

smell frost, and we’re friends

to all that’s chucked in the trash heap

our talk is rubbish: Indonesia and orangutans lost

to palm oil, pension plans and the narrowing hips

of a sick woman’s frame turning away.

An empty waste bag tumbles across

a hotel parking lot

showing us

one way to go.