Trading With the Enemy |
:: | FILM DAY FOUR: Business Unusual By Tobias Peterson |
After attending a few of these film festivals, one begins to recognize and interpret certain tell-tale signs. For example, if a cheer goes up at the appearance of the boom operator’s credit in a movie, this means that his or her family is in attendance at the screening. If certain segments of the crowd boo or hiss the appearance of the editor’s credit, this means that members of the cast are in the crowd. And if the filmmaker introduces a film by explaining that it took eight years to edit, this means that the film to will be as rambling and incoherent as a George Bush monologue after the teleprompters break.
Trading With the Enemy, unfortunately, was introduced in just such a fashion. The film that followed was doubly disappointing because its subject offered such potential. The documentary tells the story of Terry, an enterprising fellow whose main occupation seems to be smuggling Cuban cigars into the United States. The film follows Terry on one of his business trips, recording his efforts to collect the cigars from various factories in order to sell them at a massive mark-up to upscale lounges and bars back in America. The trip is not all business, though. Along the way, Terry finds time to carouse in local cantinas and spends time with a variety of young, pretty Cuban women. Their company represents still another form of illicit commerce, as it is clear that Terry’s money is what keeps them around.
Trading With the Enemy, then, could be a probing look at alternative economies of exchange, informed by the ongoing trade embargo the United States maintains against Cuba. We do see glimpses of this idea, as Terry’s associates are shown at times complaining to the camera about conditions in their home country. One scene shows a drunken local ranting about his hatred for the all the American presidents. When he asks a passerby to chime in, though, the man looks pointedly at the camera and politely refuses to comment, hinting at the specter of government repression.
For his part, Terry shows little interest in the politics involved with his cultural exchange. Instead, he methodically collects his cigars, consorts with local women, and drinks Cuban beer. What’s more frustrating, however, is that the film for the most part seems to share his attitude. Rather than giving further screen time to examining the embargo’s effect on the country, it opts for a variety of cinematic montages, showcasing slow-motion scenes that feature dancers at local clubs or sunbathers at the beach. The random introduction of such tangents speaks to the difficulty (eight years’ worth) in editing Trading With the Enemy into a coherent whole. What’s worse, they interrupt the film’s narrative and keep it from exploring the social or political context of Terry’s business activities in any meaningful way.
A more successful documentary dealing with the other side of business is Slasher, a documentary by John Landis (Animal House, Blues Brothers). The title refers not to horror flicks, but to the moniker given to used car salesmen. A “slasher” is a traveling selling specialist, brought in to bolster the regular salespeople by dramatically reducing the ticketed price of the cars.
The film follows one such specialist, Michael Bennett, who arrives at a Memphis dealership to invigorate a sale being held over Memorial Day weekend. In tow is Kevin, Bennett’s hand picked DJ, and Mud, a mercenary salesman from Washington who Bennett selects to bolster the local crew. The trio’s arrival is looked upon by the regulars with a mixture of reverence and expectation, as legends about their selling prowess proceed them. Before the sale, though, the three seem more like old high school buddies than seasoned professionals, bragging, telling war stories, and roughhousing around in the days leading up to the sale.
The main focus, however, is squarely on Bennett. He is introduced in the film preparing for his trip at the last minute, throwing clothes into a suitcase and hurriedly kissing his wife and children good-bye. No time to eat, Bennett instead pulls two beers out of the fridge on his way out the door. It’s 7 AM.
As the scene indicates, Bennett is at once a devoted family man and a relentless alcoholic. He¡s the kind of character few scriptwriters could produce. A bundle of manic energy, Bennett is also a study in constant motion. Unable to sit still, he is constantly talking, which perhaps explains his success as a salesman. He has an uncanny ability to hypnotize the listener with overwhelming emissions of verbiage. Bennett is so full of energy and talk that his behavior seems more pathological than a personality trait.
Once the sale begins, though, Bennett is in his element. Dressed in a tuxedo and with a microphone in hand, he dashes around the lot exclaiming, “Price sells cars!” and encouraging patrons to “Buy a car, be a star!” As the sale drags on with less success than expected, Bennett becomes an increasingly sympathetic character, engaged in a Herculean effort to part customers from their hard-earned money.
Ultimately, Bennett and his crew are selling not cars, but themselves. The art of the sale is the film’s focus, then, as director Landis revealed in the post screening Q & A. The project was originally intended to investigate the ways in which President Bush “sold” the idea of Saddam Hussein’s involvement in September 11th and his possession of weapons of mass destruction. After realizing that news footage cost 400 dollars a second, however, Landis hit upon the car salesman as a suitable substitute for examining the workings of salesmanship.
Such a focus is an appropriate one for SXSW. Whether contemplating the ways in which cars are sold or the ways in which the legal economy is circumvented entirely, both films are on offer in a festival that is itself a venue for a particular kind of exchange. The films of the festival are essentially being sold, to studios, to distributors, and to audiences. Some, like Slasher, are well worth purchasing and others, like Trading With the Enemy, are better left on the shelf.