|
|||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
Incarcerated youth get new focus on life through film By Liza Simon / Ka Wai Ola Flashback to Day One of an intensive film workshop at the Hawai'i Youth Correctional Facility, where 12 wards are being told that they will learn to write and produce two movies all of their own making – from concept to costume, in just two weeks time. B. slumps in her chair and curses. Others simply stare into space. When workshop director Alex Muñoz introduces himself in both his native Chamorro language and in Sāmoan, some are openly hostile. They tell him to speak Hawaiian. Muñoz asks them to teach him the language, but a somber silence follows. Muñoz is aware of the over-representation of indigenous ethnicity in HYCF – at least 60 percent of the population is Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander. Their view of him as an intruder speaks volumes about the depths of their alienation. But Muñoz, the founder of FYI – Films from Youth Inside – was undeterred by the unpromising start. Even in facilities for the most violent juvenile offenders, he has gotten good results from placing potent tools of movie-making in the hands of the disempowered. “I always say just because you may be locked up in here, there is no reason why you can't free your mind,” said Muñoz. Over the next few days, Muñoz led the HYCF youths through exercises for team-building, encouraging them to cut loose and improvise. Hawai'i movie professionals showed up at HYCF to volunteer their help. Resistance to the project started to melt away – slowly. Muñoz credits the Hawai'i pros for returning day after day. The USC film grad's modus operandi has been to train local industry people to continue his curriculum for incarcerated juveniles, thus giving the message to the kids that “people really care about them.” It's a message that HYCF hasn't been noted for. The facility is currently operating under an agreement with the federal government to improve services, including educational programs. New HYCF administrator Al Carpenter did his homework on Muñoz before seeking the state attorney general's approval for the film workshop, which was financed in Hawai'i by a private donor. “We need to teach these kids that opportunities do come their way when they are young, or otherwise they will just sink back into the apathy that is part of their disadvantaged background,” said Carpenter. A real-life subplot of transformation clearly emerged by the workshop's third day as Muñoz engaged the HYCF youth in screenwriting. Muñoz began by asking the youngsters to create characters and discuss what they “want, fear, love and dream about …” The youths drew their answers from their own chaotic lives. One of their scripts is about a star football player tempted into selling drugs to help out a grandmother too poor to afford her medication. The other is about a would-be rap star from Sāmoa who arrives in Hawai'i seeking a record deal that will help buy a home for his parents, but ends up homeless. The boys who came forward to play the leads surprised everyone, because they are normally withdrawn or shy. Most surprisingly, the scripts have upbeat endings. The young wards insisted on this, even though Muñoz gave them plenty of examples of story plots that did not follow the typical western convention of conflict resolution. “Flimmaking for these kids is like occupational therapy. They gain a distance from their personal histories and get insight about better choices. This says to me that they know they have a future to look forward to,” said Muñoz. On the final production day, M. the once-shy leading man, said his first reaction to the project was that it would be “junk.” His friend P., seated next to him on a couch inside a facility building, describes a hula class that didn't work out. “We like the ancestry kine stuff, but we didn't like it that they made us just follow something that was all forced on us,” he said. Both agree that film project has given them a chance to talk about their “struggles.” They both dropped out of school in ninth grade, faced homelessness, domestic abuse and drug use. “The big struggle is now … right here,” P. says. “I gotta learn to get along with 40 or 50 inmates here – each with their own personality … or I'll end up in some bigger, worse place.” He adds that the film workshop has given him an idea for life after incarceration: “Now I think I could make a documentary someday about growing up in Hawai'i. People think it's all sunshine and grass shacks, but I'll show them what it's really like.” B. is one of two girls participating in the workshop. She hasn't completely shed the tough posturing she exhibited on the first day. But on this last day, she is easily humored by a youth correction officer who calls her a star. “B. isn't the type of kid who would seek out a drama class in her community, but she has so much talent,” says the officer. A smile softens B.'s face as she cradles an expensive hand-held camera she is using to document “behind the scenes” action – perhaps for a movie about “the making of the HYCF movie.” B. gives the film project two thumbs up because it's added new job titles to their names. As part of the workshop, she has rotated through several positions on the set – grip, camera, sound, assistant director. “When people see my movie, they will see I'm not just a ... nothing person,” she says. Muñoz said many of the HYCF youth spoke with him in the final days of the workshop about job opportunities in the film industry. “They were happy to discover they could do something that was fun and fulfilling and get paid for it too,” he said. He has seen a few of his incarcerated charges go on to careers in the industry. Making movies is good all-around job training, Muñoz observes, noting that it promotes attention to deadlines and work ethic. But the real point of the workshops, he insists, is not so much vocational as it is visionary. “Film is a medium that belongs to young people,” he said. “Give it to them. Let them use it, and they will shoot in this way that is very free and show us what it is like to be human.” |
|||||