Review : 'CSA: The Confederate States of America'

The docudrama bus rolls on apace with the release of Kevin Wilmott’s ‘CSA: Confederate States Of America’ – a film which attempts to examine American society from a fresh perspective by constructing an alternate timeline in which the South won the civil war.

After British and French intervention at the Battle of Gettysburg secures victory for the Confederate Army, southern institutions, businesses and families come to dominate American politics in the following years. After the slave economy is reinstalled in the northern states, the American government, in league with Hitler’s Germany, begins an imperialist campaign throughout the countries of South America. The Civil Rights movement is crushed following the assassination of JFK, leading to a popular uprising going into the 1990’s.

The most striking thing about this film is its style. It’s convincingly shot as a PBS documentary, complete with serious voice over, mock footage, phoney experts and ad breaks. It’s these moments, when products ranging from toothpaste to the latest shackles are peddled, which provide the most effective satire. The “Slave Shopping Network”, with its smiling presenters, streaming offers and product demonstrations seems lifted straight out of real life. CSA is infused with such moments to great effect. Unfortunately the rest of the film is not so sharp.

At times Wilmott’s manipulation of history is extremely clumsy. To take one example, America’s “new imperialism” is portrayed as a singular consequence of the confederate victory in the civil war – the fact that the antebellum government made a bid on Cuba in the years leading up to the war is not mentioned. More fundamentally, the notion of “cause and effect” upon which the story is based is highly questionable and often at odds with the abundant use of historical figures within the narrative. Why would the southern army rampage through the northern cities after their victory? Is it plausible that Henry David Thoreau would elect to live under a monarchy? Does the Elvis phenomenon make sense when not set against the backdrop of post-war America? And how can the presence of Jack Kennedy be explained when in actual fact the black vote was crucial to his 1960 election victory? The film feels very unhistorical, and for me that proved enough for its strong points to be somewhat undermined.

But then, I must remember that this is a film not about the past, but a film about America today. And indeed, in an age when absolutist morals are back on the political agenda, it made for eye-opening, sometimes chilling viewing. In this world, the NAACP is an organisation which, with echoes of fox news punditry, is described by one of the film’s central characters as “terrorists, pure and simple”. There are other allusions to controversial aspects of America under the present administration, including the Mexican border wall and the war in Iraq. There’s plenty to entertain the Bush basher here, and for many that will be enough.

Unfortunately for the viewer, the film increasingly tubthumps whilst failing to persuade, so that by the end we’re buried beneath a pile of stale sentiment. It’s a shame, because the idea is such an interesting one and the attempt is made with some style, but ultimately, a lack of substance makes what should have been an important, great film into a moment of passing interest.

The Closing Door

A few Fridays ago I decided to head to Pam Pam in Bristol with two friends for a few drinks. Although there was no queue outside, we were turned away by the stoic door staff who, when pressed, muttered something about the fact that we were all male. I told this story to the management, who explained that the door staff were simply adhering to their door policy; “Sometimes we don’t let groups of men in to balance out the numbers. It’s something [the door staff] like to do, because you don’t want one woman to seven men inside the club.” She added that they had never experienced any trouble coming from admitting groups of men, so it seems that the policy is in place to maintain a sophisticated ambience inside the venue. It seems that my friends and I just happened to turn up at the wrong time. Such a practice is typical at venues with pretensions of exclusivity.

Perhaps I shouldn’t complain. Access is arbitrarily denied to innocent clubbers every weekend, throughout the country, even at venues known for the inclusive attitude. Last year the attention of the liberal media fixed on the case of two lesbians who were turned away from Soho’s G.A.Y. club because, they were told, they didn’t “look dyke enough”. There was a modest outcry, and Peter Tatchell’s OutRage! gay rights campaign group voiced its concern. Looking back now, David Allison, a spokesman for the organisation, expresses only bemusement.

“It was very unusual, which was why it attracted such a lot of publicity at the time. G.A.Y, like anywhere else, is out to make money, and you don’t make money by turning away punters on the door… in reality, we rarely get complaints from people who were turned away because they look too gay, or too straight, or whatever. What happened to the two lesbians was exceptional.”

Perhaps the story of those two unfortunate women just shows that all it takes to ruin your night is one bouncer in a bad mood. The moment you join the queue, you capitulate to the whim of the guys at the door with black coats and walkie talkies, whether you like it or not. It remains the managements legal right to refuse entry, a fact often repeated when allegations of mistreatment are made by customers.

In September 2005 the Revolution bar in Edinburgh successfully deflected allegations of racism on the door when a British born Chinese student, Michael Lee, complained after being told by door staff that the venue was admitting “no Chinese tonight”. Two Edinburgh councillors championed Mr Lee’s case, pointing to similar incidents at the venue and calling for swift and appropriate action to be taken. A spokesperson for Luminar Leisure, which owns Revolution, defended the doormen’s actions in a statement to the Scotsman newspaper by explaining that they were in response to a violent incident involving over 30 Asian youths in the club earlier in the week. She highlighted the fact that when Lee was being turned away 30 Asian people were inside the venue, before making it clear that the powers of the management to refuse entry to anyone suspected of causing disruption or antisocial behaviour remain protected by law.

That being said, the privilege of the management extends only so far. There are limits to what is acceptable, and the law serves equally to protect us against discrimination and harassment. The Race Relations Act is one piece of legislation which exists for that purpose, and is strictly enforced by the Commission for Racial Equality. Despite this, indicators are that unfairly discriminative door policies along racial or ethnic lines are widely employed throughout the leisure industry.

There are watchdogs in place to safeguard against such behaviour and the first port of call for those who decide to speak out is often the local regional Racial Equality Council. Anne Matin, from the Norfolk and Norwich REC, explains their role. “We help clients to take their complaints to the civil courts when they feel they have been discriminated against, not just in cases where access has been denied but also if they have been mistreated when inside the club. Racial harassment is actually a criminal offence, and we refer those cases on to the police for consideration by the Crown Prosecution Service.” Matin is herself currently monitoring closely several such cases being brought against well-known venues in Norwich, and explains that racism on the door remains a serious concern. “We have been dealing with cases like this for over ten years since we started our “Not In Norwich” initiative… It’s still a very serious matter, because the UK is developing more of a leisure culture all the time. I don’t think some venues realise how seriously people take this issue.”

It is regrettable that such complaints are made against clubs and bars every single week. A proportion of these are of course unwarranted, but too many are made legitimately, after real offence has been caused and real upset felt. Nightclubs should be places where we can let our guard down, relax, socialise, and have fun. From the industry’s point of view, it makes no sense to discriminate against social groups. With competition within our expanding bar culture hotter than ever, venues can ill afford to write off entire sections of the market. It is simply prejudice, exercised by individuals, which keeps turning us away.

No, Thanks

There’s an advert on television at the moment which deserves mention. It features the Kodak art gallery (which, as was explained in a preceding spot, is a wonderful, magic place where President Kennedy landed on the moon and the civil rights movement graduated from college, or something), wherein a fat man helps an impossibly innocent ginger kid to a new type of automated photo kiosk.

During the advert the fat man asks the kid if he wants any help three times. At each step the value of the relationship between the two characters is increased. First, the kid can’t do up his shoelaces. So the fat man sides up to him, and from the corner of his mouth asks him, “do you want some help?”. The audience’s deduction is that the man has seen the kid trying to do up his shoelaces and, remembering how much trouble he had with the same problem when he was small boy, is empathising with him in a room full of indifferent, busy adults. Then the fat man ties the boy’s laces for him. It’s a touching fraternal gesture.

After that we see the boy waddling across the polished wooden floor with a big black crate that is just slightly too big for him to carry. Suddenly, the man is behind the boy once again offering help, and the offer is once again accepted. Fulfilling a paternal obligation, the man takes the heavy burden from the boy, who quickly scampers away, full of joy. The fat man watches the boy run as he bends to lift the crate, and murmurs that it’s “ok”. At this point the recording level is turned so high on the fat man’s microphone that it sounds to the audience as if he’s physically very close; almost as if he’s talking directly into their ears.

Finally, the boy reaches the impressive, high tech kiosk and the purpose of the crate is revealed – he is too small on his own to place the card into the machine. One final time the man asks the kid if he wants help. The kid looks into his face and says “Nah, I think I got it”. We’re shown in close up how easy the machine is to use as a picture of the boy’s dog emerges from the slot. “Hey, great picture!” says the fat man, a touch patronising but full of warmth. “Thanks!” says the boy, pleased that he’s earned recognition from his new friend. Another happy story in the Kodak art gallery is drawn to a close.

The central message of this advert is clearly intended to be that the new photo kiosk is childsplay to use for customers, but it’s obvious what’s really going on here. The fat man is Kodak, and the boy is us, the prospective customer. The basic assumption is that we are ignorant and confused, so we need reassurances and reminders as to where to spend our money. In this case, the benevolent conglomerate just happens to wrapped up in the character of a condescending, obese, white American man.

Presumably, some people will find this advert cute and touching, and be inspired to trust Kodak in their new line of products and services. Conversely, some will take this advert as hard evidence of the swaggering self righteousness of a bloated company that’s sitting on an assured market and entertaining the delusional notion that it gives customers more than simply the functional, temporary, empty, costly thing that it’s selling.

I wonder where they found their test audience.