LECHE/MALA LECHE

NAOMI UMAN

• The Hideout, Friday, 6:00PM
• Leche: Mexico | Black and White | 30min | optical Sound | 1998
• Mala Leche: USA | Color | 47min| mono optical sound | 2003

Whether in the realm of documentary or fiction, the most exciting and unique filmmakers find ways to defy established boundaries and challenge conventions. With her documentaries Leche and Mala Leche, Naomi Uman releases herself from a typical narrative structure and the projection of an obligatory plot upon her subjects. Uman is thoughtful enough to understand that real people are more interesting than that. They have too many good stories.

Documenting the daily routines of a family's dairy ranch in Central Mexico, Leche is interested in capturing the textures, the layers of images and sounds, of a culture rarely seen on film. Images of the everyday, from hands milking an udder to the blinking of a cow's eye, are made strangely poetic accompanied by the music of cows mooing, crickets chirping, and women singing traditional folk songs. Although technically a documentary, Leche is more than the recording of reality. Much of the film's charm arises from the awkward, shy looks from her subjects, both human and animal, unsure of how to act in front of the camera. In fact, more often than not, her subjects perform for the camera. Uman recalls the man, whom she describes as a real cowboy, sit to have his hair cut, pull out a loaded gun, and tell the woman that if you fuck up my hair, I'll blow off your toes. The woman simply laughs. The family lives primarily an isolated existence, but the film reveals their sense of togetherness. These are people who have only their family and their livestock, and they work hard to take care of both.

Mala Leche is the cynical, more jaded relative of its predecessor. Uman continues her interest in the compelling and unique stories told in every family, but whereas those in Leche were largely hopeful, the stories found in Mala Leche are filled with sadness. The film follows members from the same family in Leche who have migrated to California. The rural sounds of animals and folk music are replaced with lawnmowers and Shakira. Focusing on this one particular family, Uman finds a story of alcoholism, debt, and child abuse. It is implied that such a life is symptomatic of many Mexican immigrants, overworked, underpaid, neglected, and resented. Uman points out the billboards and signs conveying a xenophobic attitude hostile to Mexican immigrants that decorate the California landscape. However, all should not be seen as hopeless, that no matter what hardships they may face, the people of Leche and Mala Leche will endure together as a family. To think otherwise would be to underestimate the vitality of their spirit, something Uman will simply not allow us to do.