Zoneboy
08-22-2008, 01:41 PM
Link (http://honoluluweekly.com/film/current-film/2008/08/viva-zapata/)
Viva Zapata
The Gits is a loving portrait of a fantastic singer tragically silenced
by Dean Carrico / 8-6-2008
http://honoluluweekly.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/filmcgits.jpg
(L–R) Mia Zapata, Steve Moriarty, Andrew Kessler and Matt Dresdner.
Full disclosure: Mia Zapata, the subject of the new documentary The Gits, was a personal friend. That’s really not a surprise for people involved in the punk scene in the late ’80s and early ’90s. “She touched a lot of people,” says drummer Steve Moriarty, “and a lot of people considered Mia their best friend, because she probably was a best friend to a lot of people.” In the new film by first-time director Kerri O’Kane, Zapata is seen to have had a lot of friends. The difficulty, then, is judging a film regarding subject matter with which you are familiar. Some may say I should be precluded from review because of my closeness to the subject matter. Like O’Kane, however, it comes from a desire to make sure the story of her life is done right.
The film chronicles the forming of The Gits, their move west from Antioch College in Ohio to Seattle, Wash., and how their rise was cut tragically short by Zapata’s brutal rape and murder in 1993. At the time of principal filming, her death remained unsolved, despite case studies appearing on television shows such as Unsolved Mysteries and America’s Most Wanted. The director’s approach is to document the 27-year-old’s life through a series of photographs, talking heads of friends and family and an astounding collection of concert footage, most dubbed over with the studio recordings so the viewer can clearly hear her powerhouse voice: a mixture of Bessie Smith, Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks and Tom Waits.
Often when dealing with the subject of Zapata’s death, reporters make much of The Gits being on the verge of making it big, as if to put the tragedy into a higher level of importance, somewhat caustically stating that it wasn’t just a person, it was a person who had talent. Indeed, O’Kane sets aside one interview with Tim Sommer from Atlantic Records, 20 minutes into the film, in which he stated his admiration of the band and his past intention to sign them.
For friends and fans, this is a misstep, turning her life into the story of a fame missed, while totally ignoring her lyrics in the song, “Slaughter of Bruce,” where she sang, …some fool came up to me and said you’d make a star with that band/I said, it’s not why we’re doing this, why can’t you ****ing get it?
There are points when it becomes apparent that the director is an outsider looking in, dealing with a close-knit circle of friends reluctant to discuss their feelings to yet another camera and microphone. This probably explains why some of the material, particularly involving details of her death, are tread upon lightly. On one hand, it’s commendable to pay such respect to the subject matter, but such sensitivity backfires when O’Kane changes the song title from “While You’re Twisting, I’m Still Breathing” to “Twisting, Breathing” (Zapata was strangled with the cords from her hooded sweatshirt).
The first is the stronger half of the film, building a genuine respect and admiration for Zapata and the rest of The Gits; friends first and band members second. It’s a lovingly-crafted remembrance of an extraordinary person.
The murder isn’t addressed until the halfway point, and it’s here that objectivity is harder to separate with O’Kane’s decisions, which are obviously demurring so as to remain respectful of Zapata’s friends and family. There’s a brief mention of suspicion and fear as police continually question members of the Seattle music scene, but we fail to get a real sense of the uncertainty of it all, most likely because the interviews are taken nearly a decade after her death. Seattle bands rallied to benefit shows to help pay for a private investigator, but no new leads surfaced. “We found a lot of dirt on a lot of people,” says Moriarty, “but in the end we didn’t find out who killed her, and we still haven’t.”
Ten years after her death, however, as O’Kane was in Post-production, Jesus Mezquia was arrested on the other side of the country in Florida, found as a result of DNA profiling. The sudden change in the story forced the director to revisit most of the cast. Unfortunately, these moments are almost anticlimactic after seeing how Zapata’s life and music inspired others, from friends, bands like riotgrrl favorite 7 Year Bitch and musicians such as Joan Jett (who makes an appearance). But by then, we’re already sold.
Most of us are fortunate to have stuck around this world a bit longer than Mia Zapata. How many will be so lucky as to have these words carved on our tombstones: Cherished Daughter–Sister–Friend–Artist–Git.
Viva Zapata
The Gits is a loving portrait of a fantastic singer tragically silenced
by Dean Carrico / 8-6-2008
http://honoluluweekly.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/filmcgits.jpg
(L–R) Mia Zapata, Steve Moriarty, Andrew Kessler and Matt Dresdner.
Full disclosure: Mia Zapata, the subject of the new documentary The Gits, was a personal friend. That’s really not a surprise for people involved in the punk scene in the late ’80s and early ’90s. “She touched a lot of people,” says drummer Steve Moriarty, “and a lot of people considered Mia their best friend, because she probably was a best friend to a lot of people.” In the new film by first-time director Kerri O’Kane, Zapata is seen to have had a lot of friends. The difficulty, then, is judging a film regarding subject matter with which you are familiar. Some may say I should be precluded from review because of my closeness to the subject matter. Like O’Kane, however, it comes from a desire to make sure the story of her life is done right.
The film chronicles the forming of The Gits, their move west from Antioch College in Ohio to Seattle, Wash., and how their rise was cut tragically short by Zapata’s brutal rape and murder in 1993. At the time of principal filming, her death remained unsolved, despite case studies appearing on television shows such as Unsolved Mysteries and America’s Most Wanted. The director’s approach is to document the 27-year-old’s life through a series of photographs, talking heads of friends and family and an astounding collection of concert footage, most dubbed over with the studio recordings so the viewer can clearly hear her powerhouse voice: a mixture of Bessie Smith, Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks and Tom Waits.
Often when dealing with the subject of Zapata’s death, reporters make much of The Gits being on the verge of making it big, as if to put the tragedy into a higher level of importance, somewhat caustically stating that it wasn’t just a person, it was a person who had talent. Indeed, O’Kane sets aside one interview with Tim Sommer from Atlantic Records, 20 minutes into the film, in which he stated his admiration of the band and his past intention to sign them.
For friends and fans, this is a misstep, turning her life into the story of a fame missed, while totally ignoring her lyrics in the song, “Slaughter of Bruce,” where she sang, …some fool came up to me and said you’d make a star with that band/I said, it’s not why we’re doing this, why can’t you ****ing get it?
There are points when it becomes apparent that the director is an outsider looking in, dealing with a close-knit circle of friends reluctant to discuss their feelings to yet another camera and microphone. This probably explains why some of the material, particularly involving details of her death, are tread upon lightly. On one hand, it’s commendable to pay such respect to the subject matter, but such sensitivity backfires when O’Kane changes the song title from “While You’re Twisting, I’m Still Breathing” to “Twisting, Breathing” (Zapata was strangled with the cords from her hooded sweatshirt).
The first is the stronger half of the film, building a genuine respect and admiration for Zapata and the rest of The Gits; friends first and band members second. It’s a lovingly-crafted remembrance of an extraordinary person.
The murder isn’t addressed until the halfway point, and it’s here that objectivity is harder to separate with O’Kane’s decisions, which are obviously demurring so as to remain respectful of Zapata’s friends and family. There’s a brief mention of suspicion and fear as police continually question members of the Seattle music scene, but we fail to get a real sense of the uncertainty of it all, most likely because the interviews are taken nearly a decade after her death. Seattle bands rallied to benefit shows to help pay for a private investigator, but no new leads surfaced. “We found a lot of dirt on a lot of people,” says Moriarty, “but in the end we didn’t find out who killed her, and we still haven’t.”
Ten years after her death, however, as O’Kane was in Post-production, Jesus Mezquia was arrested on the other side of the country in Florida, found as a result of DNA profiling. The sudden change in the story forced the director to revisit most of the cast. Unfortunately, these moments are almost anticlimactic after seeing how Zapata’s life and music inspired others, from friends, bands like riotgrrl favorite 7 Year Bitch and musicians such as Joan Jett (who makes an appearance). But by then, we’re already sold.
Most of us are fortunate to have stuck around this world a bit longer than Mia Zapata. How many will be so lucky as to have these words carved on our tombstones: Cherished Daughter–Sister–Friend–Artist–Git.