Title: Rice for Sale
Date: Friday, April 18
Time: 5 pm
Place: Tapps Art Center
Time: 5 pm
Place: Tapps Art Center
Natives of that swampy peninsula where old folks go to perish in the sun, we found ourselves escaping to a colder land in Massachusetts two years ago. Then, rather quickly, we returned to the South after enduring New England’s blizzard of a century. Lovely North Carolina is our home now, specifically Chapel Hill/Durham. Since moving back, our southern drawl has crept back in, too. And by drawl, I mean the three words that make us sound remotely southern. Our non-regional diction is actually stunningly unplaceable. Other than that, we just ate grits for the first time a week ago. Goat-cheesy grits with roasted tomatoes. Pretty goddamn delicious.
Our inspiration came during the final shooting stages of our first documentary, Por Dinero, which played at Indie Grits last year. In the same Asian restaurant where that film idea spawned, three undocumented Balinese men began working. We wondered why these men would leave the “island of the Gods” or “last paradise on Earth,” jump ship, and work illegally for 4 dollars an hour. It led us on a 6-month studying spree delving into the the island’s history, economics, religion, language, mythology, etc. Our goal was to find the balance of the island between native custom and modern tourism–to see it in the eyes of the Hindus themselves. After raising almost $9,000 via Kickstarter, we ventured far, only to have our documentary proposal be shattered in every way possible.
We began making films together while cuddling in our mother’s womb. It was destiny. We were eleven when The Cellar Trilogy was born- an epic tale of the races of Inside and Outside people. There were twelve characters all played by us. Being twins, it was quite confusing. Another decade passed and Roger Beebe taught us the ways of experimental filmmaking. Our world has been rocked ever since.
We learned of these men called Kuta Cowboys–young Balinese men who’d stake out touristy Kuta beach, leech on to middle-aged woman, make them temporarily fall in love, then hope for a cash reward or a new motorbike. Ciko, a 350lb. native who always complained that he was having “too much sex,” was drinking Johnnie Walker Red Label with us one night at our friend’s roadside food stall. Three towering Russian women– literally a daughter, mother, and grandmother (who was about 80 years old)–joined us and became rather merry, dancing flagrantly and spitting their language out like goats would if goats could speak. Ciko disappeared with the mother of the group, came back sweating like a stuck pig, and suddenly the vibes grew dense as they disgustingly heaved their bodies back in forth to the music’s rhythm while thrusting tongues in each others’ faces. The next time we saw Ciko, he was still complaining about having too much sex.
We are really looking forward to making the 3-hour drive to Colombia for a couple days and seeing what the festival is all about. Also, we are excited to meet the one they call Yates.
Rice for Sale is a film that doesn’t scream its truth. It’s a quiet testimony to the downfall of a beautiful island in Southeast Asia. Plus, we didn’t edit the film. We took entire 16mm rolls in their wholeness and stuck them back to back to back–ten in a row. If you want to come see a documentary that ignores the traditional genre by experimenting with narrative, form, structure, style, and technique, then go see this thing.