“We are reminded, once again, that there are people both in front of and behind that camera,” Isaac You reflects in their review of The Gig Is Up, “that even this documentary relies on the active participation of humans.” The column I am talking about is one of four DOXA reviews in this issue — The Gig Is Up, Koto: The Last Service, You Are Not A Soldier and Kímmapiiyipitssini: The Meaning of Empathy. I tell you this not as aimless revelation, but because it gestures to what these reviews epitomize so effectively — even in the strictest of narratives, a documentary, there is room for nuance. A whole nervous system of it in fact. We interpret what we see — in the sorry stuff of 2021 — as stories to help us live. The sinister inertia of narrative-formining tends to suggest everything can be frozen and identified immediately. That safety lies in generalization. I worry that, because of the need to impose an intelligible narra
Kímmapiiyipitssini: The Meaning of EmpathyWhen you watch Kímmapiiyipitssini it is impossible not to constantly be aware of contrast. The idyllic mountains around the Kainai First Nation, and the grit of Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. The warm yellow light inside the Healing Lodge, and the harsh white glare of streetlights illuminating darkened alleys, and most of all, the strength and resilience demonstrated by the Kainai people and the systemic oppression they continue to face. In her documentary Kímmapiiyipitssini: The Meaning of Empathy, director Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers discusses the impacts of substance abuse, and a current drug-poisoning epidemic within the Kainai Reserve, located on what the Canadian government considers Southern Alberta. Through direct interviews with medical professionals, people in recovery, and various community leaders the film uses personal stories to highlight how the people of Kainai have been working to support so