Life In Loops - (A Megacities RMX)
Life In Loops is an interesting re-working of Michael Glawogger’s controversial documentary: Megacities, with music by the Sofa Surfers, that exposes the seedier side of four great megalopolises around the globe, in an unflinching and confronting manner.
Initially, it contains many great images, including an overhead shot of mostly white-shirted men in India, jumping on a train pulling into a station before it has stopped. They are like bits of dust drawn to a static fibre. There is also an unforgettable image of an Indian man sifting dye powder: the colours are magnificent, and the sight of this man covered in these lurid colours, with coloured dust flying up into the air, leaving a surreal hue is both beautiful and bizarre. It’s like a piece of performance art – except that the reality is, with all the powder he’s inhaling day after day, his job will probably end up killing him.
You see, the film isn’t designed to show the beauty of mega cities. We all know how deceptively prosperous they can appear - on the surface. This film focuses instead, on the slums, scavengers, beggars and urban nomads, and the reality that cities have been built on the blood and sweat of industry and the labour of invisible people who struggle day to day, and who can but dream of a better life.
The plight of these people – pimps, blue-collar workers, desperate junkies and sex workers smacks the viewer in the face, particularly because of the inclusion of face-to-camera dialogue.
The film raises interesting dilemmas. For instance, what’s worse: the pimps who exploit women, or the hustlers who exploit the men who would normally exploit the women. Take, for instance, the drugged-up hustler Joe – “The Professor”, who tells us he goes by many names. He makes a living pimping non-existent women: he sells time with prostitutes, and then sends the hapless men to fake addresses. Actually the addresses are real, but the occupants are regular people. By the time the target has realised the scam, Joe is on the train and out of there. He has no qualms about this, and adds fervently: “f*** you; you mother, your father, your children. All I want is the money”. Then we see him taking a spin through the streets in a convertible, barely able to keep his head up, taking in the city through vacant eyes. Of course he wants the money. He has to support his drug habit. In fact, during the interview, sweating profusely, eyes only occasionally opened through heavy lids, he ends up simply falling asleep and snoring.
Exploitation is rife. There’s a brutal cock-fighting scene, in which this viewer was happy to be watching a DVD, able to press the fast-forward button, and speeding through the following scene, depicting the mass slaughter of poultry that can only be described as bloody and sickening carnage.
Then we meet Cassandra, who presents a stage routine that is presumably supposed to be sexy, but which is in fact, vulgar and demeaning. Men perform sex acts on her. It is (thankfully) filmed from a distance and the music is subdued. It’s as if we’re taken inside her head, as she detaches herself from the horror of the work she is forced to do to make a living - if you could call it living.
At the end of the routine, (after she has beaten and kicked off those who won’t leave her alone), the host encourages the audience to give her a round of applause. She stands, most likely relieved that it is all over. There is nothing titillating about this: it’s sickening. And it becomes downright heartbreaking in the next scene, in which Cassandra is filmed in a bus, on her way home from work. We learn that her real name is Maria, and she proceeds to tell us about her children, and her wish to buy a piece of land. This is very good documentary filmmaking: not to have stopped at the end of “Cassandra’s” stage act, but to force the viewer to see the real person. For it is the objectification of people that allows others to exploit them. The filmmakers humanise Maria, and compel people in the audience who may have watched lurid performances themselves, to be mindful of their shameless degradation of another human being.
One can’t help but feel heartbroken not only for Maria, but for all women around the world who are exploited and who have little hope of escaping the squalor and degradation in which they live.
But another dilemma arises: is it any more acceptable to exploit objects, bearing in mind that those objects are ostensibly objectifications of peope? Some men exploit not the women themselves, but the objects they have become, as is evident when we meet a young Manga-otaku, with a penchant for stylised illustrated pornography, often depicting young girls, and who plays computer games revolving around similar themes, with the sole aim of attaining sexual gratification. He openly admits his preference for his 2-dimensional sex-objects, adding that he sees no need for a 3-D girlfriend. As if to prove it, he cuddles up with a pillow bearing the fetish-inspired cartoon design similar to the ones he “plays” with on his computer.
The techno-inspired soundtrack and occasionally choppy editing enhance the pulsating rhythm of life in these densely populated corners of the world. They did a good job of not allowing the music to predominate, so it never overshadows the subject matter; and it was surprising to see quiet moments, even poignant ones.
This is not a film for everybody: it is rated R, and with good reason. There are themes, and images that are unspeakably disturbing. However, while I had expected it to be an extended, grittier version of a music video show, I was surprised to discover a thought-provoking multi-sensory essay on the modern metropolis and its frequently forgotten inhabitants.