The good, the bad and the "Abies"

Page 9

It was late spring and, as usual, I found myself winging my way West in the hopes of having fun, meeting interesting people, finding out why the Reform Party is so popular, and seeing the latest and greatest in the Aboriginal film community.

Yes, it was my annual pilgrimage to Dreamspeaker's Aboriginal Film Festival. It was eventful, with some unusual, wonderful and not so wonderful surprises. Much like life.

In its seventh year, Dreamspeakers offers Edmonton, and the Native filmmakers of Canada, America, and, occasionally, of New Zealand and Australia, the opportunity to enjoy and celebrate the fabulous growth in Aboriginal film production. It also provides the occasion to rub elbows with the famous, the hoping-to-be-famous, the not-quite-as-famous-as-they-think, and the ever-present, blue-eyed Aboriginal playwrights.

The adventures began, naturally, at the beginning on the plane heading to Edmonton. I was calmly eating my microwaved, reconstituted, near perfect imitation of a chicken dinner, when the plane's fire alarm goes off - at 35,000 feet.

What does one do in a situation like this, other than scream? Like the vast majority of the passengers, I did not pay any attention to the flight attendants as they told us what to do in an emergency situation. I briefly envisioned that being chipped into my tombstone. Like my mother always said, I should pay attention more.

Luckily, the alarm ceased as flight attendants quickly ran in several directions. It wasn't long before the captain told us that someone had been smoking in the bathroom, a federal offence endangering our lives. But calm was restored. Until we landed.

After pulling up to the gate, the captain told us we couldn't dock until the RCMP boarded the plane to "escort" off the gentleman with the uncontrollable addiction. Two officers boarded the plane, located the gentleman at the front where everybody could see the rebel, and "escorted" him off. Last I heard, as community service, he is on a goodwill tour of Native communities promoting the benefits of residential schools. That'll teach him.

The Aboriginal Film Awards, the Abies, proved to be a mixed blessing for organizers. Many invited and nominated artists and celebrities made it to the awards, including luminaries Wes Studi (Last Of The Mohicans, Geronimo) Michael Horse ( X Files, North of 60) and Irene Bedard (Pocahontas, Lakota Woman).

Wes, who usually plays dark, ominous characters, was quick with a smile and turned out to be a dapper dresser. We traded one-liners all weekend. His best idea for a Native television show - Touched By An Anglo. Mine - Hudson's Baywatch. Irene was lovely, though very tiny. I quickly surmised I could eat her body weight in a day.

Unfortunately, the awards night was plagued by several notable no-shows, including the usually reliable Gary Farmer, Rodney Grant and Dakota House. This left gaps in the show that had to be rejigged quickly. Also, for some strange reason, only one of the festival's board members managed to find time to attend the most important night in the organization's existence. What was especially disappointing was that two board members, who were supposed to present Wes Studi with a star blanket, as had been advertised and promoted, failed to show, forcing the organizers to (luckily) locate and present the easy-going actor with an eagle feather.

The good news of the festival was the unusual opportunities and events that materialized out of the film fair. The highlight for me was a private and personal concert for Pura Fe, Jimmy Herman and three others, including myself, by a new women's a cappella group consisting of, mostly, Cree women. Called Asani, which means rock in Cree, they sang a fabulous doo-wop version of Murry Porter's "1492 - Who Found Who," as well as an hilarious Aboriginal version of Roberta Flack's "Killing Me Softly With His Song." Except in Asani's version, its about looking for a man who makes the perfect fried bread. They cll it "Killing Me Softly with Cholesterol." Evidently they judge a man by the size of his bannock. As long as it's not too hard. Enough already.

Other highlights included a jam session at C-Weeds, including Hawk and Eagle, Wes Studi on bass, and Pura Fe on vocals.

And then there was watching Irene Bedard and Jennifer Podemski as role models at a local non-alcohol dance club for Native youth, being entertained in a special show by a local hip hop/dance rappers group. You could see the women were visibly blown away by these young people and what they were doing. It was an honor to be there.

Dreamspeakers 1998. At least nobody mentioned anything about Godzilla or The Horse Whisperers. Okay, one person made a bad joke about a new movie he was working on called The Moose Whisperers. But I promised not to make it again.