Bronx Cheer is a pretty avid talkbacker, a New Yorker, and a masterful ballbuster. He’s had tough things to say about every regular AICN contributor at some point.
So let’s see how he does when it’s him contributing. This piece is about a documentary that premiered at last year’s Tribeca Film Festival, and it’s finally premiering on PBS this month. I’ll be tuning in on May 8th, but it repeats during the month, so make the effort to catch it.
"Eighty-year-old Jimmy Mirikitani survived the trauma of WWII internment camps, Hiroshima, and homelessness by creating art. But when 9/11 threatens his life on the New York City streets and a local filmmaker brings him to her home, the two embark on a journey to confront Jimmy's painful past. An intimate exploration of the lingering wounds of war and the healing powers of friendship and art, this documentary won the Audience Award at its premiere in the 2006 Tribeca Film Festival."
East Meets East Coast: "The Cats of Mirikitani"
Jimmy Mirikitani is a master artist. He is also a living symbol. What I admire about "The Cats of Mirikitani" is how the filmmakers manage to retrieve him from symbolic status and keep his humanity intact.
That's an awkward way to start this…let's go back and try it again.
Jimmy Tsutomu Mirikitani was born in Sacramento, California, but when Executive Order 9066 was issued, his status as a citizen of the United States did not matter to the US Government. He was a 25-year-old artist when he was interred at Tule Lake Internment Camp in Northern California. "The Cats of Mirikitani" tells his story with grace and mastery, as befits the man.
The film starts on the streets of NYC, and it looks like it's going to be one of those portrayals of "the Homeless" that are often sanctimonious and condescending toward the subject. One significant part of this story is when it takes place and what we see towering south of Soho. The twin towers of the World Trade Center portend events to come, and as we've been introduced to Jimmy, and then the towers fall, the film takes a new tack into the ill wind created by the collapse of the towers.
What I found remarkable about the film was how many times the story changed course. Once the film ended, I sorted out my feelings in the dark as the end credits crawled by. As Linda Hattendorf took me through the maze of facts and mysteries of Jimmy Mirikitani's life, I found myself moved more deeply and profoundly than I can recall ever experiencing in a movie theater. I think one of the things that made the experience so affecting was my complete ignorance of the film's story prior to seating myself in the theater.
I found myself moved to tears more than a few times, and there was one point when I ached under the weight of it all. A few tears rolled down my cheeks as I tried to keep them in, but the damned things insisted on coming out. At this moment, something happened that I'm still sorting out. I was seated next to an elderly Japanese couple, and the woman to my right gently patted my forearm three times. When I looked at her, she did not move her eyes from the screen. If I had to guess, I'd say she was close to 80. And while I could see tears in her eyes, she had the slightest of smiles, as if she was at peace with her feelings and with what was unfolding on the screen.
As the story progressed, we traveled from New York City to San Francisco to Seattle. Those three cities have all been key places in my life. As a school boy in the Seattle area, I was immersed in Japanese culture. We were taught how to write our names using Japanese characters, I made my own kimono, we celebrated the Cherry Blossom festival, and we learned of the recent clash between Japan and the US. As Pacific port cities, the influence of Japan is felt keenly in Seattle and San Francisco. Likewise, the story–of the rise of imperial Japan and the attack on Pearl Harbor and the war that followed–was filled with nuance and details that are often excluded in public school history classes.
I was young and impressionable when I first learned of Executive Order 9066 and the internment camps. I recall to this day this wounded little redheaded kid thinking, How could you do that to them? I took things very personally back then. I suppose I still do. Learning the history of how my own country treated fellow US citizens and immigrants to this country left me bitter and angry toward the US Government. I was too young to have such cynical and bitter feelings, yet they were roiling within me.
The journey that Jimmy Mirikitani takes in the film is a journey I needed to take. I realize it's a little embarrassing for me to feel so upset about something that did not happen to me, but I have always been excessively empathic and thin-skinned, and I don't know how to change that. So when Jimmy works his way through his anger and resentment, it gave me permission to do the same. I'm not saying this makes any sense, but it's the way it works.
It's just like me to make this about myself. Putting all of my own hand-wringing aside, the story of Jimmy Mirikitani's life is very relevant today. As the US continues to keep people imprisoned in violation of their basic human rights, I wonder why it's so easy for people to ignore the lessons of own recent history, but then I know the answer, and it breaks my heart.
