The Color Of Fear

"Eight North American men," two each of "Asian, European, Latino, and African descent" sit in a room with moderator/filmmaker Lee Mun Wah and alternately harangue, educate, and share emotions with one another on the subject of race in America. Filmed over a weekend, The Color of Fear is primarily an informal workshop which is part vigorous debate, part men's sensitivity session, and part art film (there are occasional interruptions for shots of the men posed face to face). Here's the basic plot: David, one of the white men, believes that we should all just forget color and get along mano y mano. Everyone else (including the other white man who says little, but clearly feels very guilty) spends most of the rest of the film playing dogpile on David for his refusal to confront the reality of contemporary race relations. Throughout, David plays a very pliable and polite punching bag, until late in the proceedings he admits that he was physically abused by his father and, now a victim, is welcomed back into the fold, hugs and tears all round. What raises The Color of Fear above satirical soap opera is the fact that David's education is actually a necessary one, since he represents the head in the sand attitude of many white people. But the film conveniently checks truth at the door when it comes to the subject of tensions between other races. Here, all of the participants seem to agree that inter-racial hostilities stem from white oppression--the old racism-began-with-Columbus school of thought. An example of the hypocrisy inherent in this line of reasoning is the stance of the Japanese-American man: he too considers himself a victim of white oppression, and his loyalties lie more with Japan than America; the irony here is that Japan is one of the most "closed societies"--a polite euphemism for racist--in the world. Still, The Color of Fear consistently makes you think about the issue of racism (even when it's wrongheaded), the men are often painfully eloquent in their descriptions of minority life in America, and the honest rapport achieved amongst them by film's end is hopeful (for a dashing of those hopes, see the review of School Colors in this issue). But then you come to the price--$725--and most of the foregoing becomes a moot point (we've also seen the video listed for $450, so the price is apparently flexible). If you're willing to pay an amount which verges on extortion for a social documentary, this is recommended. (R. Pitman)