A State of Mind by Daniel Gordon (Review)

Though many folks probably see films as mindless entertainment, as things to experience once you’ve shut off your brain and begun eating handfuls of popcorn, films have an ability that is unique among all artforms. That is, they can allow us to enter and experience lives, circumstances, and cultures in a way that music, poetry, or sculpture cannot. Films can plop folks landlocked in the middle of America smack dab in the middle of a foreign land to see sights and hear sounds would otherwise remain distant and unknown.

This has been the theme, for the past few months anyways, of the movie discussion group that I lead. And the goal was to see how movies might actually elicit understanding and even compassion, rather than serve as mere escapist entertainment.

As such, it makes sense that the final film we watched was 2004’s A State of Mind. This fabulous and fascinating British documentary peels back some of the secrecy that surrounds North Korea, and is probably the closest that any of us will ever come to seeing the citizens of that most isolated country.

There are probably few countries as vilified as North Korea, and this due to a litany of factors: a brutal and oppressive regime; strict isolationistic policies; staunch defiance of international regulations; extremely poor human rights records; and the incredibly poor conditions in which many of its citizens live; to name but a few. Not surprising, I suppose, for a country that many folks have placed on an “Axis Of Evil.”

However, as I’ve watched A State of Mind, I’ve found myself growing increasingly uncomfortable with the strong rhetoric that often surrounds North Korea, rhetoric that originates from both within and without its borders.

There is, of course, no doubt that Kim Jong-Il’s regime is brutal and corrupt, deserving of the criticism that it gets. However, A State of Mind thankfully avoids getting bogged down in the politics of the situation.

Instead, the film focuses on the citizens of North Korea, and in doing so, reveals a truth that should be obvious, and yet is nevertheless humbling — they’re human begins not all that dissimilar from me living here in Nebraska.

The unlikely subjects of A State of Mind are two young girls, Pak Hyon Sun and Kim Song Yon. Both are gymnasts, and much of the documentary focuses on their training for the Mass Games, the largest display of acrobatics in the world.

The Mass Games are intended to celebrate momentous events such as the birthday of Kim Il-Sung, North Korea’s eternal “Great Leader.” But even more importantly, the sight of thousands of performers melding together to form one giant, cohesive display is intended to embody Korean communist philosophy, the perfect example of the individual giving themselves over to the collective.

To prepare for the massive event, Sun and Kim train outdoors on a daily basis, repeating the same moves hour after hour on concrete lots, until they’ve achieved perfection. Only then will they be able to perform in front of their beloved Kim Jong-Il.

But in addition to following the girls around, director Daniel Gordon also spends time with the girls’ families. This makes for a surprisingly candid view of even the most mundane aspects of North Korean culture. And it’s during these parts that my discomfort grows, because we don’t see the sort of faceless automatons that a term like “Axis of Evil” conjures up.

Rather, we see domestic scenes that one might find in any average, middle-class American family. We see mothers bustling about the kitchen preparing the evening meal, kids trying to get out of their homework so they can watch television, fathers trying to get work done amidst the constant chattering of their daughters, old men taking their granddaughters to the local museum, and families enjoying a picnic on a fine, spring day.

However, the reality of North Korean society also shatters the idyllic nature of such scenes. Due to the government’s incredible control over all information in the country, the populace have been fed decades of propaganda. Propaganda that, if the film is any indication, serves two goals: continual deification of Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il and continual hatred of America.

At times, it becomes almost comical, even absurd. When a power outage occurs in the capital of Pyongyang, the blame is placed squarely on the “bloody Americans.” And a permanent fixture in all North Korean kitchens is a radio blaring state propaganda — which can be turned down, but not off. George Orwell would be proud.

But at other times, the constant rattling of sabers towards America, and especially the cult-like devotion shown for the country’s leaders, becomes disturbing and even saddening. This is especially true as the young girls express their worship and devotion for their leaders. And one wonders what would happen if they were shown the truth of Kim Jong-Il’s incredibly opulent lifestyle, one that is carried out even as the rest of the country faces the looming threat malnutrition. (Would they deny it as a lie propagated by the American imperialist aggressors?)

The climax of the film is the Games themselves, and to describe them as “stunning” and “spectacle” would just be scratching the surface. The Games are comprised of thousands of colorfully-dressed performers (gymnasts, martial artists, dancers, roller-skaters) all moving as one in elaborately choreographed routines that play out against massive mosaics that display significant events in North Korean history. Even with the rampant anti-American sentiment, the Games are a visual wonder to behold, and Gordon ably captures both their energy and majesty.

However, the irony of the Games is also on full display, nearly as much as the colorful costumes and amazing choreography. These games, which are intended to convey the importance of the individual surrendering to the collective, essentially become worship services that constantly lift up and exalt exactly two individuals — Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il. It is an irony to which the North Koreans, or at least those interviewed in the film, seem blind.

And that is perhaps the biggest shame of all, because both Sun and Kim are fascinating and brilliant individuals in their own right, right down to the latter’s mischievous grin. It’s a sad irony that such wonderfully captivating individuals are forced to squelch that individuality, even for something as beautiful and awe-inspiring as the Mass Games, so that a few may continue in their privileged and godlike existence.