In the wonderful documentary Days of Waiting, filmmaker Steven Okazaki painted a devastating portrait of the incarceration of American Japanese during World War II using a simple narrative combined with historical footage and illustrations. Okazaki’s film is modest, contained; it is 29 minutes long and includes only one voice, that of artist and poet Estelle Ishigo, one of the few Caucasians to go to the camps (she accompanied her Japanese husband). By allowing Ishigo to tell her tale, Days of Waiting shows its audience the upheaval and confusion wrought by the U.S. government’s internment policies. As all good storytellers—and untold frustrated communications teachers—know, stories are better shown than told: When you tell someone, you are the author of the reality; when you show someone, they find it themselves. Days of Waiting proved powerful enough to win Okazaki an Academy Award for best short documentary in 1990.
Flush with that success, Okazaki turned his sights to another area of U.S. government injustices: the disenfranchisement of the Hawaiian people. Okazaki knew there was a great story to be told in the Islands, though it took a while to figure out which tale could best be turned into a film. Was it the bureaucratic madness swirling around the Hawaiian Homes Commission? Was it the bombing by the American military of Kaho‘olawe, an island held sacred by Hawaiians? Was it the environmental and cultural degradation accompanying the eruption of the tourism industry throughout the state? Was it… well, you get the point—Hawaii is an activist filmmaker’s dream. There’s enough exploitation going on in Paradise to win someone a dozen Oscars.
In the end, Okazaki decided to focus on the Big Island. His new, one hour documentary, Troubled Paradise, which will screen this weekend at the University of Hawaii, details three struggles on the island: the battle against a Japanese corporation’s plan to build a mega-resort at Kohanaiki on the Kona side; the occupation of the King’s Landing area just outside of Hilo by Hawaiians who have been thwarted by the Hawaiian Homelands Commission; and the fight against geothermal projects in Puna. In addition the film takes a field trip to taro farms in Waipio Valley.
Troubled Paradise is an ambitious work and it isn’t nearly as good as it should be, particularly given its compelling subject matter. Okazaki has rejected the “less is more” rule that served him so well in Days of Waiting, and, in the process, he has lost the scope that Troubled Paradise might have promised. The film works well on an emotional level—the people Okazaki interviews are clearly intelligent and deserving of support. But it falls apart when one tries to comprehend the issues; the empathy it evokes fails to translate into understanding. Mainland audiences (for whom the film was largely made) unfamiliar with the history of Hawaii will not come away from the film with much more than a general idea that something is wrong in the Islands.
The film opens with a note that the number of native Hawaiians has plummeted since Capt. James Cook “discovered” the Islands. But it provides very little—nothing, really—on the overthrow of the monarchy, the collusion between American business interests and the U.S. government, the massive seizure of lands made possible by the Great Mahele, the finagling to achieve statehood, the dramatic rise in tourism statewide... in short, the crucial history needed to explain the condition of native Hawaiians today. Okazaki does mention that Hawaiians have the highest incarceration and disease rates of the state’s residents but he does a poor job of explaining why this is so.
The film is broken into two parts, “Love of the Land” and “Pele’s Children.” The first focuses on concepts of aloha ‘aina, the second on anti-geothermal battles. Troubled Paradise opens with stunning shots of Kilauea lava flows and a hula to Pele at the edge of the volcano. The dance, however, is not really explained at its outset—fine for local audiences but a little confusing for Mainland ones.
Occasionally, Okazaki makes statements that tie his themes together a tad too neatly and might seem a little naive to Hawaii residents—his assertion for example, that “recent eruptions [of Kilauea] have inspired native Hawaiians fighting for the survival of their culture.” True certainly but haven’t Hawaiians been battling for decades and haven’t they been inspired—collectively and individually—by everything from the sanctity of the land to the civil rights movement to the music of The Sunday Manoa?
The traditional documentary format Okazaki has chosen to use is itself problematic—too many shows today, particularly on public television, seem to consist primarily of talking heads lamenting their problems. This form of communication can be frustrating and distancing, regardless of how valid or relevant the problems may be. Again, the audience needs to be shown, not told.
Don’t get me wrong—there are moments of great power in Troubled Paradise. Okazaki’s task is greatly aided by the articulate and aware Hawaiian activists he has included—people like Dr. Noa Emmett Aluli, Davianna MacGregor and Palikapu Dedman of the Pele Defense·Fund; Mililani Trask of Ka Lahui Hawaii; Haunani Trask of the UH Center for Hawaiian Studies; and Olga Nauka of the Protect Kohanaiki ‘Ohana.
Other interview subjects lend the film further resonance: botanist Bill Mull in a virtual state of rapture as he slogs through the rain forest, describing the leaves of a native plant that “wears little red petticoats” and Skippy Ioane, one of the occupants of King’s Landing, a Vietnam Vet whose grandfather fought for the Americans in World War I and whose father fought in the Korean War. loane tells a story about eating with a group of Vietnamese during the war. They were amazed that he knew how to squat, that he knew how to use chopsticks. “Are you Japanese?” they asked him. “Chinese?” He drew a map with Asia on the left, America on the right and Hawaii in the middle. He pointed to the Islands and then to himself. “So you’re not from America?” they asked. The thought, Ioane says, stuck.
Ultimately, Troubled Paradise is a commendable attempt to give voice to Hawaiians seeking to right wrongs and end the exploitation of the Islands. But the film is too narrowly focused; it doesn’t do a thorough enough job of documenting the ravages now occurring throughout the state, nor the intense injustices that paved their path. Mainlanders watching Troubled Paradise on public TV—where it is scheduled to air later this year—will probably come away from the film with a sense of sadness for what the Hawaiians have endured, but it seems unlikely that they will leave with what is most needed—a sense of outrage.