The late James Stewart was a man of many talents and interests.
He graduated with a master of science from Stanford and a doctor of philosophy from the University of Toronto. For a period of time during his three decades as a professor at McMaster, Stewart was also a member of the Hamilton Philharmonic Orchestra as a violinist.
He became known as an LGBT activist as he helped launch the Pride movement in Hamilton through his own participation in protests and demonstrations and through inviting Toronto activist George Hislop to speak at the university in the early 1970s.
“He was partially responsible for gay rights in Canada. At a meeting he had with George Hislop, this later created the first Pride parade in Hamilton, which was one of the first parades outside of a major city,” said Joseph Clement, the director of the documentary, Integral Man.
It was during this time at McMaster when two of his students came up to him and recommended he write a textbook. His notes were better than what was in their assigned text. After seven years, the first textbook of around 30 was complete and became an enormous success. “Calculus: Early Transcendentals” in particular remains influential for the teaching of mathematics.
The Integral House, one of the primary reasons for the documentary, is a five-storey structure that took 10 years and $32 million to make. Combining his love for music and mathematics, the house is considered to be a masterpiece of modern architecture.
Built around a 150 seat concert hall, this 18,000 square foot house is built into a hillside in the Rosedale neighbourhood of Toronto. Integral curves inspire the complete design, particularly for its walls and stairs. While a resident in the house, Stewart hosted about a dozen events per year.
Though the documentary was originally meant to focus on the house and his accomplishments, and still does so, Stewart’s health began to deteriorate. His arthritis resulted in the inability to play the violin. He was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a blood cancer. It shows his struggle with the inability to enjoy his loves like he used to, and his last hosted events.
“... he seemed pretty satisfied with his life and what he did. He lived his life without regret,” said Clement.
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By: Rafik El Werfalli
For over 60 years, the Indigenous population of Canada has been denied the freedom of choosing where to live. Under a government-run “pass system,” Indigenous peoples were forced to live on reserves. Any who wanted to leave required written documentation — a pass — issued by their reserve’s government-appointed “Indian agent,” that outlined the reasons for and duration of the leave.
First introduced by Sir John A. Macdonald in the 1880s, the pass system restricted the rights of the Indigenous people of Canada and was implemented without going through Parliament.
Alex Williams’ new documentary film, The Pass System, explores the history of the government effort to further segregate and limit the freedoms of Indigenous communities. Williams highlights the different perspectives on the discriminatory system and includes stories of First Nation Elders from these Indigenous communities that illustrate the impact of the system on their lives.
Williams was raised in Treaty 6 territory, Saskatchewan, and grew up in a society that he saw as racist. Growing up in a low-income neighbourhood, he witnessed many people that were pushed out economically. According to Williams, “social and structural racism” was common in his hometown.
“[The pass system] was intended to keep people of colour out and control the indigenous population, restraining and confining them to reserves as much as possible,” he explained.
Ian Mosby, a Postdoctoral Fellow in the L.R. Wilson Institute for Canadian History at McMaster University added, “Canada has a problem with their attitudes towards indigenous people, not just the government, but also Canadians themselves. We need to really look deep down at dealing with this issue and dealing with the structural racism that Indigenous people faced and are currently facing.”
“Canadians in general have been taught a very selective version of their history and many historians have been working to change that.“
Williams agrees with Mosby. “Canadians in general have been taught a very selective version of their history and many historians have been working to change that,” said Williams. “I am hoping that it can be some help in understanding the roots of this very Canadian kind of racism, colonization and genocide.”
Mosby added that many Canadian aren’t aware of their past and don’t realize the true scale of racial segregation and discrimination that Indigenous people have and continue to experience.
The film has received wide coverage, including from the Toronto Star and CBC. The film has screened at numerous locations including the Toronto International Film Festival, Vancouver International Film Festival and at least 20 more screenings across Canada.
“This is a story that I think is really important for people to know, and hopefully come to this documentary, and hearing from the director, people will start to get a sense of how much they don’t know about Indigenous people” said Mosby.
The Pass System will be screened at McMaster University on Mar. 4 at 2:30 p.m. at the Michael DeGroote Centre for Learning and Discovery (MDCL) in room 1105.
Photo Credit: Toronto International Film Festival
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When Dior looked to fill a vacancy in 2012, few expected Raf Simons to be tapped for the creative director role. Even fewer expected Simons to have the sheer panache to pull off a couture collection for the French house famed for its opulent, feminine designs.
But Simons was hired, and he accomplished the latter with aplomb, in a mere two months.
Dior and I provides an unrivalled account of Simons’ inauguration as Dior creative director, stretching from when he is first introduced as John Galliano’s successor in 2012 to his widely-acclaimed first haute couture collection.
For those unfamiliar, couture collections are entirely made by the hands of fashion houses’ ateliers. They are the ones who convert designers’ ideas from concept to reality, and are toiled over for months. Couture collections may be incredibly difficult to make, but houses like Dior are rewarded for their efforts with lucrative orders for pieces from the collection from their rich clientele.
With Simons coming in as a former industrial designer, and minimalist fashion devotee at Jil Sander, the job looked to be a tough one from the start with Simons only afforded two months to complete the collection.
The documentary’s title may give some the idea that the film is some sort of vanity project on the part of Simons, but it was only with reluctance that the notoriously private Belgian native allowed cameras to roll behind closed doors. Simons is decidedly uncomfortable in front of the camera at times, with the pressure of maintaining Dior’s legacy while designing something he has never done before simmering over occasionally. The film is as much about the eccentric workers who ply their trade in the ateliers as it is about Simons. For all the cerebral scenes discussing Simons’ influences for the collection as he walks through art galleries and coastal villas, there is an insightful one to match that focuses on one of the workers’ relationship with the house. Some have been at Dior for over 40 years, while others have only been employed for a few, but they all get Simons’ unwavering respect.
The latter portion of the film is full of nervous energy as the atelier crew rushes to have things ready by the show, while Simons arranges for what was a grimy Parisian flat to resemble Versailles when flowers are in bloom. If you pay any attention to fashion you will know that the collection received rave reviews upon its debut.
Don’t watch it to arrive at a known result, watch to marvel at what humble origins sartorial opulence often arises from and to observe Simons and the atelier in their natural habitat.
Lene Trunjer Petersen
The Silhouette
Last Saturday, Sept. 29, I attended the AGH BMO World Film Festival screening of the American documentary Out of Print. I knew from the trailer that the film was going to be kind of depressing, especially because I’m studying literature, and absolutely love the feeling of a book in my hands. My favourite Sunday activity is to sit somewhere comfortable, open a book, touch the thin paper and let myself disappear into the world of letters. But maybe in a few years it will be some sort of an e-reader that I have in my hands. An electronic device doesn’t have the distinct scent of a book, nor the beauty. Will the reading experience be the same?
Unfortunately it’s not only a battle between old-fashioned books and e-readers, but within our culture. The ability to read a book may be disappearing into an abyss of illiteracy. People use the Internet not only for gaining information, but also to read snippets of a book, or even just reviews, so they don’t have to read the whole thing themselves. Suddenly, it’s a matter of forcing kids to read, rather than being concerned about what they are reading.
I still remember my first encounter with a book. My mother would read to me at bedtime, and at the age of six I could read by myself. My all time favourites were Mio, My Son and The Brothers Lionheart, by the Swedish writer Astrid Lindgren. There is just nothing like feeling part of a written universe in which the characters are your new best friends - just for a while.
The filmmakers behind Out of Print emphasize the importance of reading, not only for learning, but to develop the ability to reflect, and think critically and abstractly. They question what happens with our own fantasy and development of empathy if reading does not challenge us. But it’s not really kids’ fault. They need role models and inspiration. How can we, as adults, give them that when the majority of the population is reading less than stimulating bestsellers, like Fifty Shades of Grey? Who will ever know Ishmael, laugh with Don Quixote, or sail alongside Odysseus, if they dare not open a classic book? They are not just dust and old words. They have real meaning and reach out to us throughout time.
In Out of Print, the American author Scott Turow raises additional question about the lack of diversity in our literary culture. Authors are fighting to earn a living from publishing their books. Their difficulty can be explained by a general societal reluctance to pay for literature. We look books up online, but Turow makes that excellent point that we don’t expect cars and electronic devices to be similarly free of cost - just information.
I am not here on a crusade to keep the printed book at the expense of e-readers and the Internet. I can’t live without my Internet connection, and I’m a big consumer of information both on the net and in printed form. But even though a lot of people are publishing online, we need to question the quality of what we read. I really wish that people would step outside their comfort zone, engage with different books, broaden their perspectives and remember their responsibility to inspire others to do the same. Literature is our very soul, and books can help challenge our thoughts about who we are.
So please, don’t let the printed book die.
Myles Herod
Entertainment Editor
They’re the definition of chill, the harbingers of boom-bap drums and low-end groove. There is nothing quite like the music of A Tribe Called Quest.
From their New York emergence in the early ‘90s, innovation, intelligence and unparalleled chemistry forever set them apart.
MCs Q-Tip and Phife Dawg’s skill erupted not in what they said, but how they shaped it – adroitly sampling jazz loops contrary to the West Coast zeitgeist.
Actor turned time-director Michael Rapaport has succeeded with an ode of obvious affection, exercising his admiration of the hip hop outfit into a chronicled account of origin, importance and, until recently, reprieve and reunion.
Reverence for his subject is imperative, for if Rapaport’s film had suggested a condescending tone from its opening pulse, Beats, Rhymes and Life: The Travels of A Tribe Called Quest would have succumb to a VH1 retrospective compromise. It’s better than that.
Not to say it doesn’t have flaws. It just happens to resonate history from the streets through interviews from all four members, archival clips and the hypnotic animation interludes by artist Motion Theory.
Tribe – who originally broke up in 1998, only sporadically getting back together in recent years – made a bold move in allowing Rapaport to candidly document their creation and fragmentation at equal parameters.
The beginning of the film is like an upbeat mosaic, a celebratory kaleidoscope of hip-hop in the late ‘80s, largely focusing Q-Tip and Phife’s childhood alliance and their odyssey with funky cohorts Jarobi and Ali Shaheed Muhammad.
From their signing with Jive Records to their subsequent rise from Queens into the consciousness of listeners and critics, the film’s first half is awash in neon colours. It details the conception of their nocturnal masterpieces, The Low End Theory and it’s follow-up Midnight Marauders.
Accolades from industry heavyweights, such as Pharell and The Beastie Boys, come pleasantly, but perhaps too exaggerated in glorification.
Fast-forward to the present, where modern maestros like Kanye West or Common are jumping to share the mic with Q-Tip as he excels in his solo career, still enjoying the legacy of his tribesman past.
The film’s progression and editing is straightforward and absorbing, to say the least, going from beginning to bitter end, and back again with somewhat less acidity.
In later years we trace the paths of all four members, with primary focus set to Q-Tip, but also Phife and his medical issues associated with diabetes.
From one emotional event to another, it’s an interview with former member Jarobi, who breaks down in tears discussing his friend’s deterioration, that packs the most wallop and profoundness.
Moments of tension make the second half work. Although some portions awkwardly suffer in portraying the domesticated lives of the four men, the unraveling friendship between an ailing Phife and a reinvigorated Q-Tip are fascinating realisms confronted before our eyes.
Elevated by honest insights from within the sect, the film ultimately draws passion from behind the lens. Funny how Rapaport, a pale, redheaded New Yorker, could credibly infiltrate the acceptance of a hip hop insider.
Perhaps he should stick with directing – he might have the rhythm for it.
