We arrive in Tel Aviv in the
midst of a rainstorm. The dark and gloominess is not helping my
depressed mood as Tammy had given me the “Dear Kwoi” just before
I left Toronto. We make it to Haifa in an hour and a half
through the downpour and Israeli kamikaze traffic. But Cheuk seems
to know where we’re going as he finds Yan Yan on Ha'meginim
Street with ease. I’m still in a jet lag state from the long
haul waking up to what strangely reminds me of Singapore,
Indonesia or some other British colonial in Southeast Asia.
The rain has stopped, leaving the cobblestone streets glistening
with neon reflections. The streets are empty but it’s only 8 pm. Yan Yan is in the older section of Haifa. Not quite the wrong
side of the track, but it has the seedy reminders of Bar Sur
from Wong Kar-Wai’s “Happy Together” or Wanchai of the 50’s
from “The World Of Susie Wong”.
First day shoot is not really a shoot but more like an
affirmation that we’re here. We grab ambience in and around the
port of Haifa. It’s a little feeble... with few motivations and
little apparent action. Don’t know if it’s got anything to do
with the religious subtext of this particular story or just
being here in the Holy Land, but thank God we’re all
self-assured and intuitive enough to believe something amazing
will eventually evolve. I’m confident that we have an amazing
story here.
We are driving to the Golan Heights this morning with Kien. On
the way, he tries again to convert us…well… he’s working more on
Cheuk… I guess I seem to be a lost cause. I’m not sure where
we’re going or what I’m shooting today… just playing it by
ear... not looking for inspiration... just trying to respond to
ideas.
The car stops in a small Arab town somewhere near Meiron. Kien
hasn’t told me anything but Cheuk motions me to follow him with
the camera. As we walk along this derelict road, Kien is joined
by young Chinese migrant workers coming out of the bushes
like a flock following Jesus into a vast expanse of setting
light. It’s loneliness... departure... loss incarnate. At last
I’ve hit upon some visual theme to build on, a direction to
explore the “character” of this place. The group gets bigger and
bigger as I’m led to this abandoned half-constructed house down
the hill. There we meet more workers who seem to be squatting in
the construction site.
The skeletal building has no doors, windows nor furniture and
only one tap for cold water. I later learn that the crooked
foreman is ripping them off by deducting rent from their already
measly paychecks for these unfit accommodations. I’m having a
great time turning the camera on and off at will with random
spontaneity skipping through time disregarding any continuity of
space like memories or stream of consciousness as I film Kien’s
sermon. As Kien leads his flock along a heartfelt rendition of
“China Heart”, I’m moved by the conviction of this “frontier
Jesus” but sadden by these mirror predicaments of early
indentured slaves like those of my Great Grandfather’s
generation.
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