The Letter: An American Town and the 'Somali Invasion'

"The Letter," an accomplished, vibrating, fast-paced documentary by Syrian-American Ziad Hamzeh and crew whose eight cameras rolled for a total of 55 hours, takes a strong viewpoint for the Somalis and for American idealism. While it does give time to the mayor's contention that the city just did not have the resources to accommodate that sudden addition of refugees, it does not allow much, if any, to the eventual economic solution. Rather, this is about racism. In bitter, large doses. The mayor's 3-page "Open Letter to the Community" of Oct. 3, 2002 advises the 1,100 Somali immigrants that they are straining the town's resources and, explicitly, that they should not invite any more of their people to come. The assertions true or not, the blunt and tactless words drew all media attention to this beleagured and completely overwhelmed mayor who appears in the film as possibly sincere but too small in his perceptions to handle the issues involved. As the presence of the White Supremacists looms, he decides to take a vacation in Florida. As Hamzeh's cameras and film editors go to work, we are drawn into the rage of the town's unemployed and fearful. The locals, not used to people of color in the community, vent their frustrations in contorted shouts of anger as rumor and imagination run rampant with invented charges and bizarre statements born of hysteria. Emotional close-ups dominate the film, the twisted faces of hate intertwined with those of reason, so skillfully designed by Hamzeh that absolutely no conventional narration is needed. Racism, and the reactions for and against it, tell their own story.

Proclaims the spokesman of the White Supremacists, "All men are created equal had never been intended to apply to any but White Christians!" as the largest police force in Maine's history converges in the streets to separate Nazi-saluting and Klan contingents from the counter-protesters.

Hamzeh keeps his film boiling, escalating from the mere disturbing to an American nightmare in modern times. Reports a BBC correspondent in Africa as the reports roll in, "Maine's a great place to live, except in Lewiston."

It's a matter of record that even this has passed. Gratifyingly, the film shows, the agony of the event may have been worth it, in the end strengthening the old Maine racial acceptance tradition and exposing the inanities and ignorance of agitators. It is dynamic, focused and compelling.

As a child, I grew up hearing stories from my father and grandparents about the hatred and vitriol they experienced as Italian immigrants during World War II, all because of Mussolini. My grandmother was pushed off sidewalks, their windows were broken and property vandalized. Some of us have learned little since that time. Ziad Hamzeh has examines the horrible prejudice still suffered by foreign immigrants, in this case, Somalians, Muslims, who were dumped with almost no aid, services or language training on the town of Lewiston, Maine when the United States left Mogadishu after failing to arrest its warlord, Mohammed Aidid. It is a remarkable film, a testimony to the courage and vision of one Muslin-American, Ziad Hamzeh, who has a long and distinguished career as a theatrical director in Europe and the U.S. Once again, we see the Politics of Disaster in full force: a hasty, hackneyed attempt, ill-planned and disastrously executed, like the incursion into Mogadishu (portrayed in Black Hawk Down) that led to tremendous loss of life, ridicule of American policy, and people thousands of miles away paying a huge price for the folly of a few. Ziad Hamzeh carefully constructs his story to make us feel the extraordinary sense of alienation and pain suffered by the Somali's, the fears and mounting hatred of their hosts and neighbors. It is a study in cultural contrasts, the dark Somali's in their colorful garb, the palest of Main-ites in their blandest of adornments trying to navigate through the small town. In the Era of the Documentary, when audiences are rejecting the mindless, derivative fare of Hollywood in favor of stories about real people living out real drama, The Letter is a true revelation about who we are and what our world has become. Take a pass on The Day After Tomorrow and drop in on a day like today: The Letter should not be missed by anyone who cares about their world or cares about good film making. Bravo, Mr. Hamzeh.

It's not often I'm on the edge of my seat during a documentary, but The Letter had me there the whole time. It's a compelling story to start with - Somalian refugees move to a small town in Maine to build a better life for their kids and emotions run high as an economically depressed, mostly white town grapples with the issues this new influx of residents presents. Are the Somalians helping or hurting the community? Racism and rumor abound, but support for the new residents is also present. It all comes to a head when the mayor writes an open letter to the Somali community, asking them to encourage other Somalis not to come - the town is maxed out on resources. The media gets hold of the letter as well as a white supremacist group who views it as an open invitation to come to town and preach their message. From here, all chaos breaks loose.

But the story is not all that's great about this movie. The access the film-makers were able to get to the white supremacist group was phenomenal - interviews with their leaders and inside the hall during their rally. The individuals I saw The Letter with all agreed that one of the more creepier moments was when the leader's very normal-looking girlfriend gave him a kiss and said, "I love you." Somehow it's more comfortable to picture these individuals as rejected losers living in their parent's basements with no social lives at all. But they are real people, with lives - and kids. Many would hold out pictures of their kids and explain they are standing up for the the white race for the sake of their kids' future.

The editing was very effective as well. The quick cuts between the "hate" rally and the organized counter-rally were very effective in contrasting the views of the groups, particularly in the final speeches at the end. The segments worked so well together - it was hard to believe they weren't scripted (although they obviously weren't).

I wasn't sure how I felt at the end of this movie. In some ways it was so encouraging how most of the community stepped up to support the Somalis. But listening to the white supremacists, it truly dawned on me that we will never be able to eliminate this element of hatred and intolerance in our communities - at best, we can only keep it marginalized and at bay.

This is the true story of what happens to the soul of a small town in Maine when a group of Somali refugees arrives. The town divides. Many residents embrace the refugees, offering a warm welcome and compassion. Others censure them, and a white supremacist group insists there is no place for blacks.

Then the mayor weighs in with a letter that reverberates around the world, bringing a harsh spotlight to a small town. The aftermath of that letter shakes the town to its foundations. Soon the story builds to a riveting climax.

What makes the film so powerful is its narrative structure and the purity of the voices. Here is a documentary with the soul of a dramatic novel. The story is told entirely in the voices of the residents. No narrator intrudes. No viewpoint is superimposed. Each person portrayed in the film is honored by the opportunity to share his or her deepest feelings, uncensored by any editor or script. Even the white supremacists are revealed in their humanity, not through stereotypes. Somali families emerge as exquisitely complex human beings.

I loved the movie most of all for its humanity. Yes, it's a compelling story. The way it unfolds is riveting. But the touching depth and "aftertaste" of the tale lies in the echoes of those pure voices. Each one of them is human. Each one of them is us.

Marjory Bancroft

Lately, I have fallen in love with the documentary genre. Not only do you get to see an ultimate honesty in presentation but you get to leave the Hollywood stupidity far behind. It is like guilty pleasures that are newly found. Some documentaries have the magical powers to divide a nation faster than the red sea. Others have the ability to make you think. The Letter has the unique ability to unite, to inspire, and to move you to a place where being good means ultimate cool. The sound mix is very smart. It moves you effortlessly and appropriately between scenes helping underscore the values imparted. The visuals are wonderfully balanced with a hard sense of reality. The editing is great. Unlike those PBS slow...eternal zooming in on a still picture while someone is telling you how to feel, The Letter engulfs you fully not letting up until the time the usher comes and says: you have to leave now, sir. GREAT JOB.