Arts &Entertainment `Dark Days' Documentary goes underground to uncover human tragedy and spirit. AUDREY BECKER Special to the Jewish News T here's a fascinating story behind the story of Dark Days, Marc Singer's award-winning documentary showing at the Detroit Film Theatre on Monday, Feb. 12. Although the film tells an intimate tale of a group of homeless people living underground in a New York City train tunnel, Dark Days doesn't reveal that Singer himself was no outsider. He was an integral member and resident of the tunnel community for more than two years. Singer, born in 1973 and transplanted to New York City from London, had heard about people living in the tunnels through friends who lived on the streets. "I got fascinated by that and started to go exploring," he says. At the outset, he became part of the community without any idea of making a film. As he puts it, he was "just hanging out and trying to help out some people." His motivations for living in the tunnels were humanitarian and activist. But they were also personal: "There's some stuff that I don't — won't — talk about. Not because it's bad, but because it's mine." Dark Days is an intensely honest portrait of several individuals struggling to maintain a sense of normality in a squalid underground world. The film reveals a close-knit community that has an elaborate social net- work made up of philosophers, electricians, cooks and carpenters. Beneath the city streets, these so-called "homeless" had built houses with sturdy walls defining separate liv- ing spaces. They furnish their private rooms with scav- enged couches and rugs; they listen to music and watch television on appliances rescued from dumpsters; they prepare meals in functional kitchens powered by the city's electrical sources. `Before Night Falls' y ou can't stop art. Just like grass, it comes through the cracks, even after cement has been poured on top of it. It's the same thing with homosexuality or any human impulse. You can't eradicate people." So proclaims artist-director Julian Schnabel. This observation is the essence of his second movie, Before Night Falls, _ an acclaimed bio-pic about the persecut- ed gay Cuban author Reinaldo Arenas, who eventually succumbed to AIDS. In his memoirs, Arenas boasted of 5,000 sexual partners. • Schnabel, 49, a New York-based artist, was less captivated by Arenas' sexual escapades than by the compelling story of his oppression under the Castro regime. Ironically, the promiscuous Arenas says he abstained while in jail, eg; 4 2/9 2001 76 All the while, they fight courageously to keep the rats at bay. "I was realizing that the people are nothing like I'd thought they would be like," Singer recalls. "All my ideas about what a homeless person should be like were shattered." The initial idea for making a docu- mentary came from Ralph, one of the residents of the underground . communi- "One night we're sitting around the fire, laughing about something that had happened that day, and one of the guys said, `Somebody should be making a film about this.'" That off-hand remark prompted Singer to begin the project in earnest, renting cameras, lighting and sound equipment, with generous support from a local camera shop. Singer financed the project, like many an independ- ent filmmaker, by using credit cards and borrowing money. Singer met co-producer, and fellow Englishman, Ben Freedman in a bar one night. Like Singer-, Freedman had no background in film. But they shared a vision of what the film could be and what it could do. "We figured we could make the film and then sell it and the money would help get them out of the tun- nel," Singer says. "And they'd be the whole film crew, so they'd be helping themselves get themselves out. At the same time, we'd be changing the way that people don't think anybody can make art with- out having experiences, whether it's a novel or music." In the hyperventilating art world of the 1980s, Schnabel was the most renowned and controversial painter on the scene. His immense neo- Expressionist canvases were notable for the ambiguous, evocative imagery amid shards of broken crockery, antlers, pony hides, chains and a bru- tal handling of pigment. His partisans were legion, as were his detractors. Once the art boom cooled, artists like Schnabel, David Salle and Robert Longo briefly turned their attentions to film. But only Basquiat, Julian Schnabel directs "Before Night Falls," a Schnabel's 1996 biography of film about Cuban author Reinaldo Arenas. the doomed African- American painter Jean-Michel because he could not bear to have sex Basquiat, revealed directorial promise. without freedom. Schnabel piizzles over why the tragedy Schnabel ponders any connection of Arenas appealed to him as subject • between totalitarianism and the flower- matter for his follow-up film. ing of Arenas' ecstatic literary output. "There are a million different reasons "If he wasn't a prisoner and a stranger why I cannot explain why I made this in his own country, would Reinaldo movie," he offers. "But I think it's about Arenas have been able to write with the the last 50 years of Cuban history, and it kind of vehemence and anger that was tells that story through this man's life of very for c eful as literature?" he asks. "I Artist Julian Schnabel earns directorial respect. JOEY BERLIN and DON MCLAUGHLIN Copley News Service Photo by David Stenglein At The Movies the optimism and disillusionment with the revolution." Schnabel contrasts his own relative luck with the sorry lot of the . hapless Arenas. Brooklyn-born and raised in Brownsville, Texas, the Jewish artist seems the consummate Renaissance man — moviemaker, respected painter, autobiographer and musician. Reflecting on the breadth and privilege of his career in a Vanity Fair interview, Schnabel says he most - identifies with Jesus and considers self-employment his greatest achievement. "My father came from Czechoslovakia when he was 16 as a stowaway on a boat," he notes. "He worked hard all his life so I could have time to figure out what my life was all about. My parents were encouraging, but they were terri- fied I became an artist. They thought I was insane. But I had a privileged life, and never worried about money. • "But if a person like me lived in Cuba, I would've gone to jail. So I needed to be true to Reinaldo's voice, because everyone is entitled to [his] imagination. Arenas wrote poems, but everything that doesn't fit into the revolution in Cuba is counter-revolutionary" The film's star is the Spanish actor