Small documentary of barely an hour presented as part of the carte blanche John Wilson In Visions du Réel, he narrates the story of this strange day in May 1995 when a 35-year-old California plumber decides to get to grips with a tank and finally make himself heard by his town hall.

Democracy with tanks

Eighteen May 1995, Shawn Nelson – a 35-year-old plumber living in Clairemont, northern San Diego, California – stands behind the 60-ton tank levers stolen from the National Guard. Then he goes through his neighborhood towards the town hall, destroying everything in his way...

Garrett Scott he will analyze all the layers (historical, social, political) that led this Californian worker to take control of a tank to finally be heard. A "suburb war story", according to the title, or rather the strange combination of elements turning into a real detonator, ready to explode a poor and abandoned social class.

Tank and class struggle

History begins in these mushrooming suburbs, sporulating in the US in the late 1950s while the weapons industry generously irrigated all the local economy. About 40 years later, factories have disappeared, wars and traumas have gone through them, and a true methamphetamine epidemic has ended in nullifying an already rolled labourer population.

The documentary is short and, while retracing the images of the event which will not have caused any victims if not its main protagonist, ssacks to raise the words of the inhabitants of these now ill-fated neighborhoods. Filmed in 1995, Ass of Bag Yet it is a hot news in the post-Trump era and manages to describe without overhang the sociology of the various forces at work in these suburbs of left behind.

A very small documentary, which we see not for the quality of his images filmed at the DV era but for the power of his familiar, out-of-the-common and yet perfectly banal tragedy. A film to draw closer to Rat Film, describing how an insensitive and despicable policy can be caught up with the "without teeth" that she has so much fun mocking. An act of rabies isolated as a spokesman for a suffering proletarian community...

Drinking the Stephen Kings as the apricot syrup of my native country, I first discovered cinema through its (often bad) adaptations. I'm married to Mrs. Wilkes as much as a persistent Stockholm syndrome, I am gradually opening up to videoclub films and B-series peasers.Today, I wander between my favorite cinemas, film festivals and the edges of Helvetic lakes much less calm than they look.

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