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Unfolding without narration, Mother Dao, the Turtlelike is a spare and elegant film constructed entirely from archival footage... Luminous nitrate images are set against a simple soundtrack of birdcalls, bells and murmuring voices, punctuated occasionally by native poems and songs. The film's careful construction reveals the face of systematic colonization and the effect of economic expansion on a culture. There are stunning moments: a child leaves off breast-feeding to drag on a cigarette; crocodiles are lassoed in a round-up; a strange white snow floats in the air as workers beat their way through enormous mountains of fluff. Much of the footage, shot by white Dutchmen and meant as propaganda for their colonial causes, now seems both comical and ominous - especially the recurring image of the white-clad colonialist intent on improving native culture and forcing industry forward. The natives' songs and poems, on the other hand, are full of regretful laments against hunger and the drive for profit. A quiet yet pointed journey through the past, Mother Dao is both an informative time capsule and a moving tribute to a lost world. (Rachel Rosen, San Francisco Film Festival)

Motherhood on Trial looks at public reaction to the case of Susan Smith/ the young mother who confessed to drowning her two sons in a South Carolina lake after claiming they were abducted by a black man. The documentary combines multiple layers of audio and video to create a complex tapestry of sound and image that emphasizes the complexity of the issues and explores how the background/ experiences and agenda of each character influences his or her telling of the story.

Tues March 25, 5:30pm. It started with an ungodly racket. Half air-raid siren and half screeching feedback, the noise pierced all ears within a half-mile radius. Diners in a restaurant on 15th Avenue wondered if Seattle was under attack. Other Capitol Hillers optimistically attributed the racket to a garden-variety fire or freeway pileup, albeit one serious enough to require the screaming attention of every ambulance and fire truck in town Meanwhile, those in The Stranger's offices gazed down onto the source of all the trouble--eight or 10 guys in sharp suits and hats, paired off on corners, where they alternately ran jumper cables to screaming siren-boxes and bleated through distorted megaphones.