A Different Kind of Movie Star
Some of my earliest memories involve being dropped off at a movie theater with my little sister on a Saturday afternoon—back when this was considered perfectly acceptable behavior and films didn’t yet require a committee to decide who could watch them. Movies, over the years, have thrilled me, frightened me, informed me, and occasionally left me sitting very still while reconsidering my opinions. I am aware that there are entire libraries devoted to analyzing the psycho-social impact of film, but for me the test is simpler: a good movie moves me, and sometimes nudges me into thinking—or doing—something new.
Although I enjoy films and admire many of the people who make them, I don’t usually feel the need to know the details of actors’ private lives. One notable exception is when they put their fame to good use. I have a deep appreciation for actors who use their visibility to draw attention to meaningful causes or to mobilize support for people in need. Recent examples include Brad Pitt’s Project Make It Right in New Orleans and Ashley Judd’s work with YouthAIDS—efforts that feel substantial rather than ceremonial.
A few weeks ago, however, I found a new kind of movie star—one you won’t read about in entertainment magazines, but probably should. Open Air Cinema has become my latest example of what happens when a company notices a need, imagines what might be possible, and then actually does something about it. They play a crucial role in supplying inflatable movie screens to FilmAid International, an organization that brings entertainment and educational films to refugee camps around the world.
I first learned about FilmAid International while writing about Karli’s List and Braden’s school. Until then, refugee camps were something I knew about only in the abstract. When I spoke with Caroline Avakian, FilmAid’s Communications Director, she shared statistics that are difficult to absorb without pausing. More than 33 million people worldwide are living in refugee camps after being forcibly displaced by violent conflict. Eighty percent of them are women and children. Most astonishing of all, the average stay in a refugee camp is 17 years.
FilmAid was conceived by Caroline Baron, producer of Monsoon Wedding and Capote, who in 1999 heard a radio program during the Bosnian war describing life in refugee camps in Macedonia. A doctor being interviewed spoke of psycho-social trauma and boredom as the camps’ greatest problems. Baron’s immediate response was film—a logical leap only because movies have always had the power to change how we feel and think. She gathered friends and colleagues, arrived in the camps, and began showing films for entertainment—Charlie Chaplin, at first—alongside public service announcements addressing urgent issues such as land mine awareness.
In the seven years since, FilmAid has learned a great deal. According to Avakian, the organization has brought films for entertainment, inspiration, and education to millions of refugees in Kenya, Tanzania, Macedonia, Afghanistan, and Louisiana. Along the way, they’ve earned recognition for addressing a need few others were focusing on.
Over time, FilmAid developed a four-part approach that works. First comes an evening screening of an entertaining film, often attended by as many as 15,000 people. I asked about film selection—Disney or Die Hard? Neither, as it turns out. Films are chosen by an advisory committee of community leaders, elders, and underrepresented groups, with an emphasis on cultural relevance and locally produced stories featuring empowered heroes and heroines. The evening also includes public service announcements tailored to local concerns, covering topics such as cholera prevention, hygiene, HIV/AIDS, and gender-based violence.
The third component consists of smaller, daytime educational screenings where sensitive topics—like domestic violence prevention—can be discussed openly, often with women and girls. The fourth, and perhaps most inspiring, is the Personal Video Project, which trains refugees to become videographers and filmmakers themselves. Some of these films have gone on to appear at film festivals and later returned to the camps as featured screenings.
This is where Open Air Cinema enters the picture. In 2001, Stuart Farmer founded Open Air Cinema after winning an MBA business plan competition at Brigham Young University. The company provides projectors and film equipment for outdoor screenings, using inflatable screens and digital projection technology. In 2006, Stuart came across FilmAid while browsing the internet. “They were using old projectors and small screens,” he told me. “I knew I could help.”
The next morning, he called FilmAid and donated three screens: a 9-foot fold-out, and 15- and 25-foot inflatable screens. Before long, he found himself in Tanzania, helping set up what became the largest outdoor cinema event in the world, with 15,000 people in attendance. He trained others to use the equipment, who then trained others still, and the project took on a life of its own.
When I asked Stuart about the personal impact of the experience, he said he was “mostly incredulous that a majority of people live in near poverty in the world.” He was also struck by how powerful media can be, and how psychologically meaningful these screenings are for refugees. Returning to what he called “our consumptive dream” in the United States, he resolved to do more. His hope is to donate at least one screen each year, with plans already being discussed for refugee camps in Burma.
It turns out that sometimes the most meaningful movies aren’t about escape at all—they’re about connection.