A Texas trilogy: seven years in East Jesus

Afterimage, Nov-Dec, 2004 by Leann Erickson

Everything is bigger in Texas. The chili is hotter, the beer is colder, and the stars are brighter. In fact, as a travel ad campaign informed us a few years back. Texas is really like 'a whole other country'. President George W. Bush not only proudly hails from Texas, his 'western Whitehouse' is located in Crawford, Texas, just a stone's throw from Waco, once the home of the Branch Davidians cult. As 'Dubya' clears brush and consolidates power all eyes, national and international, are often on Texas. Yes, things do seem to be bigger there.

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Seven Years in East Jesus, a recent video by filmmaker and university professor Mary Slaughter, casts an outsider's gaze on Waco, Texas. A transplanted Californian, Slaughter spent seven years in Waco while teaching at Baylor University, and her subtle but critical eye has resulted in a piece that attempts to delve beneath the easy stereotypes that TV news soundbytes often relay of Texans. However, what is ultimately revealed does not comfort the viewer. Behind shirtsleeve patriotism and "howdy ma'am" vernacular Slaughter reveals an uncomfortable and sometimes frightening relationship between religion, violence, and intolerance.

Seven Years in East Jesus is structured as a trilogy with each of the three sections delineated by a title. Beginning in an impressionistic space, each succeeding section becomes more visually and philosophically concrete as the filmmaker moves through space, place, and ideology in an attempt to 'understand' this 'foreign country' she has landed in. Slaughter uses the elements of air, earth, water, and fire as organizing devices within and between the three sections.

Section one, "Where Grackles Swarm" is an impressionistic rendering of the Texas landscape. As flocks of black birds swoop and converge, a parade of Texas icons marches across the screen. Manipulated shots of rodeo events, cowgirls, and midway rides depict an unsettling celebration in the making. A cryptic chorus of sound accompanies these series of visions while a swirling and undulating hot air balloon figure slowly inflates under the night sky. As in a waking dream, the viewer is initiated into a nocturnal world where once familiar things induce apprehension in the viewer, offering a premonition of the unsettling events to come.

The title "East Jesus" appears signaling the start of section 2 of the trilogy as the night visions give way to daylight. East Jesus is a local nickname for Waco and a Christian-themed message seems to meet inhabitants at every turn in the form of billboards, church signs, and media communications. The earth/air dichotomy is more concretely developed here as earth bound humans struggle to be worthy of a heaven bound Christ figure depicted as an enormous hot air balloon. Flames and gas belch, suggesting fire and brimstone, as a nylon Jesus, arms spread wide in admonition, inflates and ascends on a cloud of air. With Pentecostal zeal a male voice expounds on the Rapture, the Christian rendering of the end of the world, but his words of fear and judgement bring no consolation. In a time of simplistic patriotism and unexamined jingoism, the rhetoric of this section suspends viewers in a place between heaven and earth while the ever-present flames of hell lick at their heels.

The final section of the trilogy, titled "Super, Jumbo, Colossal", brings the previous impressionistic glimpses of Texas iconography into clearer focus. From air to earth and now below ground, viewers find themselves traversing an underwater space where swaying greenery mixes with iconic emblems. For the first time the 'voice' of the filmmaker is heard. Enlivening confessional statements with a good-natured tone, the filmmaker strikes an ironic pose as her thoughts and observations juxtapose with disturbing footage such as a Nazi memorabilia sale and a Ku Klux Klan demonstration. The culmination of her transformation comes as the filmmaker is heard in a telephone conversation egging on a friend to start a 'bar fight' with her. With this revelation of her wish to open up a can of Texas-styled "whoop-ass," the filmmaker demonstrates the alarming effect her time in East Jesus has had on her. In the final moments, as a home-town parade draws to a close, the filmmaker becomes part of the spectacle, marching along as crowds of spectators wave toward the camera.

The final irony of the piece comes as the concluding soundtrack features a country tune titled "Catch Em Young", a sexist bit of musical advice concerning the care and training of women. As the male singer advises the viewer to "don't cry, let 'em sigh, don't you tell 'em nothin'", it is clear what is really being suggested is a strategy of "education". While the filmmaker speaks of challenging an imaginary cowboy to a bar brawl, she is actually challenging her viewers to occupy a more thoughtful stance in the face of current political realities. In these times of stifled opposition to the political status quo, "Seven Years in East Jesus" is an important new piece, challenging viewers to pointed self-examination. As we maneuver through this trilogy it seems we have traveled with the filmmaker through hell and back but the struggle for self-realization continues. In the final moments, as the camera slowly ascends from the creek bed to the world above, we can feel certain that Slaughter, like us, will live to fight another day.