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Just watched The Killing Fields for my Transnational Cinema class at the Media Center in Moffitt Library.


In the television screen, fire reflected. A girl watches Bollywood cinema. Somewhere, someone laughs, strange rapid-fire.


Plugged-in horror:

Tell me what she's saying. Mister you wanna buy? They brought in the press corps. They want to sanitize the story. Sad little country. We made the front page.

We're staying or we're living.


A Cambodian woman tries to tell the Amerian journalist about the bombing, only he can't really understand her.

I can.


In this film, a passport--faked or not--signifies the luxury of departure. For the Westerner, he can pull out--after all his interventions--while a Cambodian man's fate lies in a bowl of developer, held in the hands of an American photographer as he anxiously awaits for a image to surface.


Credits roll. By Enigma of England. Filmed in Canada and Thailand. Thanks to Coca-Cola Export Corporation, Olympus Optical, US Marine Corps, OXFAM, the people of Bangkok, the people of the Khaoi-i-dang Refugee Camp.


Turn off the t.v. Rewind the videotape. Disconnect. Return to video store. Go home.

I have that luxury, too.


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