Chad Freidrichs' THE PRUITT-IGOE MYTH explores an iconic public housing landmark

THE PRUITT-IGOE MYTH, the fascinating, deeply-felt documentary directed, as well as co-written and co-produced by Chad Freidrichs, takes us back to the post-war years of the 1950s, into the 60 & 70s and up to present-day to tell the tale (debunk it, too) of one of America's most iconic public housing projects -- probably the one that came as much as any to stand for "why public housing never works." As they say: bullshit.

St. Louis, Missouri, was the site of this project, which opened in the early 50s, and Mr. Freidrichs, shown at right, gives us some of the pre-opening PR of the day, making clear that Pruitt-Igoe was indeed a grand vision, as public housing often is. So why this did this one fail, he asks, and then gives some of the possible reasons that have been put forth -- from bad design to the encroachment of the "welfare-state," poverty-level residents that caused all the problems, bad planning and segregation. Yet even before we get to this point in the film, Freidrichs has begun with a present-day interview with a fellow who was a child when he lived in Pruitt-Igoe. He -- and the camera -- go back to the wasteland that is all that remains of the once enormous project, and he tells us a story of the time he returned to this spot, how a dog appeared, and what happened. It's all a little strange and sad; these are the two moods that hang over this documentary and that prepare us for what is to come.

The filmmaker has found a small group of ex-Pruitt-Igoe residents willing to speak about their experience in the project, and these interviews, together with some excellent archival footage, numerous newspaper headlines and stories, and interviews with local historians and officials, weave an all-too-typical tale of -- to TrustMovies' mind -- a project doomed to fail because, while funds for the building's opening and for stocking it full of tenants were provided, the money for maintaining it properly was not. Intentionally, too.

While the project had its supporters (or it would never have been built), it certainly had its enemies: banks,  realtors, the Chamber of Commerce among them. Cries about the "erosion of the free market" were shouted and the label Communist! affixed to those who campaigned for the project. Sound familiar? In an interview with the man on the street, that "man" makes it clear that the kind of people who live here are, as he so carefully puts it, "trash."

There's no mention of negro or colored, but the fellow makes his point. All this took place around the time that the cause of civil rights was coming to the fore. During this period, TrustMovies was a student at Principia, a religious college for Christian Scientists, based in southern Illinois, to which St. Louis was the closest "big city." When we students made weekend trips into the city, we were warned to stay away from places like the area where the project was set. At our college at the time, arguments among students often ensued about why no negros were permitted to enroll there, nor at the religious high school located in St. Louis itself. Public housing in St. Louis, according to the historians interviewed, was long used as an issue for segregation,and urban renewal, we are told, was a euphemism for negro removal.

From the interviews with ex-Pruitt-Igoe tenants, we learn of the some of the "rules" enforced by the state at the time: that no able-bodied man could live in the subsidized home, thus breaking up families and making the place, notes one tenant, seem more like a prison from which you'd want to escape.

Some of the anecdotes are wonderful:  the mom who could not afford school supplies for her kids and so paints one of the white walls black and provides chalk and erasers so that her kids can always do their homework; another involves the necessity for fighting that a mother makes clear to her son.

The history here is full of hope, questioning, and sadness, with some heartbreaking testimony from tenants who loved the place in its good times and tried to help save it as the bad times grew worse. "A lot of bad things came out of Pruitt-Igoe," notes one ex-tenant early on, "but they don't outweigh the good."

We go through the rent strike in 1969, as life in this project grows nearly untenable. More and more tenants move out, making it even more difficult for those who remain -- because there is now even less income to be used for maintenance. Drugs and crime rise, of course; without proper maintenance of the project, how could they not? The sonorous narration provided by Jason Henry (so different from the narration in yesterday's documentary) is a huge plus to the film, as is the terrific archival footage Freidrichs has provided.

By the time of the project's complete destruction (in the mid 70s), the strongest feeling you'll probably experience is one of sadness at this incredible and unnecessary waste. Once built, Pruitt-Igoe ought to have been maintained. Had it been, it would never have become the landmark-for-failure that this fine documentary now debunks.

The Pruitt-Igoe Myth -- from First Run Features, 83 minutes -- opens this Friday, January 20, at the IFC Center in New York City. Click here to see future (and past) screenings, complete with cities, theaters and dates.

A PLACE TO LIVE looks at state of GLBT elder housing in Los Angeles, back in 2008

The full title of the not-quite-new film making its DVD debut this Tuesday -- A PLACE TO LIVE: THE STORY OF TRIANGLE SQUARE will probably explain-- for those who live in Los Angeles area, at least -- the back-ground and history surrounding this educational movie, which tells how a facility was finally erected in the then-overcrowded and impossibly expensive L.A. area for the low-income gay and lesbian elderly. Even within the GLBT community (let alone the community at large), this is a not a particularly hot topic.  The aged, of any stripe or persuasion, rarely are. So it's very much to the credit of producer Cynthia Childs and director Carolyn Coal (shown below), as well as the backers of the film, that they've produced this little piece of history.

The film begins by introducing us to a number (six? eight? I lost count) of seniors, a bit of each of whose stories we learn -- just enough, in most cases, to make us a part of their lives and acquaint us with their need for this new housing. Then we learn from various state government and GLBT representatives of the difficulties of finding affordable housing in the southern california area and why this proposed complex, devoted to the elderly in the gay and lesbian community, is so important.

We see the before (above) and after (below) of the Triangle Square development, meet the architectural firm that brought it to fruition, the workers and how they went about designing something more "special" for these seniors  (because their amenities budget was relatively small, they had to rely on donations).

As you might imagine, there were many more applicants than apartments available, and so the ever-present "lottery" system was introduced (that's one our seniors, below, filling out her lottery pre-application).

We're there at the grand opening of the development, with all the appropriate rah-rahing from the powers that be and from some of seniors we've met earlier (that's one of them below, with his friend, Carrie Fisher). Others did not make the cut, and we learn how they have adjusted to being kept out of the complex.

All this is interesting enough, particularly for the GLBT community, and although the subject matter is anything but standard, the presentation unfortunately too often is. Tinkly piano music underscores far too much of the film, offering sentimentality when hard facts -- like some more information on how public money for this facility was worked into the budget, and how gay and lesbian political leaders, along with elected officials, were able to effect this -- would have served us better, since every large city in the country could probably use a facility like this.

And while the completion of the project is indeed cause for celebration, the movie's cheerleader-like handling of this almost makes A Place to Live seem like a commercial. The saddest moment in the film, for me -- short of seeing some of our seniors not win the lottery and therefore not become a part of this new housing --comes when we hear one of the women tell us that she'd "like to spend my last years with my own kind."  Unfortunately, she does not mean "human" kind.  Someday, maybe. Till then, were all just Jews or Blacks or Gays or Croats or....

A Place to Live: The Story of Triangle Square, after a number of GLBT festival appearances, comes to DVD this Tuesday, March 8, for sale but not, it seems, for rental or download.  In our current economic times, I find it difficult to imagine most movie-lovers -- whether straight, gay or lesbian -- popping for $22-plus-shipping, rather than three or four bucks to simply watch the documentary.

To learn more about Gay and Lesbian Elder Housing at Triangle Square, click here.