P.O.V.; Remembering Wei-Yi Fang, Remembering Myself; Xich-Lo

(CYCLO)

By TONY SCOTT

PBS, Tues. July 30, 10 p.m.
 
Cast: Anita Welbon, Tshaye Hebert, Karl T. Wright.
 

Produced by the American Documentary Inc. Executive producer, Suzanne Singer; producer, Lisa Heller. 60 MIN.

REMEMBERING WEI-YI FANG,

REMEMBERING MYSELF

Filmed in Taiwan as a co-presentation of the National Black Programming Consortium. Producer and director, Yvonne Welbon; Voiceover: Cheryl Lynn Bruce.

XICH-LO

(CYCLO)

Director, writer and editor, M. Trinh Nguyen; camera, Huu Le, Dat T. Nguyen, M. Trinh Nguyen; sound, Gordon Winiemko.

Autobio vidpics by two young women, one an African-American, the other a South Vietnamese who has lived in the U.S., make up latest edition of "P.O.V.," and they are indeed independent points of view. The first seg, Yvonne Welbon's pungent commentary on racism and self-realization, sings with ideas; M. Trinh Nguyen's brief observations are at most revealing.

African-American Welbon discovered that a good education couldn't buy respect. She had to find it for herself. "I internalized this self-hatred, and the self-hatred competed with this self-respect. ... I was a wound that never healed." A Vassar grad who had studied Chinese, she went off to Taiwan to become fluent in the language. She was stumped at first, but -- obviously not one to be dissuaded -- enrolled in a Chinese public school's first grade and began there.

Her experiences as a black American among the Taiwanese -- Wei-Yi Fang is her Chinese name -- make up part of her story, but the real meat of the issue is her search for approval.

Intercut with Welbon's recital of what happened in Taiwan are recollections of her Honduran grandmother, Ellen Smith, who as an adult moved to South Dakota and encountered racism for the first time. Welbon, whose forebears were never slaves, finds that looking to her ancestors, including her grandmother, helps her build strength.

A pleasure, Smith talks of life in Honduras, of killing the wrong chicken, of seeking out other blacks in South Dakota, and she demos the independent spirit her granddaughter displays. In telling their stories, the two women both hark back to Welbon's great great-grandmother, a successful businesswoman in Honduras who is here portrayed by Tshaye Hebert.

Welbon uses shadows on pavement to rep her sense of racism, and occasionally employs stop-action. The camerawork isn't splendid, but the expressiveness of the film essay sure is. Welbon as a creator shows purpose and ability.

Less moving is the story told by Vietnamese-born M. Trinh Nguyen, who, with her wealthy family, ankled Vietnam for San Francisco. We see her returning home for the first time since she was 9, riding through Ho Chi Minh City via pedicab (pic is named after the human-powered vehicles). Through intercutting, "Xich-Lo" shows home-movie scenes of Nguyen's family, including her lovely mother and siblings.

Nguyen confesses she doesn't fit among Vietnamese, Vietnamese-Americans or Anglo Americans, but she does look smart in her shorts and blouse, her dark glasses and bobbed hair. Bitter about her strict father, she still comes home to her relatives -- and waits at the gate.

Trouble is that Nguyen doesn't have much positive to say about anything, though she does speak highly of her wise, non-Westernized grandmother. Her reflections on the Vietnamese people aren't deep. The home movies are brief and sketchy, and the contemporary Super-8 footage isn't always clear. Or revealing.

Camera, Jay Allen, Welbon, Makiko Watanabe; music, Joseph Welbon.