BORN IN FLAMES

Born in Flames is a successful film about a failed revolution. "New York City," announces the cultivated voice of radio announcing, "Ten years after the Social-Democratic War of Liberation." The disembodied voice proclaims "a time when all New Yorkers take pride in remembering the most peaceful revolution the world has known." Taking advantage of the conventions of science fiction, director Lizzie Borden proposes a kind of futuristic feminism that does not differ greatly from that which we now know. The extraordinary exposition of the film is what reveals its essential "sci-fi" quality, however, rather than the projection of the narrative into some indefinite future of an America in the throes of a social-democratic government. In fact, Borden's cynicism extends equally to the revolution and feminism. Because the women in the film see themselves as true socialists and not pragmatists sacrificing certain revolutionary ideals for social stability, they remain the sole revolutionary element in a moribund American socialist state. Nevertheless, the women themselves cannot seem to rid their own movement of class distinctions and discriminations inherited from the white male-dominated structure. Nothing seems to have changed. The protagonist is Adelaide Norris, played by Jeanne Satterfield, who is attempting to form a Women's Lesbian Army, the most salient result of which is a bicycle brigade of whistle-blowing women ready to swoop down on rape attempts or, on another level, to police male construction workers complaining that female colleagues are acing them out of the best jobs. In other spheres of influence, Norris tries to create a link with two underground radio stations. Radio Ragazza has a punk rock bias with Isabel (Adele Bertei) rapping delightfully anarchic devilry, which lets us peek into Lizzie Borden's hip South Bronx sensibility (where all art forms are perforce a put-on of Art; and it might be added that Borden used to write for Artforum). The other radio station is Phoenix, run by Honey (born Honey, as Ms. Borden was born Lizzie Borden) and her black sisters with radical rhetoric that has not been heard for about a decade in America. The status quo is further challenged by Zella Wylie (played enthusiastically by Flo Kennedy), who spouts feminist wisdom and represents an older generation with passionate ideals but realistic goals. While Adelaide and h r racially mixed following slowly begin to form plans of action, they run into an intellectual band of feminists with privileged white middle-class views that call for consensus and more dialogue. The "dialogue" of the film is actually a dialectic, as the various groups fer representative views of their interest g oups, and thus reveal the reason for the splintering of the feminist movement. A truly rational discussion takes place in one of the many sequences loosely knit together by Adelaide's attempt at unification. A debate ensues as to what use should be made of weapons-whether to use the kind that would permanently damage the enemy or rather the kind to put the enemy out of commission only temporarily. One sees the humane impact here of feminist values being applied to power-wielding political decisions, and hearing such diverse points of view is enlightening, for it reveals how certain alternatives are ignored, chided or thought impractical in ordinary political dialogue in the United States. But without dwelling on ideologically revolutionary ideas, Born in Flames leaps vigorously into other dilemmas in a pace that is quickened by Borden's extensive experience editing such things as From Mao to Mozart or sculptor Richard Serra's Stahlwerk, as well as Michael Oblowitz's Minus Zero, all of which have turned documentary footage into art films of distinction. Produced in fits and starts over a period of four years, Born in Flames has a smouldering appeal that seems to guarantee us that its topical issues and references are not just futuristic feminism. Another debate is about whether the photo of a martyred sister, dead after an abortive attempt to smuggle weapons, should be used as a rallying point, or whether this would foster a type of fetishism of her dead body. It is to the film's credit that it avoids waxing pedantic or didactic on any of the political points it exposes, although some critics have found it diffuse and superficial because it avoids advocating positions and