Fairy Creek
(Canada, 86 min.)
Dir. Jen Muranetz
Considered one of the largest acts of civil disobedience in Canadian history, the Fairy Creek protest against old-growth logging on Vancouver Island made national headlines from late 2020 until June 2021 when the British Columbia government approved the request of three First Nations to defer logging for two years in their territories. Filmmaker Jen Muranetz goes behind the scenes of this operation, observing strategy meetings and treetop sleeping pads, as well as digging deeper into the social complexities of the protest itself in Fairy Creek.
Much of the film explores the protest launched by environmentalists. Mostly young, mostly white, these individuals formed blockades, made camp in a tree’s canopy to “tree sit,” and berated loggers and RCMP officers, often recording them on their phones. Muranetz captures the motivations of these individuals and frequently injects their perspectives into the documentary by including footage that they recorded themselves with their mobile phones.
In addition to chronicling their stand-offs with authorities and their meetings to plan the blockade, Muranetz shows the group bringing out MacBooks, DJ equipment, and speaker systems to have a mini rave. It’s moments like these that bring out an interesting texture to Muranetz’s filmmaking. She often delivers a section of dialogue or a sequence, such as these dance breaks, without judgment or commentary. In doing so, Muranetz leaves it to audiences to decide whether a mini rave is just some kids blowing off steam or evidence that they’re treating this entire affair as if it were a street party.
In one instance, Muranetz shows a young man describing how he believes it’s all about where one chooses to place their life’s energies — working 12 hours for free but with a passion, or working 8 hours for money. It’s a statement said with such sincerity that it’s easy to gloss over who paid for all their equipment and supplies, or how they can be unemployed for such a stretch and still afford to pay their cell phone bill to go live on Instagram.
Similarly, the confidence with which they face — and perhaps even desire — being arrested speaks to a group of individuals assured that the justice system will take care of them fairly. Absent is the fear of undue escalation or deportation, what only exists is a “Come at me, bro” attitude that we should all be so lucky to feel.
Muranetz doesn’t directly address any of the privileges that come with this form of protest; however, she clearly presents moments when this privilege screams loudly, possibly in the hopes that her audience will connect those dots. Where Muranetz evades any commentary on entitlement, she does explicitly explore the divide between the protests of environmentalists of settler descent and those of First Nations land defenders.
Towards the end of the film, Fairy Creek presents the idea that the fight of the environmentalists and the fight of the Indigenous are not one in the same; in fact, they, at points, contradict one another. While Indigenous communities’ fight is for the ability to govern their lands as they see fit, the environmentalists concern themselves with telling the B.C. and Canadian governments what to do (and not do) with the land.
At this point, Muranetz amplifies Indigenous voices by giving time for their concerns that the protests of the settlers have dominated the media cycle and in doing so, create the appearance that First Nations are unable to speak or fight for themselves. A blond-haired, blue-eyed woman of mixed Indigenous-settler heritage takes centre stage in this discussion as Indigenous youth confront her way of protesting as unhelpful and problematic. Her tearful response shows that she doesn’t take this criticism on board, rather finding it frustrating that they don’t see her point of view.
Through documenting these protests, Muranetz codifies a moment in Canadian history that, as of writing, remains unresolved (current logging deferments are only temporary). By expanding the purview of the film to explore the nuances of protest and environmentalism, Fairy Creek goes a step beyond a straight snapshot in time. It becomes a necessary film for those believing they’re fighting the good fight to consider their actions and motivations.
The final moments of the film sees four members of the protest revisiting the now vacant site with one exclaiming, “This is the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
Perhaps after viewing Fairy Creek, this young woman will begin to understand that while for her this may be a pat on the back and an anecdote to dine on for years to come, for many, the fight is one of existence and survival.