Reel justice: Local filmmakers document hurricane recovery efforts in Puerto Rico

When Hurricane Irma and Maria descended upon the island of Puerto Rico in late 2017, images of devastation and typical 24-hour news coverage followed.

But once the winds and rains ceased and the waters vanished back into their rivers, so too did the newscrews and the international media spotlight. And once again, the people of Puerto Rico—who have lived under U.S. imperial rule since 1898—were left to fend for themselves.

But for the filmmaking Boricua Bay Area brothers Eli and Kahlil Jacobs-Fantauzzi, the call to action to help those in need was immediate, and is one that has been a lifetime in the making.

“Me and Eli weren’t born on the island, but we are Boricuas and we’re proud of that,” said Kahlil. He and his brother Eli are showcasing their latest documentary film, “We Still Here,” in the Bay Area this month, which documents the ‘just recovery’ effort that took place in the small town of Comerío after the hurricanes. “Part of what we want to do through making this film and doing the impact tour, is to share our history, to share our experiences, but to also connect with Black and Brown communities, and also talk about the idea and the identities of Afro Latinos.”

The film, which will make several stops in the Bay Area including one at the Roxie on Feb. 24, documents not only the ‘just recovery’ effort in Comerío, but stands as a visual testament to the wonders that horizontal leadership brings to a tight knit community, especially amid the aftermath of a natural disaster. Two of those horizontal leaders central to the film are 24-year-old Mariangelie ‘Marian’ Ortiz and 19-year-old Jerriel ‘Yeyo’ Catala, whose gradual transformation is captured over the course of the 53-minute film.

The clean-up crew of Comerío pose for a portrait alongside the filmmakers of “We Still Here.” Courtesy photo

Ortiz and Catala—in addition to Boriqua filmmaker Juan Cruz—will be joining the tour, making this their first visit to California. The tour, funded by The Redford Center and hosted by CubaCaribe, will be making stops at USF and UC Berkeley as well.

For the Jacobs-Fantauzzi brothers making a documentary wasn’t part of their original plan, but arguably, the film has been in the works from the day they were born.

Both visited the island when they were children, both had a hand in starting the Puerto Rican club at U.C. Berkeley in 1994—the members being three Puerto Ricans and a Mexicana—and both were part of “Libertad Tour” in the early 2000s. “Which was for a lot of us, our first personal connection to Puerto Rico, being born outside of the island,” Eli said.

It was on that tour that Eli met Brooklyn-based Puerto Rican media maker Mikey Cordero, the both of whom would go on to create Defend Puerto Rico in 2016. And it was in 2017, as Hurricane Irma was on its path of destruction, that the Defend Puerto Rico exhibit at Oakland’s E14 Gallery became a hub for collecting donations and supplies.

Eli remembers the boxes of donation—which numbered 36 in total and included everything from diapers to solar lights—reaching the top of his apartment roof. Before long he was on a plane to Puerto Rico—with the 36 boxes. He originally planned to be there a week, distributing materials and creating short videos to crowdfund. Four years later, Eli is still there.

“It changed my life completely,” said Eli. “I’ve never been close to destruction this close in my life.”

Cinematographer Paul Moulier Sepulveda films community members of Comerío. Courtesy photo

“It changed my life completely,” said Eli. “I’ve never been close to destruction this close in my life.”

And while Eli was handing out those donations, the town and community of Comerío found him. Soon, Eli was hearing tales from children on bicycles that the Río la Plata had risen 80 feet, submerging their homes and belongings. Those children guided him through Comerío, showing him the houses without roofs, the dryers, washers and stoves strewn along the streets.

“It felt horrible. Even though we were donating stuff…you can’t give people just food when they don’t have a roof over their head,” Eli said, who returned the very next week with tarps and his camera. That’s when he met the couple, Yoanna and Chino, whose house had been destroyed, leaving them and their four kids without shelter. Eli took out his camera, and produced a quick video with hopes to crowdfund. It worked. When they began rebuilding the couple’s home, La Maraña—a participatory design project—became involved and thus began the process of the community voting on which five houses would be rebuilt next.

“When you think about a ‘Just Recovery,’ we parallel that with ‘Just Storytelling.’ So what does justice look like in the recovery process,” said Eli. “That’s not throwing water bottles out of helicopters. It’s asking the people what they want. How do they want resources? Who should get them first? And I think the film does a good job of that.”

That spirit of listening to the needs of a community are captured in the film. The film shows Sofía Unuane of La Maraña listening to Comerío residents, who prioritize the needs of elders and those who are bed ridden.

Community members of Comerío clean up the remains of their town in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria and Irma. Courtesy photo

“For us, it’s about non-extractive storytelling,” Kahlil said. “It’s about making sure that the voices of the people that are in the film are not just objects but are participants in the filmmaking process. I think that’s been central to our philosophy towards filmmaking.”

Kahlil described making the people of editing side by side with the people of Comerío. “Stuff like that doesn’t happen in documentary filmmaking,” he said.

The film also captures the arrival of a small group from Comerío to Washington, D.C., who pleaded with lawmakers and told of the hardships of the island. Many in the group from Comerío had never protested or participated in acts of civil disobedience. When they returned to the island, they were met by countrymen who were ready to oust Ricardo Rosello as governor of Puerto Rico.

“That’s part of that politicization. That’s part of seeing that you deserve better, knowing that you deserve better, and willingness to fight for justice,” said Eli. “It’s about self determination. It’s about not having to depend on a government that continues to let us down. It’s about, ‘Nos Tenemos.’ It’s about we’ve got each other’s back.”

Kahlil agrees.

“It’s also about the magic of the future. It’s not about creating what was, but it’s about creating what could be.”

The children of Joanna and Chino pose for a portrait in the Puerto Rican town of Comerío. Courtesy photo

“It’s also about the magic of the future. It’s not about creating what was, but it’s about creating what could be.”

The brothers also hope the film educates viewers on the colonial history of the island, and how that history impacts Puerto Ricans today.

“When you talk about Puerto Rico, it’s important to go back to 1898, July 25, when the United States invades the island. It’s important for people to realize the historical relationship that the United States has with the island and the different ways that the United States has continued to gain things and has continued to take things. And use Puerto Rico in a way that has benefited them without thinking about the conditions of the people.”

Residents Yeyo, Marian and Cuca were all central to the recovery process in Comerío and the editing of the film “We Still Here.” Courtesy photo

That education and activation through storytelling is central to manifesting solidarity outside of the island, and is especially critical for people in the diaspora. And not just people of the Puerto Rican diaspora, but those of the Filipino and Hawaiian as well.

“The sense of home was so important to me, and so important to the whole Puerto Rican diaspora,” Kahlil said. “I think that that moment really marked a time for all of us in the diaspora, where we felt connected like never before. We suffered when our brothers and sisters and people on the island suffered. And from that moment on, we have a new relationship with each other. I pray that diasporas from around the world can reconnect with home, and that it doesn’t take a disaster to do so.”