FILM BRINGS POWERFUL MESSAGE ABOUT DRUG ADDICTION TO OLIVER

Nettie Wild is busy fielding phone calls in her Vancouver office Thursday,
but this isn't unusual for the producer/director of a critically acclaimed
film. She spends a few moments tucking away loose ends to clear the way for
an interview, but once that is accomplished she is fully engaged. And engaging.

It takes more than creativity to film a documentary about the dark alleys
of drug addiction in Vancouver's east side; it takes courage, sensitivity
and the ability to let the story take on a life of its own.

Wild is acutely aware of the need to let a narrative speak true to its
unique character, never forcing its shape or influencing the direction it
takes. And while filming Fix: The Story of an Addicted City she found
herself winding down roads less travelled and certainly not expected. "You
have to be open to where it's going to take you and open to its
contradictions. And you can't back away from the gnarls: the gnarls are
what makes it. And I ran into a lot of gnarls."

Her laughter at the memory is warm with compassion. It seems as though she
is incapable of disdain, a quality that recurs like a theme throughout her
conversation, "I am from Vancouver," she says when asked what compelled to
her to make the film, "and my home is in a lot of trouble. But I didn't
want to make a movie about how awful it was."

Instead she got wind of a group of people, "health professionals and users
who were taking risks to deal with the big issues of addiction as an
illness." These individuals became the focal point of her film, "they asked
the tough questions: 'is every life worthy or is there this population
whose lives are negotiable?'"

While filming Wild says she "saw how the situation could move from
dysfunctional stasis to a point where the paralysis is broken." She is
referring to a gentler more humane way to approach the problem of drug
addiction; one that causes controversy, anger and fear. "We don't need to
reinvent the wheel," she says of safe injection sites and other progressive
ways to face the problem, "there are 26 cities doing this already."

But not in North America, "Baltimore received a lot of attention just with
their attempt at harm reduction," Wild states passionately, "they have been
reasonably successful with providing needle exchanges and street nurses but
safe injection sites were out of the question. The program was met with a
continuum of controversy."

She disagrees with the United States and their aggressive stance against
drugs, "they use terms such as embattled and war on drugs; they see
incarceration as a solution. It's one of the reasons we're so far behind."

Yet in Canada and in particularly in British Columbia she feels there is
hope and it seems ironic that she should come to this conclusion while
filming an area that is steeped in despair. But 'Fix' has two meanings and
it is the ability to heal or mend that Wild sees unfold as she tours with
her film. "It is almost a social movement," she says of the momentum gained
and the effect 'Fix" has on its audience. "I am discovering as I take the
film around that there are people, not just in Vancouver, but in
communities throughout BC, that want to do things to help - they are way
ahead of the politicians."

"People are worried about their own home," she observes about the
discussions that take place in the forums after the movie has run. "The
discussions are really well attended and there are people there who ground
the discussions in the home scene." Wild says that there are always local
health workers in each community and she says she particularly welcomes
"the people who don't buy into this a bit - they ask the best questions."

And in her opinion there are plenty of questions to ask, "Many smaller
communities have a direct tie to the drug scene in Vancouver," she remarks,
adding that often kids "go to Vancouver to party then come home to die."
She asks, "Where else does it begin if not in your home town?"

The problem exists in small communities she explains, but unlike Vancouver
where it is highly visible, "there is a tremendous amount of energy
expended (in one's home town) to keep it hidden. It becomes a legacy of
shame." People in Whitehorse, for example, were shocked to learn from a
street nurse that over 12,000 needles were handed out in a needle exchange.

Wild, who is well known for her documentary on the Zapatista upraising in
Chiapas, Mexico says that this particular story touched her in a deeper
more meaningful way, "It was different. It was my province, my backyard. I
filmed an extraordinary group of people," she says of the four who were
pivotal to the story: Ann Livingston, a non user and organizer for the
Vancouver Area Network of Drug Users; Dean Wilson, a former IBM salesman
and current drug addict and activist; former Vancouver Mayor, Philip Owen
who championed the drug philosophy of harm reduction and lost his job in
the process; and Vancouver Police Sergeant Doug Lang who deals with the
reality of the streets and describes his job as 'shoveling water'.

The story of Philip Owen in itself is intriguing. "Here was this opaque guy
at City Hall and his own party kicked him out because of his involvement,"
she says in amazement noting that "it may have been the rise and fall of
Philip Owen - but at least he can sleep at night."

Wild sums up her documentary with a sense of passion and belief, "The film
woos people in; it is a story well told and by seeing it people will walk
down a road they never would normally walk." If her film is anything like
her conversation it will be a fascinating journey.

Note: The film is playing at the Oliver Theatre Apr. 29; Wild will answer
questions about Fix: The Story of an Addicted City after it is shown. Ken
Benson of the Centre of Disease Control in Penticton and other local health
care workers will also be in attendance.