(THIS ARTICLE IS MACHINE TRANSLATED by Google from Norwegian)
Somewhere in the California part of the Sonora Desert, between various military bases scattered around, lies Slab City – a community of house occupants. In winter, many so-called "migratory birds" move their caravans here; that is, people who are looking for freedom and a warm place to spend the cold season. In the summer, when the heat reaches ruthless heights, these people retreat to cooler places. Only a hard core of the place's inhabitants is left. For the regular residents of Slab City, freedom is a by-product of poverty and of not fitting in anywhere else. This film is a portrait of their struggle to maintain a sense of belonging in an abandoned place.
The concept of living outside society is often associated with something romantic and bohemian. However, living in Slab City is not much romantic. In reality, the place can hardly be called a city, but rather a community of improvised houses and caravans. Aside from some picturesque views of the desert, Slab City simply doesn't have much to offer.
For the regular residents of Slab City, freedom is a byproduct of poverty.
Distinctive grades. People depend on each other out here in the desert. The scarcity of goods makes simple routines important and small signs of goodness significant. One of the routines that brings people together is the morning coffee at seven each day, served in Rob Lane's cafe. The coffee is served in the simplest way: it is cooked on a stove and emptied into jugs, plastic bottles and random glasses. But it's "the best coffee in the neighborhood," and it gets everyone gathered in Rob's improvised internet cafe to be together and use the wireless network. These people are the most unsuccessful among the unsuccessful, and they are also very human and vulnerable. It is easy to recognize them.
The scarcity of goods makes simple routines important and small signs of goodness significant.
Mikael Lypinski's documentary is centered on coffee maker Rob Lane and his role in this small community. Several years ago, Rob changed his truck to the home he now owns in Slab City, and has stayed here ever since. We also get to know Donita, a middle-aged woman who found peace in Slab City after escaping from jail and who enjoys dancing on Saturday nights. And then we have Zack, the young man who found a tutor in Rob, but who struggles to stay away from trouble. There are several others like them – and as you get to know their stories, all the characters feel remarkably dear and famous.
Unpredictable. But there is an emotional confusion associated with the carefully constructed empathy that arises through the storytelling. Every time you as a spectator feel for these people, you feel that they are like you – but then they are not really. A fleeting sense of something unpredictable lies in the air; something that is there but that is difficult to put your finger on – a feeling that in this almost-ordinary society, things can easily escalate. What can cause such a shift, one can never know; it may be the noisy neighbors, or the methamphetamine addicts hanging around. It may be a simple misunderstanding or impulse, but anything can happen at any time.
However, Rob and the others assure the viewer, indirectly, that there is nothing to be worried about. There is something terribly bittersweet in their eagerness to offer the best of themselves in front of the camera, convincing the spectator that life in Slab City is no different from other, more conventional ways of living. Rob and his fellow citizens are good people – or at least they want to be. They care, and they have a sense of morality, or a sense of doing as best they can, the circumstances taken into account. Still, the viewer's instinctive caution persists; not as an explicit and concrete understanding, but more as an underlying theme that ties everything into the film together. This caution is enhanced by the camera's close-up of details, such as rotten teeth, the flies that are everywhere, the dust that flies in the wind and tiny glimpses of madness in some people's eyes. It is these details that put everything into perspective, and make one realize how fragile the balance is between freedom and loose life in Slab City. The constant process of maintaining this equilibrium is the real essence of the lives of the inhabitants.
This balance is the compass of society and provides a sense of normalcy. Desert Coffee is also a depiction of how humanity, society and freedom can coexist with the poverty of people who are social outcasts. This cinematic portrait also challenges conventional ideas of concepts such as home and belonging. In Slab City, these concepts take on a form that is nothing like what we know, not even something we could wish for; yet they are very much present. They are reinvented every day by people who didn't fit in anywhere – until they found each other here, in Slab City.
