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  • Kivalina: Life in the Modern Arctic by Gina Abatemarco
  • Charlie McNabb
Kivalina: Life in the Modern Arctic. 2015. By Gina Abatemarco. 64 min. Color. (Savor Terra Films, New York.)

With the first shot—a stark landscape of muted whites and grays, with whistling wind and the cries of gulls—an emotional tension is established in Kivalina: Life in the Modern Arctic. After a slow pan across swaths of snow and ice, the camera cuts to a boy on a snowmobile dragging a sea mammal carcass. An unseen elder speaks slowly, with a tone of resignation: "I know I'm going to watch this village fall into the ocean." This masterfully documented ethnographic film portrays an Iñupiaq village through the voices of its residents and intimate cinematography evoking visual participation.

Kivalina is an Iñupiaq village in Northwest Alaska. Situated on a barrier island between the Chukchi Sea and Kivalina River, the landscape is composed of tundra vegetation and is almost completely devoid of trees. The climate is cold with strong winter winds, blowing snow, and ice overflow in rivers. Iñupiaq life revolves around a yearly subsistence cycle: spring whaling and seal hunting, summer caribou hunting, and fall and winter fishing and caribou hunting. Historically, the people moved between seasonal settlements to engage in subsistence activities, coming together between seasons to celebrate and feast.

Today, however, those who live in the village year-round number less than 400 residents. After the US federal government established a school in 1905, Kivalina residents were legally required to settle permanently to provide a formal education for their children. This major shift in movement patterns significantly altered Iñupiaq life, though traditional subsistence activities are still at the forefront of modern daily life. Another substantial disruption still unfolding is the severe impact of climate change. Permafrost thaw and ocean storms are rapidly increasing coastal erosion. Caribou migration routes have changed, thinning sea ice makes whaling and seal hunting more difficult, and warmer temperatures impair fish-and meat-drying processes. The perimeter of Kivalina is literally dropping into the ocean. The next major storm could send giant waves throughout the village, necessitating an emergency evacuation for which the community is ill-prepared.

With unprecedented access, the film's director and producer Gina Abatemarco and director of photography Zoë White documented this village in crisis for over 5 years, starting in 2008. Their work resulted in access to individual and community experiences influenced by an environmental trauma that will potentially affect traditional culture. In one scene, a woman stands on her porch at dusk, describing how the angry wind and waves keep her awake at night. In another, a man refers to the high rates of suicide and suicide attempts in recent years. In still another, two men field-dress a seal and talk bitterly about the interventions of corporations and government: "After they're all done 'improving' our lives, they'll just forget about us." But Kivalina also reveals moments of joy: deep laughter as an elder processes meat and engages in wordplay, adolescents mugging for the camera at a community dance, a grandmother singing a song to a young child during a family meal.

These instances are interspersed with more structured interview segments, capturing both unscripted daily activities and the metanarrative of participant thoughts and emotions about their experiences. While the film's primary [End Page 360] theme is climate change and its impact on physical safety, long-range planning, and subsistence, viewers have a rare opportunity to see everyday life. A variety of residents are profiled, from adolescents to elders, highlighting the roles of tribal officers, school administrators, Kivalina Clinic health aides, general store clerks, religious leaders, and community members engaged in hunting and processing subsistence foods. Non-residents are also included: the Army Corps of Engineers working on erosion control as well as Coast Guard and Army doctors who visit periodically.

The deep divide between Iñupiaq cultural values and outsider perspectives is emphasized as community members assert their priorities and history. In one troubling scene, an Army engineer suggests that the limited efficacy of the seawall they are building could be improved by continually adding more rock. A...

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