Here in the UK there’s a view from some floating in the wind about, say, the Polish coming over to England and taking our jobs. That’s just an example of a somewhat uneducated perspective of one country’s need to branch out, so to speak. There’s a stigma of xenophobia, that’s for sure, but we have that everywhere to varying extents, don’t we?
There are no implanted lashings of racism, or even harmful finger-pointing, in the Netflix documentary, American Factory, directed by Steven Bognar and Julia Reichert. The Chinese-run factory here is on American soil, which was once a General Motors and now an auto glass manufacturer in Dayton, Ohio. The company behind it, Fuyao, operates a rather different ship through Chinese hands than perhaps the average American is used to.
American Factory digs – but not nearly deep enough – into the natural cultural clashes that come from the turnover. That said, around 2,000 of the American people got to keep their jobs, albeit under slightly alternative circumstances. Working conditions can bludgeon the spirit, but having the work at all carries some form of gratitude. What to do.
One such issue tackled in American Factory, demonstrates how differently we see the world. The factory handles glass for automobiles – quite literally it seems is part of the Chinese remit. The contrasting safety measures between the cultures is most blatantly shown as two American workers watch with raised eyebrows as a Chinese man sorts heaps of broken glass into colours with just latex gloves on.
The Chinese work ethic – that they’re workaholics perhaps – is observed with a kind of nobility and pride more than looked upon as aliens. The 12-hour shifts, the one or two days off per month, might seem excessive to many of us. The difference might well be the almost jovial attitude of the Chinese that this is what they have to do, a kind of way of life prone to grumblings from you and I.
Where the documentary slyly shifts tone, is when creeping over to the other side, from the point of view of the Chinese. The Americans being accused of idleness, and to a large degree, made to feel like foreigners in their own land, is handled with a procedural grasps of human nature. That is to say, American Factory is hardly an account of war between nations, but rather the rightful battle for amiable working treatment as we know it.
When the union activists take a stand, many are then dismissed from the company. Business is business, sure, but the defence of the workers comes with a defence of the workers. Two sides, who can certainly work together until the tensions of potential exploitation and incompatibility lock horns. Both the Americans and the Chinese walk legitimate steps in this cross-cultural journey.
Directors, Steven Bognar and Julia Reichert, take care of all their subjects though. There’s little gloss or sentimentality in the portrayal of this entire workforce. They depict the growing conflicts and the compromises as they come, intertwining in a way our own moods can alter during an average day.
Be it the very-real notion and extent to which machines undertake the jobs of people, the dumping chemicals, the need for economic growth, wage cuts, conforming to a wholesome working environment. American Factory mediates those either side of the lines, as well as those crossing back and forth. These are decent people after all, that just so happen to cross paths. We can’t all agree on the same things, and run down the same track side-by-side, and often that will lead to disparity and dispute.
It is fascinating to watch American Factory, through the interactions of the workers, learning from and influencing one another. Some of it appears (and indeed might be) extreme, but is expressed delicately, without too much urgency. Personally, I craved the film to delve further into the Pandora’s Box of big business and working class. We are shown the fundamental issues to a degree, though plenty left up in the air to digest or ponder on.
American Factory is thought-provoking at face value. An insightful, relatable documentary, that is engrossing to much of the social anthropologists within us. When the Chinese management announce an opportunity for a select few extra productive workers to be flown to Shanghai, the lights seem to go out in the American’s heads rather than radiate with enthusiasm.
And one particularly telling, amusing exchange as one Chinese worker comments on some of the talking and having fun during shifts. To which the American jokes about taping their mouths closed. His colleague’s reaction is that of concern, even impulsively looking at the camera as if to say You can’t do that.
What also shines, and gives American Factory some of its simmering power, is Chad Cannon’s score. The music moderates between the two cultures, banging the drum for China, while saluting the land of America. A score that neither glorifies nor dampens the film’s labour-intensive discourse. Accompanying rather than taking the piss or making any such generalizations about the two nations. There’s even a slight echo of Philip Glass’ score for Koyaanisqatsi in its tale of industry and globalization.
