It has been a long and troubled road from solitary in prison to spoken word poet. Just 16 when he was sentenced as an adult for attempted murder, Kosal Khiev, was 30 when he was released and then deported from the US. For Khiev, it is a long journey from the state penitentiary in the U.S. to international spoken-word poet. And it’s a journey that inspires admiration and not a little uneasiness. What makes the story of Khiev different — and disturbing — from the average ex-inmate makes good is the subject of the new documentary, "Cambodian Son" screening this Sunday at the Jacobs Center at 2 p.m.
Directed by Masahiro Sugano and produced by wife Anida Yoeu Ali, a multimedia performance artist, “Cambodian Son” takes a hard look at what Khiev faces as a stateless person and a rising artist, set against the backdrop of war refugees, Phnom Penh and young immigrants deported for violent crimes.
Raised in poverty in Santa Ana, Calif., Khiev, an ethnic Khmer, fell into gang life at a young age. Sentenced at 16, released at 30, he was re-arrested upon his release and deported back to Cambodia, under the Immigration and Nationality Act (INA), back to the country whose killing fields his family had fled. Forbidden to return to the U.S., Khiev has had to struggle to make something of himself in a place he has no memory of and even less direct connection.
What ultimately saves Khiev are words, his words — the spoken-word art he perfects in prison is the very art that helps him create a place in the rapidly changing art scene in Cambodia, and ultimately, sends him as Cambodia’s artistic representative to the 2012 Olympics in London.
“Cambodian Son,” documents Khiev’s rise and redemption in a casual yet compelling series of beautifully shot sequences ranging from performance to presentation. A mix of straight documentary and art piece, “Cambodian Son” has a casual yet well-constructed look which suits the the tenor of Khiev's poetry and his driven delivery style. However, at times, the documentary seems like a Chinese box — open one story and others are hidden inside, making the narrative structure feel fractured. The documentary moves from issue to issue — the hideous legacy of war, the art scene in Phnom Penh, Khiev, the plight of the deportees. The chronology jumps around a bit much and feels a little stiff at times.
Nonetheless, Khiev’s charismatic personality shines through clearly as he gives voice to the frustrations of forced exile, a troubled youth and hesitant hopes in his poetry and in the tales he tells of trying to make it in a Cambodia he does not know and does not know him.
But equally compelling is the troubling story that emerges along side the art.
Khiev is part of a growing number of young immigrants -South Asian, Latino and others - American in all but nationality, who are deported back to their country of origin after serving sentences from crimes ranging from petty theft to murder. Many are sent back to countries they may have last seen as very young children. Often left on their own, with no family, no connections and frequently no local language skills, these “deportees” face an uncertain future. Unable to return to the US, unfamiliar with the country they were born in, many live in poverty, isolation and depression. Some turn to drugs or gangs to fit in, others just give up.
In Phnom Penh, Khiev is among a circle of those sentenced home, struggling to find their place. Some, like Khiev, turn to art or community service, others re-enter lives of crime or disappear.
It is a story familiar to many immigrant communities in the US and one that troubles Khiev’s family. His numerous brothers and sisters seem confused as to why he ran with gangs and ended up in prison while they ended up with families, jobs and in some cases, education.
The answer may lie in the haunting legacy of civil war and the killing fields of Cambodia. As "Cambodian Son explains," the shadows of Cambodia’s killing fields are long and deadly. They taint all those they touch, from refugees to their children born far far away. The trauma of those events, authored by Henry Kissinger and brought to horrific fruition by the Khmer Rouge on ordinary citizens of Cambodia during the Cambodian Civil War, stalks them and their children still.
Studies have shown that the trauma of civil war and genocide frequently slides down the generations, often creating troubled youth who feel displaced and turn to gangs and others in search of an identity.
It is this haunting, says Khiev, that made him feel like an outsider in California, unable to find a culture that fit, not quite Cambodian at home, not quite American outside.
“We should have been there for him more,” says one sister, “something went very wrong,” says an older brother.
The paradox of Khiev’s story is that these experiences have shaped the spoken word artist he is today. As ‘Cambodian Son” follows him in his development and movement from lost deportee to award-winning, international performer, it is clear that his childhood and prison experiences feed his spoken work and inform the community work he is now doing in Cambodia. It is also clear, had he stayed in the US, it is very possible gang life would have killed him.
Now, in exile, Khiev is developing into a very powerful artist and activist whose words give hope and encouragement to the new generation of children coming up in Cambodia as well as to fellow deportees.
And yet, and yet…
As Khiev stands in the world his mother left and she stands in the world from which he was deported, the dream has a lead lining.
Although Khiev has achieved a phenomenal redemption and creative development far beyond the imagination of the 16 year old who almost killed someone, he still cannot go back home.
Created, in part as an avenue to discuss the deportation of Asian immigrants who have served time for various offenses, "Cambodian Son" adds an important voice to the current discussion on immigration reform.
Part documentary, part performance video, nonetheless, "Cambodian Son" a compelling, thought-provoking documentary that raises important questions about the power of art to change lives and the power of the current immigration laws to ruin them.
“Cambodian Son” screens at 2 p.m. Sunday, May 5, at the Jacobs Center, 404 Euclid Ave. in San Diego. It's free, but donations welcome.
Goes well with “Sentenced Home,” Lost in Detention” and “Deportation Nation
