But when this child falls, he leaks blood. They are not monsters, after all. It may be the only moment in your life when you can control the outcome. These photographs do not tell us about crack mothers or schools that don't work or pappy dead or in prison. Documentary without a hint of narrative comes dangerously close to the vision Diane Arbus saw in her madness.
Children appear grotesques.
A land of roaches and rats and unnatural mothers. No man is an island entire of itself. There is no possibility of a healthy suburb radiant from a corrupt inner city. The children of East L.A. live in the same city as Madonna and Tom Bradley and Harvard-educated screenwriters who use coke for inspiration to sell a believably tarnished vision of the world to the children of the crack mother in Compton. In this Los Angeles an Austrian muscle man becomes kin to the Kennedys, and a movie mogul who kills with dead eyes.