‘Clearcut:’ A Portrait of a Changing Western Community

By Tad Sooter, 2-16-06

Editor's Note: Clearcut is one of the New West picks from the program of the upcoming Big Sky Documentary Film Festival.

Click here for the trailer.

Click here to hear Tad's interview with filmmaker Peter Richardson.

To the old-time Philomath residents, the high school was in a dire downward spiral and allegations of hidden political agendas and calls for the superintendent’s resignation were flying from all corners of the once-peaceful Oregon town. In fact, things had gotten so bad that the school was being described as “politically correct."

“How did Hitler take over Germany? They changed the way the kids think, one generation and it’s over," is disgruntled Philomath resident Steve Lowther’s analogy for the liberal changes at Philomath High School leading up to 2003.

Philomath High is the focal point of “Clearcut," a film by Philomath grad Peter Richardson set to play at the Big Sky Documentary Film Festival, February 20.

In a narrow sense the film is about the value struggles of a changing school, but in a broader, and more meaningful way, it’s about the differences that divide communities and countries.

In Philomath the deepest rift is the slow death of logging and the identity crisis it has left behind. The town’s barometer for cultural change was of course the school, where young people were experimenting with individuality and recklessly disregarding the values of their flannel-shirted fathers.

Lowther wasn’t going to stand by and watch the town’s youth be assimilated into a dangerous liberal doctrine. As an heir to one of the largest logging fortunes in the country he had power over the Clemens Foundation, a scholarship fund that for the last three decades had unconditionally paid the college tuition of every Philomath graduate. Ironically the fund had been founded by logging baron Rex Clemens who recognized the need to educated Philomath students for jobs beyond logging.

But to Lowther, the logging values were even more important than jobs. In a bold move he threatened to end the scholarships unless the superintendent stepped down. The town drew sides. On one end, long-time Philomath(ians?) wanted a return to the days of good-old-fashioned values, when kids didn’t wear nose rings and could be swatted in school. The teachers and faculty, meanwhile, were desperate to squeeze in mainstream ecology (new-age, MTV style data) and political science into their classes, while skillfully skirting the issue of logging and its (highly disputed) environmental impact.

Sprawling beyond the most obvious theme of "nazi-like" liberal brainwashing in public education, “Clearcut" turns out to be rich in storylines that are almost cliché but still vitally important discussion points in today’s Western towns. Transplants from the city, had escaped to the timber town, setting the old-timers on edge, (“He’s from Chicago, he doesn’t talk like we do," a teacher says of the embattled superintendent.) Adding to the tension, technology and education had become the largest employers in Philomath, bringing new ideas and lifestyles to town.

Exploring these themes through the story of Philomath, “Clearcut" effortlessly expands to become a portrait of changing communities across the West.

What ultimately sets Philomath apart from the struggles of other communities, and what makes the film particularly moving, is that the conflict between the town’s warring factions centered around the school, with future of the youth at stake. [End of article]