The Last Black Man in San Fransisco
In Portland, there is a band of houseless people who have been forced to move all of their belongings every couple weeks. They had had enough and organized to establish a village on church property. The church voted and kicked them off the property immediately. Then they found a property that wasn't owned by the city, but was managed by parks and was out of the way. They set up their tents, rented a porta-potty, cleaned up their trash, picked up all the needles that were in the surrounding area, and lived a quiet existence. They remained on that piece of "no man's land" for 42 days. In the meanwhile, the city called the toilet company, got their bathroom taken away, harassed them for two weeks and then took their possessions away, eventually coming back every day until they had nothing left. Their food, their beds, their tents, all taken. And a couple of them arrested, just because they wouldn't move out of their tents.
In Mad Max: Fury Road the Imperiator says, "Do not, my friends, become addicted to water. It will take hold of you and you will resent its absence." This is what the powers that control resources say about all necessary things, eventually. And the same goes for a place to hang your hat. When people are not allowed a space to live, despite land being plenty, it is like a dictator hoarding water and saying it is your fault for having nothing to drink.
The Last Black Man in San Fransisco is the gentlest, most beautiful, most touching film about gentrification that has been made. That probably could be made. As opposed to my top two paragraphs above, there is nary a hint of fury in this film, nor any real blame. It is images of a collapsing city, the restoration of a gorgeous house and time quietly spent with two dear men. Yes, it is about space, having a place for people who have no place. But it is not slapping you across the face, but lullabying us, rocking us to soothing realization that something is deeply wrong.