Page One: Inside the New York Times (2011)

Page One: Inside the New York Times (2011) movie poster

director Andrew Rossi
viewed: 05/19/2013

Despite the fact that it had been recommended to me strongly by a friend and co-worker, Page One: Inside the New York Times lingered in my rental queue longer perhaps than it should have.  In fact, I managed to see a different film also, to an extent, about the TimesBill Cunningham New York (2011), which, while charming and interesting, was not nearly as fascinating and cleaved so closely with my interests as Page One.

Filmed in 2010, Page One already is a thing of its time.  Like the news itself, 2010 and many of the issues encountered by the New York Times newsroom in the duration of the documentary, are all items of a recently passed history.  It’s the onset of Wikileaks, which is a fascinating parallel for the Times in comparison with the Pentagon Papers, which they had helped publish four decades before.  It’s the storied and significant “paper of record” suffering the slings and arrows of the outrageous Internet Age and the corporatization of news media in the United States.  Those things are all still very potent issues today, three years later, but things have changed, ever so slightly, in the ever-evolving world that is our present.

This is not at all to say that the documentary is dated in the least.  In fact, it is a tremendous, if largely laudatory, portrait of one of America’s great institutions and some of the people and personalities that make it what it is.  More than anyone, media editor, David Carr, who I wasn’t personally familiar with until I stumbled on a panel he was on at SxSW in 2012 regarding media aggregators vs. traditional media companies.

I’ve worked in the web side of print publishing for most of the last 15 years, and while that wouldn’t presuppose a need to find the subject of journalism or technology’s role in the journalism/media world, I have found it inherently fascinating.  I had taken a class about 19th Century crime writing, as well, which led me to learn about the rise of literacy and the modern newspaper.  While I had taken journalism in high school and junior college, I learned nothing at all, but years later, working in a textbook store, I read a journalism textbook about ethics and in later years pined for journalism classes for both ethics and editing.  How this all somehow combined into a passionate belief in the need for ethical journalism, quality journalism, I’m not entirely certain.  I’m no journalist.  I am a reader.

By my thinking, the Times is an institution.  An institution of great value to the journalism and public discourse of the United States and by proxy probably a great deal of the world.  It’s not infallible (as noted in the film regarding the scandals of Jayson Blair and Judith Miller).  It should not by any means be the only source of news and information either.  This film, which follows the Times buffeted by the times of its day, seeking relevance, quality, viability, and information is a amazingly telling portrait however complete or incomplete it is.

I found myself wishing that this was a regular television show, though it’s probably much better that it isn’t.  Only that the times do keep changing and the issues evolving.

Journalism, to my mind, is an attempt at understanding the truth of the events around us.  And editorial oversight lends credence to which of those stories merit the most importance.  It’s something that is inherently subjective and imperfect but is also at the core of what a journalist/editor/newspaper is made to do.  And with the internet, corporate news organizations scaling back their foreign press, highly slanted television cable news, the idea of where we get our information is, to my mind, more and more important.  Today’s issues unfold more and more rapidly, and the newspaper, such as the Times, is not just the paper that is printed everyday but the corps of reporters, editorial staff, the whole entire make-up of their business and their many outlets.

Bottom line: after watching this film, I am going to pay my fair share for the New York Times online.  I support quality journalism, I support freedom of the press.

This is Not a Film (2011)

This is Not a Film (2011) movie poster

directors Jafar Panahi, Mojtaba Mirtahmasb
viewed: 04/05/2013

When simply making a film is a political act, a form of protest, one has to wonder if simply watching the film is also an aspect of that political act, an act of support, albeit of utterly fractional dimension.  This is Not a Film is in fact a film, a documentary, a document shot on digital camera and iPhone by director Jafar Panahi who was under house arrest, banned from making films for 20 years, and facing 6 years in prison for his politics, and collaborator filmmaker Mojtaba Mirtahmasb.

The film consists primarily of Panahi hanging around his house, talking to his lawyer and walking through a planned but quashed film.  As day grows to night, the outside becomes filled with explosions for a fireworks evening celebration of a traditional Persian festival that the government also doesn’t support.  The film ends in an ambiguous glimpse of the outside and fire jumping chaos of the evening, a mixture of anxiety and freedom.

I’ve never seen any of Panahi or Mirtahmasb’s films.  I don’t know how good of filmmakers they may be.  But it must be said that in the United States or other Western countries where filmmakers often bemoan their inability to produce their films or versions of films that they would make due to economic concerns, getting the funding, fighting the great monsters of industry and commerce, that this Panahi’s situation is so starkly in contrast.  He’s not to write, direct, film or get interviewed.  It’s not about money, but about cultural control.

This is Not a Film is at times boring, fascinating, polemical.  Filmed almost entirely in Panahi’s posh Tehran flat, it is a glimpse of a country that most Americans and probably many people have never seen.  I was reminded in an odd way of A Separation (2011), an Iranian drama that I recently saw, which also took place in a Tehran flat and dealt with issues of laws and family life, the modern Tehran, not so radically different inside the home than outside.

I am struck that the profundity of This is Not a Film is not simply in its production, smuggled from the country on a flash drive, and certainly not in my watching it, though making art in direct opposition to the laws and facing prison, it is its most definitive quality.  There are aspects of questioning the whole process of filmmaking, as when Panahi references a moment on a set of one of his films when his child actress quit the process in mid-shot, protesting for whatever her reason, leaping from the bus.  As he considers how his film on paper that he tries to act out is so incomplete without the naturalism his actors would bring to the process, what would actually be caught on film, as he contemplates ever making a film again, his friend and colleague behind the camera reminds him that there is much value in documenting what is happening to him.  Filmmaking may be creative, collaborative, a luxury of freedom and expression but it is also a very significant tool to inscribe “truth”.

Very thought-provoking.  I hope that he is given his freedoms back.

Girl Model (2011)

Girl Model (2011) movie poster

directors David Redmon, Ashley Sabin
viewed: 03/02/2013

Exports/imports.  Siberia sends beautiful young girls to Japan to model.  An American ex-model is the talent scout.  Her partner, a Russian agent gets some dough, considers himself a humanitarian, if not a saint.  Japanese agents shop them around.  Promised jobs/money/breakthroughs don’t come about.  The girls live in tiny Tokyo apartments becoming indebted to the agency.

The crimes and misdemeanors of Girl Model aren’t on the scale of horrifying.  Though that is only the crimes more explicitly on display.  What is vaguely suggested: sexual molestation, exploitation, ultimately prostitution is much more ominous.  But even in this film, these possibilities are given only the slightest investigation.

The film focuses primarily on one girl, 13 year old Nadya, a sweet, beautiful, tall, slender girl from rural poverty.  This opportunity could help her family.  She goes, is not met at the airport, speaks not a word of Japanese, gets no money, no jobs, is lonely.

The film also focuses on the American talent scout, Ashley Arbaugh, is the other focal point.  She’s a very beautiful woman herself, but just over 30, her days of modeling in Japan are long gone.  She continues to operate in the industry because it pays her bills, buys her a nice house.  She is not unaware of the reality of what these girls are getting taken in for, but she doesn’t care.  She’s dead somewhere inside it seems.  Or maybe inured into numbness.  She has no feeling or sympathy for the girls.  She seems quite aware that the girls will get ripped off, won’t make it, or maybe will move into prostitution.  For girls at the tender ages of 12 and 13, she keeps it moving right along.

It’s quite an ugly portrait.

But it’s a portrait that seems far from complete.  There are tons of compelling issues within the film, they are given the shortest of shrift, not enlightened, not investigated.  It’s as if the film-makers aren’t a whole step or two further away from Ms. Arbaugh themselves.  It’s a squandered film.

Pina (2011)

Pina (2011) movie poster

director Wim Wenders
viewed: 02/23/2013

What I know about “dance” could probably not fill the average thimble.  So, what I knew about choreographer Pina Bausch before the release of Wim Wenders’ documentary of her work, Pina, was nothing.  About some subjects of documentaries, I have reasonable or good knowledge, about some, I have nothing.  Which is totally fine.  I’m just offering this caveat because Pina is almost all dance, Pina Bausch, and the reflections of her contemporaries.

Wenders (The American Friend (1977), Paris, Texas (1984), Wings of Desire (1987), Until the End of the World (1991), Buena Vista Social Club (1999), among many others) had originally planned this film with Pina Bausch as a collaborator.  But Bausch died rather suddenly during production, and Wenders was urged on to complete the film by Bausch’s other collaborators.

It’s an overview of her major works, staged on stage, or with pieces in and around the city of Wuppertal where her Tanztheater (“dance theater”) was/is situated.  What results is overview, memorial, and tribute, very loosely given to factual background.  If you don’t know anything about Bausch, you won’t learn facts from the film.  You will see her work, hear some voices of people who worked with her, learned from her, done in voice-over of their mute faces.

Certainly, the works are vibrant and impressive.  I was struck by them and how little context I had to understand them outside of their own being.  In one way, I was reminded of silent film acting, how the performers render everything physically, mutely, with all of the body.  Of course, this is but a small thing, since their physicality is so intense, some of their actions so precise, some so dramatic.  Far less straight-forward are these pieces.  This is modern dance (if that term still applies) and in its modernism, it’s hardly simply literal.  Abstract.

The film has a beauty and elegance to it, certainly.  And I could appreciate it, to an extent.  I don’t feel that I utterly get it in the sense that I usually like more context and understanding of things that I wind up writing about.  It isn’t my area of expertise and I don’t know that my thoughts on this film would be all that beneficial or enlightening.

It’s me.  Not Pina.

Beauty Is Embarrassing (2012)

Beauty Is Embarrassing (2012) movie poster

director Neil Berkeley
viewed: 02/23/2013

Know who Wayne White is?  Then you were one more up on me before I first read about Beauty Is Embarrassing, a documentary dedicated to the artist, puppeteer, animator, set designer, and family man.

White is most famous for being one of the key set designers and puppeteers on Pee-wee’s Playhouse in the 1980′s, director of Peter Gabriel’s “Big Time” and The Smashing Pumpkins’ “Tonight, Tonight” music videos, and now for his “word paintings”.  The word paintings are a series that he’s done where he picks up a thrift store landscape painting and then adds very stylized and humorous words towering across the landscape in a comic, surrealist style.

Hailing originally from Tennessee, the film recounts his childhood, his college years, his move to New York, work on Pee-wee, marriage, children, and eventual life in Los Angeles.  He also performs with his banjo quite nicely in some “old-timey music” tunes.

He’s a really cool guy.  A kind of guy you’d know or would like to know.  Inventive, talented, clever, funny, and utterly down to earth.

I’m glad to be aware of him.  If it sounds interesting, this documentary is worthwhile.  If not, no worries.

Side by Side (2012)

Side by Side (2012) movie poster

director Christopher Kenneally
viewed: 02/22/2013

Qu’est-ce que le cinéma? Qu’est-ce que le film?

Film, at least, can be reduced to the literal.  It has been the stuff onto which images have been captured, developed, and then displayed.  As in “the movies”, it’s the stuff that runs through the projector, light shining through it, whose mechanized process has created an illusion of movement.  The photo-chemical process of capturing images in light onto the emulsion, the exposures that record the capture, the creation of the negative.  It’s a tactile, real thing, stored in reels, not in the least impervious to the elements.

And “film” as well is synonymous with cinema, a much broader concept, perhaps.

But the conundrum of the definition has been a key point of interest in the digital age.  Though it’s been decades in process, the digital technology has usurped “film” in its costs, ease, and abilities.  Director Christopher Kenneally and producer/interviewer Keanu Reeves pull together an impressive array of important Hollywood directors and cinematographers and put the questions to them about the death of celluloid, the industry changes, technical innovations, and the future of “film”.

We’ve got George Lucas, James Cameron, David Lynch, Lars Von Trier, Martin Scorsese, Robert Rodriguez, and Christopher Nolan to name a few.  There are those among them who have been pushing digital’s envelope for decades, developing the technologies that shifted the market, visionaries who have shaped the present day reality and in part the discourse.  And it’s very interesting hearing from cinematographers, editors, effects people, whose relationship with the photographic image, the alchemy of traditional film, is the most directly impacted.

While the film Side by Side itself is not a great piece of cinema, it does have a few key aspects of serious merit.  They do speak to a good group of film-makers.  They also lay out a pretty easy-to-follow if not beautifully-rendered explanation of the technology, how it works and how it differs, which is no doubt a decent primer for many.  And thirdly, and perhaps the most underdeveloped and yet potentially interesting, is the history of implementation and adoption of digital techniques in major motion pictures.

From the digitizing of film that was first shot traditionally, to manipulate in computer later before returning to celluloid, it’s interesting to uncover digital’s “invisible” evolution.  While digital effects have become the modern norm, the steps to developing new cameras that record everything digitally from the get-go, is very telling.  It’s interesting how many film-makers reference Thomas Vinterberg’s 1998 film, The Celebration as such a liberating, influential film.  Because the technology is only getting better, in many cases cheaper and more accessible.

Keanu, bless him, shows his interest to be deep and significant.  It is very hard to hear that voice and take it one tenth as serious as one might take another actor.

What is cinema?  What is film?  The questions will continue to resound as a very technological medium becomes ever more varied and technologically profound.  And the photochemical images, shot today, in the 20th century, Daguerreotypes…  some aesthetics will never go away, they’ll just have to make room for other new ones.

With apologies to André Bazin.

 

The Invisible War (2012)

The Invisible War (2012) movie poster

director Kirby Dick
viewed: 02/13/2013

Rape is a horrible crime, anywhere and in any context.  According to the statistics cited in the film The Invisible War, derived from government reports, the ratio of rapes in the military are something like 2 to 3 times more common than in civilian life.  Victims are not just women, but one out of three women will be victimized, statistically, according to their data.

While all that is bad enough, the military’s disciplinary structure is such that criminals are rarely punished.  A soldier at any level is to report problems to their superior officer, and in some, perhaps many cases, that person is the offender or is complicit in the offense.  A crime that would in civilian life have clearer pathways to justice can be utterly ignored.  And the treatment of the victims is something of the dark ages of our times (though those dark ages are true today as well).

The stories told in the film are awful.  People are physically disabled and suffer from severe PTSD and many other psychological traumas.

The military’s attitude toward this issue is not unlike the Catholic church’s attitude toward sex abuse by priests.  The culture is totally enabling to the problem and doesn’t want anyone to know about it.

Military culture is an extreme of male-dominated rigor and rule.  It doesn’t shock me to hear that rape is such a huge issue there, nor that it is treated so cavalierly.  I respect those who serve or have served, very much so.  It’s a tough and dangerous world for military men and women.  It’s a sacrifice.  The sacrifice should not be at the hands of ones own fellow soldiers.

The film tells a pretty horrible tale.  As a film, it’s not as compelling or profound as other contemporary documentaries have been about crimes, horrors, misdeeds, atrocities.  These are facts that should be known, things that should be changed.

Stoked: The Rise and Fall of Gator (2002)

Stoked: The Rise and Fall of Gator (2002) movie poster

director Helen Stickler
viewed: 02/ 10/2013

I’ve been running into an odd problem of late in which I’ve found a very good article about a subject much, much better than an eventual, if acclaimed documentary.  In this case, the story of Mark “Gator” Rogowski, skateboard star of the earliest age of skateboarding, who ended up raping and murdering a woman…after finding God.  The article I read was from the Village Voice from 1992, and quite frankly, is a much more compelling narrative.  Stoked does add that element that only film/video can, the actual person speaking, showing his skating, seeing the faces and hearing the voices of interviewees.  That said, I’ve become quite a fan of “long form journalism” of late.  And I recommend the article.

The film does focus on the rise of “Gator” and the rise of professional skateboarding, which adds some context that would have been difficult when the article was written in 1992.  It’s been the subject of other films, too, most notably for me Dogtown and Z-Boys (2001) which was made by Stacy Peralta and has stuck with me many years since.  Professional skating was hardly a thing until the mid 1980′s when suddenly a bunch of non-conformist dudes who spent their days hunting for empty pools to skate or ramps to fly high on were given lots of money, fans, and ultimately girls.  Rock stars minus guitars, when nothing like that before could have been imagined.

It’s not surprising that some of them fell flat.  Fame and fortune have had horrible effects on people before, especially those not ready to deal with it.

Gator’s story is pretty compelling.  I’d recommend reading the article and if you’re interested enough to know more, the film is worth seeing.

Searching for Sugar Man (2012)

Searching for Sugar Man (2012) movie poster

director Malik Bendjelloul
viewed: 02/04/2013

There are a number of remarkable documentaries about music, musicians, rock’n'roll, the business, ones that encapsulate so much of the experience of the dreams, aspirations, the fame, the realities of the world of making it as a musician.  DiG! (2004) is a brilliant portrait of excess and ego.  The Devil and Daniel Johnston (2005) is a remarkable image of genius(?) gone crazy. Anvil! The Story of Anvil (2008) is an amusing picture of an “almost was” band.  Each of those films offer some perspective on music and the people who’ve put their lives into their music and resonate, I believe, for anyone who has been in and around the music biz.  Searching for Sugar Man adds yet another dimension to the films of the genre.

It’s the story of Sixto Rodriguez, a musician from Detroit from the late 1960′s/early 1970′s, who cut two albums, and despite some passionate appreciation by a few, disappeared from the music scene.  Of course, in the United States, nobody really noticed and probably nobody really knew who he was.

But in South Africa, a country that for many years was under the brutal rule of Apartheid, somehow, Rodriguez’s music reached them and connected in a huge way.  In South Africa, he was as popular and important as Bob Dylan, who Rodriguez sounds a bit like.  But in the 1970′s-1980′s, cultural isolation kept this fact rather unknown.  It isn’t until the 1990′s that a fan and a journalist research their way to find out what happened to Rodriguez, about whom some quite interesting urban myths existed.

It’s a pre-internet tale of discovery.  Because they do find him, still in Detroit, a father of three adult women and a laborer working these many years in construction and living humbly.  And they bring him to South Africa where this  rather “normal” guy is heralded and welcomed as a huge rock star.

It’s a heartwarming story, certainly as its portrayed in the film, produced in Europe and directed by Malik Bendjelloul.  Bendjelloul tells the tale as a detective story, from the South Africans who were such passionate fans that they unraveled their mystery fostered in distance and isolation.

The image of South Africa is quite interesting, getting a sense of the vibe of the young white people who lived during Apartheid, how the music fostered their own sense of rebellion and change.  But mostly it’s Rodriguez himself.  With his big black sunglasses, he just screams the part of “rock star”.  This second generation Mexican-American in ice cold Detroit.  A talent with some ardent admirers, still quite the humble man, even when decades later he is given the sort of treatment that inspires so many to become musicians.  And now, with the film, he’s finally going to be better known in his native country.  It’s quite a tale and it’s quite well-told.

The Imposter (2012)

The Imposter (2012) movie poster

director Bart Layton
viewed: 02/03/2013

The Imposter is a very disappointing documentary about a very fascinating story. A few years ago, I read a New Yorker article about the case which I found immensely intriguing.  It’s one of those stories that stick with you, haunt your brain, and fascinate.

It’s the story of serial “impostor” Frédéric Bourdin, a French adult (in his young 20′s at the time) who pretended to been a lost teenager in place after place, all over Europe.  When his identity is investigated in Spain, he pretends to be a missing teen from Texas, Nicolas Barclay.  Barclay had disappeared three or four years before and his family was thrilled to have found him.  So thrilled that they brought him home, treated him as the lost son, despite the fact that Bourdin had different colored eyes from Nicolas and spoke with a pronounced French accent.

The article delved into the psychology of the family who denied the obvious, so desirous of finding a lost child.  But beyond that, there was suggested some complicity of one of Nicolas’ brothers to have perhaps been involved in the real Nicolas’ disappearance and potential murder.  It’s suggested that the family may have contrived denial even more so for having sensed this truth.

Eventually, the truth came out, Bourdin went on to more hijinks before eventually settling himself into an adult life.  What The Imposter does offer is Bourdin’s side of the story.  His interview narrates the bulk of the film.  He divulges his damaged childhood as a half-Algerian child abandoned by his parents, his lack of identity that made him strive to live other childhoods in other places.  His “chameleon-like” skills, his life flitting from identity to identity as an emotional search, not just the work of a sophisticated confidence man.

Nicolas’ family are shown as the honest rubes, motivated out of sorrow and love.  And they come across as earnest people.

The film, however, adds very little.  There are such strange psychologies at work in Bourdin himself, in the Barclay family, the depths are left unsounded.  The style of the film, using recreations and other stylistic flourishes seems more interested in its own flair than in the rich truths below the surface of this bizarre, fascinating story.

Ultimately, no one knows what happened to Nicolas.  The mystery pertains.  The brother who was thought to have potentially killed him died of a drug overdose.  The family denies the truth of that.  A family so eager to find its lost son that it believed such an unlikely story, such an unlikely impostor.  Read the article, skip the movie.