Julia Childs knows how I feel a lot of the time. Hat tip to Epic Rap Battles of History |
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Wednesday, May 18, 2016
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Monday, May 16, 2016
Thursday, October 8, 2015
The Cove Documentary Review
The Cove has long been on my list of
movies to watch, if only for how much controversy it created when it was first
released. I have to say, I can see what the uproar was about; sentient beings
slaughtered for no real purpose, Japanese fishermen portrayed as heartless
assholes, and a septuagenarian activist being arrested all make for a
compelling, stranger than fiction type story.
The burning
question in this Cinéma Vérité documentary is whether the filmmakers will be
able to document what goes on in a sheltered cove in the Japanese town of
Taiji. The stakes are high; if the team is caught doing even the slightest
thing wrong they will be arrested and banned from the town of Taiji. Through interviews,
footage collected by a series of activists, scenes of the filmmakers working
through how to achieve their goal, and the coveted cove footage itself, a
grisly story is unraveled to a horrifying conclusion.
Waters red with
blood seems like a far-fetched biblical notion, but in the cove we see that for
the fishermen of Taiji, it is a casual reality. Of course, compelling imagery
like this was set to be the climax of the film, but it was still entertaining and
informative to watch the filmmakers brainstorm about how to properly camouflage
their cameras, how to evade Taiji security, and where to prioritize filming. At
points, The Cove becomes an
environmental heist film, where evasion and counter-intelligence are key.
However, The Cove also does a nice job of laying
out the history of dolphin round-ups and slaughter. Richard O’Barry makes a
particularly compelling character with his extensive resume of dolphin training
and experience. It’s these credentials that make the obviously biased film seem
reasonable; Mr. O’Barry’s presence assures the audience that both sides of the
debate have been considered (and even lived). Plus, who can resist a penitent
man at the end of his life?
As we learn that
dolphin intelligence is comparable to ours, hear that one of the dolphins who
played the beloved Flipper committed suicide because she could no longer stand
being in captivity, and see a dolphin fighting to breathe and escape despite
fatal wounds, whatever iciness in our hearts regarding dolphins is melted
(really, was there ever any ice there at all?), and we are firmly behind
Richard O’Barry, silently cheering him on as in the final scenes he confronts
the International Whaling Commission and the people of Japan.
The makers of
this documentary perfectly edited their story to build upon itself and cause
considerable emotional investment. I highly recommend it, though when you watch
The Cove, be sure to take a few
minutes afterwards to enjoy that determined, hopeful spirit that the filmmakers
so carefully crafted for their conclusion. Disappointingly, aside from
garnering awards and attention, this documentary did little in real life to
help the plight of cetaceans migrating past Taiji, a cold reminder that all the
inspiration in the world is worthless if it doesn’t lead to action.
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Lost in La Mancha Documentary Review
Terry Gilliam is
an innovative, imaginative, over-involved filmmaker who I admire immensely, but
even I was taken aback by the amount of effort he put into his yet-to-be film
based on Don Quixote. The documentary Lost
in La Mancha chronicles the doomed production of a film which had a
finished script, cast actors, and extensively developed puppets, costumes, and
sets. It boggles my mind that a project with that much work put in to it could
be canceled, but as the filmmakers reveal throughout the movie, things fall
apart, and disasters snowball quickly.
The burning
question behind this observational documentary is what caused a production with
so much promise to fall apart? Though even the briefest description of the
documentary lets the viewer know that Gilliam’s work will be thwarted, I found
myself tense and hoping that the high stakes of making a movie would be
achieved. The filmmakers took the role of fly on the wall, and so we were privileged
to see Gilliam meeting with his crew, the development of the elaborate props
and set pieces, and the sheer devotion Gilliam puts into his filmmaking. As we
follow along in pre-production, it quickly becomes clear that they’re on a
schedule with no room for error. There’s no slush fund, no extra days of
filming, no back-up plan. It’s do or die for this crew, and it’s gut-wrenching
to watch events unfold.
Personally, I
loved this documentary, as it was a quick little peek into the world of
filmmaking when things go wrong. The
story was told in a linear fashion, with almost no interviews, so the audience
feels almost like they’re a production assistant or personal aide on set, privy
to every misfortunate coincidence and bad decision. Though no one is particularly
inept at their job or easily to blame, it quickly becomes clear that a lack of
organization or a unified plan pushed this production to the edge. After that
one rainstorm and a primary actor’s health problems were enough to seal its
fate as failure.
It was sad to see
how quickly the magic of creation can be boxed, labeled and stored. Fantastic
costumes and life-size puppets were all packed up in what could only have been
a matter of days, and Terry Gilliam was left to fight an insurance company for
ownership of his script. While that makes sense in terms of financing a film
and designating ownership of a creative project in order to see it fully
realized and to make a living from it, it seem ridiculous that the man who
wrote the script ended up losing his right to make something from it. On the
other side of the coin are all the investors who lost a phenomenal amount of
money when this film went through to production before being shut down.
If nothing else, Lost in La Mancha is a fable for filmmakers.
Our heroes tried to bring something fantastic to life in the name of art, but
the moral of this story is that business always wins.
Rush: Beyond the Lighted Stage Documentary Review
I’m sad to say
that until watching this documentary I’d never heard of the band Rush. I don’t
have an extensive knowledge of rock and roll, but this documentary has made me
curious enough to learn more, something incredibly important to me in the mark
of a good documentary.
The filmmakers
started right off with showing that Rush is still an active touring band, and
that they are musician’s musicians. Anyone who has loved rock and roll enough
to make it their profession has not only heard of Rush, but studied their music
in order to gain the level of excellence they are at today. So if all this is true, then why hasn’t
someone like me heard of Rush? Like I said, I’m not a hugely devoted fan of
rock and roll, but I have a healthy collection of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, and more, so why have I
never heard of Rush until now? Cleverly, that documentary asks that very same
question before the title credits; if Rush is so great, what kept them from
becoming a household name?
The film was
neatly divided into sections whose divisions became clear as the story was
told, a film trick which I particularly appreciate because of my love of Ken
Burns. In short, though Rush was on the cutting edge of progressive (and eventually
the future style of) music, they were perennially unpopular with critics,
almost Avant-garde in style, and typically popular with the fringes of society
rather than the masses. But these three small reasons quickly fade as the
documentary gives healthy examples of their music through all stages of their
career. As Jack Black says “their bottle of awesome sauce is huge”.
I very much
appreciated the point of view offered by old home videos made by the Rush
members themselves (I assume). We were able to see Alex Lifeson’s parents
convince him to finish high school, and Geddy Lee practicing at home while
friends hung out with him. The film continued to use vintage footage for old
concerts from all their stages of touring, and intercut these and vintage
photographs with the band members talking about relevant stories of the time. I
also liked that they intercut the same story being told by two or three
different people. It was a nice stylistic touch to show that even though the
band was made up of distinct individuals with their own perspective, they still
were simpatico. The filmmakers also had a nice touch by interviewing the same
band members in different settings, a decision that especially paid off with
the drummer Neil Peart, who was interviewed at his drum set, with his drum
teacher, and outside on the road.
After watching
this film a few times, I’m very impressed by the amount of heart that went into
this documentary. Obviously, the band members love what they do, but we also
got to see them through the fans’ eyes; which helped us see them for the rock
gods they are. I think I’ll get some Rush albums right now.
Saturday, October 3, 2015
Tesla Documentary Review
Tesla; Master of
Life is an ambitious biography documentary that tells the story of Tesla’s life
and his long-reaching effects on the world. Using a combination of period
photographs, vintage footage, animated examples of Tesla’s inventions at work, historical
recreations, and filmed interviews, the documentary covers Tesla’s early years,
his productive period of invention, and his waning years where he fought
popular opinion and lack of funds to continue exploring and creating in the
field he loved.
The documentary
does a wonderful job in introducing Tesla, and in showing the audience why he
is one of the most important influencers, if the also the most forgotten, of
modern technology. A number of Tesla experts (biographers, relatives,
scientists, historians, etc.) recounted stories, explained rivalries, and
explained Tesla’s eccentricities. Despite our knowledge of Tesla as a forgotten
genius, the film managed to create some tension as to the question of whether
Tesla would ever be successful in his endeavors. By overlapping created
narration by Tesla himself, quotes from writings of the time, snippets from
interviews, and guidance from an omniscient narrator, the film tells the story
of Tesla’s life, in each of his triumphs and defeats.
Though the film
was divided into subsections, I feel like it could have been more clearly or
easily divided, as the events of Tesla’s life seemed to run together,
especially as he had many triumphs and defeats. However, this could have been
intentional, as brilliance darkened by failure seems to be the main theme of Tesla’s
life. He had no drive or interest in business, at least not any that compared
with his passion for technological innovation, and so despite his early
discoveries in electricity, radio, remote control, extra-terrestrial
transmissions, and large-scale wireless transmissions of electricity, Tesla
remained penniless, and without any significant scientific recognition or
support.
Often, the
visuals of the documentary reinforced the wonders of electricity that Tesla
explored. Photographs and films of experiments of the time, along with the
requisite shots of lightning, visually elucidated the concepts that Tesla spoke
of. The original patent designs and diagrams were a nice inclusion, as they
illustrated the inventions we were later shown in period photographs.
Overall, this was
a nice documentary, though I felt like it didn’t quite take advantage of its
rich subject matter. Tesla is a compelling figure, and he lived in an incredibly
interesting time period, yet I felt myself occasionally being bored with the
film. There is nothing the filmmakers did specifically wrong, and I’d happily
give the film a B+ for a job well done, but no ideas or incidents stood out,
captured my imagination, or made me want to know more, three things I expect
from an excellent documentary.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
The Truth Behind: Bigfoot
When you eliminate the impossible, whatever is left, no
matter how improbable, must be the truth. Using this line of logic the
documentary The Truth Behind: Bigfoot proves that the famous Patterson-Gimlin
footage of bigfoot is definitely real, sort of.
More than anything on this film, I admire the producer’s
ability to find filler material to stretch the run time from the initial study
of interest. The producers were able to obtain a copy of the original
Patterson-Gimlin film (you know, the shaky 1960s film where bigfoot is huge and
hairy and walking away, but turns back to look over his/her shoulder at us, and
that’s where the editor always quickly zooms in and freezes). Then, using a
high definition camera and modern re-imaging techniques, a Hollywood effects
specialist was able to examine high-quality images and evaluate the likelihood of
the real deal versus a lurpy guy in a suit.
To be clear, I thought this was a kind of neat and
innovative way to re-examine the legend of Bigfoot, and I was interested to see
what they found. However, the material generated from this investigation couldn’t
be stretched into more than fifteen minutes of run time, but National
Geographic (the distributer of this quirky bit of fun) needed a longer episode
of their documentary series than that, so something had to be found.
Again, I respect the producer of this for finding so many
new takes on Bigfoot. In between building anticipation for the ultimate
conclusion from an expert examining the (almost) original footage, the audience
was treated to foot cast specialists, experts in collecting hair samples
through odiferous deceit, and additional Hollywood effects artists. Unlike the
usual Sasquatch hunting expedition though, this crew had interesting, original,
and even insightful things to add to the quest for truth.
I appreciated the push in the program to examine physical
forms of evidence, rather than rely on eye-witness accounts and urban legends.
Anyone who was an “expert” on Bigfoot had devoted their life, or at least
considerable shelf space, to collecting tangible proof of the hairy fellow’s
existence. Foot casts, purportedly real and known fakes were examined, hair
samples were subjected to rudimentary DNA testing, and even human bone structure
and musculature were compared to details gleaned from the cleaned up footage.
Ultimately the burning question in this documentary was left
unanswered, as it always must be for documentaries like this to retain their
credibility. The Patterson-Gimlin film does appear to be genuine, and the
creature it captured was incredibly convincing, if not undeniably real. Like
many cryptozoologist pursuits, this was an interesting and entertaining, if not
particularly informative way to pass an hour.
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