Review: The Thin Blue Line (1988)

May 27th, 2009

The Thin BlueOf all his films, The Thin Blue Line is perhaps the most superb example of Errol Morris’ personality manifesting itself on screen. It employs many of his stylistic trademark techniques and aesthetics in a strident effort to convey what he feels is an obvious miscarriage of justice regarding the 1976 murder of a police officer in Dallas. Morris’ film is a considered defence, constructed using interviews with the accused Randall Adams, and the prime witness in his prosecution, David Harris, whom Morris portrays as the only person who could rationally have committed the murderer. These points are underscored by larger thematic targets for Morris; the duplicity and corruption of police, the horrors of capital punishment and the criminal justice system, and how innocence until proven guilty isn’t always assured. By exploring these areas, Morris ultimately imparts a set of moral and even political imprints in The Thin Blue Line.

Outside of filmmaking, Errol Morris had gained some experience in the field of private investigation and The Thin Blue Line is an exemplary exercise in – and for its time, a radical approach to – investigative documentary filmmaking. The film started life under different pretences as an assessment of the expert witness psychiatrist, Dr. James Grigson. Known as Dr. Death for his specialty in securing the death penalty for criminal defendants, he suggested Morris talk to some of his victims, one of whom was Randall Adams. Spurred by this personal motivation to expose systemic injustice, the story of Randall Adams ultimately became Morris’ focus, eventually becoming The Thin Blue Line.

Morris’ reason for making the film are clear; to free Adams from the wrongful sentence on death row which he’d endured for the last 11 years on unsubstantiated and corrupt charges of murder. Very recently Morris has become more upfront about this, stating:

“I was focused when I was making The Thin Blue Line on getting Randall Adams out of prison. For me, there had been a terrible miscarriage of justice and I wanted to set it right. So my focus – if you like – wasn’t on David Harris in the sense of understanding him, but my focus was on proving that he was the killer.”

Having met earlier in the day, Randall Adams and David Harris were pulled over by patrol officers for an inconsequential vehicle defect. Adams’ version of what happened next, the predominant truth portrayed in the film, is that Harris reached over and shot the approaching officer dead. After retiring to a motel Adams was charged with the murder and received a death sentence, commuted to life on a technicality.
The methods which Morris deftly employs to convey ‘his truth’ borrow slightly from elements of investigative journalism, whilst not being easily categorised in terms of any strict, structuralist film genre or style. Raw, monologue driven interview material with stylised lighting is cut alongside noir-ish reenactments, giving The Thin Blue Line an overall sense of genre irregularity. Diverging from the standard of the time, reenactments in the film don’t carry an on screen title to earmark them as dramatisations. Montage is also used to present evidence in ways that makes the audience reevaluate aspects of the case. When the dead officer’s partner recalls details about the killer’s vehicle that are hazy, a series of similar looking numberplates flash by so as to make the audience question the fallibility of their own problematic perception. The technique is used again to trivialise the officer’s weak recollection of the car’s tail light and model.

We are assailed with combinations which seem impossible to retain in memory, thus the officer’s evidence concerning the car model or headlight seem unlikely, and we come to doubt future assertions from her, which all favour Adams as the killer. As Errol Morris himself says:

“Memory is an elastic affair. We remember selectively, just as we perceive selectively. We have to go back over perceived and remembered events, in order to figure out what happened, what really happened.“

The subjective truths and recollections in The Thin Blue Line are usually murky, especially so for the police officer character’s in Morris’ narrative. As an audience, we want to find out which of the conflicting stories being presented is the truth. In this regard, the film assumes a formula more akin to a Hitchcock film rather than a documentary. Centering around Adams, who protests his innocence and is seemingly caught up in the wrong place, it engages us with the same anticipation and ‘need to know’ as any Hitchcockian masterpiece. Is Harris or Adams the killer? Morris presents their perspectives, along with numerous interviewees in a directorially constructed argument that is aimed at guiding the viewer to seeing Morris’ ultimate truths; that Adams is innocent and the justice system has greatly miscarried.

The central reenactment of the film depicts the various interviewees versions of the murder. It replays several times, each reiteration supplying additions of evidentiary detail. The film begs comparison to Akira Kurosawa’s Rashomon, in which a central murder is also retold multiple times, each from a contrary perspective. The noir style of The Thin Blue Line’s reenactments is befitting the ‘plot’, events in which Randall Adams is embroiled but cannot alter; a life and death predicament he never started (a common plot device in noir films). In a departure from the prevailing cinema verite style of the time, the reenacted murder and other staged, storyboarded sequences, are certainly not intended as a faithful reconstruction of events. By repeating the reenactment from conflicting perspectives, notably Adams’ and Harris’, Morris skillfully incorporates the ambiguous authenticity of reenactments into his storytelling. Multiple accounts are visualised to either validate or discredit them. Despite the reenactments use as an evaluation mechanism for the audience, the film was rejected for an Academy Award for Best Documentary as it was deemed fictional, due to reenacted scenes and presumably its postmodern style. I believe however, that the reenactments make us question truth in a filmic amalgam of art and reality, even if they do flaunt documentary’s penchant for objectivity as the norm. In The Thin Blue Line, Errol Morris has created a filmic truth which airs his obvious and well-founded bias toward Adams.

The order in which facts surrounding the case are revealed is also a clear directorial imprint signifying Adams’ innocence. Starting with prologue sequences telling us the facts in the case, Adams describes the proceedings and his treatment by police. Despite being described as a ‘drifter’, the accused murderer is portrayed as a pleasant, hardworking man.

Then we hear from Harris who we learn has prior criminal history. When the frame widens to include his orange prison clothes, we learn that he too is incarcerated. After Harris and the law enforcement officials are afforded their arguments, the director then edits in the accused man’s rebuttal, effectively restating his version of the events. This technique of giving Adams the ‘final word’ is employed in many other sequences of the film where conjecture arises from Harris’ and Adams’ accounts.

This randomised chronology bears Morris’ imprint as much as the stylistic choices found in the film’s reenactments. It was also fresh and original, at a time when documentary was largely associated with expository films that told their story in an essay-like format, guided by voice of god narration. In an effort to convey his perceived truth, Errol Morris interweaves the perspectives of all involved, yet expressionistic directorial touches in reenactments (or voice of god narration for that matter) don’t guarantee truths. Morris simply uses them filmic tools with which to build his case. As Adams speaks of the weary length of his interrogation, Morris embellishes our senses with an image of an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, also denoting Adams’ nervousness and resignation. The passing of time is also communicated by the many ticking clocks and timepieces shown throughout the film.

These elements become motifs which also focus our attention to small yet crucial details. The milkshake belonging to the dead officer’s partner spills in slow motion and lands in a spot contradicting the officer’s story. The slow motion, key-light motifs show us how doubt can be infused in memories.

However, Errol Morris never shows actors’ faces in reenactments. There is no suggestion imparted by facial expression, no incongruity with the faces of participants who are interviewed. Staged scenes are shot close-up, and like the motifs, the director withholds contextual information to keep us intent on finding out more. Unlike docudrama style films, there are no words spoken during the reenactments. A lot is left for us to infer.

In more light hearted moments, the testimonials of Mrs. Miller (who fancies herself as a sleuth) and the judge (who talks admirably of the police who brought down Dillinger) are comically paralleled with archival footage of Hollywood crime flicks, from which excerpts briefly appear. As David Bordwell states, “these sequences encourage us to see Adam’s adversaries as holding naïve, romanticised conception of crimefighting derived from popular movies”

A strong authorial trait found in most of Morris’ films, is the use of extended interview material. In place of narration, Adams states his 11 year old case with undiminished fervor. In much the same vein as Morris’ Gates of Heaven or Vernon, there is not a hint of condescension in his portrayal. No titles are used to identify interviewees, who are instead contextualised by the visual style of their framing; framing choices which promote curiosity about subject, We see the boyish features of the amiable sociopath ‘kid’, David Harris.
However, mitigating his bias for Adams, interviews are shot dispassionately enough for us to slant towards Morris’ view in our own time. Using his Interrotron technique, interviewees look directly down the camera’s lens, creating intimacy by appearing to address the audience directly. This also allows the viewer to gain a more believable impression of the talking head.

The film itself doesn’t dwell on the complexity of the facts it presents. They are but ancillary truths. It is concerned with larger philosophical questions of knowledge and truth, the arbitrariness of fate – how a hitchhike changed Adams’ life.

At the end of The Thin Blue Line, Adams is still on death row. However the director’s filmic critique of the justice system succeeded in exonerating the wrongfully convicted Adams who was eventually released. As Morris states, “I wanted to make a film about how truth was difficult to know, not impossible to know” (Bordwell & Thompson’s Film Art).

Titicut Rating: 4.5 / 5

Info

Director: Errol Morris, Year: 1988, Country: USA, Runtime: 103 min

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Director David Ceasar

April 14th, 2009

I’ve really been taking it easy on the documentary front recently. As mentioned in the last post, I’ve even stooped so low as to watch documentaries online. While that isn’t bad in and of itself, it’s certainly a far cry from the 3 documentaries a day that I’d been watching before working full time. Yes, you read that right… full time work… it’s a massive thorn in the side of watching films and blogging.

Anyway, in my online travels, I’ve scoped some gems from a fairly well-known Australian director, David Caesar.

His films, Body Work, Car Crash and Fences are fine examples of the participatory documentary form, with more than a hint of Errol Morris stylings, circa 1980s. All films above are crafted with masterly direction and are well worth checking out if you’re into the sort of documentaries that seek to inform the human condition. I mean that too.

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ABC iView

April 6th, 2009

It’s been a long time between drinks hasn’t it? I’ve still been watching docos and writing review notes which one day soon I’ll turn into real reviews. I’ve actually been watching nature type documentaries on ABC iView.

Yes, it’s come to that. The nature documentary part I mean, not iView, which is pretty sweet.

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Academy Award Documentary Winners

February 24th, 2009

Man On Wire

Congratulations to James Marsh and Philippe Petit for taking out the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature for the fantastic Man on Wire.

The winner of the Documentary Shorts category was Smile Pinki, directed by Megan Mylan.

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A Good Man

February 23rd, 2009

A Good Man is the story of Chris Rohrlach, a farmer from Inverell in rural New South Wales who also happens to be the full-time carer for his quadriplegic wife, Rachel. When times got tough on the farm, Chris decided to change industries and opened a brothel.

You read that right. Sounds like doco gold.

The film premieres at the 2009 Adelaide Film Festival on February 21. Chris Rohrlach will be in attendance for a post-screening Q & A.

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Review: How Much Wood Would a Woodchuck Chuck (1976)

February 22nd, 2009

Huie's SermonHow Much Wood Would a Woodchuck Chuck must be the definitive documentary about auctioneering. Werner Herzog propels us into a world of verbal gymnastics where yodelling, freestyle MC’ing and race announcing seem to intersect in a million-mile an hour syllabic drone. The livestock auctioneer’s mantra can sound unintelligible to the untrained ear, and thankfully a world champion auctioneer gives us a primer early on, in the basics of the Auction Chant, or what Herzog calls ‘the poetry of capitalism’.

The guidance won’t help you much though, it remains nigh impossible to decipher what each contestant in the World Livestock Auctioneer Championship is actually saying. But it’s also largely irrelevant. What will strike you most about the competitors is not the content of their monologues, but rather their differing styles and methods of delivery and dare I say, ‘crowd control’. Things do get slightly repetitive as Werner inflicts performance after performance on us, however you do find yourself barracking for one contestant or another. Like many other documentaries, How Much Wood Would a Woodchuck Chuck thematically concerns itself with America’s obsession for such competitiveness.

Interestingly, in the commentary for Herzog’s Stroszek, he mentions he originally met two of the actors as auctioneers in How Much Wood Would a Woodchuck Chuck.

Titicut Rating: 3.5 / 5

Info

Director: Werner Herzog, Year: 1976, Country: West Germany, Runtime: 44 min

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Review: Huie’s Sermon (1981)

February 21st, 2009

Huie's SermonHuie’s Sermon is almost entirely comprised of footage from a single sermon at the Bible Way Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ church in Brooklyn. Apart from the closing shot of Bishop Huie, the film is entirely faithful to the observational form – it contains only two judiciously placed cutaways which show us the deserted ghetto slumland outside.

Huie’s uncut oratory about societal decay, war and economics eventually climaxes into rousing pentencostal song, chorused by the entirely black congregation who, at Huie’s charismatic behest, “step to Jesus”. It all gets a very Sexual Chocolate.

Huie’s message, while being somewhat progressive, also smacks of Christian conservatism as he sweats out moral guidelines denouncing everything from homosexuality to pollution.

While not exemplary of his usual style, Huie’s Sermon exhibits many traits of the classic old school Herzog style.

Titicut Rating: 3.5 / 5

Info

Directors: Werner Herzog, Year: 1981, Country: West Germany, Runtime: 43 min

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Review: MacHEADS (2009)

February 7th, 2009

MacHEADSMacHEADS, as the tagline informs us, is “a fanboy documentary”. PC puns aside, the film starts with a precariously one-sided look at the Mac vs. Windows debate, which basically amounts to a few MacHeads dissing everything Microsoft. Thus, the anecdotal tone of the film is established early, and you have to get used to it, for little in the way of counterpoint is offered.

But then again, MacHEADS is not about the meaningless platform debate, or is it? I’m not sure first time filmmaker Kobi Shely even knows. It could be about the history of Apple Inc., but that story is so glossily condensed within the film that many crucial milestones are omitted or strategically avoided. Where is the bit about Apple pinching all its good ideas, like the Graphical User Interface, from Xerox’s pioneering Palo Alto Research Center? What about the fledgling Apple Computers early and unsuccessful court battle with The Beatles record label, Apple Records? For a company well-known for instigating a malignant copyright system in iTunes (read: DRM, which they have since dropped), such a flagrant trademark infringement is surely of interest. No?

Perhaps MacHEADS is just a fanboy doco rather than a doco about fanboys. However, the film’s sparse hints towards objectivity are made all the more confusing with the inclusion of self-evaluating and sometimes self-deprecating Apple die hards. Similarly the segments devoted to aggrandising CEO Steve Jobs’ already inflated ego are squeemish at best. Yes, they love you Steve.

What we do learn, is that the relevance of cultish Mac zealots has diminished, what with the success of non-Mac products such as the iPod and iPhone. We also learn that because of this, Apple couldn’t give a shit about MacHeads.

I could weight into the debate with my own MacOS gripe list, but there’s more than enough bitching fodder to be found far and wide on the Interwebs. All I will say is that while Microsoft pushes little plastic discs of intellectual property known as software on us all, Apple is far more guilty of contributing to the global silicon imprint that is world’s e-waste. Why then, is there such a gulf in the disparity of the two companies respective public images? Apple markets to fanboys, and everyone else, a desire for the latest revisions of whatever gadgetry they will release next. Gadgets which are ultimately destined for landfill. You saw the crazies lining up for the first iPhones, right? Meanwhile, Bill Gates remains uncool and hated because he spends less on PR, it seems, than Mr. Jobs. And all he did was develop a computer operating system. Oh, and create the most generous philanthropic entity in the history of mankind.

Titicut Rating: 2 / 5

Info

Directors: Kobi Shely, Year: 2009, Country: USA, Runtime: 55 min

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Tibet: Murder in the Snow

February 3rd, 2009

If you’re in Sydney on Thursday the 12th of February, you might want to peep Tibet: Murder in the Snow by Australian director Mark Gould. He’ll be there for a Q & A after the screening… along with some Tibetan Monks!

In an incident that shocked the world, a teenage nun was killed when Chinese border police opened fire on a group of pilgrims as they fled Tibet over the infamous NangPa Pass. The shooting was witnessed international mountain climbers who filmed the events and helped rescue a survivor before broadcasting the story to the world.

Using shocking footage, reenactments and interviews with witness and survivors, Murder in the Snow tells of thousands of young Tibetans who risk their lives each year to illegally cross the rugged Himalaya Mountains in an attempt to see their spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama, or attend school in India.

Tibet: Murder in the Snow

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DMCA, DVD, CSS & Documentary

January 28th, 2009

The IDA’S made a few posts recently about the anti-piracy Content Scrambling System (CSS) technology found on commercial DVDs. Apparently the system is preventing documentary filmmakers from accessing content on discs which is either public domain or subject to ‘fair use’.

Firstly, if something is public domain, I’m not sure how the Digital Millenium Copyright Act (DMCA) comes into it. DMCA is also an American law which I believe has little jurisdiction outside the US. Of course, I’m no lawyer so I may be way off, but the whole subject seems to revolve around some filmmaker’s difficulties in circumventing CSS on DVDs. They either go without, or record footage via analogue capture. Enterprising directors could also go for a ghetto telecine.

As we all know, CSS was cracked in a matter of hours by a 14 year old Norwegian hacker who packaged the hack for all to use. It’s known as DeCSS and is widely implemented in a number of DVD ripping programs.

Anyway, all this got me thinking about the nature of DVDs themselves, which use a compressed MPEG-2 video stream. Even if you do DeCSS some video, it’s still compressed and is of lesser quality than even standard def DV.

While most of us would agree in challenging archaic copyright laws in general, surely the MPAA’s stopgap anti-piracy measures can’t be that much of a deterrant to filmmakers?

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Review: Spellbound (2002)

January 1st, 2009

SpellboundPeople often say of Spellbound, ‘who would have thought a Spelling Bee competition could be so riveting’?

I wonder what draws those people to documentaries.

For me, the feel good qualities of the film don’t weigh up against more enriching dividends paid by the sort of docos I’m into. You know, ones that smack you around a bit. I get Spellbound, I just don’t think I have to like it, just because it may have been a crossover hit with the family demographic. Sure, there’s some cute moments and even some distant emotional engagement, but I truly didn’t feel enlightened after the viewing experience. Perhaps my expectations were too high. After all, this film appears on many ‘Greatest Documentaries of All Time’ lists, including that of the International Documentary Association. Oh yeah, it was nominated for an Academy too.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s somewhat entertaining and the stronger first half of the film is devoted to the backstories of 8 Spelling Bee participants. There’s definitely some human interest in there, sure. However remainder of the film hangs itself – in faux-climactic style – around a single national championship competition.

Hardly nail biting stuff… but that’s where editing comes into play.

Deficiencies in filmic suspense are countered by flipping back to expository elements – a technique which fed my sense of distraction rather than building anticipation. So one kid, Harry, is agonising over how to spell ‘banns’ (yeah, whatever that means) and rather then hit us with the correct spelling, we are treated to some more parental chat, or the film meanders to some point of historical interest that might have served the half of the film well. Even his twisted facial contortions (and he is surely a pinup child for A.D.D.) don’t make me care about who the winner may be. If anything, you just want the least annoying kid to pull through at the end.

At best, Spellbound is a statement about America’s obsession with competition, and while it’s not exactly a child beauty pageant, there is a good cross section of parents with contrasting degrees of ambitious intent. Some pressure their kids into success, others liken the competition to child abuse. Granted, all the kids are bright and you do find yourself rooting for the ones with natural talent and motivation (over the learn-by-rote’rs), but in my book, mass/fluff appeal doesn’t necessarily equate to documentary gold.

Titicut Rating: 3 / 5

Info

Directors: Jeffrey Blitz, Year: 2002, Country: USA, Runtime: 97 min

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Review: Skid Row (2007)

December 30th, 2008

Skid RowBemuse yourself as Pras from The Fugees abondons the opulent lifestyle of a commercial hip hopper to experience a few hours of life on LA’s Skid Row. His attempts at documenting homelessness, violence and drug abuse, though well-intentioned, are needlessly clandestine and at times he has to play dumb when his subjects don’t take kindly to being filmed from across the road. It’s a self-preserving, rather ugly manipulation of the subjects he purports to empathise with.

There is an obvious vanity in the self-reflexivity of Skid Row. Various cumbersome and argumentative monologues show Pras cutting sick at his film ‘crew’ and it’s apparent he’s completely out of place on the streets. He appears to be more worried about protecting his own hide rather than conveying his blunt, undeveloped ideas. If you must watch a documentary that features a Fugee, Wyclef Jean’s appearance in Ghosts of Cité Soleil will surely suffice.

The film is a misguided, somewhat unintelligent exploration of one of the most horrific urban slums in the USA. Pras’ glamour shot on the cover of the DVD is a dire indicator which correctly implies that we’ll learn little about Skid Row.

There are many, well-conceived and touching documentaries about homelessness, unfortunately, Skid Row ain’t one of them.

Titicut Rating: 1.5 / 5

Info

Directors: Ross Clarke, Niva Dorell, Marshall Tyler, Year: 2007, Country: USA, Runtime: 80 min

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Review: Streetwise (1984)

December 28th, 2008

StreetwiseLike many good documentaries, Streetwise came to life after Martin Bell read an article about the homeless situation in downtown Seattle. This Academy Award nominated film depicts street robbers, junkies, whores, fags and squatting bohos as you’ve never seen them before. Your average New York ’street’ doco pales in comparison. Streetwise gets straight into the subcultural underpinnings of street life in a raw observational style.

The film’s humanising perspective is bolstered by interview-style narration from by the street kids. Not once are we confronted with ‘talking-head’ interview footage, with Bell instead opting to cut the extensively captured dialogue to observational footage of each character. As they roam the streets and interact with one another, the city and its occupants literally pass the kids by. Pedestrians rub shoulders with the kids, oblivious to the various altercations which take place as part of their daily life. Through masterfully shot footage, captured by a very small production crew, we are made constantly aware of the kids underclassed existence; they are the forgotten, failed and ignored products of a modern society.

The film is peppered with cautionary, to-the-point insights from its young teenage subjects, who all speak in the insightful manner of adults far beyond their own years. While they convey their philosophies on survival practices; comparing the relative virtues of ho’ing versus dumpster diving, these shocking realities are mitigated by child-like moments that occasionally seep through. The kids have crushes on each other, they laugh and joke like any 14 year olds might do, but these relationships seem ersatz and exist, it seems, for reasons of survival more so than comanionship.

The kids are not completely dispossessed however, and we eventually hear from some of the parents, who predictably have problems of their own. One mother states in denial, that her teen prostitute daughter is ‘just going through a phase’, while an imprisoned father attempts to discipline his street kid son from behind bars.

The only respite from all this is the film’s hilariously dated, diagetic 80s music. Oftentimes, The Eurythmics or The Human League can be heard emanating from boomboxes on the street. In fact, the only non-diagetic music (that which is added in post-production) comes during the final moments of the film, as provided by a well-meaning Tom Waits. The lack of post-production glitz shouldn’t scare you though, as its entirely congruous with the style and subject matter of Streetwise.

In my travels I’ve read of a follow up film which was produced 20 years after Streetwise. It picks up on the story of Erin (Tiny) who is now apparently a middle-aged mother. It’s great to know at least one of the film’s characters is off the streets, but this probably won’t be of much comfort when you are watching Streetwise.

Titicut Rating: 4.5 / 5

Info

Director: Martin Bell, Year: 1984, Country: USA, Runtime: 91 min

Related Documentaries:

Black Tar Heroin: The Dark End of the Street (2000), directed by Steven Okazaki.
Dark Days (2001), directed by Marc Singer.

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Review: Pedal (2001)

December 26th, 2008

PedalPedal is a personal favourite of mine. A grainy, DV look at the subculture of New York City’s bike messengers, it’s an absorbing mix of rather eccentric characters and their backstories, seredipitous moments of participatory filmmaking and hair-raising action sequences amidst city traffic.

The film is a neat package, humbly encapsulating many of the elements that draw me to the documentary form. It’s one of those docos you suspect will immerse you in another reality you know little about, and Peter Sutherland’s film delivers. You always knew there was more to bike couriers than just riding around delivering corporate mail… right?

Adding to its low-budget appeal, there is a general sense of theatricality about the film, maintained by forgoing narration and allowing the cyclists themselves to guide us through their world of tribulations and fixed-gear, mid-city recklessness. Of course, Pedal is far from being another vapid sports documentary and is likely to appeal to any documentary enthusiasts, cyclist or not. Highly recommended viewing.

Titicut Rating: 4 / 5

Info

Director: Peter Sutherland, Year: 2001, Country: USA, Runtime: 52 min

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Review: My Kid Could Paint That (2007)

December 24th, 2008

My Kid Could Paint ThatIn 2005, the hyped up world of the New York art scene was buzzing with a human-interest story about the 4 year old abstract artist, Marla Olmstead. She was an infant whose paintings showed prodigious talent and mature compositional skill. Having heard of the story, director Amir Bar-Lev travelled to suburban Binghamton, New York to propose to the Olmsteads that he make an independent documentary about Marla.

In the first half of the documentary, Bar-Lev creates a reasonably objective chronicle of the her rise to fame. Over the backdrop of a snowballing media frenzy, My Kid Could Paint That asks challenging questions about modern art. What is so special about abstract art if it can be produced by a child? Does the work belong in a museum or on the fridge? My Kid Could Paint appears to be a story of adult fascination with child prodigies, and as Marla’s paintings increase in value from $250 apiece to over $25,000, Bel-Lev makes ample comparative reference to the pioneering masters of abstract expressionism, such as Jackson Pollock, whose paintings command tens of millions.

For some, young Marla’s work provides the ultimate debunking proof; that modern art is a hoax patronised by pseudo-intellectuals. Such attacks on Marla’s work are driven by modern art skeptics, and while she has no idea about any imposed precedents set by Pollock, the question remains; is it the same painting if done by a child or adult? Is there some perceived value in the story behind an artwork? Unfortadditionunately, these thematic questions are better explored in films like Orson Welles’ F For Fake, as Bar-Lev ultimately leaves them begging for answers.

In addition to interview material, the film’s narrative is conveyed through observational footage. As with any observational mode of documentary filmmaking, paring down hours of raw footage ultimately shapes the way participants are depicted and in Bar-Lev’s representation, Marla’s parents cut a striking contrast. Mother Laura is characterised as a maternal bastion of common sense and during interviews she is candidly cautious of the media attention surrounding her daughter. While she denies various offers to appear on television, Marla’s father is characterised as an opportunist who is far more at ease with his daughter’s fame.

After a sensationalised 60 Minutes report about Marla airs, the film changes tack and the debate over modern art’s validity is nearly superseded by the question of how the film should ethically represent its characters. Will the director support or damn the family he has spent months filming in the privacy of their own home? Unfortunately, Bar-Lev starts to include himself in various scenes, employing self-reflexivity it seems, to absolve him of any perceived misrepresentation of his subjects. We see several of the director’s displays of doubt and uneasiness. In one squeamish, self-shot scene, he unravels any of the film’s previously established objectivity by turning the camera on himself, breaking his “contract” with the audience and divulging strong personal opinions about the Olmsteads.

Bar-Lev eventually sharpens the ethical dilemma with which he is faced. How can he treat his subjects humanely while seeking the truth about Marla? In my view, what ultimately wins out is the director’s own murky, unsubstantiated truth. As the critic Michael Kimmelman tells Bar-Liv, his documentary is “on some level is going to be a lie”. It is a truth he reveals at some expense to the Olmstead family and it all becomes rather irksome when Mrs. Olmstead realises her family’s story is in Bar-Lev’s hands, pleading with the director mid-interview to “believe” her.

My Kid Could Paint That is an excellent, entertaining documentary about adult issues, illuminated through a child’s story. It asks questions about modern art in a similar vein to Who The #$&% Is Jackson Pollock (2006), but its also a film about documentary filmmaking, exploitative journalism and representation of social characters.

Titicut Rating: 4 / 5

Info

Director: Amir Bar-Lev, Year: 2007, Country: USA, Runtime: 82 min

Related Documentaries:

Who The #%&! Is Jackson Pollock (2006), directed by Harry Moses.
F For Fake (1975), directed by Orson Welles.

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