Entries tagged with “SXSW” from Rooftop Films Blog
Late last night, after jumping from IFC's My Morning Jacket / Yo La Tengo concert to the wide-open SXSW Closing Night party and finally onto Joel Heller's birthday, I wound up at the Magnolia diner, eating scrambled eggs and discussing scrambled documentaries. I was there with Dan Nuxoll from Rooftop, Joel, and Alex Karpovsky and Eric Bruggermann, the director and editor, respectively, of "The Hole Story" and 2008 SXSW selection "Woodpecker." I brought up the fascinating dialogue about the distinctions of fiction and non-fiction filmmaking that I had heard surrounding some of the films here at SXSW, including Alex's film(s), Daniel Stamm's "A Necessary Death," and even films as different as Nanette Burstein's "American Teen," Morgan Spurlock's "Where in the World is Osama bin Laden?" and Josh Safdie's "The Pleasure of Being Robbed," where categorical definitions would appear pretty straightforward. We'd heard a rumor that when "A Necessary Death" played one European festival, it was in the documentary section, and the crowd was incensed.
Why is it that people get so mad about films that blur these distinctions or even deliberately mislead the audience? Do these distinctions matter? And if so, how should we be defining these films?
[To read this entire article, please click here.]
Like the film itself, this story has (in its own way) a happy ending. As you probably read in my other posts below, Benh Zeitlin--the director of "Glory at Sea," a miraculous short film that Rooftop co-funded--was in a brutal car accident the day of his first screening at SXSW. He's doing much better now, with his metal hip, painkillers, and tremendous set of friends and supporters. Contrary to a popular rumor, the infamous welder-turned-actor who plays Sergeant Major in the film, Jimmy Lee Moore, did NOT perform Benh's operation.
Although Benh wasn't able to attend the first two screenings of his film, he may actually be able to get to the Friday March 14 show at 2:30pm (so go join him if you can for what promises to be a very emotional screening). And so, laid up in a hospital bed, the festival has come to him.
Many filmmakers sent along copies of their films so Benh could watch them in his hospital bed (holding his laptop inches from his face as he awaits new eyeglasses to replace the ones lost in the car). Many more people cheered on the film and sent their well wishes. I know Benh would like to pass on his thanks to all of you.
And last night, "Glory at Sea" took home the SXSW Wolphin Award for Best Short Film.
Brent Hoff and Emily Doe from Wholphin, the excellent DVD magazine that is part of the beneficient McSweeney's empire, presented the award to "Glory" producers Josh Penn, Dan Janvey, and Par Parekh. Fittingly for such a funky, underwater film, and for a DVD zine named for a cross between a whale and a dolphin, the award itself was a pinky-sized vial containing a tiny squid, found some 6,000 feet beneath the sea by an official Wolphin oceanographer. Immediately following the awards ceremony, I went with about 20 people to visit Benh and celebrate. He was moved and delighted and proud, and really loving the symbolism of this tiny dead creature pulled from the depths of the sea.
Facts about the accident, car insurance and medical bills are still sketchy, but plans for celebration / benefit screenings in Austin and New York are in the works.
Is Barry Jenkins' "Medicine for Melancholy" the first African-American "Mumblecore" movie? Hell yeah! And, uh, maybe not.
Jenkins' engaging and entertaining low-budget love story certainly fits many of Mumblecore's thematic ideas, and premiered at SXSW, the cauldron that supposedly brewed the movement. The film takes place over the course of one dreamy day, from the time when a man and a woman wake up next to each other in a strange bed, hungover in the hazy dawn after a party, through the waxing and waning stages of a burgeoning relationship, and into the second night of their one night stand. As with most of the affirmed Mumblecore canon, the characters are most comfortable flirtatiously talking about themselves and their relationships, about indie art and pop culture, but the greater issues of social anxiety and political awareness occasionally intercede in a way that is natural and revealing.
Tracey Heggins plays the guilt-ridden woman, and she perfectly offsets her inscrutable and somewhat stand-offish attitude with just enough charm and savvy to justify Wyatt Cenac's dogged pursuit of her. Cenac, a stand-up comic in his first acting role, is a screen natural with a uncanny ability to captivate with a mix of clever wit, shy deflections and downright adorable gestures. In one delightful scene that stands as a microcosmic representation of the entire film, Cenac insinuates his way into her apartment and beguiles her into letting him stay a bit. I won't bother to describe the details of the scene, because the intangibles which the two characters express far outweigh the basic narrative, but the conversation sparkles along, touching on joblessness, rent, fidelity, desire, guilt, race, perception, showers, and stolen art, finally concluding in a Mr. Rogers song and the creation of doodle masterwork sketched in Sharpie and laden with racial overtones. You're in love with these characters by the end of this scene, and ready to ride through the day with them empathizing with everything they feel.
In addition to highlighting Jenkins' ability to craft believable and meaningful dialogue and shape realistic and engaging characters, the sequence also demonstrates his subtle cinematic skill. When Heggins goes to take a shower, Cenac meanders through her apartment, snooping here and there. Opening one door, the sound of the shower suddenly becomes ever so slightly louder, and there's a breathless and exciting moment of anticipation when we wonder along with him if he should go in with her. I won't even tell you what his decision is, but it's telling.
Unlike many Mumblecore films, Jenkins has shot the film with an obvious "look," with most of the color desaturated. It's a foggy look which is not only a resonant depiction of San Francisco, but also evokes the hazy, hungover, timeless feeling of their Sunday afternoon extended one-night stand. Jenkins mentioned in the Q & A that Karina Longworth of Spout had even conjectured that the film is 93% desaturated to reflect the racial makeup of the city, which is explicitly mentioned in the dialogue. Although Jenkins denied that this was explicitly the case, he liked the idea, and the way visual tropes and simple dialogue evoke the deeper political themes of race, class, and gentrification is another exceptional aspect of "Medicine for Melancholy."
In theme and attitude, the film fits the Mumblecore moniker, though it's clearly not a "Mumblecorps" movie, because it doesn't star any of the Swanberg/Gerwig coterie. But I think it's interesting and important to attempt to decipher if this is a Mumblecore film. One of the criticisms of the movement is that it's dominated by apolitical white males; so, first of all, by calling "Melancholy" Mumblecore, I think you expand the genre for the better, moving it forward and keeping it relevant. The point of defining such genres is to give viewers a context with which to interpret and evaluate films, and by defining the work by content instead of cast, you encourage the audience to weigh the emotional and intellectual evocations against other similar films. Some might say that categories are limiting, but I think they provide context and inspire dialogue.
Barry Jenkins may not have been inspired by or aspiring to Mumblecore, but "Medicine for Melancholy" has successfully embraced the best of the movement, and he's made a wonderful independent film which anyone should love.
A few days ago, I posted below about "Glory at Sea!" a short film directed by Benh Zeitlin of Court 13 Productions. It's a movie that Rooftop Films partially funded, and which is an amazing, uplifting, collaborative project, a mythical narrative about a community (set in post-Katrina New Orleans) coming together to build a raft to join their loved ones after a fatal flood. Please take a moment to read what I wrote when I attended the cast and crew screening in New Orleans last week:
www.rooftopfilms.com/blog/2008/03/bleeding-rust-glory-at-sea-in.html
On the way to his SXSW premiere, Benh's car was rear-ended at a stoplight. Benh has shattered his hip and broken his pelvis. Three other people in the car with him also had minor injuries. Benh was in surgery all day, and it appears that he will recover. I visited him in the hospital and his spirits are remarkably high, but he's facing a long, painful, expensive recovery process. And he could use your help.
There are a few things you could do, if you're a friend, a supporter, a SXSW filmmaker.
+ SEE THE FILM!
+ SIGN THE FILM GUESTBOOK
+ SEND A DVD OF YOUR FILM
+ DONATE TO HELP COVER HIS MEDICAL EXPENSES
SEE THE FILM
I was hyping this film long before Benh's accident, but now more than ever go see his truly inspiring and uplifting film. Michael Tully, who writes for IndieWire and Hammer to Nail, saw the film and said he wanted to stand up and shout hallelujah. You'll feel the same, and the rest of the cast and crew will really appreciate your support. "Glory at Sea!" screens: Shorts Program 3
Tuesday, March 11, 12pm, Alamo Lamar 2
& Friday, March 14, 2:30pm, Alamo Lamar 2
There are so many amazing, inspiring films here at SXSW, and this is such a supportive community, I have no doubt that the outpouring of kindness will be tremendous.
SIGN THE GUESTBOOK
We'll have a guest book at the screening so that Benh can receive some of the feedback he'll be missing by not being there. Please take a moment to tell him your thoughts about the film.
If you already saw the film, or can't make a screening, you can also send an email to Benh at <benh AT court13 DOT com>.
SEND YOUR FILM
One of the unfortunate results of this accident is that Benh, who has made such a beautifully collaborative project, is sadly missing the festival experience here at SXSW. (The SXSW staff has been very supportive, but of course there's nothing to be done to get him out of the hospital right now.) He would love to see films and meet people. On top of that, he's going to be laid up in a hospital bed with no entertainment for some time. We're asking that SXSW filmmakers please donate a DVD of your film to Benh.
We understand of course that some of you may not be comfortable having DVDs of your film floating around at this time, so if you can't lend a DVD, that's okay. But if you don't mind passing on a copy of the film to a trusted filmmaker, it would be a sweet gesture. You can drop off your film:
Convention Center
(near the screening room)
Tuesday, March 11, 4-6pm
I along with some of the crew from the film will be hanging out at at a table, so drop by and donate a DVD to Benh. (We'll try to set up a small sign. Otherwise look for me, a guy with a shaved head. And I'll wear a colorful tie.) Other forms of entertainment, support, get well cards, etc., are also welcome. If you can't come then, drop me a line at mark AT rooftopfilms DOT com and we'll try to arrange something else.
DONATE
Benh does not have health insurance and is facing tens of thousands of dollars in medical bills and lost income while he's laid up. It may be that the car insurance will cover his expenses, but unfortunately, it's not clear if that's the case (issues surrounding the driver of the other vehicle are sketchy). I will keep you posted if and when financial support becomes necessary (and promise not to send a glut of emails). You can check www.rooftopfilms.com/blog and www.court13.com for updates. I know that Rooftop, SXSW and others are also discussing benefit screenings, so stay tuned.
Thank you all in advance for your support. I know that Court 13 and Rooftop Films and SXSW have a really strong community here and that we'll be able to support a filmmaker and a friend in need.
The pleasure of "The Pleasure of Being Robbed" is the joy of discovering a bag full of kittens (and watching them playfully flip through the air); the bliss of an unexpected overnight road trip with a friend; the warmth of a frolic with a polar bear. Josh Safdie's film is filled with a carefree awkwardness, a lightness of touch with melancholy and humor, and a whole host of unexpected stolen delights. I am a big fan of Josh's short film "The Back of Her Head," which we screened at Rooftop in August of 2007, and his debut feature carries the emotions, ideas and spirit of his short films to a brilliant pinnacle. The film follows a young lady as she drifts through life with the naïve charm of curious puppy, who takes whatever she wants, and with the detachment of an adorable kitten, who cares not a fig what you think of her. But Eleonore is neither greedy nor simple. She is constantly stealing, but does so exuding a joy in sharing objects, stories, lives. She steals with a hug, with a shared joke, with a helping hand. The real world does intrude on her beatific kleptomania, and one doesn't get the sense that people do always understand and appreciate what she does, but as the description of the film says, the people from whom she steals "owe her their thanks."
Certainly we all owe a tremendous thanks to Safdie, actress Eleonore Hendricks, and the entire crew of the utterly dazzling Red Bucket Films team for creating this magical piece of cinema.Amazingly, the film itself was somewhat stolen. The filmmakers had been commissioned to make a commercial, but instead used the money to make this gorgeous film, reminiscent of the best of the free-wheeling late-60s / early-70s American cinema.
When asked at the World Premiere Q & A why Josh was so interested in the idea of stealing, Safdie compared the feeling he got when he would steal as a kid to that of being in love, and being compelled to do irrational, illicit things for your lover. Might the creation of this character be seen as celebrating mental illness, one viewer asked. "Well, if mental illness is doing whatever you want all the time, then yes, I'll celebrate that."
In Daniel Stamm's "A Necessary Death," we see a young film student known for taking wild risks as a filmmaker wants to make a documentary about someone who plans to commit suicide. His friends think it's a crazy idea, and while some of them agree to help, his roommate decides to document the making of the documentary. They post an ad online, interview some suicidal candidates, and finally settle on a young man with a terminal brain tumor who wants to kill himself before he has to suffer. The nature of the filmmaking process, and a series of manipulations, romances, and discoveries, lead the film in a taut and tragic trajectory.
At the SXSW premiere, after the screening, the audience gasped at the sight of the supposedly dead actors. The director of the film asked for a show of hands as to how many people thought it was a documentary through to the end, and fully half the crowd raised their hands. But it's not a documentary. It's a brilliantly executed work of fiction.
At the Q & A, one woman walked out 2/3rds of the way through, but came back at the end to discuss the film. She had believed it was a documentary, and was too disturbed to watch, but raised the question about filmmaking and audience complicity in this "death." Even if it turns out to be a narrative, what does it say about our society if we want to watch something like this? My first reaction to that is, how is it different from watching a film about a war, or about someone dying of a disease? Presumably, death in those circumstances is completely inevitable and out of the filmmakers' control. In the rare circumstances when a filmmaker has a chance to save a life, they probably usually do put down the camera. But it's never just that simple. For example, what if a filmmaker in a war knows that someone is injured, but continues to film something else rather than helping, because to help would mean to stop filming?
I believe that most of the filmmakers whose films play at Rooftop and SXSW and similar festivals truly do want to help their subjects and the causes they stand for. They want to tell the story so that audience members can engage with the issue. If they stop filming, the one person may be sacrificed, but the larger issue of the film will carry on, eventually (so the hope goes) saving many people.
That was my initial reaction--an idealistic and utilitarian one. But frankly it didn't sit right with me. It felt morally thin. Talking to my extremely kind-hearted girlfriend Stephanie Skaff and to filmmaker/Docs That Inspire-writer Joel Heller about the topic, they expressed what I think is the key to the issue: a filmmaker who genuinely cares about his subjects wouldn't allow themselves to simply watch, and not interfere in order to save a life or help an individual. Of course, in every situation, the filmmaker has to make careful distinctions and choices, but I think one can probably draw a close link between the lasting humanity of a given film and the ability of that filmmaker to make the "right" choice as to when to interfere and when to keep rolling.
That still leaves the complicated issue of suicide, and this non-documentary "A Necessary Death." Personally, I think if I was working on a documentary about a potential suicide, the goal of the film would be to work through the issue of suicide and to engage audience members in a dialogue which could eventually help people. So I would try to help the person work through their issues, see if there was a solution before death, assist them in making the best choice for themselves. And if suicide were still the choice, I'd be willing to roll the camera.
"A Necessary Death" I think succeeds in raising and addressing the issues of the role of the documentarian, the viewer, and all witnesses and friends. In the film, the tragedy is not the suicide, but the fact that clearly the friends and documentarian have not done enough to engage and help, letting a man kill himself when he was not in fact at peace with that choice.
At least that's my take on this very thought-provoking film. If you get a chance, check it out so we can talk more.
Carroll Pickett was a minister in Huntsville, TX--a place best known for its many prisons and high number of executions--when two of his parishioners were taken hostage in an infamous prison riot in 1974. He was called in to try to broker peace, but his friends were eventually killed, and Pickett vowed to never return to that prison. But years later, the prison asked him to become the chaplain, and he thought he could do some valuable work for the people there. Indeed he did, until suddenly his job description changed, and he was asked to be the minister presiding over executions. He would spend all day with the condemned, getting to know them, listening to their fears, concerns and confessions, and aiding any of their last wishes. Pickett agreed in principal with the death penalty, but he certainly had trepidation about the burden of task.
Over 15 years, he was at 95 executions, each a fascinating story. And over those years, Pickett's opinion of the death penalty changed completely.
"At the Death House Door," directed by Steve James and Peter Glibert, is a gripping, fascinating, powerful film about Pickett, about a wrongly-executed man named Carlos De Luna and his family, and about the tragic moral mistake that is the death penalty. Pickett's character unfolds with a stately grace. Being a old-fashioned Texan, he's reluctant to reveal his emotions, a trait which only makes them burn with more ferocity as you see them shine through. In the Q & A, he was asked why it took him so long to come to the conclusions he did, he said that he's "just hard-headed." But in the film, you see an amazing evolution of a man's feelings and ideology, a rare and stunning transformation to see in a documentary, or really in life in general (aren't we all pretty stubborn in our beliefs?)
After every execution, Pickett recorded an audio diary of what happened and what he was thinking and feeling. Until the documentary, not even his family knew these tapes existed, and watching Picket re-listening to them in the film is one of the most harrowing looks into man's soul that I've ever seen.
Finally, the execution of Hector De Luna, a man who Pickett suspected was innocent, is enough to set the ball in motion for Pickett to leave the prison and become an anti-death penalty activist. Emotionally, Pickett was verging on destruction. But he harnesses these core moral disturbances and uses them (and an array of factual evidence) to fight against the death penalty. He actively campaigns now, arguing that not only is the death penalty cruel and painful, not only are there irremediable mistakes made, not is the penalty ineffective as a criminal deterrent (there are hundreds more people on death row now than there were when it was reinstated 30 years ago), but it's a fundamentally immoral act, that's "not Christian, it's not American, and it's not Texan," a moral blight on our society which makes us weaker as a people. In the Q & A, someone wondered if they film might be more effective if it also focused on some of the victims, and the filmmakers' rightly pointed out that in many ways this is a film about victims. It's one side of the death penalty story, surely, but one that crucially implicates all Americans in continuing to allow this injustice.
"I'm angry," says Rose De Luna, the sister of the wrongly-executed Hector De Luna. "Stay that way," Pickett says.
We all need to get angry.
If you don't get a chance to see it at SXSW, the film will be on IFC in May, and perhaps at Rooftop some time soon. I would love the honor to show this to people, and sure wish that a few of them might be on the Supreme Court.
In the guidelines to the Rooftop Filmmakers' Fund--the grants that Rooftop offers to filmmakers whose work has screened with us--we say "We are more likely to fund films that make the most of their resources and community." We don't have the means to fund big-budget films, so we want to help support filmmakers who are clever and collaborative, and show that they uphold the collective ideals of Rooftop Films.
Last night, I was in New Orleans for the cast and crew screening of "Glory at Sea!," a short film which Rooftop co-funded. The movie is based on the myth of Orpheus, and in this version a man who washes to sea aims to sail back to the underwater Hades that has taken his girlfriend. While he builds a raft, the community watches, and becomes interested, and finally rushes to his aid, carrying with them the busted and rusted icons of their lives--all that remains of their husbands and wives, children and parents--strapping to the boat trumpets and bathtubs, charred church crosses and unspooled mix tapes, in the Bayou-inspired voodoo-like belief that these talismans will lead them to their drowned loved ones. The rickety craft sets sail with a song (fitting for Orpheus and Orleans), and the crew finds salvation in sinking.The film is an irrational fable, a rich and poetic impossibility, and it gains its power from its myth logic. In dream logic, you do something crazy and need to look at the subtext to understand why. But in myth logic, you do something crazy because you have the tenuous belief that it will help. "Glory at Sea!" captures that pathos perfectly: the filmmaking is stirred with music video madness as it strains at the conventions of traditional narrative filmmaking. The film invokes this need for a community to bond--not a logical need, based on survival or chances of success, but an inherent need which transcends logic and gets to the core of who we are as people, as neighbors, as people who need each other in life and in death. In post-Katrina New Orleans, where all everyone has left is water-soaked memories of missing persons, "Glory at Sea!" is the perfect parable.
The director Benh Zeitlin choked up when he welcomed the crowd, saying that "making this film was the greatest experience of my life, and it's thanks to so many of the people in this room, who bled rust for this movie."
There were 300 people there.
300 people in support of a short film!
They volunteered their time. They lent their own heartbreak to the telling. They literally risked their lives riding this home-made raft out onto Lake Pontchartrain. One guy, Jimmy Lee Moore, a local guy who was cast as an actor, ended up doing much of the complicated welding on the boat. I spoke to him after the premiere, and he was beaming with pride. He told me about how the Coast Guard didn't think the craft was sea-worthy, and no one would take responsibility for towing it out onto the water. But they hooked it up a speedboat, and tore the tail off it in the process, because they had no other option, and for days on end the actors and crew were doing things no one in their right mind would do, all for this film. Now Jimmy wants to modify the boat and make it a Mardi Gras float, to represent the film, and New Orleans independent filmmakers, and the spirit of this project.Benh was originally going to make this mythical film in Greece, but he told me that when he received funding from Rooftop--where the money comes from ticket sales and submission fees, the fans and filmmakers who make up our community--he knew he had to make a populist film, and that it had to be in New Orleans. Seeing not only the power of the film, but the glorious power of the community that made it, I can't express how proud I am, on behalf of all of us at Rooftop Films, to have had a small part in such an inspiring project.
"Glory at Sea!" plays at SXSW in the Shorts 3 program on March 9, 11th and 14th, at the Alamo Lamar Cinemas.
A lot has been written about the South by Southwest Film Festival and their support of the Austin film community and the "Mumblecore" movement. Personally, I love the idea of indie filmmakers bonding, working together, supporting each other. You can say that the importance of the those scenes is blown out of proportion, and that might be true--the community is a bigger and more diverse than Austin and Mumblecore. A look below at the Rooftop alums who are screening films at SXSW this year shows filmmakers from all around the country, and filmmakers working in a variety of genres and styles. (Racial diversity is another matter, something both Rooftop and SXSW work to address in our programming. Our overlapping lists, unfortunately, don't reflect this diversity). We're proud to see so many filmmakers we like screening at this excellent fest, and we're excited to get a chance to hang out again.
From March 7-12, Rooftop's staff will be down at SXSW, scouting for new films, supporting our alumnae filmmakers, and enjoying the cheap tacos and warm weather with our friends. In town will be Artistic Director Mark Elijah Rosenberg, Program Director Dan Nuxoll and Managing Director Genevieve DeLaurier. If you're in Austin, drop us a line so we can meet up.
sxsw AT rooftopfilms DOT com -- That email will reach all three of us.
At the top of our list here is Benh Zeitlin's "Glory at Sea" (pictured left). Rooftop gave a grant to support this film, so we're particularly proud of it. "Glory at Sea" is a retelling of the classic myth of Orpheus, who descended into Hades to rescue his lover. Originally, the film was going to be made in Greece, but when the Rooftop funding came through, Benh changed his plans. "Part of what drew me toward New Orleans was the populist attitude of my backers. Imagining being on a roof and having a film that spoke to Americans about America, was something that got my insides moving, that got me realizing that the resurrection I wanted to tell was a story I had to tell in the states, in New Orleans."The film is stunning, and everyone should go check it out. I'm heading to New Orleans for a cast and crew screening on March 6, and then rumbling over to Texas after what is sure to be a grand night in NOLA. I'll certainly write about those adventures soon.
In the meantime, go see the latest films from these Rooftop alums:
SHORTS
Glory at Sea Director: Benjamin Zeitlin
34 x 25 x 36 Director: Jesse Epstein
Upwards March Director/Writer: Kaveh Nabatian
Fish, But No Cigar Directors: Tara White and Lyn Elliot
Shut Eye Hotel Director/Writer: Bill Plympton
The Rambler Director: Calvin Reeder
LOVEolution Director: John Bryant
Let's Get Down to Brass Tacks Director/Writer: Aaron Katz
FEATURES
Woodpecker Director: Alex Karpovsky.
The Pleasure of Being Robbed Director: Josh Safdie.
Living with the Tudors Directors: Karen Guthrie & Nina Pope.
Intimidad Directors: David Redmon & Ashley Sabin.
Goliath Director: David Zellner.
The Marconi Bros. Director/writers: Marco Ricci, Michael Canzoniero.
The New Year Parade Director/writer: Tom Quinn.
Rainbow Around the Sun Directors: Kevin Ely and Beau Leland.
My Effortless Brilliance Director: Lynn Shelton. Starring: (Rooftop Alum) Calvin Reeder
[This is the complete article originally published on March 13, 2008.]
Late last night, after jumping from IFC's My Morning Jacket / Yo La Tengo concert to the wide-open SXSW Closing Night party and finally onto Joel Heller's birthday, I wound up at the Magnolia diner, eating scrambled eggs and discussing scrambled documentaries. I was there with Dan Nuxoll from Rooftop, Joel, and Alex Karpovsky and Eric Bruggermann, the director and editor, respectively, of "The Hole Story" and 2008 SXSW selection "Woodpecker" (pictured left). I brought up the fascinating dialogue about the distinctions of fiction and non-fiction filmmaking that I had heard surrounding some of the films here at SXSW, including Alex's film(s), Daniel Stamm's "A Necessary Death," and even films as different as Nanette Burstein's "American Teen," Morgan Spurlock's "Where in the World is Osama bin Laden?" and Josh Safdie's "The Pleasure of Being Robbed," where categorical definitions would appear pretty straightforward. We'd heard a rumor that when "A Necessary Death" played one European festival, it was in the documentary section, and the crowd was incensed.
Why is it that people get so mad about films that blur these distinctions or even deliberately mislead the audience? Do these distinctions matter? And if so, how should we be defining these films?
One of the first things we realized is that general audience members, far more than film critics, filmmakers, and film programmers, do question what's "real." You hear in Q & A sessions how important it is to them. And a great number of film professionals also debate (and confuse) these terms and distinctions. So the distinctions do matter. And I think the first reason why they matter, why people want to know if a film is a work of fiction or non-fiction, is because people don't like "being suckered" (as entertainment lawyer and SXSW panelist Alan Levy put it when I was discussing the issue with him). Being suckered is different from being tricked: a murder mystery tricks you, but that's what you want it to do; a fiction film that poses as a non-fiction film (the thinking goes) suckers you. People think that the film is somehow lying to you, which you don't want it to do.
I think this discrepancy comes initially from expectation: when you go to see an action movie, you don't want to find yourself instead watching a quiet drama. When you see certain documentary aesthetics, you expect that what you are seeing is non-fiction. So the second and more important reason why audience members want to know the nature of the film is because of the inherent differences in the way we interact with fiction and non-fiction films. People are more likely to immediately connect emotionally with non-fiction characters because one of the greatest challenges of fiction cinema--effective suspension of disbelief--is alleviated. When a character in a fiction film does something outlandish, an audience member is likely to think, "No one would ever do that." Not so in documentary; you have to assume they really did it. So when you think a film is non-fiction, and it turns out to be scripted, you mistrust your own emotional reading of the film. The same is true in reverse for non-fiction films. Every camera move and edit in a documentary is of course a manipulation of reality, yet people still get hung up on the details of some non-attainable objective truth.
With either fiction or non-fiction, that mental approach to film watching is limiting. We should be able to watch a movie, and analyze our feelings and our thoughts based on the emotions expressed and the ideas addressed, not solely on whether it was "real." I think keeping the lines between fiction and non-fiction blurry is a wise move. Whether the filmmaker writes a story and casts actors to play the characters, or if the filmmaker follows the story of people leading their existing lives, the goals are the same for any film: to entertain the audience, to enlighten them, to take them to emotional highs and lows.
This is where films like Safdie's "The Pleasure of Being Robbed" and Burstein's "American Teen" come in. I thought "American Teen" was entertaining and engaging, but I didn't love the film because of some of the manipulations--jumps in time to enhance the weight of an emotion, moments that are clearly created in the editing room but didn't happen live. My problem isn't the manipulations per se, and I don't doubt the veracity of the basic facts. My problem is that because of those manipulations, I didn't really connect with the characters. I thought the jumps in time simplified complex emotions, and the forged scenes fell flat. When watching either a non-fiction or a fiction film, you understand that this isn't an objective reality, but if the cuts and camera angles fail to create a subjective emotional and intellectual truth, the film has failed. In contrast, some scenes in Josh Safdie's film are, as he put it, "stolen"--he caught people on the street unawares and wrote them into his narrative. I was impressed by the way he was able to fluidly bring these elements into his rather fantastical story, and from a narrative standpoint, I was touched by the interactions.
Karpovsky's "Woodpecker" is a brilliant example of the way a filmmaker can blend fact and fiction to make an amusing, moving and meaningful film that transcends either documentary or fiction modes. The film is about the true story of the supposed sighting of an Ivory Billed Woodpecker in the bayou of Arkansas. Hundreds of bird watchers descended on the swamps, hoping to confirm the sighting. Alex sets the stage for his film with mostly documentary footage, and provides a sincere and intriguing look into a region transformed and polarized by this funny little bird. We meet ordinary people who were transfixed by the beauty of the bird, and hunters who are displeased that the search for the bird is keeping them from their hunting grounds. There are locals opening tourist shops selling bird trinkets, and taxidermists who claim to be able to manufacture an Ivory Billed in minutes. Into this world, Alex injects Jon e. Hyrnes (pictured below left), an actor who Alex discovered, ironically, when Johnny appeared as the subject of another documentary, "Johnny Berlin." Alex makes the wise point, "Much like the bird itself, "Woodpecker" explores the intersection of fact and fiction, manipulating our notions of documentary and narrative techniques within a tragic comedy about hope, perception, and some very very strange birds."
One of the ingenious cinematic devices in "Woodpecker" is the way Karpovsky has the character he scripted continue to develop a theme first brought up by one of the documentary characters. One of the birdwatchers who (I'm pretty sure) is real, says that the bird's cry is simply the announcement, "I am here." This phrase becomes a core leitmotif for Johnny, the lead in the film, who himself is looking for the bird in order mark to his place in birdwatching history. This lonely guy, who drolly remarks that when his wife left him "she was essentially saying 'I am not here,'" thinks that if he spots the bird he will somehow justify and signify his own existence. He wants to be famous, yes, but only in this obscure realm. His core desire, as he explains in one of his ludicrous but subtly insightful rants, is to be an integral part of the birdwatching community. He wants people to know he is there, to care that he's there, and to enable people to see this bird. So as we watch Johnny mingle with the locals and drift through the swamps, we relate to the community with his specific perspective, this strange but pure and life-affirming connection with the world. The film raises a lot of issues about environmentalism and hunting, about dying small towns and the pitfalls of media attention, about individual isolation and community, and the way in which the issues are presented through the perspective of an entertaining and astute on-screen character effectively makes them more genuine and resonant than if we were seeing them in a purportedly neutral documentary. "Woodpecker" is a far more potent use of motion pictures than a purely factual news report of the (possible) discovery of the Ivory Billed Woodpecker.
So if blurring the lines between fiction and non-fiction can be useful, how do we define such films? Even though I think audiences shouldn't determine their appreciation of a film by any categories or expectations, I think we need definitions in order to avoid confusion and reach a more universal understanding of these conventions, so that audience members aren't burdened by misconceptions.
There are three essential categories, and a handful of styles within them. All films are fiction, non-fiction or a hybrid. I think one of the core confusions stems from the misleading term "narrative film." Most films, whether based on imagination or fact, are narrative--they are telling a story. Non-fiction films, however, can be told in a variety of styles, which include documentary, verité, and recreation. Conventional "documentary" style would include films in which the camera records events as they unfold in real time, without the director intentionally influencing the action. Documentaries often include elements such as music, titles, and effects that did not appear directly in front of the camera, and interviews, in which the action is perhaps staged with lights, sets, and questions, but what the subject says is not shaped by the filmmaker. In contrast, verité filmmaking does not use any such non-diegetic elements or staged events.
A film like Robinson Devor's "Zoo" (pictured left) is still non-fiction, because the audio and video are all based on facts not imagination, but it is a work of non-fiction not made in a documentary style, because the voices of the subjects were re-recorded by actors, and the images were recreated with actors, lighting, set-decoration, etc. (Throughout this article, I used the terms "documentary" and "narrative" to refer to the style of filmmaking, but not the category of films.) It's interesting to note that Morgan Spurlock's "Where in the World is Osama bin Laden?" is considered a work of non-fiction (by most people), in a documentary style, even though, like "Woodpecker," it contains scripted elements and a "character" who is interacting with real people. The differences between Spurlock's and Karpovsky's films is the way in which the character is presented (Spurlock as himself; Jon e. Hymes as the fictional Johnny Neander), and the essence of the narrative (Spurlock investigating a question; Karpovsky crafting a portrait). Within hybrid films, the distinctions of style are equally varied, including mockumentaries, faux documentaries, meta-documentaries, and fake home movies. Over lunch at Stubb's BBQ joint, I was discussing the issue with filmmakers Andrew Bujalski and Garrett Savage, and filmmaker plus "Woodpecker" co-producer Dia Sokol, and for Karpovsky's film we settled on the term "faux documentary." Although "Woodpecker" is black comedy, it shouldn't be called a "mockumentary." A "faux documentary" is a film that incorporates fiction and non-fiction, and uses the style and conventions of a doc to tell semi-fictional story. A "mockumentary," in contrast, is completely imaginary, and tends to be making fun of the characters. Further, I think most "mockumentaries" poke fun at documentary form itself, with overly-contrived sit-down interviews and obvious nods to the camera, such as the ubiquitous "don't film this" moments.
In "Woodpecker," by contrast, although one is often laughing at Johnny's naiveté and quirky obsession, he's more like a Don Quixote, the madman on a mission who is lovable and laughable but also honest, noble, and inspiring. The film treats Johnny and all the characters with warmth and respect, so it lacks the spoofing of a mockumentary.
Non-fiction and fiction "meta-documentaries" would include films that explicitly address the essence of documentary form. "Woodpecker" does not, but Karpovsky's "The Hole Story" and "A Necessary Death" both in some ways deal with the nature media and the way the act of filming events inherently affects the action. "Fake home movies," such as the infamous "Blair Witch Project," purport to verité filmmaking conventions in which the on-screen characters are filming their own lives, only the characters and actions are scripted and staged.
So, I hope all my rambling has proved helpful or at least interesting to some. It seemed interesting enough in late-night film festival conversations over eggs migas and pulled pork sandwiches. The next question, I guess, is whether I've accurately documented all that we discussed.
But we've been back from the Park City fests for a week now, and I think I'm starting to "recover" from all the amazing movies, fantastic friends, and dreamy days in dark theaters. It's exhausting, but it's a blast. I kept a little diary this year of everything I did out there, which was pretty crazy. I won't bore you with the details, but in 8 days I saw 27 features and a bunch of short films, had conversations with 140 different people, and spent half a day snowboarding (left). What a trip. To read about as many of the films as Dan and I could stay awake at night to write about, scroll down through the January archives. We really loved the slate out there this year, as we found a ton of films that were right up Rooftop's alley--straightforward films that focused more on telling great personal stories instead of fancy filmmaking frills. I hope our reviews are entertaining and interesting, and provide some insight into these films and the people behind them. And if you agree, or don't, leave us a comment and let us know what you think.
Look out for our SXSW coverage in March!
When Jennifer Venditti was casting Carter Smith's Sundance award-winning Bugcrush, a gay-themed horror short about small town teens, she scouted a high school in rural Maine for weeks, sitting in the cafeteria and observing students, startled by the enduring strength of the social cliques. One time she sat with a group of bullies, and they told her about how they once invited a kid over to their lunch table simply in order to make fun of him and torture him. She asked which kid it was, and they pointed to a short, skinny kid with a small ponytail, sitting all by himself at the fringes of the lunchroom. That kid was Billy Price. When Jennifer started to spend time with Billy, all the other kids pestered her: Why are you talking to him?
"When I cast Billy in Bugcrush," Jennifer said at one of her SXSW screenings, "it was partly because of what an amazing kid he was, and partly as a Fuck You to all those other kids."
Billy the Kid, a feature-length documentary about this astonishing 15-year-old, is the quietest, sweetest, most heartbreaking Fuck You I've ever seen.
The film begins by spending time with Billy alone. He self-consciously tries to explain himself, the contradictions he knows he has: his love of heavy metal and his affection for his pet cat, his violent streaks and his sensitivity. While playing a shooting game at an arcade, Billy remarks, "I don't shoot the girls, because I think it's wrong to hurt women, real or fake." The opening section is filled with wonderful revelations, and throughout the film watching Billy's relationship with his mother provides a touching example of the way a parent should deal with a brilliant but troubled child - she's patient, she listens, she learns, she supports letting him make his own mistakes. But for me the film really takes off when Billy spies a girl his age who works at the local diner. Heather has an eye condition that makes her eyes flicker from side to side, and she is nearly blind. Her younger brothers tell Billy that she gets teased a lot, and where many kids who are bullied might see someone weaker than them that they could turn their aggression on, Billy's heart goes out to her immediately.
Their courtship and romance play out like the finest fiction, extended scenes that are perfectly paced and shot with a delicacy and tenderness that is a joy to watch. Describing it would be largely pointless, as so much is loaded into every blurted aside, every expectant look, every pause. Suffice it to say that Billy the Kid is very deserving of the Documentary Feature award at SXSW, and much more. This portrait of a young outcast and his struggle to shed "a lifetime of loneliness" had my palms sweating, my heart racing and my eyes tearing up, as though I was the one with the live-or-die teenage crush all over again.
As a native New Yorker, I loved what director Aaron Katz and his tight crew accomplished presenting Brooklyn in their new film Quiet City - they found solace. The film follows a simple story - a young woman visits New York but can't find her friend, and ends up spending the weekend with a slacker guy she meets in the subway - but Katz says he penned a 120-page script which provided the platform for improvised character development that is endearing and insightful.
One might say that it appears that this crew brought their pastoral North Carolina atmosphere to NYC (David Gordon Green served as an assistant grip of some sort), but I prefer to think that they lovingly captured a side of New York that not many people, and certainly not many non-natives, are ever able to appreciate: the wistful solitude you can find, particularly when you're falling in love, when you're able to shut the world out and serenely drift through the streets of the world's most bustling town.
The two actors, Erin Fisher and Cris Lankenau, had never really met before the 6-day shoot began, so the learning and exploring process we see on screen is very real. Apparently the camera rolled and rolled on the pair, sometimes going for takes as long as 35 minutes (hot swapping out digital memory cards to keep recording). The results are delicate camera work, austere sound, and rich, engaging performances.
At the Q & A following the premiere, an audience member asked the two actors what they thought happened next for their characters, after the film's final moments. [Warning: A charming little semi-spoiler follows.] Erin said that she assumed that they did fool around when they got back to the guy's place, but that the shot of the airplane that ends the film indicated that her character went home, and there was no long-term, long-distance relationship. Taking over the mic, Cris responded, "So I was used and abused, huh?" He explained that he thought the airplane shot was just mood-setting scenery, and that she stayed and their relationship flourished. "Is that what you wanted," Erin asked him. "Yeah, that's what I wanted." If you saw this film, you'll understand how that little meta-extension of the story is fittingly sweet and poignant.
I'm not going to tell you too much about Michael Jacobs' doc An Audience of One, because I'd rather focus on the stunning Q & A that followed the screening at SXSW today. But quickly: this charming, wild, astonishing film follows Richard Gazowsky, a Pentecostal minister from San Francisco, who has raised $600,000 from his congregation to make a sci-fi future distopian feature-length film version of the Biblical story of Joseph. Suffice it to say, that in making this film all hell breaks loose. (God forgive me for that pun.) After the film played, one audience member asked the minister, with all those people in the audience laughing at you, and with so many people in the film, including your mother and your daughter, questioning your judgment, what was it like watching the film? Gazowsky replied, "It felt like watching myself go to the bathroom." [Paraphrasing]: "I was sitting back there, turning red, getting embarrassed. It was hard. But I believe in what I'm doing, and if I succeed, then I know it will be worth it."
Another audience member said that making films is a skill that takes years of training. You wouldn't watch a surgeon, and then go try brain surgery. Why did you do this, or at least, why not start with something more simple? Again, the preacher was unflappable, and said that he loves film, but that he saw that the surgeon, Hollywood, was killing the patient. And that he felt like he needed to learn surgery and save cinema. They used to make a TV show, a low budget preacher show "that people like you would never watch, because it was mediocre. And I was tired of mediocrity." So he wanted to do something big. And he knew that he couldn't climb the ladder in Hollywood. Independent cinema is much like Christian cinema - outsiders who can't get in and need to make films any way they can.
Those are noble and insightful comments, and the respectful way that Jacobs (the doc filmmaker) treats his subject makes for a fascinating and enjoyable film. Still, I couldn't help think that Gazowsky was a great con man, a disillusioned liar, and a crook. I loved the film, and I'd be interested to hear what others think of him.
Check out this trailer.
Hanna Takes the Stairs is something of a miracle. Director Joe Swanberg took a bunch of non-actors, camped them out on a living room floor in Chicago for a month, and improvised a delightful, insightful and nuanced film.
The title, Joe told a packed and enthusiastic house, comes from a sketch of the plotline Joe made, which looked like a woman climbing stairs: she tries to move up (or down?), hits a plateau, and then tries to shake things up again. Most of the actors are also directors and/or writers themselves (Greta Gerwig, Andrew Bujalski, Kent Osborne, Mark Duplass, Ry Russo-Young and Todd Rohal), and I think that expertise allowed Joe and the cast to always find the dramatic shifts and tension in every scene.
Hannah herself is a fascinating character: at times manipulative, at times a victim; there are times she's working hard to figure herself out and times she throws up her hands; but through all of it, one gets the sense that Hannah (as a character) is a very genuine person, even if she doesn't know what she's doing or she's stabbing you in the back. I was strangely reminded of Jack Nicholson's character in Five Easy Pieces. And yet this film is also fetching hilarious. There are fantastic set ups and visual jokes, pop culture gags and pure oddness, but what makes the film funny in a meaningful way is that most of the the humor is predicated on insights into the characters psyches, piercing their vivid emotional states.
My only regret is that for something that was left on the cutting room floor. Todd Rohal told me he ended every scene he was in with the same line: "Ok, I'm going to go take a poop and call my mom." I can't wait for the deleted scenes on the DVD. Watch for camera-shake in Todd's scenes when Joe told me he was laughing so hard he couldn't keep the framing.
At the premiere of Big Rig, director Doug Pray said that he set out thinking he would make a doc about the myth of the wild trucker life-style: high speed and danger, dodging cops and taking drugs, lot lizards and madmen. But once he got to know American truckers - over the course of five years of riding and shooting - he made a U-turn and ended up with a film that celebrates the hard-working, honorable and insightful men and women who are the lifeblood of America's commerce. "If you bought it, a truck brought it" is the trucker creed, with so many goods transported by truck that a national stoppage would shut down the American economy in three days.
This dynamic film features gorgeous shots from across the country and interviews with about 20 drivers of all types, talking on a wide range of issues - from customizing your rig to the economic struggles of the independent trucker, from the destruction of truck stop culture to the destruction of American freedom. One driver showed how he was getting $800 for a long haul, and over $300 of that would go into diesel fuel - which is cheaper to produce than regular gasoline, but costs on average $0.50 more per gallon. The situation, drivers say, is not tenable.
Many of the truckers in the film were at the premiere, and I asked if it was possible for drivers to switch to other fuels, or if they thought America might change the nature of shipping entirely. But they said their profit margins are so tight, and fuels like bio-diesel and ethanol are still not readily available, so they can't afford to try to switch. As one driver put it, the oil companies, the shipping companies, and the Department of Transportation "have us by the cojones."
Macky Alston and Andrea Meller's powerful documentary Hard Road Home exposes one of the most difficult and tragic issues facing the United States vast and growing prison population: what to do when you get out. You have become used to a static and structured life, where meals, clothes and shelter are provided for you. You are legally barred from many professions, and far more employers simply won't hire you. And many of your friends and family members are just waiting for you to get busted again.
This film is about a non-profit non-governmental organization, run by former convicts, which helps people when they get out of jail. Based in East Harlem, the Exodus Transitional Community is simply amazing, going far beyond traditional social services. For example, they not only help you find a job listing, they'll train you how to talk in an interview, give you a suit to wear, and give you a wake-up call to make sure you get there. Most of all, they provide an astonishingly caring community. In the film, when one of the instructors in the program has a drug relapse, the underpaid staff immediately takes up a collection for his family, and takes to the streets to find him. When he finally comes in after several days, he fully expected to be chastised and fired. Instead, his co-workers greet him with hugs, hot food, and words of encouragement.
The film itself is hard-hitting and delicately told, heartbreaking, uplifting and insightful, with in depth coverage and a fantastically effective structure which highlights the difficult struggle ex-convicts face and the astonishing power of the Exodus house. Julio Medina, the inspiring head of the program, was at the screening, and he said that Exodus is in grave danger as one of their major grants is drying up. That a program as effective and necessary as Exodus is in dire need of funding is, quite frankly, criminal, and I hope this film can be a catalyst to help this program and many others like it.
I walked over to the screening of Third Ward, TX, taking in some warm Texas atmosphere before checking out this lovely documentary. The Third Ward is a neighborhood in Houston that was historically populated by African-Americans. In the 1960s, the city ran a highway through the area, removing 30,000 people, isolating and dividing the area, and wrecking the tight, vibrant community. In the late 1990s, a group of black artists began The Project Row Houses, a program in which they converted abandoned houses into artist residencies and low-income housing, primarily for black artists and particularly for single mothers. The artists in the project were careful to communicate and listen to the local residents, and the results have been spectacular, rebuilding the community, staving off gentrification and providing historical and cultural dialogue. I missed or the film leaves vague the facts of how this program operates, but the focus of the film is on the clearly powerful, rejuvenating effects Project Row Houses has on the neighborhood. It's a great story, told with charm and dexterity, and really has universal appeal -- these are issues facing every city in America, and our country needs more innovative ideas like Project Row Houses. A first step is for people to see Third Ward, TX.
There are a few films I've already seen, and I highly recommend:
King Corn (Aaron Woolf, Ian Cheney, Curt Ellis)
Murder Party (Jeremy Saulnier) The Prisoner (Michael Tucker & Petra Epperlein)
Fish Kill Flea (Brian Cassidy, Aaron Hillis, Jennifer Loeber)
When Adnan Comes Home (Andrew Berends)
Kamp Katrina (David Redmon & Ashely Sabin)
I plan on writing up a few sentences about each soon, but if you're around, trust me, they're all great and worth seeing.
7am and I'm on my way to Austin, where it's 82 degrees and there are about 82 films I want to see. I've only got so much time, though, so I've had to narrow it down a bit. The short list includes:
Third Ward, TX (Andrew Garrison); Hard Road Home (Macky Alston / Andrea Meller); Lost in Woonsocket (John Chester); Election Day (Katy Chevigny); Big Rig (Doug Pray); Crazy Sexy Cancer (Kris Carr); Hell on Wheels (Bob Ray); Hannah Takes the Stairs (Joe Swanberg); What Would Jesus Buy? (Rob Vanalkemade); Audience of One (Michael Jacobs); Quiet City (Aaron Katz); Great World of Sound (Craig Zobel); Billy the Kid (Jennifer Venditti).
If anyone has other recommendations, drop me a line. What I'm going to try to do with this blog is give quick reviews of the movies, but also incorporate facts and anecdotes about the films which I learned from Q & A's and my personal discussions with the directors, cast and crew. It will be totally like you're here at the festival yourself!
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