The Queen of Versailles and Neil Young Journeys

A strong frontrunner for documentary of the year-and the film of the year, for that matter-is Lauren Greenfield's sprawling, exceptionally observed "The Queen of Versailles." Greenfield looks at flawed systems, unruly ambitions, and devastating collapses. Of all films that I've seen so far about the 2008 Economic Crisis, this one struck the deepest chord with me. Working with about as much access as a documentarian can have with her subjects, she doesn't have to take as broad of a viewpoint in her editing and presentation that a less-privy filmmaker would have. I'm sure there's footage we didn't see, but what's captured here seems to show a family on the breaking point who essentially lets everything (their money, dignity, community) start to fall apart.

The film, based around two sets of interviews two or so years apart, seems to have originally intended to be a monument to the continuing success and megalomania of David Siegel and his titular wife Jackie. David was "smitten" with Jackie, and plucked her out of her Miss America stardom to fall into a loveless union. The two had seven children, but David, when asked if he "gets strength from his marriage," bluntly says no. He's way too absorbed in his work, at the top of the largest timeshare company in the world, which shoots too far even if its not-entirely-fair way of conducting business seems like it could never fall apart. Everyone seems pretty oblivious to the idea that building a super-mega-mansion based on a French palace that's destined to be the biggest in the United States might not be the most sensible thing to do. But these people are seriously deluded, shaken by their upbringings, and it may take a few generations for this line to normalize.

Like all great documentaries and films, "The Queen of Versailles" has startling implications. Greenfield doesn't stop at just looking at these two people (who are among the most interesting figures in non-fiction filmmaking in some time), she looks at all the people who they touched over time and finds some fascinating ironies at both ends of the wealth spectrum. I don't really know what more one could want from an investigative documentary. A

In terms of documentary technique, Jonathan Demme's third Neil Young film (after "Neil Young: Heart of Gold" and "Neil Young Trunk Show," neither of which I've seen) is much less accomplished than Greenfield's. That being said, "Neil Young Journeys" is a great time and provides an opportunity for reflection on the new works of the aging (and, to me, better now) Young. Drawing primarily from the 2010 album "Le Noise" (though fans of his old material will be at least partially appeased), Young gives a strong 2011 show at Massey Hall in Toronto. And, though Demme at times seems to be running out of ideas and drifting into inconsistency, the camera placement and cinematography for the most part helps create the right, often hypnotic, moods for the songs. Spliced in are weird anecdotes from Young following his brother Bob drive around through towns in Ontario. Juvenile stuff, which strikes a sharp contrast against the grace and maturity of many of Young's songs. I'm a casual Young fan, at times annoyed by his voice, but I was drawn in and continually arrested by his greatness as a guitarist and songwriter. He has his stumbles, but he's remarkable, and an uncommon force even without a backing band. Now Jeff Tweedy's current tour wardrobe seems more decipherable. B+

The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975

Goran Olsson's extremely uneven "The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975" is a depressingly systematic and repetitive documentary that serves as a vehicle for valuable, recently found clips shot by Swedes during the eponymous time and regarding the eponymous movement. The group of people surveyed, from famous pioneers (Stokely Carmichael, Eldridge Cleaver, Angela Davis) to anonymous protesters and ex-addicts to the head of TV Guide, not to mention a sprinkling of modern voiceovers that include Talib Kwali and Questlove, is brilliantly diverse. But the strength from these interviews is diluted by the film's intense lack of focus and hammering, formulaic structure.

Olsson, along with Hanna Lejongvist, won an editing award at Sundance for finding a moderately coherent rhythm within tons of footage and marrying dozens of formats. To me, that's more just honoring the work than celebrating a real achievement. I don't think Olsson has much directorial control, as he often wanders and makes it seem as if the archives are thin. He has a motif of displaying the year in large print on the screen and noting every time a speaker changes, to keep things down. I can't say that these things made the film a more digestible experience, however, and, though one may argue that I'm being too pedantic about a potentially edifying work such as tis, I feel as though this film falls below the standards set by the top movies in the nonfiction cinema canon.

But there are strong stretches here, such as when Talib Kweli talks about the power of Stokely Carmichael, when Louis Farrakhan speaks avidly about the philosophy of the Nation of Islam, or when Angela Davis (caught in a bold, iconic close-up) expresses her frustration about the popular notion of violence. These are worth seeing. The rest is a mix of stylization and sharp preachiness, tolerable but hardly outstanding. I wish this project was in better hands. B-

Tabloid

"Tabloid" illuminates a story that makes very little sense unless very carefully told. Joyce McKinney, the person at the center of the events, seems like she's happy to tell the story over and over again until someone finally believes what she considers to be "the truth." Her interview, which anchors Errol Morris' film, is invaluable, as it gets us as close as we can get to the case which has been termed "The Manacled Mormon," even if her view on the matter is extremely one-sided and filtered through a fairytale-esque vision.

Without her, "Tabloid" would be a mediocre documentary, likely to end up on some specialty channel on TV. (The film is also flawed technique-wise, using fadeouts to a distracting degree.) But the film would be of similar quality if it featured only her. So Morris supplies outside opinion such as reporters from two tabloids who covered her story, an "accomplice" in her scheme, and an ex-Mormon missionary. This mix paints as full a picture of the situation as possible.

Renowned for being (apparently) extremely smart and beautiful, McKinney went to Utah when what seemed like a matchmaking opportunity opened up. She fell in love with Kirk, who she didn't know was Mormon. After hitting it off really fast and getting engaged, Kirk apparently left without any notice and sent Joyce on a wild goose chase to find him, resulting in her "rescuing" him from the Mormon religion and trying to trigger his supposed love of her via some unconventional techniques.

"Tabloid" goes on to cover how what happened was snapped up by the news and how McKinney was forced into stranger and stranger situations as a result. Since it goes full-bore into the story (as is per usual for Morris), those who are alienated by the idea should stay away. For those drawn in, though, it could prove to be an engaging documentary experience, something that many folks find to be pretty rare. I think it's definitely diverting, but in the context of the strongest recent docs it doesn't stand out all that much. B

Project Nim

James Marsh's "Project Nim" has admirably incredible access to the saga of Nim Chimpsky, and raises some interesting questions, making it an easy early favorite for Best Documentary as well as a film that a lot of non-documentary-junkies will pick up and enjoy. However, in my opinion, it's far less sweeping and engrossing than Marsh's tremendous previous documentary "Man on Wire," and more a movie, despite some fumbling of style and technique, to appreciate than to love.

The subject of the film was first brought to my attention when I was milling about in a bookstore. It sounded pretty lame (what with the name they gave the chimpanzee in question) and I never looked into it more. However, when a strong filmmaker puts a focus on something, one is given incentive to take notice. "Project Nim" chronicles events that really seem to play out a lot better visually anyways.

Nim was a chimp who was wrenched from his mother when he was young. Used in an experiment by an extremely controlling professor, Nim was given to a family to be raised as a human being and to be taught sign language in the hopes that he could put sentences together. However, the professor didn't see what he was getting the chimp into, as the mother Stephanie was less interested in furthering the process of the experiment and more interested in raising the chimp as a part of her vibrant family. Her notion of parenthood seems a little perverted, though, since she both breast-fed and supplied alcohol and marijuana to her simian charge. The whole situation was bizarre, and apparently detrimental to both the family (only two of its many members allowed themselves to be interviewed) and the experiment itself. After a more specialized sign language teacher Laura came into the mix (whom the professor desires, along with Stephanie previously), the professor became inclined to move Nim and the observation to an exurban Columbia University mansion and a classroom. This is where he stayed until he became more and more strong and less and less compatible with human beings.

The film, in its later passages about which I will not go into detail, shines a light on how we think of "animal cruelty": once people anthropomorphize, they start to think differently about the "feelings" of that particular animal. If we're going to think about one case like that, it's only fair to think about all other animals the same way. It gets a little complicated, and justice can't really be ever served. Despite the fact that the experiment yielded results about how manipulative chimps can be, this examination was never really a good idea, and it ended up causing a lot more harm it seems than benefit.

"Project Nim" doesn't sustain itself well for 93 minutes, and it ends up at some point seeming like a bunch of talking heads over endless footage. Not necessarily a bad thing, but I can't say my attention was held from beginning to end. Plus, Marsh makes certain elements that fit well in "Man on Wire," such as the dramatic re-enactments, feel precious in a bad way. Nonetheless, it's a decent success, and will surely appeal to at least some audiences. B

Circo

45 minutes longer than it should be (a bad thing for a movie that is only 75 minutes long), "Circo" showcases debut documentarian Aaron Schock's immense technical proficiency but also a lazy dependency on padding. Shooting against a beautiful background of sunsets and pastels, he charts a few months in the life of a family whose entire life is spent on their circus. It has glorious aspects to it, to be sure, but it also takes its tolls. The father, Tito, feels it is his calling to continue the circus in honor of his father (all of his other siblings have moved on), but his wife, Ivonne (who he ran off with at a young age), is sick and tired of the instability of the venture and worried that her kids are just as unsatisfied. They have been taught to do pretty amazing things, yet they are essentially illiterate and will have a hard time adapting to the world outside of the big top if they choose to leave.

The film drifts between unpretentious intimacy and cliched superficiality, and is much the lesser for the latter. Schock is not an intrusive filmmaker, but he still adorns the movie with trademarks of intrusive filmmakers (such as using too many captions and holding the film to a strict arc), and the film gets somewhat lost in that contradiction. Along with this misstep, Schock also doesn't keep a long enough focus on certain elements (such as the actual circus performing), and jumps around too much, showing us things not entirely related to the plot and giving us the same information again and again.

I hope that Schock gets his content flaws down before his next outing, because if he does, he may be a strong documentarian. But even though "Circo" has some good insight, it didn't grip me and as a result I was waiting impatiently for its conclusion. C+

Catfish

This review is full of spoilers, so I recommend not reading it if you haven't seen the film first.

"Catfish" is a moderately entertaining look at how Facebook and other online communication breeds obsession and strange franticness, for its first 3/4. But when the film in its last quarter decides to make a big reveal, it becomes much less interesting, much less direct, and much less ethically sound.

The filmmakers, Ariel Schulman and Henry Joost, have not gone the Casey Affleck route and admitted that they've made a mockumentary, so there still is legitimacy in the positions of considering it real or fake. Thinking of it as real, I side with my reader Cristina Acuna, who asked: "Why is nothing private anymore?" The film is about how Ariel's brother Nev talked to people he'd never met or seen before. However, it drifts beyond the innocuous. It begins when a girl from Michigan sends Nev paintings of his photographs. He engages in insane amounts of talk on email and chat, branching beyond the girl, Abby, to her mother Angela, and finally to her half-sister Megan. He starts to, through Megan's Facebook photos, develop an interest in her. They get up to the point (with sweet talk and everything) where if they met each other, they'd really be in a relationship. So Nev decides, when out west, to go.

When they are at another stop, Nev starts to find some problems. He finds that Abby's supposed art gallery hasn't been in operation for years, that Megan keeps sending him songs she apparently covered, but instead ripped off of Youtube and the rest of the Internet, and that her ranch is empty. But what should be an anvil drop isn't when we find Angela at home, holding Megan's phone as well as hers, painting, and updating over ten different fake Facebook profiles. If this film is real, it's exploitative to the max and I don't think that it should have been made into a movie for everyone to see. That they did means that either the Schulman and Joost are the imposing scoundrels everyone says they are, or they set it all up.

I think the film could get off pretty much unscathed (if a bit cheesy) if it were fake, save one thing: at the end of the film, there is a listing that one of Angela's mentally-challenged sons died. To create that sort of stuff in the way that Schulman and Joost (may) have to me is somewhat inexcusable. If the film is fake, they obviously put it in there to try to fake authenticity. But it just sort of makes me sick.

So it's a paradox: the film is shaky either way (much like Simon Abrams noted about "Exit Through the Gift Shop," in a piece I disagree with all the same but still admire). Ariel told me that it was as real, and if he wants to go that way, let him, though I'm unsure of what good that does the movie. C+

Shoah (25th Anniversary Re-Release)

"Shoah" by Claude Lanzmann is a mesmerizing documentary, one which, over the course of 503 minutes, uses image and narration to evoke the experience of being in and around the concentration camps of Treblinka, Auschwitz, and Sobibor (as well as Jewish ghettos) during the Holocaust. It ruminates on the disturbing silences and screams of the camps, their procedural nature, the trains circulating in and out of them, their abominations, and their survivors and perpetrators.

Many of these, as well as people who lived on the fringes of the ordeal, are interviewed by Lanzmann, and a few in particular are exceptionally captivating: Filip Muller, who powerfully recounts the palpable atrocity, most horrifyingly the gas vans; Abraham Bomba, who speaks of cutting hair in the pre-crematorium "undressing rooms" and having to act as if everything was normal with his clients; Rudolf Vrba, who was involved in the coordinating Resistance efforts; Franz Suchomel, a German (whose interviews are on grainy and low-quality video, doubling their impact) who explains the operation and layout of the crematoriums. The film is also filled with magnificent, long take cinematography by three cameramen, which, as noted above, mimics the POVs of those at the time. Their surroundings permeate the viewer as a result.

To be frank, the film is 9 hours long, and it's a bit of a hard sit. And Lanzmann's technique isn't the tightest (in how he sometimes places mildly inexplicable images on-screen). But such things are completely insignificant in the long run. It uses cinema other than for dramatic sensations. Lanzmann is able to do this in a way that Charles Ferguson (of "Inside Job" fame) and other similar filmmakers cannot. Lanzmann deals with the Holocaust in a different way than Spielberg did with "Schindler's List," still a great film, but pinning the experience of many down to images. "Shoah" channels commonality (as it should), but (as my friend and others have said) does so mostly verbally, so as to summarize but not to limit. Altogether, "Shoah" is multilayered and jarring, and one should not let the film's re-release go by without giving it a viewing. A

An Interview with Lucy Walker, documentarian and director of "Waste Land" and "Countdown to Zero"

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"Waste Land" won the World Documentary Audience Award at the Sundance Film Festival, was on the 2010 Academy Awards shortlist for Best Documentary, and is now playing across the country. Edit (January 26, 2011): the film is nominated for the 2010 Best Documentary Feature Oscar. "Countdown to Zero" premiered at Sundance, played at Cannes in a Special Screening, and had a theatrical run this summer.

Flick Pick Monster: First off, how did “Waste Land” come into being? Was it developed at the same time as “Countdown to Zero”?

Lucy Walker: It was developed before and how it came into being was [with a] very organic conversation between myself and Vik Muniz, the artist in the movie. We were just both really interested in each other’s work and we had a conversation about, if we were to make a movie together, what might that movie be. It was very open and in a way I didn’t really think it was going to go anywhere; in hindsight, of course, it was perfect, but at the time I didn’t know if it was really going anywhere. I was trying to think how to make a film about an artist and really show his process and I thought it would be really interesting to follow one project.

I also knew that Vik did these social projects; he really enjoyed working with people outside the art world. He was at this sort of mid-life crisis point in a way where he wasn’t sure what art meant or he was feeling quite constrained by the art world. Talking to him I really picked up on that and I thought that would be really interesting, to see him do a social project, maybe a social project that was so challenging that it might fail or might be really dramatic or he’d meet some really interesting people from the edges of society. I thought that that would be really wonderful.

And I guess I was also thinking about my movie “Blindsight,” because in a funny way it has a very similar structure to “Waste Land” in terms of this one, [privileged, successful] guy who goes on an adventure in collaboration with people who really had some rough luck. In the case of “Blindsight,” that was blind mountaineer Erik Weihenmayer collaborating with the blind students in Tibet and in the case of this it’s obviously Vik collaborating with the Catadores. But I sort of knew that that was maybe a good structure for a documentary and I was looking for really challenging project and I knew that that would make the most interesting film. And in the course of just [these] conversations with Vik, both in the UK and in New York, we realized we both were obsessed with garbage and I said, “Have you ever thought about working in a land fill, with all the garbage which you could work with as your materials?” and he said yes, that he actually wanted to do a project but he thought it would be too dangerous. And I said that would be really interesting; that would be a film.

I liked that project because I knew that waste and recycling were really, really important topics and that a landfill was a really fantastic location and that the Catadores would be really interesting people to meet. So as soon as we sort of had this idea, I just knew it was the one, and I insisted that if anything when we film it, if anything happens on this project, we should just film the whole thing from start to finish and that’s exactly what we did.

FPM: Your documentaries are so varied in subject matter, from nuclear weapons in “Countdown to Zero” to the Amish community in “Devil’s Playground”, to blind mountain climbers in “Blindsight.” What would you say is the “connecting thread” throughout your films, if there indeed is one?

LW: I could get more complicated but on a simple level, it’s exactly what I’m interested in in the world. It’s people I want to meet and places I want to go and subjects I want to think about, whether that’s Tibet or blindness or wealth and poverty and where the arts transform life or the work of Vik Muniz or going to Brazil or going to Amish country and [what it’s] like to grow up Amish, [or] nuclear weapons… These are just really interesting subjects that I like to think about and I found stories that were sort of [excuses] to sort of really challenge myself to immerse myself and really figure out what I think. [To] make a film is the sort of ultimate figuring out and expressing what is going on. And so I sort of feel like, on a deep level, [that] a very selfish way of answering that question would be these are just projects that I most of all have burning questions about and the films are sort of the answers to the questions that I’m most excited about thinking about.

FPM: “Countdown to Zero” is somewhat of an “activism doc,” in that it was created to bring awareness (like “The Cove,” “Food Inc.,” “An Inconvenient Truth”, and to a lesser extent “The Art of the Steal”). “Waste Land” and your other documentaries seem to be more in the interest bringing the audience’s attention to an interesting happening that doesn’t have a direct effect on their lives. Are you more interested in more prescient material, or do you find yourself more drawn to more off-the-beaten-track stories?

LW: I think in a way “Waste Land” is like my first two films. It really follows a group of people on a journey in an interesting world with a beginning, middle, and end, whether that’s Amish young people turning 16 and having to make the decision whether to go back or not, going through a grown-up period, or in the case of “Blindsight,” it’s about these blind people climbing a mountain which has a very clear narrative arc of, you know, here’s a mountain climber, beginning, middle, and end, do they get to the top?; it’s got a very clear structure and you meet some really amazing people in a really fascinating place which is Everest in Tibet.

And then with “Waste Land,” the same thing: you’ve got Vik and the Catadores [going] on a journey with both the art project and meeting each other, collaborating, going on this amazing journey, and through all this you get to know them. Whereas “Countdown” winds up being much more about the issue and the topic. I did actually try to shoot more people in “Countdown” and it really just became really hard, [as] there were no stories or journeys in a way that we could get access to, as it was such a sensitive subject and everything was so classified and even when we did try to film things it didn’t really work. So I could find a journey to follow in the same way apart from just really understanding the issue. So that wound up being a little bit of a different film.

I love them all and I’m not sure what I’m going to do next. I’ve got some different projects that fit different templates- some of them aren’t even documentaries, some are fiction films. I think of it [as] challenging to make a film about a topic. It is challenging to get people’s attention and I think, when you’ve got a 90-minute film, it makes it a lot easier when you’ve got a story to follow.

FPM: Are you interested in experimenting with the “form” of the documentary (as has been said of Banksy’s “Exit Through the Gift Shop” or, a film that conceptually “Waste Land” reminds me of, Varda’s “The Gleaners and I”), or do you prefer “documentary-style” documentary filmmaking? Or both?

LW: I love “The Gleaners and I”; it was a film I thought about a lot. I sort of think of myself a filmmaker first and foremost and, for me, a filmmaker is someone who really uses all the possibilities of the craft. I don’t think that I’m like a journalist with a camera. I like to think of myself as really trying to find different ways.

Sometimes you can do small things- I really liked how with my film “Blindsight” I opened the film on an empty black screen with sound effects. I thought that was an interesting way of getting people to figure out what it was like not to see, to sort of color out the images. With “Waste Land,” there’s time lapse and different ways of using the montage and the editing—different ways you’re trying to tell the story using the different possibilities—great music, great cinematography.

I love the more experimental structures and experiments that people are bringing to documentaries like “The Gleaners and I” and I hope that with each project I can find the most interesting way of telling each story. Experimenting as much as possible with the form I think would be fantastic.

FPM: How was working with Moby on "Waste Land"?

LW: It was fantastic. He’s as generous as he is genius. I’m very fortunate that he’s been like a big brother to me—I’ve known him for 15 years--- and just a incredibly kind friend. I actually originally was going to use music on “Countdown” and the producers didn’t want that [laughs]. So, I suddenly, crazily thought about using it for “Waste Land” where I’d wanted to use Brazilian music but I couldn’t find any Brazilian music that seemed right. And then, when we weren’t using Moby’s music for “Countdown,” I was upset about that, but then I suddenly had the idea we could use it for “Waste Land.” That’s exactly how that happened and it turned out to be absolutely perfect. I found out that was really the perfect thing.

I think it universalizes the story because it’s set in Brazil but it’s not just about Brazil, it’s really about human nature, I think: it’s about art, it’s about spirit, and all kinds of things. It’s not really about just Brazil or Brazilians specifically. I just couldn’t find the right stuff. I really, really liked Moby’s music and I think it works really, really well as it’s really beautiful and emotional. Lots of people watching the film get really emotional and cry and have a sort of real heart-opening workout. (Moby even talks about the film as being a sort of heart-opening exercise.) I really like that and so I think that his music since it’s so beautiful and so emotional enables the audience to go there emotionally. That’s why I like it so much.

FPM: Who (and what films) has an influence on your filmmaking?

LW: There are so many. Agnes Varda is a good example, specifically with this film. Obviously I was lucky enough to be taught by Barbara Kopple, who I think is just such a powerhouse and just brilliant. She taught me so much about integrity---everything from integrity to sound recording [laughs]. She really taught me everything. I also, especially with my first film, and ever since, have been really inspired by a couple of films.

One is “Streetwise,” which is a 1984 film about Seattle street kids and it was made by Martin Bell and his wife who is an amazing documentary photographer. I just couldn’t believe the access. Martin managed to be in the room with some incredibly intimate scenes between these people and I couldn’t believe how he’d managed to pull that off. That was really inspiring to me [in that] he could get honest moments which were so incredibly compelling.

Another film was “Hoop Dreams.” I just think Steve James is a genius. His patience and persistence and sort of perceptiveness meant that he found these sort of twists and turns in ordinary life that just were amazing.

Boxing Gym

"Boxing Gym," a film not extraordinarily stimulating but with some gripping snippets, is the first film that I've seen by Frederick Wiseman. He aspires to be a literal fly on the wall, as he did for countless previous films. This means no interaction with the subjects of the documentary, no overlays in sound, (as has been said) no traditional interviews. He strips the documentary down to its roots and makes documents, with no particular activistic charge to them (though it's possible that his earlier works, such as "Titticut Follies" and "High School," worked to some degree in that way).

The film is 91 minutes of boxing training, akin to what it would be like to walk through R. Lord's Gym and observe. The film only leaves the parameters of the gym for about 4 to 5 minutes of the film's entire running time. From this, you should be able to tell whether or not you will enjoy this film. Personally, I wasn't blown away by it (note: the film might play better when I'm better rested). That is, as a whole. There are couple of sections that I found quite engaging, such as the extended dialogue between a newcomer and a longtime patron of the gym, who stresses that his favorite part of boxing is "the buzz that comes from being punched in the face." And, at times, the watching of people training can be rather absorbing, with Wiseman often focusing on the ever-important feet of the boxers.

While the film has the ability to sometimes has this ability to get us involved in conditioning, I'd imagine that I will come to forget it rather soon. I agree with the speculation that this is due to the film's lack of a truly captivating subject. I am looking forward to looking through more of Wiseman's back catalogue (such as "State Legislature," "Domestic Violence," and "Basic Training"). I hardly think that "Boxing Gym," with its only glints of pull, is one of his essentials. B-

All of Wiseman's works, much thought to be hard to find, are available at www.zipporah.com.

Marwencol

With excellently done blown-up photographs and stop motion animation, Jeff Malmberg makes viewing the town of "Marwencol" as absorbing for the audience as it is for its creator Mark Hogencamp. This is a good first documentary, flawed (it can be aimless, repetitive, and a bit trite) but well-deviced and observant all the same.

Hogencamp was accosted by people in a bar (apparently after he revealed his penchant for cross-dressing). This assault impaired his brain functionality and wiped all memories of his life before out. (It also, beneficially, did away with his alcoholism.) After he recovered his motor skills, etc., he set to work on building Marwencol, Belgium, set during the Second World War and a convergence of soldiers forced to be kind with one another. (The Nazis, whom Mark equates to his drinking problems, invade at times.) He filled this with replicas of his acquaintances, which of course creates a strange parallel with the people they represent. Not only is his mom there, but also the married woman he developed a very strong attraction to (and married in Marwencol) and waitresses at the restaurant at which he works (when he kills off one of them, the person in question is a little perturbed).

Hogencamp took very meticulous photography of the miniature town, which eventually got its own art show. We see two people who expose the work to the broader world: a photographer (who's also Mark's neighbor) and a magazine editor. The photographer sees the pictures without patronization. The magazine editor purveys condescension, noting that there's "no irony" in Mark's shots. Malmberg and his film admirably for the most part lean towards the photographer's perspective.

The film paints a big picture of Hogencamp. It sometimes shows him as a bit unusual (what with his marriage to a doll and his fictionally-realized relationship with his married neighbor). It also allots him commentary, which is unabashedly sentimental. These things, both of which could be seen as negative traits (the former as exploitative, the latter as slightly truistic), balance each other out, and the film with both is altogether better. "Marwencol" should have been granted a spot on the Academy's documentary shortlist; it's not formally polished, but what it does makes up for that. B

Inside Job

Charles Ferguson's "Inside Job" is edifying and revealing, to be sure, about the 2008 economic crash. However, it sprawls too far and is too long (even at 120 minutes) to be more than a mild success. I doubt, however, that it will disappoint its core audience, who are uninterested in structural flaws and who come for a barrage against Wall Street. They'll definitely get that, just as those hoping to see Bush's Iraq War tactics get trashed did with Ferguson's "No End in Sight." This guy picks the zeitgeist topic of the moment and gets as far as he can with it. And, considering this film's reign at Cannes this year (reaching the top of the Indiewire Critics Poll), that's pretty far.

Enough of my docu-cynic routine. Some of what is displayed here is appalling. Consider how the financial "food chain" was expanded and complicated with the introduction of CPO loans. It got to the point where banks were selling weak loans and simultaneously betting against them. That's worse than Pete Rose, folks, and you saw what happened to him. As the film repeatedly tells us, there will be no such luck for the amoral bankers.

Or look at Frederic Mishkin, who for some reason allowed himself to be interviewed (unlike many, many people, a fact that is repetitively announced to the audience). He wrote a paper called "Financial Stability in Iceland," just before the country's economy went to pieces. Look at his CV now and you'll only see a paper entitled "Financial Instability in Iceland." Yes, this apparently respected man is actually corrupt enough to change the title of his report to look better.

Going into much more detail about the movie would be essentially ruining it for you. The power of these sorts of films is the filmmaker channeling their findings to you, not me. I will say that the film is pretty educational, as I know a lot more about the economy than I did before. Maybe now it's because I was actually paying attention to a source about it.

Ferguson is a man of facts, not technique. The film is pretty much cobbled together, shifting tones constantly and bizarrely, with an ending that's utterly preachy. More importantly, the film front-loads most of its incendiary material, and while the Mishkin idiocy comes later on, its in a less provocative section. And am I the only one who found the section on the actual crisis a bit thin? It's tackled from only a CNN-level perspective, which is unfortunate.

To rank this film above "Certified Copy," as the polled critics did, is ridiculous. But it would be correct to say that this film is to some degree effective in exposing the vices and dishonorable "inside jobs" performed by members of Wall Street, who get richer and buy more while everyone else flounders. B-

An Interview with Ariel Schulman, co-director of "Catfish"

Schulman (second from left) (src)

"Catfish" opened in New York City on September 17 and it will expand to more cities.

Flick Pick Monster: What is the significance of the title “Catfish”?

Ariel Schulman: The reason for the title becomes clear at the end of the movie. I don't want to give it away here, but I will say it's significance to the story came as a total surprise to me. I’ve never heard the word catfish used in this way.

FPM: What was it about Nev’s and Megan’s communications that made you want to make this film?

AS: It was actually Nev’s relationship with Megan’s little sister Abby that made me want to start filming. She was 8 and totally inspired by his photography, inspired enough to paint from his photos every night and send them to him. And the paintings were good[;] that's plenty of reasoning to start making what I thought would be a short film.

FPM: What would you say to those who say that the film was made-up?

AS: We’re not smart enough to make all this up.

FPM: Reader Cristina Acuna asks: Why film any of it to begin with? Why is nothing private anymore?

AS: It's my brothers life and he is my muse, I love watching him and filming him. I'd tell Cristina Acuna that there is in fact plenty of private footage she will never see.

FPM: Was the reason that you collaborated with Henry Joost that you were his art director? Describe this partnership.

AS: I was Henry’s art director on “New York Export: Opus Jazz.” We trade off roles depending on the project. We’re like ham and eggs, perfect together. But sometimes you just want two helpings of eggs.

FPM: What was “Jerry Ruis, Shall We Do This?,” your short film with Joshua Safdie? You were also his art director on “Daddy Longlegs” and on others of his films, as well as an actor in “The Adventures of Slaters’s Friend.” Do you think you will make another film with him?

AS: “Jerry Ruis” is a crazy short Safdie and I made in my mom’s apartment. He's my oldest friend in the world. We used to direct a lot of shorts together when I was a member of Red Bucket Films, before Henry and I started Supermarché. Safdie and I are writing a sequel called "John Gotti's Maserati.”

FPM: Do you prefer being a director or an art director?

AS: Being a director takes a lot of guts. Being an art director allows me to work creatively on other peoples movies. And to buy cool props that I get to keep.

FPM: Who are the biggest influences on your filmmaking?

AS: Woody Allen, Werner Herzog, Roman Polanski, and Josh Safdie.

FPM: What do you think your next project will be? Are you open to doing another documentary?

AS: Truth is stranger than fiction; I'll make documentaries for the rest of my life. But for my next feature film, Joost and I are writing a narrative thriller. I'm also working on publishing a book of the Catfish correspondence.

The Tillman Story

"The Tillman Story" is dubiously structured and relatively indecisive until about the final 30 or 45 minutes, where it grew on me. It started to get on track at this point, going into the story from the right angle. It tries many things out. It starts with going into the action from the media POV, where we see Pat Tillman change from being a football star to a soldier and get killed in battle apparently by an ambush where he took the fire in order to save his fellow soldiers. For this deed, he earned the Silver Star.

But, a couple of weeks later, the real truth breaks and it sends a hurricane the way of the Tillman household: Tillman was accidentally killed by friendly fire. It at first seems like it would lessen Tillman's stature, but instead, it calls into question the previous report and everything around it. Tillman's mother and father soon start digging through the case files, and what they see is much to prove that what was originally said was patently false and "unbelievable."

This story seems interesting from the onset, but Amir Bar-Lev doesn't do the best job with it, going from the media POV and the search back to survey Tillman's entire life. Doing this among other things makes this a pretty standard and (actually at some point) below average "purpose-driven" documentary, one of those ones where everyone is seething with anger in every interview. There will definitely be people who respond to this film, but having seen enough of these sorts of documentaries, I'm not one of them.

The fact that the last 45 minutes changed my opinion in the way that they did is quite good. Here, we hear the events described in real time and witness a 2007 trial that happens over a certain P4 document that states that he was killed by his comrades. To be sure, it isn't an entirely successful finish, if you factor the pissed-off talking heads, the slapped-on last image, and the ironic but still very off-putting credits song (much like the one to conclude "Restrepo"), but it definitely helped. When I came out of the theater, I was still not crazy about the film, but I was having a harder time finding problems with it. B-

Freakonomics

There is little incentive to viewing the multi-doc adaptation of Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner's "Freakonomics," although the list of contributing documentarians may make you think otherwise: Alex Gibney, Morgan Spurlock, Eugene Jarecki, Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady, and Seth Gordon, who've done some very good documentaries over the past decade. However, their works here all are problematic in some way or another, and they serve as more proof that very rarely do omnibus films produce essential works of a director (one example, much disputed, is Bong Joon-Ho's "Shaking Tokyo" in the film "Tokyo," which I consider the director's best work to date, though I haven't seen "Memories of Murder"). Despite the fact that each segment illuminates thought-provoking subject matter, they are flawed showings from everyone involved.

The film is divided up into different sections that may or may not corollate to the book's chapters (I haven't read it). There's an introduction involving buying a house (which I agree with my friends was "intriguing"), and then sections like "Parenting," "Cheating," "Cause and Effect," and plain old "Incentives." The film leads off a section with an aside delivered by the authors, directed by Gordon, and annoyingly scored. These include topics that are (as my friend said) "interesting," but produce uninteresting results.

This is the problem also with Spurlock's segment (written with Jeremy Chilnick and entitled "A Roshonda By Any Other Name"), about the differences between the names of white and black people and whether they have any effect on the perception of the people monikered with them. This leads to shallow and somewhat tongue-in-cheek dramatic reenactments (or maybe just examples, though I'm pretty sure Spurlock says the incidents in question actually happened). This sort of tone is Spurlock's weapon-of-choice, and by way of virtue his films are extremely magnetic and watchable (due also to his accessible, conversational narration), despite having some not particularly well-done sections. He also has a trademark of overloading on graphics, which here sometimes work and sometimes are confusing and anachronistic on a basic level. He runs into trouble by not exploring the things he brings up with enough clarity, and slapping a storybook ending on at the end. I remember being somewhat unimpressed by it.

This is followed by Gibney's "Pure Corruption" (written with Peter Bull) about cheating in the "village-like" sumo wrestling industry, incentives to cheat in general, and the flawed police system in Japan. Probably this was the most profound of the bunch, but it also was complex and extremely expository, and didn't keep my attention the entire time, partially because it had the problem of white subtitles (which bothered my friend as well as I), which has plagued many a film (basically the main reason "Valentino: The Last Emperor" was so soporific). I also had somewhat of a subliminal urge for it to end, perhaps because of the endless-seeming red numbers that wash over the screen.

Then, Eugene Jarecki's misguided "It's Not Always A Wonderful Life" which uses a pretty-much-unnecessary narrator to relay what the economist says over and over again. Which begs the question: why not just have the economist narrate it? It also makes fundamental misuse of the plot of "It's A Wonderful Life," in which a good person, NOT a bad person, decides to see their life without them in it. Anyways, that aside, this doc is about how crime went down in the Nineties and how that was connected to abortion and Nicolae Ceaucescu's death. This film uses extremely useless and distracting graphics, which sometimes rush through the screen for short periods. I may have shut myself off a little from it, but (as my friend said of all of these films) it definitely wasn't a success on any level other than the intellectual. It seems sort of truncated, too, although it may just be that Jarecki turned in a smaller film.

Finally, we roll around to Ewing and Grady's, whose blandly titled "Can A Ninth Grader Be Bribed to Succeed?" seems to succeed itself but ultimately isn't quite on the mark. It follows two kids to see if the incentive would work, somewhat simplistically painting the bad against the good (although the one that does succeed seems well explored). It follows to a murky conclusion, manufactures a standard sort of documentary suspense, and drops off (at least I think) somewhat strangely at the end. Still, it marshals graphics to better purpose than some of the others.

As my friend (who hadn't read the book) thought and Warble2850 of IMDb confirms, it would be better to just read the text that the film is based off of instead of seeing the film, which Warble2850 implies is somewhat of an adjunct. Skimming through the pages of the book on the internet, I would have to agree, as the topics are more or less the same. "Freakonomics"' full title is "Freakonomics: The Movie" which makes no attempt to hide its blatant agenda of reaming the same people who bought the book for more money (or to attract people who want to see the movie and not have to read the book). Even so, adaptations can produce good results. However, that's not the case with "Freakonomics." C

Man on Wire

A superb documentary with huge amounts of gravitas, unlike Philippe Petit, the tightrope-walking artist subject of the film. Director James Marsh pieces together a docudrama, with some scenes recreated, which at the beginning seemed like it was going to be like less outstanding films like "Wanderlust," the IFC film about road movies that was put alongside a cheesy subplot about budding filmmakers, but within minutes, it is very clear that it is very necessary. The film is elegantly woven, flashing back from minutes before the main event to France to tell the backstory, the other great works of art that Petit pulled off in his career, and how highwire walking became his dream. Before the walk between the World Trade Center towers (which is the gig that made Petit famous and renowned), he walked between church towers in France and over a bridge in Sydney near the opera house. But this was no real preparation for what he would do next, which could be classified as insane. And I would agree. But it's also an amazing piece of art, and Petit is a virtuoso performer. He is dazzling and, unlike many, he can actually put on a show when he is high up. Yes, this is the most amazing part of the movie, but the happenings leading up are worthwhile, too, especially when Petit and one of his accomplices are hiding from guards under a blanket. It's absolutely hilarious, and it actually made me laugh the most of any movie this year. Also, the way of presenting the people giving the interviews was also very humorous. Anyways, the main event is not actually showed in video, but done very well with pictures and actually can work as well as the picture book about Petit, the Caldecott-winning "The Man Who Walked Between the Towers" by Mordecai Gerstein, which is in itself an experience. It only uses pictures, yet still is an experience. This movie is amazing, not only for not name-dropping about the terrible events that occurred on September 11 and being it's own, but for being as mind-blowing as it probably was for Philippe Petit himself, before stepping out on that line. I know it's August right now, and this statement might be trumped, but this is the best film of the year so far and you can quote me on that, as it is a work of art, a great piece of documentary filmmaking, and a frontrunner for Best Documentary in my eyes. A