Documentaries

We’re enormous fans of documentary film here at Toronto Screen Shots. In fact, this very blog grew out of the many reviews we were writing for the annual Hot Docs Canadian International Documentary Festival. Our coverage now extends well beyond Hot Docs to include documentaries in other festivals, on DVD, on television and even films in development.

Michael Palmieri and Donal Mosher

At this year’s Hot Docs, the film that undoubtedly had the biggest effect on me was Off Label. This erstwhile “issue doc” turned out to be so affecting that I lit­er­ally could not write about it for months. You can read my very recently posted review of the film and maybe get a sense of why it seemed to dif­fi­cult for me. My first viewing was a few weeks before the fest­ival, but after seeing it a second time during the fest­ival, I knew I wanted to talk to the film­makers. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to say, but I knew that any film that left me so unsettled was doing some­thing right. I’d been a big fan of the pair’s first fea­ture doc­u­mentary, 2009’s October Country (review) but that film’s intimacy didn’t seem to fit with what I thought would be a standard take­down of the phar­ma­ceut­ical industry. So we sat down for break­fast at the Sutton Place Hotel while I threw some half-formed ques­tions and obser­va­tions their way.

[click to continue…]

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

The Pervert's Guide to Ideology

The Pervert’s Guide to Ideology (Director: Sophie Fiennes): It’s hard to believe it’s been six years since Sophie Fiennes put Slovenian philo­sopher and “cul­tural critic” Slavoj Zizek into a row­boat and filmed him in a fac­simile of a scene from Hitchcock’s The Birds. The truth is that the visuals have stayed with me much longer than Zizek’s pas­sionate but con­vo­luted the­ories about cinema. But I’m back for more. Why? Because Fiennes’ bril­liance in situ­ating Zizek within the films he’s dis­cussing make this the very best kind of film school, whether you agree with his con­clu­sions or not.

This second install­ment finds Zizek extending his reach to the larger themes of ideo­logy, chal­len­ging our ideas about demo­cracy, con­sumerism, hedonism, and even the exist­ence of God. Though some of his choices are pro­voc­ative (using Scorsese’s The Last Tempation of Christ to argue that Christianity is a per­fect reli­gion for athe­ists, for instance), others seem obvious after the ini­tial nov­elty has worn off. His use of Jaws to explain the rise of German anti-Semitism seemed like a very basic explan­a­tion of scape­goating, but it was fun to see him bob­bing around on the boat like some kind of Balkan motor­mouth Robert Shaw.

As always with Zizek, too much of a good thing can be exhausting, and the film would work much better divided into one-hour epis­odes. In fact, the first film was organ­ized this way (with Parts 1, 2, and 3). This time, dir­ector Sophie Fiennes seems to have had a harder time shaping the material, and the ending, in which Zizek declares his optimism for the future based on things like the Occupy move­ment, felt unearned and hastily added.

Nevertheless, it’s an enter­taining ride, espe­cially the after-the-credits scene in which Zizek re-enacts a pivotal scene from James Cameron’s Titanic.

After the screening, Zizek and Fiennes were inter­viewed (or at least it was meant to be an inter­view) by British journ­alist Danny Leigh. You can hear how that went here:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (ver­sion 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest ver­sion here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.


Duration: 31:15

I couldn’t find a trailer for the new film yet, but enjoy this one for The Pervert’s Guide to Cinema:

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Room 237
Room 237 screens as part of the Vanguard pro­gramme. Check the fest­ival web site for screening times and loc­a­tions.

Room 237 (Director: Rodney Ascher): I’ll start with a con­fes­sion. I hadn’t actu­ally watched Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 film The Shining until about two years ago. There were lots of reasons, the main of which was that I was never a real fan of “horror” films. After seeing it, of course, I dis­covered that The Shining is not the slasher film that I’d anti­cip­ated (and feared). Instead, it’s a dense and moody psy­cho­lo­gical thriller, and the type of film that I actu­ally love. That being said, I may have only seen the film twice in my life.

Which makes me com­pletely dif­ferent from the motley band of nut­jobs and con­spiracy the­or­ists who pop­u­late Rodney Ascher’s creepy Room 237, each of whom has prob­ably watched the film in slo-mo dozens of times. From the man with the rel­at­ively mild theory that the film is really all about the exterm­in­a­tion of America’s indi­genous pop­u­la­tion to the guy who’s con­vinced that The Shining is Kubrick’s cryptic con­fes­sion to filming the faked Apollo moon land­ings in a studio, Ascher’s “sub­jective doc­u­mentary” turns out be at least as scary as watching Kubrick’s film itself.

Ascher wisely chooses to allow his “the­or­ists” to only be heard in voi­ceover and never seen. Instead, he uses visuals from The Shining and many other films, including almost all of Kubrick’s other work. The result is deeply unset­tling, espe­cially when com­bined with a rather sin­ister score. While the various the­ories can often pro­voke guf­faws of dis­be­lief, the relent­less accounting of the film’s eccent­ri­cities has an ali­en­ating effect that rein­forces how weird The Shining really is.

For instance, while not con­vinced by one of the commentator’s con­vo­luted geo­graphy of the hotel’s floor plan, I did become con­vinced that Kubrick may have pur­posely messed with the audience’s spa­tial aware­ness simply to heighten our sense of unease.

What Ascher’s film demon­strates most ably is the limits of auteur theory when taken to its abso­lute irra­tional end. Each of these people is con­vinced that not only was Kubrick aware of every tiny detail they tease out of the film, but that he alone was the vis­ionary behind each choice. I’m aware that Kubrick may have been a bit of a con­trol freak, but I’d be very sur­prised if every decision of the cine­ma­to­grapher, editor, pro­duc­tion designer and even the actors sprung from the mind of the director.

In the end, while we may come out of Room 237 laughing at these “crack­pots,” I’m con­vinced that for many of us, our next viewing of The Shining will be a lot more terrifying.

Official site of the film

As a bonus, I’m embed­ding another short “nar­rative doc­u­mentary” by the same dir­ector, “the shocking, true story of the most ter­ri­fying logo of all time.”

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Marley

by James McNally on August 25, 2012

in Documentaries,DVD

Marley
eOne released Marley on DVD and Blu-ray in Canada on August 7, 2012. Help sup­port Toronto Screen Shots by buying it on Amazon.ca.

Marley (Director: Kevin Macdonald): Toronto Screen Shots’ con­trib­utor Drew Kerr reviewed this towering doc­u­mentary on the life of reggae super­star Bob Marley back in June and enthused:

[Macdonald’s] unpre­ced­ented access to such a wealth of pre­vi­ously untapped resources, and his judi­cious use of them…elevate this film to some­thing truly spe­cial. More than 60 people were inter­viewed for the pro­ject and as inform­ative as the con­tri­bu­tions are from Marley’s fellow musi­cians, it’s the inter­views with less obvious fig­ures, such as Peter Marley (his white second cousin), Constance Marley (his half sister), Dudley Sibley (a recording artist and studio jan­itor who lived with Marley for a couple of years), and Cindy Breakspeare (Miss World 1976 and one of Marley’s mis­tresses) that not­ably help to humanize someone whose per­sona has taken on legendary pro­por­tions. Add in that obvi­ously great musical cata­logue from which to draw and Marley emerges as a ver­it­able treasure trove for fans, as well as an important doc­u­ment of one of the 20th century’s most sig­ni­ficant musical figures.

Read his full review here.

The DVD/Blu-ray combo pack that Amazon is selling of the film con­tains numerous spe­cial fea­tures, including:

  • an extended inter­view with Bunny Wailer (18:52)
  • “Children’s Memories” in which some of Marley’s chil­dren share stories about their father (9:56)
  • “Listening to ‘I’m Loose’” is a scene of friends and family listening to a late recording ses­sion (3:41)
  • “Around the World” cap­tures Marley’s influ­ence on fans all over the globe (18:29)
  • con­cert footage from a 1975 per­form­ance at New York’s Manhattan Center, with the songs Natty Dread, Bend Down Low, and Them Belly Full (10:47)

This is a package that looks and, even more import­antly, sounds great. If all you know of Marley is the greatest hits you’ve been hearing at Starbucks, you owe it to your­self to pick this up.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Off Label

Off Label (Directors: Michael Palmieri and Donal Mosher): The most chal­len­ging film at this year’s Hot Docs was not a sur­prise to me. I’d seen the dir­ectors’ pre­vious film October Country (review) at a Doc Soup screening back in 2010, and I was very curious how their very intimate, very per­sonal approach could be brought to bear on the weighty sub­ject of this film, the off label use (and abuse) of pre­scrip­tion drugs. Purely from an issue stand­point, this is an enormous and still growing problem in the US and likely else­where in the developed world as drug com­panies, in a quest for greater and greater sales num­bers, begin relaxing the bound­aries around drugs’ indic­ated uses. For patients, this can help alle­viate symp­toms of chronic con­di­tions, but more often than not it leads to bizarre side effects or even addic­tion. And the real issue is becoming a health care system in which primary care pro­viders (who used to be called family doc­tors) are too busy to talk to their patients, espe­cially when it’s so much easier (and in many cases, luc­rative) for them to pre­scribe more and more drug treatments.

All of which has made the film very dif­fi­cult to write about for me. I knew Mosher and Palmieri wouldn’t be making a typ­ical “issue doc” but what we get is so much more vis­ceral. We meet a group of char­ac­ters, all of whom have had their lives changed by “off label” drug use. From the synopsis:

Welcome to the strange phar­macy that is America. In Iowa City a 22-year-old army medic last sta­tioned at Abu Ghraib prison struggles with the VA to find treat­ment to cope with PTSD. In Minneapolis a woman fights for reform after her son com­mits grisly sui­cide in an anti-depressant mar­keting study. In Rochester, Minn., a young vag­a­bond couple pay for their wed­ding by doing drug trials for money. In Santa Cruz a woman takes 18 dif­ferent pre­scrip­tions and lives in a road­side Bigfoot Museum. In Philadelphia an aging African-American Muslim recounts the hor­rific exper­i­ments con­ducted upon him while he was imprisoned and for­gives those who des­troyed his phys­ical health. In Milwaukee an eccentric med­ical anthro­po­lo­gist tracks the course and influ­ence of the drug market he once helped shape as a former drug rep for Pfizer. These are some of the stories col­lected in OFF LABEL — a look at life in the twi­light zone of phar­ma­ceut­ical drug con­sump­tion and American health care.

My first reac­tion upon seeing the film was bewil­der­ment. There was an over­whelming sense of sad­ness in the film, but no real out­rage. It was as if the problem was too big, the enemy too indefin­able, to focus any energy into chan­ging any­thing. And that made me angry. But upon a second viewing, the film’s value as a cri de coeur was driven home to me as I saw the con­nec­tions between people and their stories. Connections forged by the film’s editing, but ones that seemed important to bring to fruition in real life. So many people in the film seem lonely and their drug stories seem like a way to get a handle on some of these feel­ings. For the ones who make money as drug test sub­jects, the film allows them to tell their stories of feeling mar­gin­al­ized and with few other options. For the men­tally ill and their fam­ilies, the film gives them a place to express their anger and grief at a health care system that has often failed them.

The film’s recur­ring musical cue is the Carter Family’s “No Depression in Heaven” which was recorded in 1936, during the Great Depression. The genius of using the song is that it ties together the cur­rent eco­nomic situ­ation of many Americans with their state of mental health. Off Label is unlike any other doc­u­mentary you’re likely to see dealing with issues of cor­porate influ­ence and the state of the health care system. It doesn’t pro­pose any easy answers. But this deeply humane film doc­u­ments the often-painful stories of just a few of the cas­u­al­ties of today’s pill-happy med­ical cul­ture, and it will leave a lasting impres­sion, not unlike a scar.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }