Category: Documentary

Capturing the Friedmans (2003, Andrew Jarecki)

Director Jarecki tries to appear like he’s staying out of Capturing the Friedmans. His voice occasionally appears behind the camera when interviewing but these questions are usually for effect. Jarecki is deliberate in the construction of the documentary; he only lets it get away from him once.

Capturing the Friedmans examines a sensational child abuse case from the eighties involving Arnold Friedman and his son, Jesse. Jesse Friedman, his older brother David Friedman and their mother, Elaine Friedman, are the principal interviewees. At least after the first third or so, where Jarecki concentrates on the police and prosecutors, who are all sure of the defendants’ guilt.

Once Jarecki focuses on the story from the Friedmans’ perspective, he’s able to use a lot of home movie footage. Both Arnold and David Friedman were home movies enthusiasts, though Arnold made idyllic family home movies while David used the technology to chronicle his father and brother’s legal dealings and their family’s collapse. That element Jarecki can’t control? Having David Friedman as protagonist while the home movie footage shows him berating his mother.

Jarecki can stay out of Friedmans all he wants, but certain elements–like how he’s able to use that private home movie footage–should be made clear. There are a number of devices Jarecki utilizes to sway his viewer. Like when Jarecki needlessly shows the possibly overzealous cop has a George W. Bush coffee mug.

Or all of Andrea Morricone’s lovely, if saccharine, score.

Friedmans is a well-made, reductive package.

1.5/4★½

CREDITS

Directed by Andrew Jarecki; director of photography, Adolfo Doring; edited by Richard Hankin; music by Andrea Morricone; produced by Jarecki and Marc Smerling; released by Magnolia Pictures.

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To Be Takei (2014, Jennifer M. Kroot)

To Be Takei is unexpected, even though everything it presents about its subject’s life is somewhere between common knowledge and readily accessible knowledge. Even though director Kroot opens the film on a jovial note–George Takei (the titular Takei) and his husband, Brad Takei (sort of also the titular Takei), taking their morning walk and bickering about whether they’re walking faster for the benefit of the camera–Takei is serious. Kroot has a lot of fun, but her thesis is it’s serious.

Of course, she also opens the film with Howard Stern introducing it, so she has to work uphill to get to serious. And George Takei’s life certainly has a lot of serious in it. Kroot often saves clips (and discussions) of William Shatner for when she needs to relieve some of the stress in the film.

The film does have a somewhat set narrative; it tracks Takei as he opens his first musical, based on his experiences in internment camps. Along the way, Kroot covers everything else Takei’s famous for–“Star Trek”, Facebook, being gay. The Facebook stuff is almost an aside, ditto the “Star Trek” stuff. Takei’s experiences–both as a gay man in the mid-to-late twentieth century and in Hollywood at that time–are exceptional. Kroot never draws attention it, but Takei’s life is uncommon on almost every level. Except maybe the bickering married stuff.

To Be Takei is surprisingly good. Sure, the protagonists are engaging, but Kroot’s presentation and conclusions make it work.

She Makes Comics (2015, Marisa Stotter)

Almost everyone interviewed in She Makes Comics does indeed make comics. The film never says what most of these interviewees made–I know what interviewee Heidi MacDonald edited because I remember (she’s identified for her current journalism), but I don’t remember what fellow Vertigo editor Shelly Bond edits. I know she edited things I read, but I don’t remember what. As interviewee Raina Telgemeier? I had no idea what she made.

She made Smile. Smile is a big deal, cross-over success and the movie doesn’t mention it for a quite a while. And there’s a bit of a catch–22 to this observation….

The interviewees (all female save DC Comics writer and editor Paul Levitz) talk about how their experiences with male comic book readers usually involves being held to a different, higher standard of knowledge. And I’m arguing what She Makes Comics really needed to do was list the interviewees’ resumes.

But these interviewees have worked on some really big things and instead of just saying Karen Berger is responsible for Sandman and Swamp Thing, the film turns it into some kind of revelation. Using that revelation time for discussion and exploration would have been time much better spent.

She Makes Comics only runs seventy minutes. It could run four times as long without getting boring. The documentary feels artificially small, like director Stotter and co-editor Patrick Meaney were knowingly cutting out interesting material.

It’s fine as a limited, cursory introduction, but–frustratingly–it boils with potential.

2/4★★

CREDITS

Directed by Marisa Stotter; director of photography, Jordan Rennert; edited by Stotter and Patrick Meaney; music by Sean Bierbower, Alexa Raquel Casciato, Steve DeLuca, Living Fiction, Hypefactor and Wilneida Negron; produced by Stotter, Rennet and Meaney.

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Tim’s Vermeer (2013, Teller)

Tim’s Vermeer is simultaneously an intensely personal look at a guy–the titular Tim, Tim Jenison–and also not an intensely personal look at him. Jenison sums up his hypothesis in the first few minutes of the film–what if Vermeer (and some of his contemporaries) were less hippy dippy artists (my term) and more inventors? They were using cutting edge technology to make what we now consider fine art, but at the time they were creating the form.

The documentary, which barely runs seventy minutes, doesn’t really discuss any specific friction caused by Jenison’s venture. It mentions general friction at the idea, but I think I remember from art history classes the idea of Vermeer using science to accomplish his paintings. What Jenison does himself could be handled far more like Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote, only director Teller and co-writer (and narrator) Penn Jillette don’t go that route. Because it’s not actually a personal look at the guy or even a questioning one about the cultural connotations of his experiment.

The film has three sections–the introduction, the building of the set, then the painting. The de facto fourth section is the abbreviated reaction to the final product. The fourth section could be the whole picture. But the film’s not grandiosely ambitious, it just wants to show this guy’s experience. Only not too personally.

Technically, Vermeer is decent. Teller has fine composition. Lousy editing from Patrick Sheffield though. Conrad Pope’s music is awesome.

It’s cool stuff.

3/4★★★

CREDITS

Directed by Teller; written by Penn Jillette and Teller; director of photography, Shane F. Kelly; edited by Patrick Sheffield; music by Conrad Pope; produced by Jillette and Farley Ziegler; released by Sony Pictures Classics.

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In Heaven There Is No Beer (2012, David Palamaro)

Watch In Heaven There Is No Beer with a notebook handy, because you’re going to want to write down some of the band names. A lot of them. And waiting for the end credits doesn’t help unless you’re quick with the pause button.

Beer is the story of the Kiss or Kill “club,” which was a weekly music event in L.A. in the mid–2000s. Mid-aughts, not 2050s. While he doesn’t draw attention to his participation, director Palamaro was in one of the bands playing. Occasionally he’ll pop up in interview footage to bridge a couple ideas, but it’s always sparing and always on target.

The documentary is a gentle tragedy–none of the wronged people refused Palamaro an interview–as the club gets more and more popular, then thing start to fall apart. The causes for its decline are shockingly mundane but seem very dramatic as the viewer has spent about an hour with the people describing these personally difficult periods. Palamaro never comes down on one side or another and never really encourages the viewer to place blame either. The film’s lucky to have interviewees with a good sense of perspective.

Palaramo mixes historical footage, music videos, modern interviews. He shows how L.A. needed this kind of communal event, where bands supported one another–it’s sort of shocking to see how communal it got, with band members in the audience for the fellows, hanging out with fans.

The documentary’s outstanding; Palaramo guides a narrative but allows seepage.

3.5/4★★★½

CREDITS

Written, produced, photographed and directed by David Palamaro; edited by Curtis Bisel, Rebecca Gillaspie, Rick Levy, Patrick Nagy, Palamaro, Erik Rosenbluh and Mike Schnee; released by Modern Distributors.

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Paul Williams Still Alive (2011, Stephen Kessler)

The title, Paul Williams Still Alive, might be considered a spoiler if anyone except writer-director Kessler was sure Paul Williams wasn’t alive.

The film chronicles Kessler’s rediscovery of Paul Williams–more as a seventies entertainer than Paul Williams the songwriter or singer. There’s a lot about Kessler in the picture, including a lengthy section where he’s scared of terrorists in the Philippines before he picks up on Williams’s more zen-like attitudes about life.

But Still Alive isn’t about the filmmaker learning lasting life lessons from Williams. It’s also not about Williams, who isn’t the most documentary accommodating subject. Fairly early on, it’s clear Paul Williams always knew he was alive and didn’t think that discovery merited a documentary.

At the start, Kessler might have enough for a twenty minute short. Introduce Williams’s seventies celebrity, go through all his famous songs, catch up with him. And Kessler does these things… in the first twenty minutes of Alive. The rest is mostly just Kessler inserting himself into Williams’s professional life as a member of a non-existent entourage. Williams is a pleasant guy to spend eighty minutes around, even if Kessler’s constantly bugging him.

But Kessler? He’s not worth spending eighty minutes with… especially not when he’s appropriating his subject’s spotlight.

Still Alive succeeds because of its subject–and Williams is a very interesting fellow and Kessler does get some deep moments… but there’s a lot of padding.

Kessler should’ve gone for short and good instead of comprehensive and listless.

2/4★★

CREDITS

Written and directed by Stephen Kessler; director of photography, Vern Nobles; edited by David Zieff; production designer, Perry Andelin Blake; produced by Jim Czarnecki, Kessler, Mike Wilkins and Zieff; released by Abramorama.

Starring Paul Williams.

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Get Lamp (2010, Jason Scott Sadofsky)

Get Lamp is part history documentary, part modern examination, part something else. It changes throughout, which is only natural… director Sadofsky gives the viewer control of the documentary’s structure (but also offers a cruise controlled version).

Lamp is an affectionate look at early computer games, specifically the text-based ones–so Zork, not King’s Quest. There’s a brief portion talking about the history, then Sadofsky examines different aspects of the games. Then he covers the modern era–at least the way I watched it. Like I said above, it can vary.

This structure seems the most natural; as Lamp reaches its conclusion, one realizes how this particular entertainment medium differs from almost any other.

Fans of the medium didn’t let it die. In terms of film history, it would be like silent film fans trying to keep the medium alive. It’s not a precise analogy–the Lamp game makers Sadofsky interviews have easily accessible distribution. There wasn’t YouTube in the fifties for silent film afficandos to utilize.

As an interviewer, Sadofsky has almost no presence. His questions are rarely audible. When he does include them, the questions themselves offer insight, even before the responses.

The lack of personality–except an omnipresent gold lamp–is why I hesitate to call Lamp a loving look at the medium. I assume Sadofsky does love it, but his film is professional, not personal.

He captures a relatively forgotten piece of pop culture history and makes it exciting and expansive.

Get Lamp is a win.

3/4★★★

CREDITS

Written, directed, produced and edited by Jason Scott Sadofsky; music by Zoë Blade, Tony Longworth and Nicholas Markos; released by Bovine Ignition Systems.

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The Business of Being Born (2008, Abby Epstein)

Watching The Business of Being Born, one has to wonder about the structure. It starts as an investigation into the way hospitals deliver babies in the United States (the responsibility is not entirely with the hospital, of course; the film opens discussing Manhattan mothers scheduling their cesarean sections). But the narrative changes course once director Epstein discovers she’s pregnant.

This development comes about halfway through the film, which ends soon after Epstein delivers. Given she’s not the subject of the documentary, it’s surprising how much of her private moments she includes. One’s never seen Michael Moore with his shirt off (I hope). But in the final few scenes, Epstein talks about working on the film and it suggests it may have gone somewhere quite different if she weren’t, you know, taking care of a baby.

So there are two films here. One is an inspiring, enthusiastic look at the connection between mother and child. It’s beautiful. Great music from Jason Moss and Andre Pluess–just a lovely experience.

But the film Epstein doesn’t finish is a lot more… useful. The startling rate of cesarean sections in the United States is something even the OB/GYNs interviewed for the film are mortified over. These same OB/GYNs dismiss the idea of midwifery and home births, which are statistically (taking the cesarean into account) safer.

The film is definitely worth seeing (even with an awkward, disconnected epilogue).

One has to wonder, however, if executive producer Ricki Lake affected her quirky hat obsession.

2/4★★

CREDITS

Directed by Abby Epstein; director of photography, Paulo Netto; edited by Madeleine Gavin; music by Jason Moss and Andre Pluess; produced by Epstein, Netto and Amy Slotnick; released by Red Envelope Entertainment.

Featuring Abby Epstein (Filmmaker), Paulo Netto (Abby’s Boyfriend and Filmmaker), Tina Cassidy (Journalist and Author of Birth), Robbie Davis-Floyd (Medical Anthropologist), Ina May Gaskin (Midwife), Nadine Goodman (Public Health Specialist), La Juana Huebner (Parent), Gregor Huebner (Parent), Cara Muhlhahn (Certified Nurse Midwife), Michel Odent (OB/GYN and Researcher), Mayra Vazquez (Parent), David Radzinski (Parent), Catherine Tanksley (Midwife), Julia Barnett Tracy (Parent), Van Tracy (Parent) and Ricki Lake (Actress and Producer).

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You Will Believe: The Cinematic Saga of Superman (2006)

There’s no director or writer credited for You Will Believe and without a host, the “documentary” sort of ambles through the history of the Superman film series. Given the contentious history, it goes far in bringing everyone into it… but it doesn’t actually ask any questions. There’s only one moment when it directly refutes something one of the interviewee’s states and it’s almost an aside.

A lot of time is spent talking about Richard Donner’s exit from Superman II. There’s a part when the producer, Pierre Spengler, says Donner was fired for crap-mouthing Spengler in Variety–it’s on record, they show the newspaper–yet Donner never talks about that incident. Instead, he says he was fired out of the blue.

So as a “he said, she said” between Donner and Spengler and Ilya Salkind… it’s kind of a draw. Maybe if the Donner recut of Superman II had been good, he’d get more of my support.

And it is Richard Lester who takes a lot of blows here–and he didn’t participate. Lester’s Superman II stuff is superior to Donner’s and some of Superman III does work. Yet Lester gets hung out to dry… even by Salkind and Spengler.

The lack of focus is really unfortunate, because the making of these films clearly deserves a better look than a DVD “bonus” puff piece.

Also, whoever picked Peter Guber as an interviewee is a twit. Guber’s freakishly off putting, not to mention having nothing whatsoever to do with these films.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Edited by Michael Fallavollita; produced by Constantine Nasr; released by Warner Home Video.

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Good Hair (2009, Jeff Stilson)

I don’t write a lot of responses to documentaries on The Stop Button. There are many reasons for it, with the primary one being I’m not sure what constitutes a documentary film. But Good Hair is definitely the kind of documentary I respond to here on The Stop Button.

I first heard about it on Elvis Mitchell’s “The Treatment,” when he interviewed Chris Rock about it and Rock talked about how it was hard to get funding together, since the film’s about a feature of black culture and one, as the Rev. Al Sharpton points out in the film, specific to black culture (though the film does bring up weaves–hair extensions–being undiscussed when white women use them).

Talking about Good Hair on its documentary merits alone presents a certain difficulty. While the film follows Rock through his investigation into the business side of black hair products (the majority of the companies making the products are no longer black owned), it’s really about him and his daughters. It’s kind of like Foreskin’s Lament (Foreskin’s Lament is Shalom Auslander’s memoir about growing up as an Orthodox Jew and, more to the point, deciding whether to circumcise his own son. Read more about it here.).

Actually… it’s exactly like Foreskin’s Lament.

Rock’s decision at the end of the film isn’t particularly surprising, but it does make some of the interviewees seem rather vapid and shockingly callous. There’s no Charlton Heston moment here per se, but Nia Long comes real close.

A lot of Good Hair is played as a comedy (the joke, often, being on the interviewee or subject). With some more Foreskin… it really could have transcended the comedic documentary.

3/4★★★

CREDITS

Directed by Jeff Stilson; written by Chris Rock, Stilson, Lance Crouther and Chuck Sklar; directors of photography, Cliff Charles and Mark Henderson; edited by Paul Marchand and Greg Nash; music by Marcus Miller; produced by Jenny Hunter, Kevin O’Donnell and Stilson; released by Roadside Attractions.

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