Catching up: What's up with Docs

Sorry for the delay in posting. Like I said, with a wedding coming up and some busy times at work, my entries may be a bit sporadic for the near future. But I'm looking forward to really getting back at it this week. In addition to this entry, I'll have a review of the Ed Helms comedy "Cedar Rapids" on Friday and my belated second entry in "The Directors" before Sunday--hopefully I can also get the third entry in to make up for it. Next week I'll be looking at the Farrelly Brothers' latest attempt, "Hall Pass."

Right now, I'm trying to go through my stack of films from 2010 and catch myself up. Over the last few weeks I've been immersing myself in documentaries and then, over the three day President's Day weekend, I'll be going back into more narrative features.

Perhaps it's my journalism background, but documentaries may be my favorite genre of film. I get sucked into a good doc so easily and the best ones often have characters and plots that you would find too outlandish in most fiction films. Films like "Hoop Dreams," "The King of Kong," "Hell House" and "Young @ Heart" are films that have moved me, made me laugh or made me meditate on things much deeper than many scripted films.

So approaching documentaries wasn't really a chore for me. And, with the exception of one, all of these were released in 2010. So here are my short thoughts on a few that I've seen recently.

Exit Through the Gift Shop (2010, dir. Banksy)

This funny, fascinating film from notorious street artist Banksy surprised quite a few people when it was nominated for a Best Documentary Oscar over the likes of "Waiting for Superman" and "Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work." But the film's sheer cleverness--which left many leaving the theaters to wonder just how real it is--makes it one of the most entertaining docs of the past few years.

To say too much about the journey that Frenchman Thierry Guetta makes in this film would ruin the fun. Guetta, a man with a video camera always in his hands, started documenting street artists around the world many years ago under the guise of creating a documentary. With his exuberant, albeit clumsy and overbearing, nature, many of the artists--including the famous Banksy--allowed him to video tape their work, reasoning that the temporary nature of street art (which is cleaned away by police shortly after it's discovered) could benefit from the permanence of film. Much of "Exit Through the Gift Shop's" first hour is spent watching these artists covertly work at night, guerrilla Rembrandts armed with spray paint and ladders. Guetta meets the jackpot when Banksy--whose work has appeared in London, the West Bank and Los Angeles--agrees to let him videotape him at work, and Guetta captures the moment street art turns into a gold mine for collectors.

If this were all the film was about, it would still be interesting. But a twist in the film's final half hour lends a new level of intrigue as Guetta tries his own hands at street art. It's these final moments that have left many wondering whether the film is as true as it claims to be or if Banksy is pulling one over on the audience. The crew stands buy the film's claims and others have verified that the events of the end actually happened, but I still can't shake the feeling that Banksy quietly pulled the strings on everything Guetta finds himself at the center of, pulling one huge prank on the art and film worlds. But we'll likely never know--the artist is famously reclusive--and that gnawing question gives the film a wonderful jolt of energy.

"Exit Through the Gift Shop" is surprisingly funny, particularly watching Guetta stumble around at night with the artists, knocking over paint buckets and falling from ladders. It also shines the spotlight on street art which is so often mistaken simply for graffiti and vandalism but has creators just as serious about their work as anyone whose paintings end up in a gallery. It asks serious questions about the impact of money and fame on an art form that hinges on anarchy and rebellion and, in the final passages, makes us ask questions about whether something that mimics the work of others and demands a profit can truly be considered art...and if not, how do you justify those guidelines in a field that is supposed to have no rules at all?

"Exit Through the Gift Shop" is extremely watchable, particularly for those who usually shy away from documentaries because they find them staid and boring. It feels dangerous in places, hilarious in others and entertains even as it poses questions that won't easily be dismissed when the credits roll.



Restrepo (2010, dir. Tim Hetherington, Sebastian Junger)

Don't let the National Geographic production tag fool you: "Restrepo" is far from a boring, clinical look at war.

Hetherington and Junger (author of "The Perfect Storm") spent a year embedded with a platoon stationed in Afghanistan's Korengal Valley, known as the deadliest place on Earth. Each day, the soldiers face incoming fire and attacks and, throughout the course of the film, they lost several of their own to these firefights. The directors get closer than any other filmmaker I've seen and keep the cameras rolling even when the bullets are flying.

It's a harrowing film and one of the most in-depth looks at soldiers' lives that I've ever seen. From the first minutes when a roadside bomb detonates under a vehicle that the cameraman's traveling in, through a tragic shoot-out in the Afghan mountains, "Restrepo" is unflinching and unafraid to show the reality of war.

The film is apolitical, not interested in the "why" of the fight but in the simple fact that the men profiled have chosen to do a job that could cost them their life. The directors never ask political questions, never cut away to "combat experts" and never lose sight of the fact that the film's subject is not the war, but the men fighting it.

I was amazed by how young the warfighters are here. The oldest can't be a day over 30. And we watch as they make quick decisions under fire, nonchalantly play guitar during down time or muse about the circumstances surrounding their deployment. There's a heartbreaking moment when one soldier breaks down in tears upon learning his compatriot has been killed and an intense recollection from another who was injured in an ambush. But the film also captures the day-to-day work the soldiers conduct in Afghanistan, meeting with local elders about building roads, settling disputes over dead cattle or searching villages for insurgents. One sobering moment shows the soldiers reacting to the knowledge that their strike on a village may have injured innocent civilians.

The fly on the wall perspective Hetherington and Junger bring to "Restrepo" causes it to drag in some moments, but it also allows the directors to stay close when chaos erupts. In the end, you probably won't learn much about the war in Afghanistan, but it's impossible to walk away without a renewed admiration for the men who go to hell to support our country.



Catfish (2010, dir. Henry Joost, Ariel Schulman)

Much like "Exit Through the Gift Shop," "Catfish" was surrounded upon its release by whispers that the documentary was a hoax. I found myself asking many of the same questions while watching the film, wondering just how directors Joost and Schulman were able to capture such a ready-for-cinema story on camera at just the right time. It had to be too good to be true.

But like "Gift Shop," "Catfish's" story has been verified. And looking back on the film, I have to say that even that doesn't surprise me in the end...it has the ring of truth to it, the thought that the events are too bizarre to be the work of fiction.

Of course, that means I can't tell you much about this film, as much of its success comes from watching the events unfold with the surreality and tension of a thriller.

Ariel Schulman is a photographer in New York who discovers that a 9 year-old girl has been making very accomplished paintings of his work. Through Facebook and the telephone, he befriends the young girl, her mother and 19-year-old sister, with whom he begins a cyber relationship. And then...well, you'll have to see for yourself.

Without giving too much away, the film provides a very sobering commentary on a culture where lives can be lived solely through social media. What we choose to reveal about ourselves, the personas we craft for our lives on the Internet...it's all fascinating until other people with real feelings gets involved. "Catfish" may be the first documentary I can remember that depended so closely on Facebook, Instant Messenger, Myspace and other online tools to tell its story.

It's a bit of a slow go at the beginning, particularly because Schulman and his friends are not the most interesting or likable of subjects. Wannabe filmmakers who think a bit too highly for themselves, they come off a bit grating and bland. But the film's mystery slowly draws us in and, by the end, the revelations "Catfish" has in store lead to a finale that is uncomfortable, tragic and yet surprisingly human. Schulman's reaction to the truths he learns is commendable and humane, and the final 20 minutes are both heartbreaking and compassionate.

Even if "Catfish" weren't true, it would make a fascinating mockumentary on the subject of Internet relationships. The fact that it's true makes everything that much more powerful.



The Rock-Afire Explosion (2008, dir. Brett Whitcomb)

I never was a Showbiz Pizza kid. Growing up, we had Chuck E. Cheese and Major Magic's, which were the same concept--your parents would take you to get pizza and you'd spend an afternoon playing video games.

Each of these restaurants had its own rock and roll show with animatronic characters up on stage. I grew up loving Major Magic's All Star Pizza Revue, which featured a Walrus, Crocodile, Lion and and a Fox singing "Charlie Brown," "Little Old Lady from Pasadena" and "I want to Hold Your Hand." I loved going there, waiting for the lights to dim and for the show to start and I truly am sad that the restaurants have closed down and my children won't get to have that experience. But, I grew out of it and moved on.

Others haven't. There's a subset of men and women in their late 20s and early 30s who are obsessed with Showbiz Pizza's animatronic band, The Rock-Afire Explosion, several monkeys and apes who sang and danced on stage while kids munched on their pizza. In the early 2000s, Showbiz Pizza merged with Chuck E. Cheese and the Rock-Afire Explosion was phased out to make way for the mouse and his cronies.

This film chronicles the pursuit of Chris Thrash, a 31-year-old from Alabama, who tracks down the last remaining Rock-Afire animatronics and displays them in his house. It also tracks down Aaron Fechter, the creative genius who made millions supplying the shows to Showbiz Pizza and then lost everything when the business grew too fast.

This is the kind of off-kilter doc I live for, dealing with a certain subset the same way "King of Kong" or "Trekkies" does, although "The Rock-Afire Explosion" leans less on comedy and more on nostalgia. I suppose there's humor to be found in a grown man building his own Showbiz Pizza in his backyard or the low class surroundings Thrash lives in (to this day, he only drinks Mt. Dew). But the film is careful never to laugh at its subjects and instead director Brett Whitcomb lovingly captures a small sect of fandom and its yearning for the things of youth.

Why would a man track down animatronic figures from a defunct pizza chain? It's a bit heartbreaking to hear Thrash muse that those were the happiest days of his life, when "thins were a bit simpler." And while there's an interesting story Fechter tells about the rise and fall of Showbiz and the Rock-Afire explosion, what makes this film truly work is the way it captures a culture that's adrift and discontent, longing to relive their childhood and recapture the thigns they loved in their youth.

We live in the age of remakes, and I've seen many things I've loved from my childhood paraded again on the screen. I'll admit it's very easy to want to revisit my past. I've spent hours watching old cartoon introductions on Youtube or looking at photo galleries of amusement parks I went to as a child. Is it any different for another man to collect animatronic figures from the place that he had the best memories of growing up?

There's definitely a restlessness and refusal to grow up in our culture and I fear that the Internet only feeds that--we no longer have to let go. And "The Rock-Afire Explosion" captures that bittersweet nature of growing up while hanging on to nostalgia. It's a beautiful, if minor and quirky, little documentary that I highly recommend to anyone interested in geek culture.


Babies (2010, dir. Thomas Balmes)

Who says there's no such thing as truth in advertising?

"Babies" delivers just what it promises; nearly 90-minutes worth of just babies. Laughing babies. Crying babies. Babies eating, babies playing, babies looking at things. If they made a sequel to "March of the Penguins," it would be this, which I call "Crawl of the Humans."

The film chronicles four babies born at different ends of the world--Tokyo, Africa, Mongolia and the United States. It follows them throughout their first year of life, and the film is basically scene after scene of the babies marveling at the world around them, discovering their pets, snuggling with their mothers and playing with their siblings. There's no narration, no experts to talk to and no overarching examination of baby life. It's pure observation from beginning to end.

Right about now, there are two camps of people on this movie: those who feel that this is going to be the cutest thing they've ever seen and those who feel they will overdose on sap.

And yet, the film is beautiful and hypnotic, an enjoyable way to pass the time that leaves you a little more in awe of the world in which we live. It's fun to watch the babies discover life, but it's even more remarkable to watch these four from around the world and see just how similar they are despite their extremely different surroundings. It's amazing to watch them discover personalities over the course of the year and to see their curiosity grow as they examine their pets, their parents and the world around them. The cinematography is bright and beautiful to look at and fly-on-the-wall view means it rarely feels manipulative or overly-emotional.

Then again, it's a movie about babies. And who doesn't like babies? You're pretty guaranteed with this one, simply from a cute factor.

Movie Review: "Best Worst Movie"

A few years back, a friend and I used to make a habit of having a "bad movie night."

Basically, one of us would pick out a movie that was getting panned by critics and audiences. "Glitter," "Left Behind," "Carman: The Champion." We had a blast looking watching those movies and laughing at their awfulness. Our breaking point, I believe, came with "Gigli," when we realized that some movies' badness just wasn't worth it.

Bad movie connoisseurs know that not just any bad movie is a "good" bad movie. Some films are just plain terrible and better left alone (I'm looking at you, "Last Airbender") while others are just so wrong-headed and made with so much misdirected passion that they spawn a cult following, with people gathering just to revel in their awfulness.

So what is it that makes an awful movie become beloved, and what are the fates of those who dared lend their names to the credits of such infamous flicks? That's what Michael Stephenson's documentary seeks to find out in "Best Worst Movie."

I haven't seen "Troll 2," a horror flick from 1986 that has garnered infamy as the worst movie ever made--accruing a Rotten Tomatoes rating of 0%. I should also probably state that I haven't seen the original "Troll," although I quickly learned that this was a quickie sequel made by an Italian director that has no connection to the original film. "Troll 2" is actually not even about trolls at all--it's about vegetarian goblins, who attempt to turn a family into vegetables so that they can eat them. Just hearing that description was enough to make me add it to my Netflix Instant queue for watching later this week.

As films about vegetarian goblins are wont to do, "Troll 2" took a critical drubbing and failed to make a peep at the box office. Most of the amateur actors involved went back to their day jobs and some didn't even see the movie until they had VHS copies shipped to them. But as the film began to circulate on videotape and in rotation on HBO, it gathered a cult following. People began throwing parties and midnight shows, with some calling it the new generation's "Rocky Horror Picture Show."

As these screenings begin to pop up throughout the country, Stephenson gathers the film's cast to assemble and take a look at the phenomenon they've become a part of. It ends up being a funny and surprising look at pop culture and the weird things people latch onto.

Having seen and cherished my share of low budget, horrible horror movies over the years, I've often wondered what becomes of the cast. Every once in awhile, you'll have a movie star who started in drek, like Jennifer Aniston ("Leprechaun") or Kevin Bacon ("Friday the 13th"). But most of the time, these horrid little flicks are just opportunities for local men and women who wanted to try their hand at being in a real movie.

That's what happened with George Hardy, who commands most of the doc's screen time. A Dentist living in Alabama, Hardy is a friendly and talkative chap who is always smiling or chatting someone up. He readily admits that when he saw the film for the first time, he was immediately aware of how bad the film was and promptly went on with his life of dentistry. When he gets word of "Troll 2's" unexpected popularity and attends a midnight screening, he begins to have a blast with interacting with the crowds, signing autographs and regaling audiences with his classic line, "you can't piss on hospitality."

The film largely follows Hardy as he attends screenings and conventions, trying to assemble as much of the cast as possible. Sometimes this results in getting other people eager to share in the experience--such as the actor who played his son and is game to sit around a recreate scenes for the camera. Other times--such as when the two attempt to recruit the woman who played Hardy's wife--the results are so bizarre that it could only happen in a documentary like this...upon their visit they find a reclusive, cat-obsessed woman whose own shut-in mother seems constantly annoyed at her own child. When they ask her to join them at a screening, they get a bizarre rant about how scary and risky it would be. Also, this woman truly believes "Troll 2" turned out to be a meaningful, magical film.

One thing I've always suspected about these low budget fiascoes is that, despite how horrible the film turned out, the cast had a great experience just being in a movie. Hardy is probably the best type of person to center a film like this around--he's pleased as punch to have the lime light shown on him. And while the cast reminisces about a shoot where they constantly had no idea what kind of movie they were making and were further confused by the crew's language barrier, we get the sense that they all enjoyed their one shot at making a movie. It was fun and, for the most part, they have a fun time talking to the movie's unexpected fan club.

Stephenson is a little less successful at capturing why "Troll 2" has become such a beloved bad movie. He has no trouble in finding large groups of people who gather for viewing parties, midnight shows and Question and Answer session. Some of these people appear to genuinely believe that--despite its bad acting, directing and everything else--"Troll 2" is actually a truly enjoyable and even magical film. Others seem to be content just to admit that they love to laugh at ever terrible line of dialogue. I might have liked to see some more film experts polled on what makes a bad movie a cult hit and maybe a digression further into the works of Ed Wood or some sort of analysis about why people love to laugh at these movies. I would venture to say, at first glance, it's a result of our postmodern culture--but I also then have to remember that generations before me loved to laugh at "Plan 9 From Outer Space."

Of course, I could be expecting a little too much scholarly work from a movie that follows the global impact of "Troll 2."

One fan posits that people flock to bad movies that have been made with sincerity and belief in the product, and I would agree that a good bad movie has to truly believe that it is, in fact, good (which is why "Snakes on a Plan" has its merits, but doesn't hang on as a cult classic--it's too aware of its badness.) But surely, I thought, "Troll 2" would have to be excluded from that--it was a sequel to a little seen horror movie, a cash-in by an Italian film crew.

And then Stephenson brings in Claudio Fragasso, the film's director. Claudio, through a translator, recalls that he made "Troll 2" as a movie about family values with an important comment to make. He still believes that it's an emotionally moving film and sees its new found popularity as a vindication from critics who panned it upon release. He gladly visits the midnight screenings and shakes hands with "fans," even believing that he inspired some to go into the film business.

Claudio, of course, has no concept of irony. And he's baffled when people are laughing not only at the film's humorous moments but--even harder--at the moments intended to be serious. At the end of the film he lashes out at the actors who have all taken part in the joke, calling them "dogs." When someone asks him why there are no actual trolls in "Troll 2," Claudio's only response is "you know nothing." Watching him slowly catch on and react to what people really think about the movie is one of the most entertaining--and awkward--moments of the documentary.

But the film also finds a bit of resonance in Hardy's experience reliving "Troll 2." At first, he seems to take every moment to go to screenings and talk about the film. He talks about it with all his patients--not really understanding that some people just don't think bad films are all that funny. He throws a screening his hometown and even begins to think about quitting his dental career to go back into film. But there's a sadness to scenes set at horror and sci fi conventions, where Hardy and his crew are ignored by fanboys who aren't part of the cult and they see how out of place they are in the world of geeks. "Troll 2" fans, I guess, truly do breathe rare air and aren't found everywhere in the country.

The film never truly gains the momentum or heart to be on par with a "King of Kong," probably the champion of quirky documentaries. But "Best Worst Movie" is enjoyable in its own rights, as a look at the legacy even the worst movie can have and for watching people truly get some enjoyment out of a movie that they thought was long forgotten.

Movie Review: "Jackass 3D"

I hope you like poop...

Really, when someone plops down their hard earned movie money--plus the up charge for 3D--to see "Jackass 3D," they already know what they're in for. Johnny Knoxville, Steve-O and their band of idiots are going to get in front of video cameras and pummel, smash, crunch, degrade and defame themselves all for your entertainment. Vehicles will crash off ramps, teeth will be pulled, bodily fluids will fly and each horrendous stunt will end with the participants giggling, laughing and shaking off their injuries. Knoxville and his gang have been doing this for 10 years, so the formula's not likely to change...although now, in 3D, it's all coming right at you.

How does one review a "Jackass" film? There's no plot. No character development. I guess it's a documentary, but the only point it seems to be making is "don't try this at home." I wouldn't even call the film's set pieces "jokes," as there is no real build up or structure--just the basest, most juvenile and idiotic humor known to mankind, finding humor in pain, puke and poop.

I imagine that Knoxville and Co. would be very pleased with that review.

The truth is, there's no defense of the "Jackass" series. It's the natural evolution of a culture of children who grew up watching "America's Funniest Home Videos" and probably "Home Alone"--although to be fair, you could also call "The Three Stooges" and "Tom and Jerry" in as culprits, too. For some reason, no matter how refined and mature we'd like to think ourselves, we--especially men--laugh when someone gets hits in the crotch or takes a face plant from a cliff (or, in this case, a big tree). Bodily functions still make us giggle. And while we'll hold our breath as danger approaches, we'll double over in guffaws once we learn no one is seriously injured.

It's crass. It's stupid. It's immature.

And yet, so help me, I laughed. Sometimes very hard and sometimes simply to hold back the sickness. Despite the 40 hours I spent at work looking like a professional this week, some 12-year old part of me, some deep id, was tweaked and I laughed even as I questioned why I was doing so. I don't know that I'll respect myself in the morning, but the truth is that Knoxville and his crew, as Jon Stewart put it this week, turn punching someone in the nuts into some sort of art form.

You'd almost think after a successful MTV show (with multiple spin-offs) and two movies, these guys would have run out of ways to place themselves in mortal peril or that, with a semi-successful movie career, Knoxville would grow out of his phase of getting rammed by bulls or dressing up in old man makeup on the street. And yet, everyone is back, gleefully jumping jet skis off ramps and into bushes, crawling through taser-strewn hallways and strapping themselves into a Port-A-John that is then bungeed into the air, with the predictable mess even more disgusting than you could have imagined (poor Steve-O truly suffers for his art).

I'll say no more about the stunts, except to say that everyone seems a little more gleeful this time around, excited to be back around. There's less of the crude and purposefully wince-inducing stunts this time (the paper cuts and electroshock from the first were less fun than gag-creating), although a gag with a scorpion's a bit hard to watch. The rest is all your garden-variety "Jackass," crashing things off ramps and into bushes, sucker punching your friends or playing pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey with a live donkey that kicks back. In fact, animals get quite a bit of play, particularly a ram who seems to be enjoying fending off intruders way too much and some bulls that knock Knoxville for a serious loop.

This all is more enjoyable than it has any right to be, and I think much of that is owed to "Jackass" crew themselves. If they were fighting with each other the entire time, morose or fearful about any of this, it wouldn't be fun anymore. But the guys giggle and laugh their way through the 90 minutes, even after they've been trampled, pummeled or dropped in snake pits. Even when one of them is the butt of a joke, they laugh it off and walk away. There's an easy-going camaraderie these guys have together, a rapport that feels makes us feel like we're eavesdropping on a very bizarre frat party. It creates a positive energy for the film that extends very easily to the audience. There's never a mean-spirited joke or a gag played at an innocent bystander's expense. Plus, as Homer Simpson once said, it's funny because it's not happening to me.

It's still hard to believe "Jackass" has been around this long, but the guys are starting to show their age. They're a little slower to stand up after a stunt goes wrong and a little quicker to get sick. Steve-O, who spent much of the previous films in a state of intoxication, is now two year's sober--and that extra lucidity seems to not only energize him but also creates a self-awareness that makes his inevitable humiliation that much more humorous ("why do I have to be Steve-O," he asks at one point). A video montage over the end credits shows the cast and crew as children, teenagers and adults (so to speak) throughout the existence of this series and it's surprising to realize just how long this franchise has been around--the fact that they still look like they're having fun putting themselves through torture for our amusement is kind of poignant.

Kind of. Until you realize that the bond that brings them together involves hitting each other in the crotch, pulling out teeth via moving automobiles, seeing if they can make each other vomit and blowing up toilets and living in a state of constant adolescence.

It is my critical duty, however, to say that the use of 3D in the movie is spectacular, easily the best since "Avatar." Filmed in 3D, every drop of water, spit or...well, you get the idea, seems to drench the audience and director Jeff Tremain is wise enough to film in bright colors to make everything pop off the screen. The key to the "Jackass" films is to make you feel every hit, smack and crunch and the use of 3D in this film is the best I've seen in a long time. That actually is kind of sad to write.

Also, there's ultra high-speed photography at work here that produces some of the clearest and most-detailed slow motion footage I've ever seen. If you want to see just how much a person's fat ripples when they're shot with a paintball gun, how far their nose moves when they're punched in the face or what the impact really is when you're smacked with a wet fish, this is your movie. Zack Snyder must salivate over the slow motion work here. Again, kind of sad to write.

Listen, let's fess up here: if you're reading a review of "Jackass 3D," chances are you've already made up your mind about whether or not you're going to see it. You shouldn't be surprised to learn that people get hurt, groins get pummeled and poop is flung. For many people, this is not your cup of tea. In fact, even those of us who laughed likely have to admit that at the back of our mind we're asking the question "why am I laughing a this? What kind of person does that make me?"

And while it's fashionable (and easy) to rag on the "Jackass" films as being lowest-common denominator trash, I think there's also some room for understanding the series' appeal. After all, Knoxville and his crew aren't picking on anyone--everyone is participating willingly. The jokes are never mean-spirited--in fact, the gang's camaraderie is really the energy that carries this film. Yes, it's crass and crude--but in a sea of films that give us gratuitous sex jokes or pick on people, there's a certain innocence to this. Okay, not innocence. Juvenilia. Still...

I think that these movies exist for a culture of young men who have been raised in a culture where men have to be refined, quiet and nice. That sense of wildness and recklessness that used to define masculinity has largely been ignored in favor of dressing in a tie, being polite and politically correct and hitting computer keys instead of doing manual labor. Most young men spend hours playing video games these days instead of being outdoors, getting into trouble and getting themselves dirty and hurt. Knoxville and the "Jackass" crew are perpetual 10-year-olds, still rolling in the dirt, making ramps to jump their bikes over and laughing at their own farts (or, in this film, blowing party streamers with them). It taps into some part of masculinity that has been lost in this culture.

Or, perhaps, people just like poop.

I should note that this review is a milestone--the 100th post on this blog. That makes me feel something...I don't think it's pride.

Movie Review: "Waiting for Superman"

Davis Guggenheim's "Waiting for Superman" is a documentary, not a comic book film. But for many parents, I have a feeling it may play like a horror movie.

The film details the utter failure of the American public school system, in which inner city schools are called "drop out factories," bad teachers are impossible to fire, and the country's students place 26th in reading and science.The bright side? Their confidence is high: Nearly every student polled thinks Americans place No. 1 in those areas.

Guggenheim ("An Inconvenient Truth") knows audiences are well aware of the problems that have faced the education system for decades. We've heard stories of classrooms that have run out of supplies, teachers who sit back and do nothing, and idealistic educators constantly thwarted by district bureaucracy and governmental politics. He plainly states that in the inner cities, many middle schools fail to properly prepare kids for high school. In many urban high schools, freshmen start five years behind and half are guaranteed to drop out, ending up on the streets or in prison. Conventional wisdom, Guggenheim states, has always believed that bad cities were to blame for bad schools. However, he reports that just the opposite may be true.

I'd imagine that an entire Ken Burns documentary could be prepared detailing the myriad things that derailed the public education system. But Guggenheim places the lion's share of the blame at the feet of teacher unions that wield enormous political power and make it nearly impossible to fire teachers once they receive tenure, which can often happen in as few as two years. In some states, such as Illinois, the film posits that it is actually easier for a doctor to lose his license or a lawyer to be disbarred than to fire a tenured teacher. In many districts, bad teachers are simply transferred from school to school in a game known as "pass the lemon." In New York, disciplined teachers sit in an office building reading newspapers while awaiting hearings; they receive full salary and they can wait as long as eight years before their cases are called.

It's sobering, even for this critic without children in school. Bright students who are eager to learn can have that potential snuffed out by teachers who don't care or districts that don't allow them to flourish. While many suburban parents can send their children to private schools, many lower-income parents don't have that luxury and are at the mercy of their districts, watching as their children are sent off to buildings where the odds are stacked against them.

The film would likely still be shocking if it were just a parade of these grim statistics and district snapshots. But Guggenheim engages the audience by following five inner city students from around the country as their parents worry about the future awaiting them in the classrooms. Statistics are sobering, but it's even harder to take when they're placed with names and faces. His subjects - Francisco, Anthony, Bianca, Daisy and Emily - are bright, precocious children who want to become veterinarians, surgeons and teachers. They're young and excited about learning, even if they have their own struggles in the classroom. Seeing their optimism and also their awareness that a tough road awaits them is sobering, and creates an emotional bond to the problem.

There seems to be hope, Guggenheim states. There are idealistic, innovative teachers across the country interested in education reform. We meet Michelle Lhee, the Washington, D.C., superintendent who came in and fired underperforming principals and teachers, and came up with a proposal to do away with tenure and offer teachers merit increases - a proposal that could have doubled teachers' salaries if they performed well ... and was shot down when the union deemed it too threatening.

We also meet educators like Geoffrey Canada, who opened a charter school in inner city Harlem where teachers are involved in the education process literally from a students' infanthood. Naysayers told Canada that opening a school in Harlem was a lost cause; years after opening, however, his students are scoring higher on tests than students from even the best areas. The implication is clear: When good teachers are allowed to teach and engage students, students can succeed. When education is more focused on protecting employment or watching the bottom line, students fail.

Charter schools - public schools that operate outside of the district policies - seem to be an attractive option, one that offers students a greater chance at success. But the limited availability and high number of applicants mean students are accepted through lotteries. In the film's tense and heartbreaking final 20 minutes, we watch as each student Guggenheim's followed sits in on lotteries and basically has their educational future determined by chance. It's one of the most sobering and devastating moments I've seen on screen this year.

At the screening I attended, there were several angry and frustrated outbursts with every setback or new statistic. Guggenheim, as he did with global warming in "An Inconvenient Truth," is able to take complex statistical information, and make it immediate and relatable. Is it a bit manipulative to parade children in front of to hammer home a point? Perhaps. But Guggenheim's work never feels overly manipulative and the point of the matter is this - this is about children's futures. When you see how schools are failing and the impact it has on children's lives, outrage is the only emotion to feel.

But as with "An Inconvenient Truth," Guggenheim closes with an appeal for involvement, asking audiences to text if they want to help. I can't imagine anyone who hears about the nightmarish state of America's schools will want to stay passive as they walk out of the theater. Parents, educators and anyone concerned about the future of the nation will want to pay attention to this movie, and it's the rare film that could spur people to action and make a difference.

Or, as the title suggests, we could sit back and wait for someone to come in and fix it for us. But, as Canada reminds audiences early in the film, Superman does not exist, and he's not going to come and save the day.

Originally published in the Oct. 10 edition of The Source.

Review: "Dear Zachary--A Letter to a Son About His Father"

The DVD cover for the documentary "Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father" describes it as a true crime story.

While the description is technically accurate--the film deals with the surprising twists in a murder trial--it fails to prepare viewers for the harrowing journey ahead. Alternately infuriating, touching, poignant and devastating, "Dear Zachary" is one of the most emotionally wrenching film experiences I've ever endured.

When his best friend, Dr. Andrew Bagby, was found murdered in a parking lot, filmmaker Kurt Kuenne decided to pack up his camera and travel cross-country to interview those who knew his friend. It may have been his way of coping, but Kuenne soon came upon another reason to make the film--the woman who was alleged to have shot Bagby, a jealous ex-girflriend, revealed that she was pregnant with his son. Bagby's mission, as the title states, shifted; the film would now be a testimony to a man deeply loved by friends and the only son of two caring parents; it would be the introduction to a father that young Zachary would never know.

The twists and turns the film takes--some victorious, some frustrating and some downright horrifying--could never have been foreseen by Kuenne. Like the best documentaries, the events that occur and the people involved would be deemed too unbelievable for most narrative films. And the sledgehammer viewers receive to the heart is one that couldn't be delivered by overwrought melodrama or manipulation.

On the surface, the film provides a gripping and angry look at the Newfoundland criminal justice system. Bagby's parents are told early on that the courts move slow but surely they weren't prepared for a case that would force them to be uprooted from California to Newfoundland as they waited for their son's killer to face trial and endured an arduous custody battle. What starts as being almost comical in its inefficiency turns into a portrait of a deeply-flawed court system that failed the victims' family and did much more harm than good.

As a piece of activism or true crime drama, "Dear Zachary" would be an effective work on its own. But Kuenne's film is about so much more. On a deeper level it's about the impact the death of one person has on those left behind. Kuenne grew up as a filmmaker and his best friend was always in front of the camera. In the glimpses we have of Andrew, we see a likable, funny and self-effacing young man. A touching montage describes him as the guy everybody wanted as his best friend. A former fiancee remembers him lovingly and his parents are haunted by the tragedy and challenged by a new mission--to keep Zachary out of the hands of the woman who killed his father.

Kuenne isn't a polished filmmaker. Sometimes he succumbs to visual and audio tricks to hammer home a point and other times his camera work is sloppy. While these things would normally derail a film, here they lend it poignancy. Kuenne isn't making a film to gain notice--this is a personal mission to remember his friend, to express how his life was touched by this man. When Kuenne's voice cracks and he breaks down in sobs during narration, it doesn't come off as manipulation but as genuine anguish and sorrow. I found myself not only caught up in the courtroom antics but actually mourning the death of a man I never knew...the descriptions of friends and family and the glimpses we receive of Andrew made me see him as a man I would have loved to have as a friend. Kuenne may have set out to make a film about a father but he creates a touching portrait of a man beloved by everyone.

But what elevates the film to greatness is the courage displayed by Andrew's parents, David and Kate Bagby. Early in the film we learn that the Bagby's, upon learning of the death of their son, planned on coming home and killing themselves; without their son, life was meaningless. Yet they find the courage to go on, uproot themselves to another country and fight for custody of their grandson. It's a battle filled with beautiful moments of bonding and moments filled of the darkest moments anyone could ever endure. The Bagby's could be forgiven for not wanting to appear in such a personal film. Yet they are candid, recalling their son's finest moments and describing the horror of going to identify his body. When the film reaches its darkest passages--indeed, passages where I alternately screamed at the TV and broke down in sobs--they erupt in moments of self-doubt, viscious anger and despair. But they also remain good, loving and friendly people who are deeply loved by Andrews friends and their new neighbors. What starts as a murder mystery and then devolves into a portrait of a man turns into a poem of courage and heroics by David and Kate who, in my opinion, are two of the most heroic people to ever appear on screen.

I fear that many reading this review will think they know exactly what happens in the film and think they have it pegged. They don't...even as I was on the lookout for twists and turns I never anticipated where this movie would take me, both in terms of its structure and the emotional places it asks us to accompany the Bagby's to. This is not an easy film to watch but it is one that must be seen. "Dear Zachary" is a great film.