Take the D Train

Our short documentary Hoop Springs Eternal -- made with Linda Goldman, Chris Corradino, Maya Mumma -- is scheduled to screen at the Coney Island Film Festival September 24 - 26.

More details soon.

In Case You Missed It

Watch more free documentaries
In case you weren't at today's screening at the Limelight Film Showcase, you can see Blind Faith: A Film About Seeing online. Give it a "like" or "Snag" the player and put it on your blog. See more about the film on IMDB and give it a rating.

Social Advocacy Documentaries, Part Four

This is Part Four of the series Do Social Advocacy Documentaries "Work"? You may want to start with Part One.

In comparison a “documentary” story also presented in 1990 meets some of Godmilow's criteria, and certainly led to action:

...the most emotionally moving testimony on October 10 came from a 15-year-old Kuwaiti girl, known only by her first name of Nayirah. According to the Caucus, Nayirah's full name was being kept confidential to prevent Iraqi reprisals against her family in occupied Kuwait. Sobbing, she described what she had seen with her own eyes in a hospital in Kuwait City. Her written testimony was passed out in a media kit prepared by Citizens for a Free Kuwait. “I volunteered at the al-Addan hospital,” Nayirah said. “While I was there, I saw the Iraqi soldiers come into the hospital with guns, and go into the room where . . . babies were in incubators. They took the babies out of the incubators, took the incubators, and left the babies on the cold floor to die.” Three months passed between Nayirah's testimony and the start of the war. During those months, the story of babies torn from their incubators was repeated over and over again. President Bush told the story. It was recited as fact in Congressional testimony, on TV and radio talk shows, and at the UN Security Council. “Of all the accusations made against the dictator,” MacArthur observed, “none had more impact on American public opinion than the one about Iraqi soldiers removing 312 babies from their incubators and leaving them to die on the cold hospital floors of Kuwait City.”

Of course, in fact Nayirah was a member of the Kuwaiti Royal Family, daughter of Saud Nasir al-Sabah, Kuwait's Ambassador to the US, and had been coached by public relations firm H&K’s vice-president Lauri Fitz-Pegado to deliver false testimony.
 It is likely that the false story quite effectively shifted public opinion enough to have a decisive effect on the January 12, the U.S. Senate vote–– decided by a five-vote margin––to support the Bush administration in a declaration of war.

It is precisely the absolutism with which a lie is presented that makes it effective––something nuanced presentation lacks. Godmilow’s critiques arise from a postmodern viewpoint fueled by the knowledge that what seems like a search for “the truth” may often be deception in the service of a dominant discourse. This idea is explained well by Robert A. Rosenstone in his book Visions of the Past: The Challenge of Film to Our Idea of History:

The heart of postmodernism, all theorists agree, is a struggle against History. With a capital H. A denial of its narratives, findings, and truth claims. A view of it as the great enemy, the oedipal father, the metanarrative of metanarratives, the last and greatest of the white mythologies used to legitimate Western hegemony, a false and outworn discourse that fosters nationalism, racism, ethnocentricism, colonialism, sexims––and all the other evils of contemporary society.

One (unusually) clear statement of the case against history has postmodernism questioning (1) the idea that there is a real, knowable past, a record of evolutionary progress of human ideas, institutions, or action, (2) the view that historians should be objective, (3) that reason enables historians to explain the past, and (4) that the role of history is to interpret and transmit human cultural and intellectual tradition from generation to generation.

Rosenstone details how Godmilow’s film Far From Poland (1984) works in light of this distrust of documentary / history and its traditional claims: the film makes clear her specific inability to access the events of the story, and makes just as clear that the documentary form itself shares this inability––quite possibly with any story. Why then would Godmilow choose to participate in documentary production?

What’s essential to me, also, is to produce an audience of individuals (not a ‘community’) who become active intellectual participants in a discussion of the social conditions and relationships represented. I want to produce an audience of individuals who can learn some conceptual tools with which to articulate a critique––a critique applicable to all kinds of social and historical situations, not just to the materials at hand. That involves breaking up comfortable and class contract arrangements that the documentary film usually proffers its audience. Structured into most traditional documentaries is an unspoken promise to audiences that they can have a particular feeling about themselves. The audience is invited to believe: ‘I learn from this film because I care about the issues and people involved and want to understand them better; therefore, I am a compassionate member of society, not part of the problem described, but part of the solution.

It is ironic then that the filmmakers behind Czech Dream––in some ways inheritors to Farocki and Godmilow’s issue of ethical use of labor––manage to form a community in their film: those who are fooled by the film’s “prank” and later those who react for or against what it reveals. And certainly they “break up” the “contract arrangements” with their audience––acting as instigators “for” us, but doing something we might not choose to do or think “fair.” As well, when the film is seen against the context of the Czech debate on entry into the European Union––and its promise of even more commercialism, marketing and advertising––it does open the question of whether the social documentary may have its greatest value as a “conceptual tool” rather than as a script for specific action which will “solve” the problem addressed. One realizes Czech Dream is unlikely to somehow stop the “hard sell” of existing public relations / marketing / advertising forces or even the specific rise of hypermarkets––but those seeing the film are probably better prepared to understand the same techniques applied when the government campaigns for a political change, or marches out “witnesses” with no last name. (In the words of George W. Bush: “There's an old saying in Tennessee — I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again.”)

Walker Evans, the documentary photographer, was happy to proclaim what he called “documentary-style” photography as “useless.” Separating photography from items or actions of “use” left it free to serve an aesthetic purpose, which Evans claimed to be a more important and valuable one.

John Cage, as well, was happy to call his music “purposeless play,” but considered it a sort of “training” for life, where one’s perception might be sharpened, then turned to life itself. While any social advocacy documentary may have specific value as either a campaign related to an issue or as a text to raise consciousness about an issue, it may also be that it has a significant value as a model for understanding or confronting future issues. Picasso’s Guernica no longer endangers Franco, and never did to begin with. Still, it seems to trouble those who would stand in front of it to announce other aerial bombing. Is it fair to claim Wide Awake as valuable for anyone who confronts a personal issue, or My Country, My Country for those who wonder about family and community in the midst of chaos, or Czech Dream as important for anyone who expects to be sold their own reified desire? The effectiveness of these films is as debateable as that of the best novels. Interestingly, the rise in the number of significant social advocacy documentaries produced in the last five years may indicate that the social role once held by novels and nonfiction books has shifted to documentary work. Today, Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring would surely be a documentary film, with a corresponding Web site detailing how one could get involved after the film.

When I saw Jason Kohn’s Manda Bala (2007) at a film festival, I could not help but take its study of the strange interconnections radiating out from a single act of political corruption as working in a way similar to Joseph Heller’s Catch-22: the specifics of corruption and social policy may have happened somewhere else, to someone else––and Godmilow would see this film as about “the other”––but the form and character of corruption and social madness could be carried away home, and an understanding taken from the film could be used as a tool, ready for use on specifics arising anywhere, anytime.

Social Advocacy Documentaries, Part Three

This is Part Three of the series Do Social Advocacy Documentaries "Work"? You may want to start with Part One.

One expects it is easy enough to call the film “soft,” however, and to wonder if there are other contemporary films that “live up” to Godmilow’s critique (and possibly the more difficult critique of a “totalizing” position as brought up in Renov, Winston and Trinh T. Minh-ha’s writings) with a harder stance. To put films to such a test, however, requires a clearer picture of what Godmilow hopes for. What would such a documentary look like? Does Godmilow clearly define it? Godmilow’s piece claims “This essay will consider new forms of documentary which challenge non-fiction film practice and which link the documentary form more closely with political action.”

Oddly like Dick Cheney in 2000, leading George W. Bush’s Vice Presidential Search Committee only to discover the best vice presidential candidate would be ... Dick Cheney, Godmilow follows this statement with analysis of only two films: Harun Farocki’s Inextinguishable Fire (1969) and her own shot-for-shot recreation of that film, What Farocki Taught (1998). Her primary assertions: that by using low production values and avoiding traditional narrative form, these films avoid “entertaining;” that by using (nonprofessional) actors these films avoid observing “the other;” and that by clarifying specific ethical / political choices (in this case the ethical use of one’s labor), the film can lead to direct political / social change.

What then of contemporary social advocacy documentaries? How do they fare in effectiveness, and can one appraise them against those four points of critique?

Laura Poitras’ My Country, My Country (2006), nominated for the Academy Award for Best Feature Documentary, is in the tradition of observational documentary. Taped in Iraq in the period leading up to the January, 2005 elections, the film’s main story arc follows political candidate Dr. Riyadh and his family in this period, culminating in their own decisions about voting. Other threads, however, intersect with this story as Poitras follows security contractors involved in transporting ballots, U.S. military briefings about the changing security situation, the Kurdish militia, and Riyadh’s connection to the prisoners at Abu Ghraib.

Here we may address Godmilow’s first point of critique: does the film compromise to comply with the audience’s expectation of entertainment and clarity? If we avoid the oversimplification that anything “entertaining” is made so at the expense of edification, this is best decided if we ask: what is the key story of this film? Is it the process of the election, or the human experience of Iraqis during the U.S. occupation and the possibilities left after its end? The access to Dr. Rihadh’s family that the filmmaker has secured leads us to the second story as the central aim of the film. And if this is the case, it would seem that the film’s “obligations” are simply the normal ones: to make the story concise enough to tell in a watchable length, and in coherent form.

Godmilow’s second critique is the most interesting regarding this film. One may fairly consider an Iraqi family living in an occupied zone as “distressed social actors.” But since the film follows a medical professional (and certainly many members of Documentary’s “elitist audience” would be doctors) and one who reads as fairly Western in dress, the situation is more complicated. As well, when one looks at the “implications” of the film, it may be that the social issue it addresses––life during occupation, democracy enforced at gunpoint––may very well implicate the U.S. audience of this film. Dr. Riyadh’s “problem” may be defined as the bombs that fall on his street and the impending civil war in his city, rather than as his own “social issue.”

Still, Godmilow’s third critique does seem to hit accurately. An epilogue that suggested how one might vote or a letter writing campaign would be completely out of place at the end of this film. As well, the action that has led to the “problem” of the film occurred two years before the film starts. Still, if one defines the political issue the film addresses in “big picture” terms––what role should the United States play in the world?––it is not one where a specific political action can be called for. Rather, edification is an ideal strategy, preparing viewers for related political decisions that cannot yet be foreseen but will be better addressed with a deep understanding of past actions.

As well, My Country, My Country eludes the critique of a totalizing viewpoint in its complexity. There are mixed results, mixed signals and mixed ideas throughout, and this complicated understanding of the situation (not unlike that of Kopple’s American Dream) leaves one uncertain. It can certainly be considered as a series of questions, rather than as a totalizing answer.

Alan Berliner’s Wide Awake (2006) addresses directly the social issue of sleep disorders and sleep deprivation, though its larger indirect target––the relationship of individual to family––may be its more important topic. In one sense, the film is a contemporary update of the problem-solution model, albeit with a much more sophisticated structure. Its first half delineates Berliner’s personal struggle with sleep, and details the specifics of the issue (and its prevalence in society) through a series of conversations with doctors. In the second half, however, connections between Berliner’s personal life and his issues with sleep begin to be revealed: his late-night filmmaking practice, his childhood practice of staying awake to monitor his parents’ fights, and his need to find a schedule that will allow him to connect with his new baby’s life.

Godmilow’s three critiques are quite informative when used to interrogate this film. The film is endlessly entertaining, from overall story arc to music-like edited sequences exploring ideas that arise in Berliner’s exploration, ranging from his dreams to illustrations of his emotional state. There seems to be little need to compromise in individual elements, but one wonders if the resolution of the film isn’t constructed for an audience’s sake––a simplification of a complicated reality, presenting answers that can’t be known yet or that can’t yield simple results. (One thinks of the “Are you happy?” question that begins the exploration of Morin and Rouch’s Chronique d'un été and realizes that the presentation of simple answers, upon deeper cinematic interrogation, tends to lead to the revelation of complexity––and ambiguity.) Berliner is in fact a “distressed social actor” here, but also in complete control of the film, and certainly not of a lower social class than the filmmaker or audience (as Godmilow’s critique implies). As well, Berliner does present clear (if open) ideas for a “solution” to this problem, though he ultimately leaves open key parts of this solution to individual choice–– thus avoiding a totalizing approach. The film is clearly most effective as edification, but this is to be expected of any film that addresses problems that may be best solved with information and medical or therapeutic help. No call for sleep legislation would be sensible here, but a clear argument for the importance of the issue seems quite effective from the standpoint of “raising consciousness.”

Czech Dream (2004), made by Vít Klusák and Filip Remunda could be said to be the far end of a path started by Edgar Morin and Jean Rouch in Chronique d'un été (1961). While the “provocation” in that film––the prototype for French Cinéma Vérité––was simply a question, for Czech Dream most of the film is the development of an elaborate provocation. Studying social attitudes on the newly-introduced “hypermarts” (in a country previously known for food queues for plain items, and at best rare availability of “exotics” like tropical fruit) and the promotion techniques of advertising, marketing and public relations, the filmmakers conduct their experiment, allowing the existing mechanism to work its magic, and the desires of the public to become clearly visible in their film.

It is interesting that Czech Dream connects in its study of promotion techniques to issues similar to the “ethical use of labor” concern found in Inextinguishable Fire and restated in What Farocki Taught. In arguments with marketing researchers and advertising staff, the directors find a similar “building block” mentality as pointed out in those films: we can combine our abilities in any order you like, but we are not responsible. In one sense, it can be said that the film goes further, revealing the “demand” more clearly than is done in the Farocki / Godmilow studies of napalm production. After all, in the same way that consumers wish for well-packaged and inexpensive foods, and are manipulated by media to see this as a need rather than a want (one jingle stating: “if you don’t have cash, take out a loan...”), consensus for the Vietnam war was maintained for years, “sold” to the American public in a similar manner. One can ask, at this point, if the most politically “effective” possibility for documentary film wouldn't be the complete lie. That is, where Barbara Kopple's American Dream is ultimately sympathetic to the workers and their plight, it presents a complicated situation and one expects it will leave audiences more aware but not necessarily charged to vote a certain way or to take to the streets.

Next: Conclusion

Social Advocacy Documentaries, Part Two

This is Part Two of the series Do Social Advocacy Documentaries "Work"? You may want to start with Part One.

One can also study Godmilow’s critique to see if it is applicable to “traditional” social advocacy documentary models such as those considered “journalistic,” “agit-prop,” or “problem-solution.” (While she cites in her essay “...the humiliated tenants in Grierson's 1932 film Housing Problems, who are asked to point to the rats and other vermin that inhabit their living spaces” as an example of the social documentary form’s ethical dilemma in depicting “the other,” she does not make it clear whether this is simply to the detriment of the film or makes it “fail” entirely. She cites no films she sees as successful, beyond her own and that of Harun Farocki, so we are left to guess whether her critique is of all social advocacy films or of the state of the field when she writes.)

For this purpose, let us consider as an example of “journalistic” social advocacy Peter Davis’ Selling of the Pentagon. How does it fare in Godmilow’s critique?

It does seem equitable to consider it constrained by the “matrix of obligations” Godmilow cites: it is, after all, an evening’s televison program, originally sandwiched between commercials for laundry detergent. It may be even more constrained in the sense that it was made to comply with the style of news programming of the time. There is a nod to entertainment thoughout (opening with a display of military firepower, for example) and certainly an attempt to “achieve closure.” Yet Godmilow’s other points may be said to fail here: there is no “other” implicated here: it is a story in which the expected audience is both implicated and “wronged” –– the funder of its own deception. As well, an implied political solution is obvious, as the film was made in relation to existing Senate debate and while CBS News would argue for the film’s objectivity, from the perspective of three decades later the film’s conclusion clearly argues for political action.

As an “agit-prop” film, consider 1982’s The Atomic Cafe. Clearly using the appeal of humor and the fascination of footage of atomic testing and “educational” films filled with misinformation, the film does fail against Godmilow’s critique of “obligations” (though one might ask what would not?). But can the film be said to use “distressed social actors” when, as in Davis’ film, those who are “victims” in the film may have been the audience itself or their parents? And if a political solution is not directly called for, with an active and growing anti-nuclear movement in 1982, action certainly is implied.

So-called “problem-solution” documentaries seem like the most exact target for the Godmilow critique, and other theorists have addressed this. Michael Renov, for example, picks up on a critique by Brian Winston (in which Winston includes the work of Leni Riefenstahl in relation to the “Griesonian realist documentary project”) and runs with it:

“It could certainly be argued that the Griersonians, working mostly for Tory governments, helped to put a friendly face on British imperialism in Song of Ceylon (1934) or sell a lukewarm reformism in response to pressing slum clearance questions (Housing Problems, 1935). In this sense, Grierson is to be faulted for espousing progressive views while delivering social integrationism and upbeat nation-building rhetoric for conservative British regimes between the wars. But my own concern is for tracking the development of documentary film as a potent and highly persuasive vehicle of social engineering, selling rhetorical arguments as truths, visions of the world as objective accounts of history. From this perspective, the problem of Vertov and Grierson (and, by extension, the documentary film tradition they helped to launch) was their aggressive––indeed, pulverizing––self-assurance in the pursuit of Truth, Soviet-style or Tory.

It is notable here that Renov’s critique is not one of ineffectiveness, as Godmilow’s is. Rather, he claims for some social advocacy documentary a misguided effectiveness: the ability to make a convincing and coherent argument even of an “incorrect” viewpoint.

Trinh T. Minh-ha goes further in the essay The Totalizing Quest for Meaning, using a quote from Roland Barthes: “The West moistens everything with meaning, like an authoritarian religion which imposes baptism on entire peoples.” She continues: “Yet such illusion is real; it has its own reality, one in which the subject of Knowledge, the subject of Vision, or the subject of Meaning continues to deploy established power relations, assuming Himself to be the basic reserve of reference in the totalistic quest for the referent, the true referent that lies out there in nature, in the dark, waiting patiently to be unveiled and deciphered correctly. To be redeemed.” Thus beyond Godmilow’s list of key failings of the social advocacy documentary (a need to entertain, exploitation of the other / nonimplication of the audience as part of the existing power structure, “soft” solutions or none at all)––which seem to apply to some documentaries but certainly not all––we may also consider the critique of presenting one interpretation as the only one possible, of a closed answer over an open question. It may be an issue inherent in the form, a problem to address in all attempts at social advocacy.

It is clear that Godmilow gives her critique because she does recognize the commonly accepted measure of success in advocacy films: “To change peoples’ minds or ways of seeing is always there at the basis of all non-fiction. But the notion of ‘exercising power’ sounds a bit heavy for most documentaries, unless we can agree that we mean that these films exercise power by changing consciousness, by their deliberate attempt to alter their viewers’ relationship to a subject by recontextualizing it in the proffered time, space, and intellectual field of the film.” In the eight years since her essay, through her efforts and those of many other theorists, the critical notions contained in that piece have become common self-critique for documentarians and often serve as background to the shaping of contemporary films. For example, a mainstream documentary like An Inconvenient Truth (2006) might be acceptable as social advocacy in Godmilow’s view in that it calls for specific political action (if mostly in text during the closing credits) and implicates specifically the audience watching the film (if quite gently, and only partially). Whether it is compromised by its “obligation” to entertain is more of a judgement call.

Next: Contemporary Social Advocacy Documentaries.

Do Social Advocacy Documentaries "Work"?

This is Part One of a series intended as an examination of the effectiveness of social advocacy documentaries.

In her 1999 essay What's Wrong with the Liberal Documentary, Jill Godmilow takes to task the “progressive or liberal documentary” as an “inadequate form––a relatively useless cultural product, especially for political change.” Her critiques of what she sees as a “soft form” include:

that this type of documentary film is still trapped in the same “matrix of obligations” as fiction film: to entertain, produce fascination, achieve closure, and to satisfy.


that this method of presentation tends toward an examination of one or more “distressed social actors” rather than the audience's situation: “There is nothing to learn about our activities or ourselves here. There is everything to learn about the other.”


that a typical film in this form “rarely proposes solutions” and while they may implicitly or explicitly “propose legislation” this type of film “never implicates the class activities of its audience as central contributors to the situation depicted in the film.”

If one examines the list of films receiving the Academy Award for Best Feature Documentary in the years before Godmilow's essay, one could (at least for purposes of argument) reevaluate these films in light of Godmilow’s position:

1990: American Dream
While this film is traditionally considered in the “socially-concerned” genre, does it not follow the distress of working-class social actors and imply corruption among corporate and union leaders––all presented as “other” to the film's generally urban / elite / educated audience? Does it not complicate rather than clarify a pro-labor position?

1994: Maya Lin: A Strong Clear Vision
When this film contrasts the artist's vision for a Vietnam War Memorial against the expected heroic statuary traditional to public art memorials, does it not position art practice as a tool for post-war healing rather than opposition to war? Why is its primary argument about the best way to patch a wound, dissociating from the audience's recent support of the 1991 Gulf War?

1996: When We Were Kings
Since many of the film's interviews bring up social issues such as race relations in the United States, why does the film ignore the related issues that arise when a U.S. promoter (Don King) imports a fight spectacle and music festival (featuring James Brown, among others) into a country run on a one-party political system, secured by forces charged with human rights abuses? As with Godmilow's critique of Hoop Dreams (1994), does the film not also ignore the question of why Ali grew up with boxing as his only promising occupational option?

Next: applying Godmilow's critique to "traditional" social advocacy documentaries.

Bend & Bow Via Netflix

For those of you running out of entertainment ideas while you're taking a little time off, here's an easy documentary-related notion. The International Documentary Challenge DVD is now available on Netflix. It's got 17 great short films, including our short documentary Bend & Bow.

You can buy the DVD on Amazon also:

If those two ideas don't help... I don't know, maybe watch some cartoons, I've done what I can.

Scan

Scan from Ted Fisher on Vimeo.

"Scan" was made in 2003, and showed at Rooftop Films that year in the "Home Movies" program. In a way, it's a documentary.

Notebook on Santas and Elves

Notebook on Santas and Elves from Ted Fisher on Vimeo.

Here's an 18-minute documentary I made in 2007. Please give it a rating at IMDB.

Larry in Relation to the Ground

Larry in Relation to the Ground from Ted Fisher on Vimeo.

This is a short documentary I made in 2002. Please give it a rating at IMDB.

Hoop Springs Eternal

Above, a doc produced in five days. Watch it, give it a vote.

Olympian Effort

Our short film Hoop Springs Eternal will screen tonight at Olympia Film Festival. (It's made with Chris Corradino, Linda Goldman, and Maya Mumma, featuring Loren Bidner and Jenny McGowan.)

I think it's scheduled after Shut Yer Dirty Little Mouth and before Sissyboy -- about 9:45 p.m. or so -- but there's no love for us on a schedule listing, however. Maybe they figure it's so good it should remain secret, thereby avoiding a stampede for tickets.

Marathon Women

Many of the films from the International Documentary Challenge can now be viewed on Snagfilms. Above: Marathon Women, a 5-minute doc made by two friends of this blog for the 2007 competition. Enjoy, and remember you can "snag" the film and embed it anywhere.

Doc On A Stick

One swallow does not make a summer, but two documentaries on USB flash drives? I think that marks a trend.

Mann releases mushroom doc on USB stick

Canadian director Ron Mann is testing a new method of movie distribution, releasing his documentary Know Your Mushrooms on a customized USB stick. The Toronto-based filmmaker was in the U.S. promoting his new doc — which follows mushroom-hunting gurus and explores mushroom culture — when he discovered a company that creates these flash drives in different shapes, including that of a mushroom.

Limited Editions and Blu-ray Disc!

We’re pleased to announce two limited-edition versions of Objectified designed by our friends over at Build, and the Blu-ray disc edition of the film. Available for pre-order now! USB Limited Edition: Fixed media? Meh. We’ve put a digital copy of the DVD on a tiny, custom-printed 16gb USB drive. Copy the file to your hard drive, watch the movie, and then use the nice little USB stick for all the things you normally use a USB stick.

Distribution and Other Disasters

No one is certain how documentaries will be distributed in the future, or how documentarians will pay the rent. We seem to be in a period of competing possibilities. Obviously, I'm watching this very closely. It's like a science fair experiment.

You can get the International Documentary Challenge DVD on Netflix, and it includes our short documentary Bend & Bow -- as well as sixteen other great documentary shorts.

You can buy that DVD on Amazon as well:

Or you can watch our short Blind Faith: A Film About Seeing on SnagFilms.

I don't know where any of it leads, or how much it adds up to. It's interesting to see it develop, though.

Notebook on Santas and Elves

Did I mention Notebook on Santas and Elves screens Saturday night in the Storms Expected program at Rooftop Films?

Saturday Night: Go See "Notebook" at Rooftop

I remember that when I was editing "Notebook on Santas and Elves" it occurred to me how good a match it could be for Rooftop Films. This Saturday night it will in fact screen there, as the closing film in the program Storms Expected.

Despite the program title, the weather will be just fine. There will be live music and seven films under the stars on a Lower East Side rooftop. There's also an open bar after.

Saturday, September 5
STORMS EXPECTED (short films)
Venue: On the Open Road Rooftop above New Design High School
Address: 350 Grand St. @ Essex (Lower East Side, Manhattan)
Directions: F/J/M/Z to Essex/Delancey
Rain: In the event of rain the show will be held indoors at the same location
8:00PM: Doors open
8:30PM: Live music presented by Sound Fix Records
9:00PM: Films
11:30PM-1:00AM: After-party: Open Bar at Fontana’s (105 Eldridge St. @ Grand) Courtesy of Radeberger Pilsner
Tickets: $9 at the door or online at www.rooftopfilms.com

Blind Faith: A Film About Seeing

Now on Snagfilms.

Access + Bad Times = Theatrical Doc

A while back I mentioned Guest of Cindy Sherman.

In the midst of some recent computer issues -- and then the attempt to catch up on all my work -- I've neglected to report: I've seen it, and liked it a lot.

It does open a great documentary question, though: if you tell a story from your own life, what do you do for a followup?

Okay, now back to work....

Counterpoint

I watched and enjoyed Capturing Reality: The Art of Documentary last night. The documentarians interviewed formed a serious A-list, and the material covered was just great.

You know, of course, I do have a few contrarian gripes.

1. There's a huge mismatch between the title and the content. Why use the word "Reality" in a doc about docs, in which much of the first section of the film is centered on filmmakers who use re-creations? Why use a word that's slid in meaning into "Reality TV"? Why confuse us that we're "capturing reality" when so many thoughtful books on documentary theory start with the assertion that it's a silly notion and that documentary practice is more complex than that?

2. Stop saying "It's good for you." I think the documentary field will be mature when it escapes the "boring-but-good-for-you" model of production. For one, while there are plenty of specific examples of docs "doing good" I personally would not stand by the field's record of "saving the world." (I'd choose the invention of birth control pills over documentaries on women's rights for example -- since one has had real effect and the other still can't get equal-pay-for-equal-work legislation passed.)

I think Dave Hickey's take on the art world -- that it needs to portray itself as like rock and roll or cocaine, rather than castor oil or wheat germ -- applies doubly to the doc world. So why, when interviewing so many documentarians -- with a wide range of work -- use mainly questions that emphasize the effect of serious social issue docs?

The director's statement: "I think of documentary as a highly undervalued tool at humanity's disposal — by shining light on a subject that isn’t well understood, by addressing an injustice, or by simply revealing the better part of who we are or who we can be." If we apply that thinking to painting and we imagine someone telling artists "paint! it's a tool to benefit humanity" we can imagine most artists quickly walking out of the room. Whether or not humanity can use what's produced, great artists always always always work for themselves. Don't believe any press release that says otherwise -- it's just impossible to obsess for someone else. Research Picasso's "Guernica" and you'll find it makes sense once you get past the gloss that's been put on top -- that it's "a tool to benefit humanity" -- as fueled by Picasso's usual energies, desire to prove himself a genius, obsessions, depth of visual understanding and above all else ego. The result may be universal, but the path to the production of the work is exactly the opposite.

Personally, I like works of art that complicate a subject that is well understood, or that reveal the worst part of who we can be as well. So leave off the sugar water, and let the docs be art rather than social programs.

3. Hooray, production methods? I found myself confused in the last third of the doc when the emphasis shifted to the technical production of films. I'm a perfect audience for great documentarians talking about editing, working with sound, and cinematography. But I wasn't sure how this followed from the first part of the film, or how it moved us to the ending.

As the film was wrapping up, I wondered: what if you had a set of interviews about gathering visuals, gathering sounds, and editing it all together and from that there emerged a discussion on what it means to "capture reality"? In other words, you could invert the structure of this film and make something that really would be an investigation into the subject, rather than imposing a conclusion from the beginning....

In any case, go and see the film if you are at all interested in documentary production. It's a fast and informative 90-plus minutes.

Remember, though, that in music the idea of musique concrete -- that somehow real recorded sounds were a different category than just "sounds" -- became problematic when technology brought sampling to anyone with a computer. In the age of computers and inexpensive camcorders, do we really think the essence of doc production is that we "capture reality"?