I Am Not Your Negro

I AM NOT YOUR NEGRO (Raoul Peck, 2016)

Using the words of the writer James Baldwin, Raoul Peck’s Oscar-nominated documentary I AM NOT YOUR NEGRO looks back on race relations before and during the civil rights era in the United States and draws connections to the way things are today. The film is structured around Baldwin’s abandoned book about the lives and deaths of Medgar Evers, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King, Jr., all of whom the author knew.

Baldwin’s eloquent and pointed commentary comes directly from him via archival footage of talk shows and speeches. Baldwin was a teenage preacher, and his performative talents are evident as his presence leaps off the screen when sharing his considered opinions. Here is someone who had been living abroad for a number of years but chose to return and become engaged with the struggle back home. There’s a snap to his point of view because of the passion and intelligence supporting what he has to say.

Baldwin’s words are also delivered through Samuel L. Jackson’s weary voiceover, a stark counterpoint to the “on” personality that comes across in Baldwin’s public appearances. That vocal quality suggests what Baldwin, who died in 1987, might sound like all of these years later when many of the fights he waged are still ongoing, even if the shape of the conflicts have changed. Fifty or sixty years have passed since these divisive issues came to a boil in American civilization. Old images of the outright hostility can be shocking for those of us who have only ever encountered it as history. While progress has been made, Peck’s film underlines the fact that the dream of the 1960s continues to remain elusive in some ways. Jackson’s narration conveys the aggravation and tiredness of the long wait for societal ills to be cured.

I AM NOT YOUR NEGRO is not a film that seeks to reassure, nor should it be. It’s a challenge to those in the majority who consider themselves to be good people yet whose actions, whether actively or passively, don’t back up such a self-conception. The defiance in the title slaps back at the nation’s original sin. It’s up to the recipient to determine if that smack should be taken as an affront or a wake-up call.

Grade: B

Sunshine Superman

SUNSHINE SUPERMAN (Marah Strauch, 2014)

What compels someone to try to find an alternative to skydiving because it starts feeling ordinary? The documentary SUNSHINE SUPERMAN explores the answer in telling the story of Carl Boenish, who is known as the founder of BASE jumping. Boenish worked for an aviation company but was nudged toward his calling when asked to shoot skydiving scenes for the Hollywood film THE GYPSY MOTHS. He decided to focus his work on becoming a cinematographer who documented the aerial pursuit. When skydiving was no longer scratching his itch for excitement in the late 1970s, he and some friends turned to the next challenge: jumping off a cliff in Yosemite National Park.

The Yosemite jumps and the debate about the legality of them led Boenish and company, including his wife Jean, to find other high perches from which they could leap. TV antennas bridges, and high-rise buildings, especially those under construction, became other sites from which they could jump to get their adrenaline rushes. Boenish insisted that they film their jumps so that others could share in the experiences that were so important to them, and doing so meant jumping in daylight and thus heightening the possibility of being arrested. Jumping from high places may or may not have been legal, but trespassing certainly wasn’t.

SUNSHINE SUPERMAN features plenty of archival footage from helmet-mounted cameras and those on the ground. For those of us who would prefer to remain more earthbound than risk death, the film provides an exhilarating perspective of what it is like to freefall from thousands of feet up and then float to safety with the aid of a parachute. Boenish says that he doesn’t intend to inspire others to make these jumps but hopes his actions will give those who see them the courage to do whatever they desire. Boenish’s childlike enthusiasm and seemingly limitless ability to push himself testify to the wonders one can achieve when brave enough to chase a dream that others may think impossible or foolish. In this and its tale of adventure to get up in the air, SUNSHINE SUPERMAN bears a passing resemblance to MAN ON WIRE, the documentary of the high-wire walker who performed between the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers.

The message of believing in oneself is all well and good, but SUNSHINE SUPERMAN introduces an ominous tone to Boenish’s story at the outset. The promise of potentially bad things to come fades as the rise of BASE jumping is traced through Boenish’s footage, reenactments, and interviews. The fateful sense returns in the film’s second half as Boenish and his wife prepare for a world record-setting televised jump in Norway. Director Marah Strauch presents an admiring view of her subject but isn’t so blinkered to ignore that what made Boenish who he was also cost him his life. As someone less impulsive, it’s hard to understand the fearlessness to take such risks and how his wife responds in the aftermath of Boenish’s last jump. Chalking it up to different viewpoints may not be a satisfactory answer, but it seems like a fair way of assessing Jean’s reaction.

Boenish’s own words are peppered throughout SUNSHINE SUPERMAN. It’s apparent what he gets out of jumping from high places but less clear why he does it. The film suggests that a childhood brush with polio may have driven him to appreciate what his body could do when healthy. His technical interests reveal a drive for understanding how things work and may have steered him to reach for the human mind and body’s limits. One anecdote raises the possibility of how his religious beliefs may have guided him, and another calls into question how they played into his final jump. For whatever reason Strauch includes Boenish’s beliefs as a Christian Scientist briefly, yet that would seem to be a key piece of comprehending him.

SUNSHINE SUPERMAN concludes with a spectacular jump that, in a way, fulfills Boenish’s last. Some of us, myself included, don’t have the courage to do what Boenish and other BASE jumpers do, but we can thrill at their remarkable feats.

Grade: B-

Ebertfest 2014: Opening Night

Tonight marked the start of the 16th annual Roger Ebert’s Film Festival. I’ve attended the previous thirteen years, so there really wasn’t any question I’d be here in Champaign, Illinois to make it fourteen in a row. Put it on the calendar. Make the necessary arrangements. Still, part of me wished I were back home in Columbus at Game 4 of the Stanley Cup Playoffs conference quarterfinal series between the Blue Jackets and Pittsburgh Penguins. Perhaps if the opening night film were something I’d already seen, I would have skipped my first Ebertfest film and come a day later. I did have a ticket for the hockey game. With the Ebert documentary LIFE ITSELF opening the festival, there was no other decision to make but to be at the movie. There will be more games, but seeing this particular film in these particular conditions won’t happen again.

LIFE ITSELF’s notices coming out of Sundance were positive, but I confess to being a bit skeptical of the gushing tweet reviews. If ever there were a sure thing, a film about a critic that many writers had a direct, personal connection with and many others felt a kinship with is as close as you’ll get to one. I didn’t doubt director Steve James’ talents, and I’m not accusing anyone of reviewing in bad faith. I just wondered if this film might hit so close to home that people wouldn’t be able to see it clearly.

How cavalier of me to think such things, especially as I’m sitting there in the Virginia Theatre at the festival Ebert founded ready to watch a film about him. I’ve come to Ebertfest since 2001 and have been inspired by his professional and personal examples. It’s not like I’m coming to the documentary without a vested interest.

I’m pleased to report that James’ film dodges the pitfall of being worshipful to fault and instead presents an admiring portrait of a man who loved movies and, well, that broader thing laid out in the title. It’s hard to imagine anyone just casually interested in film wanting to take a look at LIFE ITSELF, but if those folks are out there, they’ll see what it means to live with passion, self-knowledge, generosity, and a sense of humor. As the film based on his memoir demonstrates, Ebert lived a life that seemed like one colorful story after another. He certainly had many experiences that make for entertaining fodder for us as viewers, but isn’t the greater lesson that your life tales or mine can also seem grand with the proper telling? Yes, Ebert’s position afforded him opportunities to have adventures and encounters that most won’t be fortunate to receive, yet LIFE ITSELF leaves the impression that a rich time on earth isn’t concerned so much with what it brings us but how we choose to perceive it.

To me the film and the man can be summarized in a small moment. It’s late in 2012, and Ebert is in the hospital. He’s getting out, at least for a bit, to see a film. He gives a little clap at the news. Keep in mind that he’s seen and forgotten a staggering number of films, yet that palpable joy linked to the possibilities a new movie might deliver remains undiminished. Even if films don’t mean that much to you, approaching an interest and the world in general that way makes a lot of sense to me.

I’ve seen or heard Ebert say that no good movie is too long and no bad movie is short enough. It’s a credit to LIFE ITSELF that its two hours flew by. A film two or three times longer than this surely would have been just as entertaining and illuminating. (This version was the same as the one that premiered at Sundance, although a deleted scene about Ebertfest was played prior to the film.) And while it turns out that I missed an incredible hockey game that my preferred team improbably won, it was appropriate for me to be in Ebert’s hometown theater at his festival watching his film with friends and strangers connected in the enthusiasm he shared with us for flickering, projected images. We said goodbye to him at last year’s Ebertfest, but this film and this festival reinforce that, for those touched by his work in some way, he’s still here.

Twenty Feet from Stardom

TWENTY FEET FROM STARDOM (Morgan Neville, 2013)

No one dreams of growing up to be a backup singer, but for some skilled vocalists, standing behind or to the side of the star is as close as they come to the spotlight. While TWENTY FEET FROM STARDOM suggests that these supporting performers deserve greater solo success, it also contends that they should be proud of the careers they have made.  Those interviewed for the documentary have contributed to some of the biggest pop and rock hits of the last fifty-plus years and toured with many of the most popular entertainers.  Unlike many all-or-nothing showbiz stories, this one recognizes that it doesn’t take coming out on top to be valued in the industry and to find satisfaction in the work.

Director Morgan Neville talks to a lot of backup singers, many of them African-American women, in tracking the path of this particular kind of performer since the 1960s.  None of their stories are told in full, although four are granted a little more time to link their prospects through the decades.  Darlene Love, the best known of the bunch and one who eventually managed to cross over as a solo artist, speaks of her days in a session group that worked for producer Phil Spector on many of the time’s most memorable hits and the problems she encountered in trying to establish her name.  Merry Clayton tells of her time working with Ray Charles and how she came to provide backing vocals on rock classics such as “Sweet Home Alabama”.  Lisa Fischer released a Grammy-winning single in 1991 but has primarily worked as backup singer, most notably on tour with The Rolling Stones since 1989.  Judith Hill was preparing to tour with Michael Jackson when he died and aspires to solo career.

Neville incorporates a lot of great music and draws attention to the parts of the songs where his subjects made a difference.  Clayton’s isolated track from “Gimme Shelter” is still a stunner when separated from the rest of the recording.  Love’s stories about unwittingly ghosting hit songs and being limited by her contract reveal the injustices in a system where these performers lacked power.  These and other tales bring into greater focus the challenges of the job, but as TWENTY FEET FROM STARDOM floats among the backup singers without going deeper on anyone in particular, it feels like a hodgepodge of anecdotes.

Although TWENTY FEET FROM STARDOM doesn’t display a lot of range, Neville does well at pulling together the history and noting how the role of the backup singer has evolved.  The film makes a good point about how technological changes are having an adverse affect on these vocalists.  AutoTuning and home studio recording lead to less demand, even if such digital solutions make qualitative variations that some don’t feel improve the music.  While Neville doesn’t point out the increase of featured roles in songs, those parts seem like what would have been the domain of backups but now go to stars.

No one has a quick and easy answer as to why these women have trouble going from backup to lead.  It would’ve been interesting if TWENTY FEET FROM STARDOM explored that question more.  Nevertheless, it succeeds as a celebration of talents often unheralded by wider audiences.

Grade: B-

Head Games

HEAD GAMES (Steve James, 2012)

In the documentary HEAD GAMES sports journalist Bob Costas says, “In most other sports the chance of injury is incidental.  In football the chance of injury and long term serious effects is fundamental, and no honest person can watch this sport and not acknowledge that.”  If Costas is right, there are a lot of dishonest or, at best, willfully ignorant sports fans and commentators.  Spend enough time watching football games or listening to sports talk radio and inevitably complaints of protective rules making the game too soft will surface.  Go to a sports bar on any fall Saturday or Sunday and at some point you’ll likely hear patrons, if not the announcers, bellowing about how an unnecessary roughness penalty is uncalled for or how a dazed player isn’t tough enough.  

Violence, especially in the highlight reel hits, is a significant part of football’s appeal, but after seeing HEAD GAMES, one wonders if the long term viability of the sport is threatened as consequences of such brutal repetitive contact become better understood.  It doesn’t seem out of the realm of possibility that years down the line enough debilitated former players or their families sue the professional league into oblivion or the pipeline of participants dries up because concerned parents refuse to allow their children to play.   

Director Steve James draws from Chris Nowinski’s book HEAD GAMES: FOOTBALL’S CONCUSSION CRISIS and The New York Times reporter Alan Schwarz’s investigative writings to examine the effects of brain trauma experienced in the normal course of playing football, hockey, and soccer.  (Boxing is touched upon in one heart-rending section but is largely absent from the conversation, probably because public awareness of that sport’s dangers are widely acknowledged.)  Nowinski, an All-Ivy defensive tackle at Harvard and former WWE wrestler, was motivated to learn more about concussions after an injury forced him to retire.  He and others have found that concussions are much more commonplace, even among youth and college players, and that former National Football League players are at significantly higher risk for chronic traumatic encephalopathy, which can lead to premature dementia and Alzheimer’s Disease.

HEAD GAMES is an important film for those who play and watch sports.  It explains what the symptoms of a concussion are, what happens in the brain during the trauma, and how to proceed if receiving the injury.  Education of players, coaches, and trainers won’t eliminate concussions, but it can help them to identify when someone should be pulled from competition for personal safety.

Still, all the information in the world won’t matter if a culture change in sports doesn’t occur.  Whether it’s internal motivation or pressure from coaches and fans, athletes often feel obligated to play through injuries and will not report them, especially if it means losing a spot on the field or having one’s toughness questioned.  

Although HEAD GAMES is an advocacy documentary that criticizes the NFL in particular for being slow to accept scientific findings on concussions, James and his subjects aren’t crusading for the end of football or other games that present the risk of head trauma. The film struggles with the contradiction of knowing the serious risks while enjoying the games as participant and spectator.

Grade: B 

Under African Skies

UNDER AFRICAN SKIES (Joe Berlinger, 2012)

By most measures of success, Paul Simon’s 1986 album GRACELAND counts as a smash hit.  It has sold over 14 million copies and continues to enjoy a sterling critical reputation.  The album and title track won Grammys.  GRACELAND also was something of a career rebound after the disappointing commercial performance of his previous record, HEARTS AND BONES.

To others, hailing the album’s creative achievements in blending American pop and rock with South African musical styles was secondary to the political questions surrounding its creation.  Going against advice, Simon did not seek the approval of the African National Congress to collaborate with South African musicians and violated the cultural boycott the United Nations placed on the country during apartheid.  The documentary UNDER AFRICAN SKIES marks the 25th anniversary of GRACELAND’s release by revisiting the making of the album and the controversy associated with it.

Director Joe Berlinger organizes the film around Simon’s 2011 trip to Johannesburg to perform a concert celebrating the landmark album.  The singer-songwriter is reunited with those who played on the record and the tour and sits down to talk with Artists Against Apartheid co-founder Dali Tambo.  Although equal weight isn’t quite shared between Simon’s recollections and opinions and Tambo’s perspective, UNDER AFRICAN SKIES wrestles with the issues that differentiated these recording sessions from any other cross-cultural musical efforts.

Whether through naïveté or arrogance--or, more likely, some combination--Simon traveled to South Africa to work without accounting for the political consequences of his actions.  The points in contention are not minor.  Although he was not expressing support for racial segregation by going to South Africa, his critics suggest that ignoring the cultural boycott signified tacit approval of the National Party government.  Questions are also raised if he exploited South African musicians who made integral contributions to the songs.

UNDER AFRICAN SKIES is inclined to side with Simon’s view that as an artist he should not be required to submit to the disagreements and decisions between politicians and that he gave credit where it was due.  Short of parsing the liner notes, the archival footage of energetic recording sessions goes a long way in clarifying how important these hired musicians were in forming the songs’ foundations.  His justification for not following the cultural boycott is exceedingly idealistic, but it leaves open a topic that remains worthy of discussion.  South African music producer Koloi Lebona mentions that this album gave them a chance to make their music mainstream rather than keeping it confined to the Third World.  Does that make defying the boycott a nobler cause?  The lyrical contents of Simon’s songs were not at all political.  Should that matter?  

Berlinger tends to go over a lot of the same ground in UNDER AFRICAN SKIES in a bid to be thorough.  The repetition bolsters Simon’s defense while demonstrating that objections were also valid.  Even though, to some degree, the debates about Simon and South Africa are moot on this side of history, UNDER AFRICAN SKIES takes what could have been a puff piece glossing over the protestations related to GRACELAND and teaches the controversy.

Grade: B-

The Queen of Versailles

THE QUEEN OF VERSAILLES (Lauren Greenfield, 2012)

The numbers for the Orlando, Florida home of David and Jackie Siegel are astounding:  26,000 square feet, seventeen bathrooms, and a staff of nineteen employees, which includes more than one nanny.  More unbelievable is that the wealthy couple don’t think it is large enough.  The documentary THE QUEEN OF VERSAILLES begins as the Siegels are building what is reported to be the biggest home in America.

The gargantuan house is inspired by the royal Palace of Versailles during the Louis XIV period, albeit with many modern amenities.  The 90,000 square foot home will feature thirty bathrooms, ten kitchens, a bowling alley, health spa, two tennis courts, a full-size baseball field that can also be used as a parking lot, and an ice rink.  Versailles practically makes their current residence seem like a studio apartment.

Constructing a $100 million home just seems like the natural progression for the Siegels, for whom money is seemingly no concern.  74-year-old David is the founder, president, and CEO of Westgate Resorts, the largest privately owned timeshare company in the world.  43-year-old Jackie spends as if hundred dollar bills grow on trees and they own millions of acres of large denomination currency-yielding groves.

Then the September 2008 banking crisis hits.  As David explains, his business depends on easy access to cheap money.  The Siegels’ finances are intertwined with the company, so when the banks stop making loans, the impact on Westgate Resorts and the family’s fortune is severe.  The company lays off thousands.  The Siegels slash their house staff to four, move their eight kids from private to public schools, and look to sell $350 million in assets.  The unfinished Versailles, which they’ve already invested $50 million in, is placed on a market that essentially has no prospective buyers.

Considering the subjects and the wealth they flaunt, THE QUEEN OF VERSAILLES could have easily become SCHADENFREUDE: THE MOVIE. With their vulgar displays of moneyed privilege, the Siegels aren’t exactly going to win sympathy points from viewers who may earn less in a month than a financially pinched Jackie spends on a caviar treat for herself.  A former model and Mrs. Florida 1995, Jackie looks and plays the part of a trophy wife, an observation even one of her children makes.  David comes off as a loathsome person whose purpose in life is to accumulate as much cash as he can.  To top it off, the timeshare industry in which he made his riches seems particularly scummy.  Who wouldn’t take pleasure in seeing these people taken down a peg or ten?

Complicating the desire for the well-off to get their comeuppance is Jackie.  The initial impression is that she could be the template for any number of the horrid socialites and fame seekers with reality television shows.  Still, having once been a computer engineer, she’s likely smarter than her aging beauty queen appearance lets on.  While she comes from humble roots, she’s lost touch, as is in evidence when she goes to rent a car and asks the stupefied sales clerk who her driver will be.  Despite her witnessed shortcomings, Jackie cannot be effortlessly dismissed, especially when her generosity seems to come from a genuine place.  Jackie isn’t a blameless victim of circumstance.  She’s just been susceptible to the funhouse mirrors of extreme wealth around her.

Although director Lauren Greenfield documents several instances in which it’s apparent that the Siegels’ lifestyle is so alien from the vast majority that they might as well call Mars home, she hasn’t set out to eat the rich.  Like it or not, the Siegels are symptomatic of a culture at large that defines worth and happiness through consumption.  The difference between them and the rest of western society is a matter of proportion.  It’s easier to spot the motes in the Siegels’ eyes, but they are certainly not the only ones afflicted with chasing the idea that too much is not enough.  In the end, being forced to live paycheck to paycheck may provide more trappings of comfort in their surroundings, but the mental toll of financial distress is just as costly.

Grade: B+

Undefeated

UNDEFEATED (Daniel Lindsay and T.J. Martin, 2011)

With many school districts struggling financially, the money funneled to athletics programs deserves scrutiny.  What is the value in having extracurricular sports when lack of funding may also require reducing academic offerings?  Are the education system’s priorities misplaced when a student with marginal scholastic achievements but superior and in-demand physical skills has a better chance of attending college than a classmate with a high grade point average?  What should be made of poor schools that, in order to have enough money to sustain their programs, travel significant distances to face wealthy schools that are paying them to play the games?  While the documentary UNDEFEATED concerns itself with seeking an answer to just the first of those questions, directors Daniel Lindsay and T.J. Martin don’t ignore the realities surrounding this inspirational tale of mentorship through high school football.

At the center of the film and the players’ attention is Manassas High School head coach Bill Courtney.  He’s in his sixth year volunteering to lead the North Memphis, Tennessee team as they begin the 2009 season.  From the first scene it is clear that Courtney isn’t giving his time and energy for the power or glory associated with the position in some communities.  In a couple weeks he must deal with more incidents of players getting shot and embroiled in legal trouble than many coaches will experience in a career.  The team has a losing history and a reputation for being undisciplined.  For toppers, Manassas has not won a playoff game in its 110-year existence.  Hopes are higher than usual for the upcoming season, but at Manassas nothing is guaranteed.

Three player stories come to the forefront in UNDEFEATED.  Senior offensive lineman O.C. Brown is unusually fast for his enormous size and thus attracts college recruiters.  The big question is if he can keep up his grades and score high enough on a standardized test to be eligible at the next level.  Senior Montrail “Money” Brown’s mental toughness and desire compensate for whatever physical shortcomings he may have versus competitors.  He wants to further his education and has the GPA to do so, but he’ll have to find a way to get there other than an athletic scholarship.  Junior Chavis Daniels returns to the team after more than a year in a youth penitentiary.  His anger issues threaten to be a problem for himself, his teammates, and the coaches.

UNDEFEATED follows the Tigers week by week as they make a push for the postseason, but the title does not refer to a lossless record--Manassas loses its first game--but a resilient squad.  In a refreshing break from the norm, the last game--the stereotypical big game--unfolds with the audience having a vested interest in the outcome yet with it ultimately being secondary to the relationships formed and life lessons learned.  The players and the coaches emerge from these months unbeaten by the setbacks and hardships they are dealt.  It’s about becoming a better person, not x’s and o’s or W’s and L’s.  

UNDEFEATED isn’t explicitly arguing for the necessity of competitive athletics at schools, even those with shrinking budgets, but it makes an effective case for how the character building that can come from playing sports is as valuable as anything in the curriculum.  Could a classroom teacher also occupy the crucial role that Courtney and his assistants fill in their players’ lives?  Certainly, although there’s a sense in the interactions here that sports and coaches have a way of getting through to them where regular instructors and courses cannot.  The reasons why aren’t fully articulated--Lindsay and Martin could stand to dig deeper with the players--but the results as presented are hard to deny.     

With a story that proves to be heartwarming and predictable, UNDEFEATED mostly plays according to the script familiar in its fiction and nonfiction counterparts. It does have the wisdom to dodge at least one problem inherent in the scenario, though. Typically a coach like Courtney would be viewed unquestioningly as a selfless man making a great sacrifice.  I’m not asserting otherwise or casting doubt on his intentions or achievements but pointing out that the person in this role is often held up as a saint. To his credit Courtney displays self-awareness of how his devotion to the football team means neglecting spending time with his wife and kids.  Like many of the details in UNDEFEATED, more examination would be welcome, but I appreciate that the sentiment is mentioned at all.

Race and class would seem to factor into much of what transpires, yet at best it is approached at arm’s length.  The potentially stickiest situation avoids the trap of hailing the white outsider showing the light to the black students.  Courtney is white and, by all appearances, economically comfortable while the inner city team looks to be entirely African-American and presumably disadvantaged.  The instance in which motives could be questioned--call it THE BLIND SIDE exception--doesn’t trigger any alarms.  

UNDEFEATED can be neat and tidy to a fault, but such quibbles seem minor when witnessing the positive example Courtney sets for his players and the affection they express for him.

Grade: B-

Marwencol

MARWENCOL (Jeff Malmberg, 2010)

The documentary MARWENCOL reveals the imaginative creations that bloomed out of tragedy and need for one man. On April 8, 2000 five men assaulted Mark Hogancamp outside a bar in Kingston, New York. He suffered brain damage, needed to have his face rebuilt, and was in a coma for nine days. Hogancamp also lost his memory of life before the incident.

Unable to afford therapy, he developed a unique way of rediscovering his identity and trying to recover. In his yard Hogancamp builds a World War II-era Belgian town he dubs Marwencol and fills its with dolls that function as the the alter egos of himself and those important to him. Hogancamp invests these dolls with his fantasies and photographs the scenes.

MARWENCOL provides a deeply empathetic view of loneliness and powerful evidence of art as an outlet. Director Jeff Malmberg exercises restraint and displays respect for Hogancamp as he freely and frequently talks about the pain of being alone. This artist born out of necessity discusses his alter ego and imaginary world with a depth of feeling that most would reserve for real acquaintances. Of course, the people in his one-sixth scale artistic fantasies do exist, but like his past, they cannot be accessed in the ways that he often desires.

Perhaps in a different vein Hogancamp’s channeled energies might come off as bordering on creepy, but within the context of self-therapy it seems like a healthy way to work out his demons. Some of the documentary’s most touching portions provide insight into the expressive and healing properties of the art on the creator. One storyline in his miniature world mirrors his attack. While it’s clear that the assault still haunts him, the Marwencol plot lets him manage his anger in a constructive way. The same applies to a secret revealed later on--and also echoed with his alter ego--that allows Hogancamp to feel more at ease about what makes him him.

A viewer of Hogancamp’s art remarks that the work distinguishes itself with its lack of irony. Malmberg’s documentary takes a great deal of care to duplicate that perspective on its subject. Hogancamp is not presented as a whimsical outsider with a monopoly on the answers to life’s problems or as an eccentric tortured genius. He’s simply a traumatized individual trying to do the best he can to pick up the pieces in a way that works for him and also happens to speak to others.

Grade: A

Strongman

STRONGMAN (Zachary Levy, 2009)

The documentary STRONGMAN follows New Jersey's Stanley Pleskun, who performs under the name of Stanless Steel. This scrap metal salvager bills himself as one of the world's strongest men when it comes to bending steel. Stanless is reportedly the only person who can bend a penny with his bare hands. While he has the ability to change the shape of metal, it seems that he lacks the power to alter his life into what he wishes it would be.

Although the rigorous cinema verité style may agitate viewers accustomed to slick documentaries, STRONGMAN'S unvarnished approach complements its salt of the earth subject. The narrative repetition reinforces his constant struggle to achieve greater success. What can be more frustrating than to believe you have a special skill yet don't receive the equivalent acknowledgment for it, whether in the form of accolades or monetary compensation? Stanless doesn't make a living solely as a strongman, but clearly he desires for his uncommon abilities to propel him above his current living conditions.

To call STRONGMAN a real life version of THE WRESTLER is an easy comparison but one with merit. Just as Mickey Rourke's washed up pro wrestler could have been a laughable caricature, the person that Stanless shows himself to be and that director Zachary Levy presents is a flawed but basically decent guy who aches deep down because he can't make his dream come true. Leg lifting a truck in a parking lot or bending a horseshoe at a kid's birthday party isn't where Stanless thinks he should be, yet he pushes forward to to get every scrap he can.

Levy could have played such moments for cheap laughs at the strongman's expense, but the director displays a great deal of empathy for his subject. At the same time, Levy shows that Stanless' pride and stubbornness can hold him back too. He insists on the purity of his stunts, but from a practical standpoint, much of what he does simply won't translate from a stage to the rear of the auditorium or even on television. In that sense he's like an artist who won't budge at all on any creative decisions lest it compromise the integrity of the work.

STRONGMAN provides an intimate perspective of coming up short in pursuit of a goal but plowing ahead anyway in the hope that one day the destination. Whether it's a Sisyphean task depends on if you're the one pushing the stone or watching someone do it.

Grade: B-

(STRONGMAN is playing at the Arena Grand from March 5th through the 7th during the Arnold Sports Festival.)

Bigger Stronger Faster*

BIGGER STRONGER FASTER* (Chris Bell, 2008)

Are athletes who use anabolic steroids cheating? Are the drugs detrimental to one's health? The documentary BIGGER STRONGER FASTER*: THE SIDE EFFECTS OF BEING AMERICAN doesn't always provide the expected answers to these questions.

Director and narrator Chris Bell is a weightlifter struggling with the ethics of steroid use. His two weightlifting brothers take them. He's tried steroids but feels there's something wrong about using such performance enhancements. With BIGGER STRONGER FASTER Bell looks for answers regarding the effects of steroids and the culture's obsession with perfection.

The micro purpose of BIGGER STRONGER FASTER is to explore whether anabolic steroid use is as dangerous as it is claimed to be. Bell speaks to those in the bodybuilding community who don't buy into what they consider unsupported statements of steroid use's irreversible consequences.

Presenting his information as a less strident and glib Michael Moore, Bell makes an apologist's case that is neutral toward steroids, if not an implicit endorsement of them. Considering that he expeditiously discredits the only anti-steroids doctor and layman interviewed in the film, some doubt is cast over the strength and evenhandedness of his arguments. Nevertheless, Bell succeeds at muddying the waters when it comes to what we know versus what we're told in the film about the drugs.

BIGGER STRONGER FASTER'S macro purposes are to determine where the line is between cheating and fairness and to examine what Bell believes to be a uniquely American mindset to be the best no matter the cost.

Why are using steroids to build muscle and quicken recovery times deemed unacceptable while Lasik eye surgery to improve vision is permissible? After all, both give competitive advantages. The naysayers would quickly point out that individuals aren't risking deleterious long-term effects on their well-being (or death) with vision correction. Thus, pro sports administrators don't need to legislate against it, but keep in mind the film proposes that the use of steroids is not as damaging as popularly portrayed. The documentary doesn't, nor should it be expected to, resolve the matter, but it raises big, intriguing questions that rarely, if ever, come up in the hubbub about steroid use in professional athletics, particularly Major League Baseball.

Bell is on shakier ground when he theorizes that performance enhancement is an indelibly American obsession. He is correct that our national striving for greatness emphasizes a winner above all else mentality, but Bell overreaches in applying this exclusively to Americans. After all, one of his inspirations, Arnold Schwarzenegger, was an Austrian citizen when he began winning bodybuilding titles, and blood doping isn't limited to American cyclists.

Bell wonders why many of the people in the film and the culture at large refuse to be satisfied with the natural limitations of their bodies. Why isn't fulfilling one's potential good enough? It's on this individual level, when it plays like a personal essay, that BIGGER STRONGER FASTER is most compelling.

The use of performance enhancing drugs in sports is a hot button issue that can't afford room for nuances lest some try to exploit loopholes for gain. Bell's uncertainty about the ethical dilemmas feels like a genuine and appropriate response. Agree or disagree with him, his documentary gives sports fans a lot to chew on.

Grade: B

(Photos courtesy of Magnolia Pictures)

Anvil! The Story of Anvil

ANVIL! THE STORY OF ANVIL (Sacha Gervasi, 2008)

Canadian heavy metal band Anvil has been hammering out albums for nearly thirty years. They were a key influence on Metallica and Anthrax, among others, yet the band never achieved the same levels of popularity or financial success.

In the documentary ANVIL! THE STORY OF ANVIL director and former Anvil roadie Sacha Gervasi follows the group as they take a break from their day jobs to embark on a European club tour and record their thirteenth album.

As childhood friends lead singer and guitarist Steve "Lips" Kudlow and drummer Robb Reiner formed Anvil in 1978. Despite years of professional disappointments and setbacks, they continue to hold onto the belief that their break may just be around the corner. While they look like (and are) middle-aged men, on the inside they're still teenagers in the garage creating rock masterpieces that the whole world will hear and love someday.

Such Pollyanna-ish confidence sets up the band for the contemptuous laughter of audiences, yet Gervasi's pure love of and respect for Anvil dampens the hoots. An affectionate portrait rather than a sad, derisive takedown, ANVIL! THE STORY OF ANVIL finds inspiration in the passion and tenacity these aging metalheads display.

Regardless of what one thinks about Anvil's brand of rock, Kudlow and Reiner are to be admired for remaining hopeful after banging their heads against the industry's walls for so long. They understand that a breakthrough may never happen, but setbacks and failures can't keep them from doing what they love.

This pie in the sky optimism gives the film a heartwarming side, but it also is employed for comedic effect, naturally. Gervasi models his rockumentary on the mockumentary THIS IS SPINAL TAP and emphasizes Anvil's similarities to their fictional counterparts.

Anvil plays songs with ridiculous sexual lyrics, gets lost on the way to a club in the Czech Republic, and has an amplifier with a setting that goes to eleven. They even visit Stonehenge. Short of opening for a puppet show, Anvil's experiences couldn't overlap more with those of David St. Hubbins and Nigel Tufnel.

Yet one reason why SPINAL TAP remains extraordinarily popular among musicians is that they can relate to the misadventures. Drawing comparisons between Anvil and their unlucky fictional counterpart isn't a slap in the face but an acknowledgement of how dead on SPINAL TAP is regarding the rock and roll lifestyle.

In a good-humored way ANVIL! THE STORY OF ANVIL laughs at the indignities the band is dealt while pounding a path they hope leads to career validation but more often than not guides them into more dead ends. The funny thing is that the documentary proves that their efforts have been worthwhile even if Anvil's rewards haven't been manifested in riches and fame.

Grade: B

Ebertfest 2009: Day 2

(Morning panel discussion at the Illini Union Pine Lounge)

While nearly all of the 1600 seats in the Virginia Theatre are usually filled for each screening, a smaller group turns out for the morning panel discussions held on campus at the University of Illinois. Most of the seats are taken, but the numbers simply don't compare.

The lone Thursday panel was titled Movie Making & Distribution in Times of Turmoil. The panelists, pictured above, were Warner Home Video vice-president Ronnee Sass, Woodstock director Michael Wadleigh, Begging Naked director Karen Gehres, Trouble the Water co-directors Tia Lessin and Carl Deal, Sita Sings the Blues director Nina Paley, My Winnipeg director Guy Maddin, and moderator and festival director Nate Kohn. The discussion produced interesting comments from time to time, but since most of the panelists were either first-time feature directors or, in Wadleigh's case, no longer working in the system, perspective on the topic seemed fairly limited.

Having a distributor certainly helps in getting a movie seen, but a better topic might have probed the problem of finding viewers even when a film has distribution. Arthouse theaters have fallen victim to the same kind of model that bigger films have where an opening weekend splash is essential. In the case of these smallers films it's even more important because those first couple days determine if they'll stick in the theaters for another week. With limited promotion, it's an uphill battle for these kinds of movies to stay long enough to reach moviegoers through word of mouth.

(Time Out Chicago film critic Hank Sartin, Guy Maddin, and Ramin Bahrani)

Over at the Virginia Theatre the day began with Maddin's My Winnipeg. I'd seen the film before, although I had found myself in a bit of a fog during that screening. Watching this remembrance of his Canadian hometown I again found myself being lulled into a dream-like state. Maybe there's something in the movie to inspire such haziness. The film itself plays out like an uninhibited lucid dream that gets stuck in loops like the Winnipeg trains that never allow escape from town, and the repetition of words in Maddin's narration seems like a willful attempt to hypnotize.

Maddin's surreal pastiche doesn't resemble what is conventionally thought of as a documentary, yet it would seem that My Winnipeg is factual in spirit and has more basis in truth than I expected. For instance, If Day, in which a fake Nazi invasion of Manitoba was staged to drum up support for the Allies and sell war bonds really happened and wasn't some comedic conceit Maddin dreamed up.

The thin line between documentary and fiction filmmaking continued with Ramin Bahrani's Chop Shop. The neorealist filmmaker--or neo-neorealist, as has been suggested since neorealism is most often associated with post-World War II Italian filmmaking--uses nonprofessional actors and captures something akin to documentary stories even though he's meticulous in crafting scripted narratives.

The story focuses on an orphaned brother and sister living at and working in and around a junkyard's auto body shop in Willet's Point, Queens. Particularly in Chop Shop and Man Push Cart, Bahrani demonstrates his strength for dropping the audience into locations both real and foreign, even if in both instances he's exploring worlds that exist in the United States.

The great economic disparity that exists in the country underlies much of the film, and the looming presence of Shea Stadium visible from the garage provides quiet reminders of the multi-millionaire's playground nearby where kids scrape to survive a daily existence. To say that the kids in the film have been discarded like the piles of parts around them is an obvious metaphor, although it's not presented as blatantly or heavyhandedly in the film.

While I may be making Chop Shop sound like run-of-the-mill independent film miserabilism, Bahrani doesn't dwell on the tough conditions or strive to inspire liberal guilt in viewers. He's interested in seeing what these characters' lives are like and uncovering how they may through day after day. In the end the film's siblings have no choice but to pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and do what's necessary. In it's own way, that's a kind of hope amid the rust and filth.

(Scott Roberts, Kimberly Rivers Roberts with her daughter, Richard Roeper, Tia Lessin, and Carl Deal)

While the day's two previous films dabble in documentary truth and realism, it was fitting for the day to conclude with traditional doc Trouble the Water. Kimberly Rivers Roberts and her family were stuck in their home when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. She used a Hi-8 camera to document the storm and flooding after the levees broke. Directors Tia Lessin and Carl Deal incorporate this frequently stunning footage into a story about the Roberts and their struggle to recover from the hurricane's devastation. It's the toll of Hurricane Katrina and the government's response (or lack of one) in miniature.

I'd seen Trouble the Water before the festival and mistakenly believed that I had rated it "mixed"/C+. (I actually was lowercase pro/B-.) Maybe it looks a little better to me after seeing a lot of mediocre documentaries in the last month, but Trouble the Water isn't happy to settle for having landed incredible video and spinning into righteous outrage. It tells the story of these people with care and concern. I appreciate the lack of cheap shots that the film takes and the aspirational and inspirational tack the directors find. For as massively frustrating and frightening as the experience must have been, the Roberts and others depicted in the film don't come off as angry people, which they have every right to be.

Ebertfest possesses the feel of a family reunion, and with Trouble the Water the festival was able to welcome co-director Deal, a hometown boy, back to the area. The fest has also featured its share of post-film musical performances over the years, and this film provided the opportunity for another. Kimberly Rivers Roberts is pursuing a career as a hip hop artist. She capped the evening with a two-song performance that had a predominantly gray-haired audience bouncing along. It was kind of a strange scene, but it was a nice, upbeat note on which to wrap the festival's second day.

(Grades: My Winnipeg and Chop Shop: B; Trouble the Water: B-)

Ebertfest 2009: Opening Night

(Festival Director Nate Kohn, Chaz Ebert, and Roger Ebert/April 22, 2009)

The 11th annual Roger Ebert's Film Festival welcomed back the man in the event's name. A program on an Apple computer allowed him to deliver some introductory comments. The Urbana, Illinois native's new electronic voice has given him a British accent. Maybe Ebert's just following Madonna's lead. Anyway, it was nice to see him back where he belongs, and the crowd gave him appreciative applause when he appeared on the Virginia Theatre's stage.

The festival kicked off with a screening appropriate for Earth Day: Woodstock, 3 Days of Peace & Music. Honestly, when I saw this title on the list, I wasn't thrilled even though I'd never seen the film before tonight. I like plenty of 1960s music well enough, but my fear was that the movie would be one big self-congratulatory love-in to the flower child generation. Tonight I was further dismayed to discover that we would not be seeing the 184-minute original cut but the longer director's cut. (The festival program lists the running time at 225 minutes. I assume this is the same as the 228-minute director's cut listed on the Internet Movie Database.) Slightly over three hours sounded long enough; verging on four seemed like too much.

Still, I approached Woodstock with an open mind and found it to be a fairly compelling mix of concert film and event documentary. Woodstock is a refreshing change from contemporary music videos and concert films whose directors and editors try to show off their skills to the detriment of watching the performances. Here, whether it's a single camera's intimate, unbroken take of Canned Heat or the three superimposed screens of Ten Years After, seeing the musicians in action is primary. It's a lot easier to get lost in the performance when the visuals are in service to the content rather than the other way around.

That's not to say the film is stylistically austere. The use of split screen was innovative at the time. The mix of music and spot news storytelling--interviewees include affected locals, concert attendees, and the man cleaning the chemical toilets--give an expansive view of the scope and impact of the concert beyond the typical rock and roll movie. The photography in the film is phenomenal and looked fantastic in the pristine high definition source that was screened. (Of course the sound was fabulous too.)

As with any movie in which music is front and center, how much one enjoys it will color the overall experience. There's a lot of good to great stuff. Jimi Hendrix's concluding set proves every single bit why it and he are legendary. The photography, much of it from a low angle that emphasizes his guitar god status, shows how hard he works on his instrument yet how effortless it seems. The close-up of the frets while he interprets "The Star Spangled Banner" does the heavy lifting of music criticism to understand how the sounds the guitar makes ties in with the unsung lyrics. Santana blazes through its one song. The Who tear through three classics. I know it's sacrilege, but I could have done without the folkies, John Sebastian in particular, and Country Joe and the Fish.

(As an aside, is it me or is Sha Na Na a send-up of 1950s youth culture and older America, or is it supposed to be a loving recreation? The performance in the film makes it look like the former.)

As someone who wasn't born when the summer of love took place, I've sort of had enough of hearing how committed and important the Woodstock generation was/is and blah blah blah blah blah. While the film doesn't lack for idealism or sweeping statements about what this concert meant, I was pleasantly surprised to see that these sentiments are mostly kept in check. It was interesting that the festival audience's only applause for a non-performer came when the Port-o-san cleaner was proud to mention he had a son attending the concert and one serving in Vietnam.

The post-film discussion with director Michael Wadleigh, associate producer Dale Bell, and a member of Sha Na Na ventured more into the territory that I was dreading, but fortunately the film speaks well enough for itself. The most interesting thing to come from the talk was the idea that the film's structure roughly takes the shape of The Canterbury Tales in how it weaves together the different stories and perspectives.

(Grade: Woodstock: Director's Cut: B)

Must Read After My Death

MUST READ AFTER MY DEATH (Morgan Dews, 2007)

Conservative politicians and social commentators love to hold up the good old days of post-World War II America as the golden age of family values that contemporary society has abandoned. Men were the hard-working breadwinners, and women cheerfully attended to domestic duties, be it watching over the couple's precious little angels or serving as the perfect homemaker and hostess. The film adaptation of REVOLUTIONARY ROAD and the television series MAD MEN are recent examples of the many challenges to the LEAVE IT TO BEAVER myth of family life. Now comes the documentary MUST READ AFTER MY DEATH, which exposes the howling inner voices in a frayed marriage.

Filmmaker Morgan Dews' maternal grandmother left an archive of Dictaphone and tape recordings, silent 8mm home movies, photographs, and journals from the 1960s with the stipulation "must read after my death". Contrary to the smiling faces in the pictures and films, these source materials reveal a deeply unhappy home life completely unknown to Dews.

From outward appearances Charley and Allis were a typical couple. He slaved at a job that sometimes took him out of the country for four months a year. She stayed home in Hartford, Connecticut with their four children, three boys and a girl. The Dictaphone letters provided a way of communicating privately and were thought to be something the kids might cherish later, especially when Charley and Allis passed on.

While these recordings might sound like romantic correspondence, audio love letters from afar, they are anything but. Their words seep with anger and disappointment. The recordings may have permitted Charley to assert long distance control--he repeatedly stresses the importance of good housekeeping--while also revealing that he and Allis had an open marriage. Charley freely speaks of his dalliances in Australia, going so far as to have one woman sit in and appear on a recording, while Allis is more careful in describing the release she gets from being with another man.

The Dictaphone gives way to a reel-to-reel tape recorder that Allis uses to document her innermost thoughts, some of which were for the purpose of sharing with her psychiatrist. In naked detail she spells out family problems and frustrations with her own failings as a mother and a woman. The story she tells is a familiar one. Charley hates work, drinks too much, and accuses her of raising the children poorly. Allis feels trapped in having to conform to society's expectations and wishes she could run away. From what she says, her psychiatrist cautions against bucking the system but rather finding a way to meet what the culture demands from her as a wife and parent.

Credited as producer, director, writer, and editor, Dews builds MUST READ AFTER MY DEATH through the unhappy recorded voices atop counterpoint images more befitting of Norman Rockwell paintings. The obvious but effective tactic of contrasting words and visuals scrapes off the veneer of domestic bliss that people put on for the world and which gets pasted in scrapbooks and hung on walls. Dews wisely limits the narration to the Dictaphone letters and tapes to maintain the sense of being told secrets about lives of quiet desperation. Including other voices, even a neutral narrator, or perspectives with the benefit of intervening years, would break the confessional-like quality that makes the film so intimate.

MUST READ AFTER MY DEATH comes mostly from Allis' viewpoint, although Dews' editorial choices must be factored into the equation as well. Eventually one wonders how reliable her reporting is and what her purpose is in not only documenting her feelings but also in saving these recordings and desiring they be heard. It's fair to assume that she is speaking from the heart and considers these tapes to be a way for her to vent about the things that she cannot (or will not) say to her husband. Nevertheless, how calculated is it that the amassed materials provide the final word on Charley? This is her truth, but is it the truth or a full representation of it? Dews leaves these questions unanswered, which is all he can do as he tries to reconcile the grandmother he knew with the anguished woman uncovered to him.

This raises the question of what today's archived online lives consisting of blog posts, YouTube videos, and tweets will mean to future generations. For better or worse, interior lives have become more public. Will our self-penned MRS. DALLOWAY-like remembrances pull back the curtain on common human fears and desires through the ages and liberate us from social mythmaking, or is it all merely self-indulgent slop that sullies us in the memories of our descendants?

As a 1960s housewife's distressed expression of suburban ennui, MUST READ AFTER MY DEATH must be difficult for her family to hear and see, but her grandson has assembled these private thoughts into a compelling reminder that the challenges of marriage and parenting are the same now as they were in supposedly rosier times.

Grade: B

(On February 20 MUST READ AFTER MY DEATH is receiving a day-and-date opening in theaters and online from Gigantic Releasing. For those in markets where this independent film has not opened, a three-day, commercial-free, unlimited stream can be purchased at Gigantic Digital for $2.99.)

Google Me

GOOGLE ME (Jim Killeen, 2007)

Chances are everyone has done it at least once even if it isn't something likely to be admitted: the vanity Google search. Plug your name into the popular search engine and see what results it produces.

Filmmaker Jim Killeen was so curious about the people he found who shared his name that he decided to meet as many as he could and make a film about the experience. The documentary GOOGLE ME takes him around the world to meet six other Jim Killeens. His namesakes include an Irish priest, a former New York City cop, and a swinger.

With all of the horror stories reported about meetings arranged over the internet, it's nice to see a film that shows the positive nature of the web to connect strangers. Killeen's desire to get to know these men seems genuine and not just a good idea for a movie. The director recognizes that everyone has a story and makes a solid effort to tell them in ways befitting their subjects. These are ordinary people who aren't often depicted on screen, so it's enjoyable to get to know them.

Surprisingly, the Jim Killeen making this personality-driven documentary is the one we become acquainted with the least. GOOGLE ME starts to go off the rails when Killeen explores his background and family. Rather than focusing on himself, he devotes an inordinate amount of time training the camera on his mentally ill siblings and being critical of psychiatrists and the medications they prescribe. It's a weird interlude whose inclusion becomes clearer later on although it is still out of place in the film.

As a first-time director, Killeen is to be commended for choosing this interesting topic and making a small, independent documentary with good production values. He has a tendency, though, to get in the way of the primary story and become sidetracked. He cuts in reaction shots of himself too frequently during the interviews, which distract from the others' narratives, and shows an abundance of footage of him and the Jims goofing around. Some late potshots taken at the Bush administration and the war in Iraq may have felt good to express, but the sentiments don't really have any bearing on anything else in GOOGLE ME.

Killeen also spends far too many minutes detailing the production process, the project's financial crises, rejected interview requests, and legal issues regarding the Google seal of approval for the film. The making of the movie is not nearly as compelling as the central purpose of it.

GOOGLE ME clicks when director Jim Killeen allows others with the same name to reveal themselves and what they have in common, but too much of the film is filled with material better served for the behind-the-scenes section on the electronic press kit.

Grade: C+

(In keeping with its web roots, GOOGLE ME can currently be viewed online.)

Shine a Light

SHINE A LIGHT (Martin Scorsese, 2008)

Martin Scorsese, one of the most important directors of his generation, and The Rolling Stones, one of its defining bands, combine talents for SHINE A LIGHT, a concert film documenting the group's performance at New York City's Beacon Theater in 2006. Special guests Buddy Guy and The White Stripes' Jack White appear, connecting the band with their roots in American blues and perhaps passing the torch to one of today's most notable practitioners of the tradition. Christina Aguilera also drops by for a duet with Mick Jagger, although how she fits into this is less clear.

As one of the editors on WOODSTOCK and director of films about The Band and Bob Dylan, Scorsese knows his way around a rock doc. Filmed by Jean-Luc Godard, the Maysles brothers, and Hal Ashby, the Stones have been no strangers to cinema during their storied career. SHINE A LIGHT doesn't break any new ground for Scorsese or the Stones, but it's an enjoyable showcase for the prodigious skills the director and band have.

Scorsese and cinematographer Robert Richardson draft a camera-operating dream team consisting of many of the best lensers in the business, including Robert Elswit, Ellen Kuras, and John Toll. Whether fixed on flamboyant frontman Jagger or catching winded drummer Charlie Watts after tearing through EXILE ON MAIN ST.'S "All Down the Line", the cameras always appear to be in the perfect spots to capture the dynamics on stage and between the performers and crowd.

After decades of playing stadiums, the band is accustomed to performances writ large to reach the back rows. Although playing a comparatively small room in SHINE A LIGHT, the IMAX version of the film brings intimacy and enormity to the concert. The closeness of the cameras and enhanced image resolution catch details invisible even from the front row while the bigger frame makes Jagger, Keith Richards, Ron Wood, and Watts tower over the audience like the rock giants they are.

The Rolling Stones have been playing rock and roll since the early 1960s. Although not now as artistically or commercially relevant as in their heyday, they are still going strong more than forty years later. Probably for close to half that time the band has been asked how long they will stay at it.

The once smooth cheeks and rebellious swagger have given way to relief map-like faces and institutional approval--the concert was a benefit for the Clinton Foundation--but in crosscutting yesteryear's news clips questioning their staying power with a still energetic live show, SHINE A LIGHT celebrates the Stones' music and longevity with a mischievous wink of the eye. They've probably played "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" thousands of times, but the Stones attack it like a brand-new song. Time is on their side after all.

Grade: B

Weekend documentary: The Rape of Europa

I wanted to direct Columbus readers' attention to the Wexner Center screenings of THE RAPE OF EUROPA this weekend. Here's what I wrote about the film during my Cleveland International Film Festival coverage last March:

The doc is concerned with the Nazi plundering of art and cultural treasures during World War II and the measures that museum workers took to safeguard their precious collections. Workers at the Louvre and Hermitage cobbled together evacuation plans to keep their most important items from being stolen. Although decades in the past, the story continues with legal skirmishes waged over the rightful ownership of paintings taken at the time. The sheer volume of artwork the Nazis stole, hid, and destroyed is mind-boggling. In one sense, it's a miracle anything survived.

THE RAPE OF EUROPA also looks at the damage inflicted on architecture during the war and the repairs still being done today. Allied commanders had to decide what they would attack and bomb despite the historic or artistic value of the buildings. Information like this keeps the documentary fresh.

I wouldn't be surprised if THE RAPE OF EUROPA turns up on PBS or The History Channel at some point. It's a solid piece of work that presents a unique aspect about the war. The title suggests a bleaker film than it is. To be sure the loss of life in the war was a greater tragedy, but this film underscores the idea that valuable parts of culture and history were lost too.

Co-director Bonni Cohen will introduce the film on Saturday night. More information is available here.