Category Archives: Documentary

Review: ‘Pina 3D’

Pina Bausch was a German modern dance choreographer, famous for bringing elements of the real world onto her stage, incorporating water, dirt, rocks, city streets and cafés into her choreography. In “Pina 3D”, director Wim Wenders brings Bausch’s choreography seamlessly offstage into the real world–shooting parts of the dances on city streets, in the forest, on a tram, in an industrial park and on the beach–while still giving us glimpses of the performances on stage.

In “Pina,” Wenders works with Bausch’s dancers to bring segments of her “Café Muller,” “The Rite of Spring” and “Vollmond” vividly to the big screen. Cinematographer Hélène Louvart shoots effectively in 3D, which is all oriented behind the screen, creating the effect of watching dance occurring in a three-dimensional space. It’s as close to theatre or live dance as you can get on film. Here, you have the advantage of being able to get close to the dancers, to clearly see their facial expressions or the details of a particular move.

Wenders makes modern dance, which can easily be alienating until you get accustomed to it, accessible to the dance neophyte. Each of the three pieces are shown in relatively short segments, no more than 10 minutes each, and are interspersed both with one another and between the stage and the outside world. The advantage is that if a certain number doesn’t quite click for you, it is normally finished before you are too bored.

The disadvantage is that too often, the segments that you love are too short. For more seasoned dance appreciators, this can be frustrating throughout: Wenders may cut away from a particular angle or move of interest at an inopportune time, and you can’t see entire numbers in sequence. In a way, this is pop dance for the masses, in the same way that symphonies perform “pop” classical numbers where they play the month’s highlights instead of famous pieces in their entirety.

Nevertheless, “Pina” still brings a new dimension to the work of Pina Bausch by bringing it onto the streets and onto the beach. It gives the dance an added sense of urgency and spontaneity. It’s invigorating to see Pina Bausch’s choreography performed by the ocean, with the dancers kicking around in the water, and then to see how Bausch translated that setting and immediacy to the stage. It is equally exciting to see Bausch’s work re-imagined in the real settings that she re-created indoors.

One of the best dance numbers, which epitomizes how Bausch’s choreography is dance, theatre and life, all at once, comes from “Café Mueller.” The dance is set in a café; the stage is full of tables and chairs. A couple starts off in tableau, the woman resting her arms around her partner’s neck. A third person, a man, enters and moves the woman’s arms to rest on her partner’s waist, and lifts her up into her partner’s arms. Her partner immediately drops her, and she stands up, puts her arms around his neck and holds onto him for dear life. The third dancer comes back and the process repeats. Every time it repeats, it gets faster. The faster it gets, the more dramatic, the more urgent and the more charged it becomes. It is dance, but there is a story arc that makes it theatre and a familiarity that makes it a great reflection of life. And up close, with the camera right in the space with the actors, whether on stage or on location, it exists not as just a reflection of life but as life itself. Suddenly, Bausch’s mantra, “Dance, dance, otherwise we are lost,” makes perfect sense.

This review was originally published in The Stanford Daily here.

Review: “Urbanized”, Gary Hustwit’s new documentary

We are a society becoming increasingly urbanized. Fifty percent of us already live in cities, and 75 percent of us will by 2050. Cities face significant challenges: sustainable urban mobility, maintaining green spaces while allowing development, recovering from natural disasters, ensuring good infrastructure and many more. Gary Hustwit’s film “Urbanized” touches on many of these topics to give a broad portrait of cities today by introducing us to some exciting projects happening around the world.

Read the rest at the Stanford Daily

HotDocs 2010: Nénette

Nicholas Philibert’s Nénette is a 70-minute film in which we constantly observe 40-year-old orangutan, Nénette, and her two orangutan companions, through the glass, in her captive habitat at a Paris zoo. Orangutans live to 30-35 years in the wild, so Nénette is quite old, but Philibert has us questioning, throughout the movie, if those extra years were worth the price of captivity.

Philibert puts us in the place of a visitor to the zoo, constantly gazing at but never interacting with Nénette through the glass. Nénette, for the most part, provides little entertainment, sitting still with a world-wearied expression on her face. Philibert fills the soundtrack with voiceovers of zoo visitors talking about Nénette, watching Nénette, pondering Nénette’s thoughts, and sometimes making absurd assumptions. At seventy minutes, the film feels rather long. We are desperate to see Nénette do something -anything – and in the absence of action, we make up a story about how Nénette must be feeling and thinking, just as the zoo visitors do.

Orangutans share many anatomical similarities to humans such as the hairless face and sunken eyes. But they also have a large lump below the neck; many visitors were fascinated by Nénette’s lump, which is not a breast, but is not comparable to any other part of human anatomy. Visitors gawk at the lump, as do we. The lump’s purpose is not explained until very near the end: it stores a large amount of air, which when appropriately compressed, allows orangutans to let out a very loud noise which can be heard from miles away, to warn other orangutans of danger.

We never hear Nénette make this loud cry; in captivity, she has no need to use it, the zookeeper reminds us. We learn that Nénette has had three mates, and has borne four babies, one of which still resides with her. A few years ago, when Nénette lost her third mate, the zookeepers decided to give her a break and not find her another mate; they keep her son with her for company. However, because they are uncertain of whether incest is forbidden in orangutan society, Nénette is on the birth control pill, which is slipped into her yogurt each day. They want to ensure there is no chance that Nénette will be impregnated by her son and they have no way to tell if she is yet menopausal: menstruation leaves no traces of blood in orangutans, we are told. Continue reading

HotDocs 2010 Coverage: Kings of Pastry, And Everything is Going Fine

What: Kings of Pastry
When: Friday, May 7th @ 11AM
Where: The ROM theatre
How: The film is sold out for the screening so you’ll need to show up AT LEAST 1 hour early and stand in the rush line. It’s during the day so it’ll be free for students if you can get in. HotDocs keeps a set of tickets for press (like me), so once these are unclaimed (15 minutes before the film) they’ll start to let the Rush line in — bring something to sit on and to read!

Every year, HotDocs selects a few documentary gems, which later become great successes (like Helvetica from 2007) and seeing them at HotDocs before they are known is always a pleasure. The trick, however, is finding these films beneath the large mass of films by neophyte directors with inchoate ideas and the ridiculous notion that documentary filmmaking is merely the art of pointing a camera at anything “real”.

So far, I’ve seen two big winners at this year’s festival:  Chris Hegedus and D.A. Pennebaker’s Kings of Pastry and the great Steven Soderbergh’s And Everything is Going Fine. Kings of Pastry plays again this Friday at 11AM at the ROM: it is RUSH only so show up early (no later than an hour in advance if you want to make sure you get into the movie) but it is worth the wait.

Kings of Pastry is about a group of sixteen chefs who are finalists for the MOF (Meilleurs Ouvriers de France) competition, a French competition for pastry chefs to show their cooking prowess and earn the very prestigious striped collar. Kings of Pastry focuses on three chefs: we watch them prepare for the competition, revise their pastry inventions, and finally participate in the competition.

The process by which these chefs craft pastries is utterly fascinating:  a feat of structural engineering. A delicious dessert is a prerequisite for success but by no means a guarantee; presentation is equally important. One of the challenges of the MOF competition is to make a sugar sculpture, which, by nature of the material, is extremely fragile, meaning the MOF candidates must be very inventive (and careful) to ensure that their pastry is structurally sound and does not break when moved. Structural integrity is This also an issue for every other pastry, and the chefs achieve this by carefully planning and considering, at minimum, the ingredients, the thickness of materials, and the cooking time required.

Perhaps even more fascinating than the structural engineering behind these pastries is the iterative design process – yes, design process – that these chefs undergo to arrive at the perfect pastry. In one scene, we see five different versions of the same puff pastry, each with different arrangements, as one of the chefs tries to decide which pastry he wants to present at the competition. Each participant must make a large wedding cake sculpture, and the one chef we follow most closely designs and redesigns the cake many times, largely in an effort to ensure that it can support its own weight.

Although Kings of Pastry chronicles a competition, it does not feel forced or scripted and it does not follow a formula like American Idol, to use a crude example.  Hegedus and Pennebaker focus on the story behind making the pastries and the art and dedication that goes into this trade, with many mouth-watering shots of these gastronomical works of art, which is absolutely mesmerizing. Last year, Nora Ephron made another movie for the epicure, Julie and Julia, about the trials and tribulations of two ambitious chefs and featured many delectable shots of gourmet French cuisine; Kings of Pastry does an equally good job of photographing food and celebrating the epicure culture, though it focuses on the story behind that special food group, dessert that has its own separate compartment in everyone’s stomach. Kings of Pastry, like Julie and Julia, celebrates the art of cooking and it’s sure to leave you craving an incredibly fancy French pastry dessert by the end of the film.

Steven Soderbergh’s film, And Everything is Going Fine, is a continuation of Soderbergh’s obsession with the actor/performer Spaulding Gray. Soderbergh made Gray’s Anatomy in 1996, which was an eighty-minute film version of one of Gray’s monologues. And Everything is Gone Fine is essentially a mash-up of old recordings of Gray’s various monologue performances interspersed with the occasional personal interview (between, presumably, Soderbergh and Gray) and television interview. Continue reading

HotDocs 2009 Coverage: When We Were Boys

Noah

There is something insurmountably flawed about a cinema verité documentary shot by a female director about and taking place primarily in an all-boys school. Any woman would stick out like a sore thumb, especially one with a video camera and a big boom. How can we possibly trust that what we see unfold on screen is anything but fake or staged, when there is no possible way for the film to be shot unobtrusively in order to ensure that the scenes are purely authentic. At times, When We Were Boys seems horribly stiff and forced; it would be nearly impossible for director Sarah Goodman to maintain the necessary status of fly-on-the-wall in such a situation. If you can’t just take my word for it, take it from my own personal experience. I spent my formative junior high and high schools years at an all-girls institution. And believe me, if a foreign male entered the school grounds, even a 300-pound pock-faced man, everyone would know.

When We Were Boys follows boys at Toronto’s Royal St. George’s College as they progress from grade 8 to grade 10. In particular, we follow Noah, an extremely handsome young St. George’s student, who hails from one of the richest families in the school. His classmates bully him because of his wealth, not physically but with words, calling him “mastercard” or by borrowing money from him which they never intend to repay. Yes, we get it, poor little rich boy.

If you look for the clichéd in a story, it’s almost always possible to find it, especially in a high school documentary. Last year’s documentary hit about high school kids, American Teen, also fell to the same fate: searching for the clichéd, finding it, and lacking any form of insight that one might have hoped for from a documentary about high school kids instead of a fantasy film à la John Hughes (Pretty in Pink, The Breakfast Club, etc). Goodman looks for the clichéd and she finds it. In grade 8, Noah sings soprano in the school choir; by grade 10 he’s become an alto. Shocker: his voice dropped after puberty. The boys read Lord of the Flies in English class and are treated to lectures by their teachers about how the cruelty towards Piggie isn’t so far off from reality; Goodman tries to parallel this with events in the boys’ lives. Continue reading

HotDocs 2009 coverage: Ascension

Picture 15Ascension is a very peculiar, occasionally fascinating, but ultimately not very illuminating, 49-minute montage of archival footage from the Soviet Space Program. The documentary is inexplicably mixed with footage from China during Mao’s reign and various television/film sequences from around the era, compiled in such a fashion to reduce it to a VHS-quality print.

At times the footage shows unexpected insights, as we watch, for example, dogs and chimpanzees get strapped into the vomit comet and spin around in circles, hooked up to an EEG while scientists also monitor the vitals of the animals. Of course, it should not be a huge surprise that such tests took place; after all, we’ve seen the same ones carried out on humans in Apollo 13 and The Right Stuff, yet the footage of Laika and some chimpanzees undergoing these very same tests still comes as a bit of a shock, but an interesting, if not somewhat torturous (the poor animals!) sight to behold. There is one shocking scene in which a rocket is launched just metres away from a group of people, which, unsurprisingly to us, now, did not end well.
Continue reading

TIFF2008: Me and Orson Welles

Richard Linklater’s new film, Me and Orson Welles, is mediocre by Linklater standards but a good, fun mainstream film by any other standards. That is to say, it’s closer to being on par with Linklater’s other mainstream films like School of Rock or A Scanner Darkly than to the brilliance of his masterpieces like Before Sunset, Tape, or Waking Life, but it’s still a fun time. It’s the late 1930s and sixteen-year-old Richard (Zac Efron), still daydreaming in high school, has a chance encounter with Orson Welles on the street. Displaying his drumming expertise, Welles (Christian McKay) casts him in his production of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar at the Mercury Theatre. Richard is thrust into the life of an actor, skipping school, attending rehearsals, and falling hopelessly in love with the beautiful house manager (Claire Danes) who has bigger ambitions and will stop at nothing to achieve them. Everyone in the company marvels at the genius of the pompous, self-important Orson Welles, and complains about how they must tolerate his childish, disrespectful behaviour.

We see glimpses of disjointed scenes from Orson Welles’ modernized with Nazi costumes, and well-staged Julius Caesar. These glimpses are, however, not enough from which to really understand or judge the quality of Welles’s interpretation. And although I find the fact that the play’s reception was without much controversy, which seems unlikely at the time of Hitler’s rise to power and atrocities, and Welles’s overall interpretation is unexplained, I still enjoyed the blocking, delivery, and set design of these scenes.

Set to a soundtrack of 1930s classics, from Gershwin to Irving Berlin, with perfect period production design, Me and Orson Welles has a great feel and a visually dazzling look. Although it mostly takes place inside the Mercury theatre, the small space never gets dull: Linklater is a master at manipulating the camera to find new and exciting ways to show a confined space. Though theatres will likely fill up with pre-teen girls crushing on the cute, but untalented Zac Efron, the real stars of the film are Christian McKay, with a highly stylized and believable, although somewhat one-dimensional, performance as Orson Welles, and Claire Danes.

TIFF2008: Les Plages d’Agnes

French New Wave director Agnès Varda (Cléo de 5 à 7, Les Demoiselles de Rochefort) was at the Toronto Film Festival this year with her latest documentary, Les Plages d’Agnès, an autobiographical film. Varda narrates the film, and is also an active participant, tracing her own life story. The film begins with an elaborate setup of mirrors along a beach, an obvious, but beautifully shot metaphor for self-reflection. Here, Agnès informs us that beaches have been a cornerstone of her life: from her childhood exile in Sète during the second world war, to the beaches she spent her summers at, to the beaches of Los Angeles where she spent some of her adult life.

The film explores the authenticity of memory through meta-narrative. In one scene, we watch unknown modern-day children, dressed in period outfits, re-enacting Varda’s childhood experiences, which she narrates, when she, too, becomes a part of the scene on screen. Is memory ever really reliable? Or do we simply recreate a narrative of scenes from our lives? And if we see our own lives through a narrative we invent, are re-enactments, in film, any less authentic than the stories we tell ourselves? While the film begins to raise these interesting questions, it drags on too long, as Varda digresses into tangents that last too long on various subjects, including her husband, the great director, Jacques Demy. Nevertheless, the film is worth seeing for its clever exploration of the documentary genre and for a bit of background about the life of this legendary director.

TIFF2008: 7915 km

7915 km

Nikolaus Geyrhalter’s documentary, 7915 km, takes its title from the length of the Dakar Rally, an annual off-road motorcycle race through Europe and Africa, from Paris, France to Dakar, Senegal. 7915 km is not about the race, but about the places that the race goes through. Geyrhalter visits various towns about 1000 km apart, along the race, in various countries, where different languages are spoken. At each stop, he interviews the locals about their daily lives and how they were affected by the race, with an aim to give a glimpse-of-life overview of the areas. The race is a ghost throughout the film: we never meet any of the participants and we never see their vehicles after the first five minutes of the film. What we see are the remnants of the race, the environmental degradation –the tracks through the land, tracks that often ruined the local roads – and the people whose homes are along the path of the race.

Shot in High Definition, the film is well worth it for the cinematography alone, which captures such diverse and gorgeous geographies as the Moroccan desert, the deserts of the Saharan Republic, and the lush lands in Senegal. Many of the people we meet along the way tell engaging, and sometimes, unexpected stories. A doctor in a small town marvels at how rich Europeans must be that they waste their money on an off-road race instead of helping to feed the poor. A projectionist in a highly religious, Muslim town, complains that he shows only pornography films in his movie theatre because he is unable to acquire prints of any other films. And a young woman who has moved back to her hometown village in Senegal talks about her experiences with racism as an immigrant in France. A man in the Morrocan desert describes his way of life, where grown men live with their brothers and mother, segregated from their wives and children.

Unfortunately, because of the breadth of the encounters, it is sometimes difficult to get a complete picture of the individual cultures of these different areas. The interviews are also mostly with men, many of whom praise their simple, non-European lifestyle. This often left me wondering: would the women also praise this rural lifestyle or do they resent the inequalities among the sexes? Many of the subjects were reluctant to reveal personal details, which made me wonder who their interviewers were and how that affected the quality and candour of the subjects. But the film never gives us any information about the interviewers, and so the story seems incomplete. Nevertheless, the landscapes, and some of the stories, still make this imperfect film a delight.

The Last Continent

Jean Lemire’s The Last Continent is one of three Antarctica-themed Docs this year (Blast at HotDocs and Werner Herzog’s great Encounters at the End of the World hitting theatres soon). Of the three, The Last Continent has some of the best cinematography, even if the storyline falls victim to cliché too frequently. Filmmaker and biologist/ecologist Jean Lemire leads his team of fearless individuals including a film crew, a scientific team, as well as a psychologist and team doctor, to study the effects of climate change on Antarctica in the winter. Most scientists limit their studies to Antarctica’s summer because the winter is too cold and treacherous to merit the risk and Lemire wanted to cover that uncharted territory, or, in this case, uncharted season. And in the end, it was the uncharacteristic climate of the winter season – warmer than usual – due to climate change, which ended up being a natural disaster for the team. The Last Continent is an adventure, survival story about how, in the name of science, the team managed to survive that treacherous winter in Antarctica. Continue reading