Photo caption: Lou Reed in THE VELVET UNDERGROUND. Courtesy of AppleTV.
It’s rare for a documentary film to immerse the audience as deeply into a time and place as does Todd Haynes’ The Velvet Underground. Even if you’re not a fan of the band, you’ll appreciate this sensory dive into a cultural moment.
Haynes takes the time to bio the two artistic driving forces of the Velvet Underground, the avant-garde musicologist John Cale and the troubled song-writing prodigy Lou Reed. Equally essential is the world of Andy Warhol’s The Factory.
The Velvet Underground is exceptionally richly sourced, with load of file footage and photos and a host of eyewitnesses, especially the surviving band members John Cale and Maureen Tucker. and in this cultural moment.
But it’s the LOOK and FEEL and SOUND of the film which is so singular. That’s because Haynes, a filmmaker known for the lush and evocative Far from Heaven and Carol, has brought his sensibilities to bear on a documentary. And because the artists in Warhol’s circle left such a film record.
The Velvet Underground is in theaters and streaming on AppleTV.
Photo caption: BECOMING COUSTEAU. Courtesy of National Geographic.
The educational if not scintillating biodoc Becoming Cousteau traces the world-changing career of Jacques-Yves Cousteau.
This was an important man. Before Cousteau, we looked at the oceans the way that humans had regarded them for centuries – based on what was on their surface and at their edges. The vastness of the oceans gave them a mask of invulnerability.
Becoming Cousteau tells how Cousteau, a pilot recovering from a motoring accident, became one of one three free divers in France before WWII, and how he was involved with or responsible himself for the invention of the aqualung, undersea stations, the underwater movie camera and his scientific ship Calypso.
Fortunately, Cousteau’s second passion was cinema, which allowed him to reveal the undersea world to the general public. He strongly preferred to call his work adventure film instead of documentary. (The cinematographer for Cousteau’s breakthrough 1956 film was Louis Malle, only two years before Malle’s own breakthrough masterpiece Elevator to the Gallows.)
That allowed Cousteau to become the great popularizer of ocean science through his ABC series The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau.
Becoming Cousteau shows us how, at first, Cousteau had the explorer’s outlook of conquering the elements – but evolved into an ecologist. Cousteau canoodled with the oil industry in the 1950s, which he regretted in the 1970s. The preservation of Antarctica may be his enduring legacy.
Becoming Cousteau is dotted with some revealing tidbits such as how his first wife Simone was in love with Calypso and lived there, while Cousteau was on the road and their sons were in boarding school.
I am usually entranced by documentaries as superbly sourced and revelation-filled as Becoming Cousteau, but I found it a bit of a yawner. Twice Oscar-nominated director Liz Garbus packs a lot into 94 minutes, but it seems longer. Vincent Cassel voices Cousteau’s written words.
Guy Clark holds his favorite photo of Susanna Clark in WITHOUT GETTING KILLED OR CAUGHT
The lyrical documentary Without Getting Killed or Caught is centered on the life of seminal singer-songwriter Guy Clark, a poetic giant of Americana and folk music. That would be enough grist for a fine doc, but Without Getting Killed or Caught also focuses on Clark’s wife, Susanna Clark, a talented painter (album covers for Willie Nelson and Emmylou Harris) and songwriter herself (#1 hit I’ll Be Your San Antone Rose). What’s more, Guy’s best friend, the troubled songwriter Townes Van Zandt, and Susanna revered each other. Van Zandt periodically lived with the Clarks – that’s a lot of creativity in that house – and a lots of strong feelings.
Susanna Clark said it thus, “one is my soul and the other is my heart.”
The three held a salon in their Nashville home, and mentored the likes of Rodney Crowell and Steve Earle. You can the flavor of the salon in the 1976 documentary Heartworn Highways (AppleTV, Vudu and YouTube). It features Townes Van Zandt’s rendition of his Waitin’ Round to Die. (Susanna was also a muse for Rodney Crowell, who, after her death, wrote the angry song Life Without Susanna.)
Documentarians Tamara Saviano and Paul Whitfield, have unearthed a great story, primarily sourced by Susanna’s diaries; Sissy Spacek voices Susanna’s words. These were artsy folks so there are plenty of exquisite photos of the subjects, too. It all adds up to a beautiful film, spinning the story of these storytellers.
Guy and Susanna Clark in WITHOUT GETTING KILLED OR CAUGHT
I loved this movie, but I’m having trouble projecting its appeal to a general audience, because I am so emotionally engaged with the subject material. I’m guessing that the unusual web of relationships and the exploration of the creative process is universal enough for any audience, even if you’re not a fanboy like me.
The title comes from Guy’s song LA Freeway, a hit for Jerry Jeff Walker:
I can just get off of this L.A. freeway
Without gettin’ killed or caught
There is plenty for us Guy Clarkophiles:
the back story for Desperados Waiting for a Train;
the identity of LA Freeway’s Skinny Dennis;
Guy’s final return from touring, with the declaration “let’s recap”.
There’s also the story of Guy’s ashes; the final resolution is not explicit in the movie but you can figure it out; here’s the story.
Without Getting Killed or Caught is in very limited theatrical run; I saw at the Balboa in its last Bay Area screening.
In the documentary Being a Human Person, we meet the filmmaker Roy Andersson as he makes what he acknowledges to be his final film at age 76. Andersson is an auteur who makes very, very odd movies that are humanistic, deeply profound and mostly funny. The movies, like A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Contemplating Existence and this year’s About Endlessness, are comprised of apparently random tableaus in which ordinary-looking Scandinavians do very little.
In thinking about Being a Human Person, I was initially going to recommend it to folks who have seen Andersson’s films. But then it occurred to me that it really a perfect vehicle to introduce newbies to Andersson’s work.
Now, I treasure watching Andersson’s films, but if you’re looking for movies that immediately make sense, then Andersson, most assuredly, is not your guy. In each film, Andersson curates a range of human behavior and lets the audience try to connect the dots. But when he is interviewed for Being a Human Person, he’s happy to tell you what he intends the movies to mean.
Andersson does not equate success and happiness. A wunderkind, Andersson directed a hit movie at age 28, and then plunged into depression. He bought a central Stockholm warehouse in 1981 to “develop my own language”. He built his studio inside and lives in an apartment above.
Andersson’s process is as peculiar as are his movies. He builds the set for each vignette one at a time in his studio. He expertly deploys a range of old school techniques like trompe-l’œil.
Andersson’s movies are about the foibles of everyday humans. They show people’s moments of fragility, vulnerability, confidence and lack thereof. One of his colleagues observes, “Roy sees people who aren’t in the movies. It’s people who who haven’t been very successful in life. He gives them dignity .” For research, Andersson sits in sidewalk cafes to people-watch (“so I can see the menu“).
Andersson himself notes, “When you think there’s no escape, you are a prisoner in your own mortality.“ Overusing alcohol to combat boredom, Andersson struggles to finish his movie.
Director Fred Scott made excellent use of his access to Andersson, Andersson’s coworkers and family to tell this story. Being a Human Person is streaming from Laemmle.
Photo caption: BOB ROSS: HAPPY ACCIDENTS, BETRAYAL & GREED. Photo courtesy of Netflix.
The documentary Bob Ross: Happy Accidents, Betrayal & Greed tells two improbable stories. The first is how Bob Ross, the soft-talking painting instructor on PBS, could become such a cultural phenomenon. It’s hard not to smile when thinking of the signature permanent adorning Ross, at once ridiculous and kind of innocent, and big enough to warrant its own zip code. [Come to think of it, can you imagine ANY personality who sounded like and looked like Ross, Julia Child or Fred Rogers starring on commercial TV?]
In any event, Bob Ross: Happy Accidents, Betrayal & Greed lets us glimpse the secret sauce that Ross used to make a mundane craft into something singular and indelible. By all accounts, Ross was a very sweet guy. The edgiest thing anyone says about him is that he could tell “ornery jokes”.
The Betrayal and Greed in the title relates to the bone-picking after his death to exploit his legacy. This is a sordid tale, in sharp juxtaposition to Ross’ own career and persona.
Bob Ross: Happy Accidents, Betrayal & Greed is streaming on Netflix.
In director and co-writer Rodrigo Reyes’ highly original docu-fable 499, one of Hernán Cortés’ soldiers (Eduardo San Juan Breñais) is transported centuries into the future and plunged into contemporary Mexico. The movie’s title reflects a moment 499 years after Cortés’ conquest of the Aztecs in 1520; the conquistador and the audience discover that the dehumanization inherent in colonialism has persisted to plague modern Mexico.
I’m calling Reyes’ medium a “docu-fable” because it is all as real as real can be (the documentary), except for the fictional, 500-year-old conquistador (the fable).
Cast upon a Veracruz beach after a shipwreck (but 500 years later), the conquistador is terribly disoriented, and retraces Cortés’ march from Veracruz to Tenochtitlan/Mexico City. Seeing everything with a 500 year old lens, he is initially disgusted that the Indians that he conquered are now running things.
Soon he finds a Mexico reeling from narco terror. He meets Mexicans who have been victimized by the cruel outrages of the drug cartels, those risking their lives to hop a northbound train, and those in prison. In the emotional apex of 499, one mother’s account of a monstrous atrocity, clinical detail by clinical detail, is intentionally unbearable.
Reyes wants the audience to connect the dots from Mexico’s Original Sin – a colonialism that was premised on devaluing an entire people and their culture. Will the conquistador find his way to contrition?
499, with its camera sometimes static, sometimes slowly panning, is contemplative. Cinematographer: Alejandro Mejía’s work won Best Cinematography at the 2020 Tribeca Film Festival.
499 opens at San Francisco’s Roxie on September 3 with Rodrigo Reyes in attendance, and will play the Roxie for a week before its national rollout.
The insightful and thought-provoking documentary The Lost Leonardo starts out as a mystery. We learn that there are “sleeper hunters” in the art world, who seek unrecognized or mislabeled art and buy them on speculation. Our two sleeper hunters buy a beat up, old painting for $1100 to find out if is a long lost original Leonardo da Vinci painting, “the male Mona Lisa”. So, the initial question is, is this a real Leonardo painting, of which only 15 are known to exist?
Around 1500, Leonardo painted a Jesus portrait titled Salvator Mundi (The Savior of the World), of which many copies were made by others. The speculators send their painting to the world’s top restorer of Renaissance masterpieces to query whether this could be the original. Then they approach the National Gallery of Art, which has the painting scrutinized by three leading world experts in Leonardo’s work.
The initial findings are promising. The transition between the lip and the upper lip resembles only one other painting – the Mona Lisa. Removal of patchwork paint reveals that Jesus’ thumb has been repositioned, which was a common practice by Renaissance masters, but is never is seen in a copy.
But questions remain for some. Why would Leonardo, who was meticulous, choose a piece of wood with a knothole that would assuredly eventually cause a disfiguring crack? Worse, how could a 600-year-old Leonardo show up in New Orleans with no provenance?
Both the proponents of the painting’s authenticity and those who would discredit it agree that the restorer contributed up to 85% of the actual paint on the current painting. So, even if Leonardo painted it in 1500, is it now just a masterpiece by the restorer?
The story diverts to an amazing con job that is unrelated to the painting’s authenticity. A shrewd and audacious French businessman bilks a Russian billionaire out of $45 million by pretending to be negotiating the purchase of a painting that that he has already bought. And, as the Frenchman later notes ruefully, you don’t want to piss off a Russian oligarch.
At this point, The Lost Leonardo takes us into a record-breaking $450 MILLION art sale (in which the purchaser is revealed by the CIA – yes, the CIA) with implications for global politics. Implicitly, The Lost Leonardo poses a second question – does it matter whether the Salvator Mundi is real or not? It certainly doesn’t need to be proven to those who would benefit from it being a real Leonardo – the sellers, the National Gallery of Art, Christie’s auction house – or to those who are emotionally moved by it as a piece of art.
The Lost Leonardo peels back the onion on an ever surprising tale of discovery, scholarship, fraud, commerce and politics in the refined and pretentious art world. It’s a good watch.
Photo caption: SEARCHING FOR MR. RUGOFF. Photo courtesy of Deutchman Company.
The documentary Searching for Mr. Rugoff is the story of a now-unknown giant in independent cinema. I was drawn to learn more about Donald Rugoff, whom I hadn’t heard of, because he was responsible for the US distribution of a slate of essential foreign and independent films that were the spine of American art house cinema:
Bruce Brown’s seminal surf movie Endless Summer (1965)
Milo Forman’s international breakthrough The Fireman’s Ball (1966)
Robert Downey, Sr.’s iconoclastic Putney Swope (1968)
Costa-Gavras’ double Oscar winning Z (1968) and State of Siege (1972)
The Mayles’ Rolling Stones-at-Altamont doc Gimme Shelter (1970)
De Sica’s The Garden of the Finzi-Continis (1970)
the great doc about a child faith healer grown up, Marjoe (1972)
one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen, The Tall Blond Man with One Black Shoe (1972)
Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage (1973)
Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
Barbara Kopple’s Oscar winning Harlan County, USA (1976)
and more films by Ken Loach, Marcel Ophüls, Lina Wertmüller, Werner Herzog, Agnes Varda, François Truffaut and Satyajit Ray.
As we learn in Searching for Mr. Rugoff:
“From 1965 to 1978 [Rugoff’s company] Cinema 5 received 25 Oscar nominations and 6 Oscars. 16 nominations were for foreign language films, 6 were for documentaries.”
Ira Deutchman made this film when he heard that Rugoff, his first boss, had ended up buried in a pauper’s grave; (watch the movie to discover the truth on that).
However, Donald Rugoff was notoriously disheveled and unpleasant. He always had two secretaries posted outside his office because of the high probability that one would quit at any time. He was so volatile that many of his associates incorrectly believed that he had a steel plate in his head that affected his behavior. His own son describes him as a “toxic figure” in the home.
So, there we have it – the guy with the best possible movie taste and the most elevated artistic sensibilities was personally a barbarian.
He was, however, also a mad genius of PT Barnum-like promotion. Until times changed and he wasn’t. Rugoff’s life was a wild ride – and it was critical to an important moment in cinema.
Searching for Mr. Rugoff is opening in person at and streaming from the Roxie. I streamed it from Laemmle.
In director and co-writer Rodrigo Reyes’ highly original docu-fable 499, one of Hernán Cortés’ soldiers (Eduardo San Juan Breñais) is transported centuries into the future and plunged into contemporary Mexico. The movie’s title reflects a moment 499 years after Cortés’ conquest of the Aztecs in 1520; the conquistador and the audience discover that the dehumanization inherent in colonialism has persisted to plague modern Mexico.
I’m calling Reyes’ medium a “docu-fable” because it is all as real as real can be (the documentary), except for the fictional, 500-year-old conquistador (the fable).
Cast upon a Veracruz beach after a shipwreck (but 500 years later), he conquistador is terribly disoriented, and retraces Cortés’ march from Veracruz to Tenochtitlan/Mexico City. Seeing everything with a 500 year old lens, he is initially disgusted that the Indians that he conquered are now running things.
Soon he finds a Mexico reeling from narco terror. He meets Mexicans who have been victimized by the cruel outrages of the drug cartels, those risking their lives to hop a northbound train, and those in prison. In the emotional apex of 499, one mother’s account of a monstrous atrocity, clinical detail by clinical detail, is intentionally unbearable.
Reyes wants the audience to connect the dots from Mexico’s Original Sin – a colonialism that was premised on devaluing an entire people and their culture. Will the conquistador find his way to contrition?
499, with its camera sometimes static, sometimes slowly panning, is contemplative. Cinematographer: Alejandro Mejía’s work won Best Cinematography at the 2020 Tribeca Film Festival.
499 releases into theaters on August 20, and will play San Francisco’s Roxie in early September, before its national rollout.
Photo caption: C.J. Hunt in NEUTRAL GROUND. Photo courtesy of PBS POV.
In the pointed documentary The Neutral Ground, C.J. Hunt explores the continuing legacy of Confederate monuments in America. Finding the backlash against removing New Orleans’ Confederate monuments so absurd, Hunt, a producer for The Daily Show, started out to make a snarky YouTube video. But he found himself drawn more deeply into the history of Confederate monuments, so intentionally braided with white supremacy.
In my view (and C.J. Hunt’s), it’s a no-brainer to remove monuments that should never have been erected in the first place. After all, these monuments celebrate men who led a traitorous insurrection against their own country, who sought to keep other human beings enslaved and who lost a disastrous war. Traitors. Slavers. Losers.
But Hunt is fascinated by the chorus of White Southerners advocating for the preservation of Confederate monuments to maintain pride in (White) Southern heritage. All of them claim that the Civil War was not about slavery. And none of them would say that they are White supremacists or that slavery was acceptable. Hunt notes a disconnect with historical fact:
“The founding documents of the Confederacy talk so obsessively about slavery, the real mystery is how so many people came to believe that Confederate symbols have nothing to do with it.”
Hunt is very funny. To a woman who wants to keep all the statues in their prominent places with plaques for context, he suggests this wording: “Hi, I’m Robert E. Lee. A long time ago, I turned on my country and led over 200,000 Southern sons to their graves, so we could keep our basic right to own human beings as property. #SorryI’mNotSorry“.
After meeting a round of genteel “as long as you stay in your place” racists, Hunt is unnerved by encounters with the “I want to kill you” variety of racists.
For me, the highlights of The Neutral Ground were Hunt’s sparring with his own African-American father. His dad, moving about his kitchen in an Aunt Jemima apron, critically recounts the evolution of C.J.’s own racial awareness and imparts his own unblinking view of institutional racism in America. This repartee sets the stage for The Neutral Ground to become even more personally-focused for C.J. Hunt.
I watched The Neutral Ground on PBS’ POV; it’s now streaming on PBS.
