I love documentaries. In the middle of our discussions about reality tv (a commercial distortion and exploitation of documentary making), it's lovely to watch the real thing. I received a letter, today, from a woman stuck in the middle of regional NSW, who recently watched Jesus Camp (which has now been released commercially in Australia for hire - please do so, if you haven't), and admitted she would never have heard of the film, if it were not for this website. It's unfortunately no real surprise, because the problem with this dumbed-down pop culture society we live in is that for most people, experiencing something on the other end of the scale - something real and, in many respects, broadening - is a question of access and advertising. There are some amazing documentaries being made, out there; but, outside of the clued-in niche circles and subcultures who indulge them, everyday people are simply never exposed to their existence, and at very least, many are never prompted by advertising, etc, to consider them. So, I'm asking you to do just that. And, with that in mind, here are three documentaries you'll currently find on the new release shelves of your local video store. I've chosen three with a fairly wide release, so even if you're in the middle of nowhere, there's a chance you'll find them (at the end of the day, just ask!). But, for those who cannot, I've also included links to purchasing these films, online. Most can also be downloaded, but I'd never want to suggest anything illegal. Ahem. Enjoy...
THE BRIDGE (rated MA)
In 2004, Eric Steel did something rather time consuming - he spent every day, filming San Fransisco's Golden Gate Bridge, from a variety of simultaneous viewpoints. The purpose? To capture some of the suicides - successful, or otherwise - that occur at what is the planet's number one hot spot for taking one's own life. In fact, that year alone, 24 people would die from the fall - that's at a rate of two a month, alongside those who are talked down, or the one boy who miraculously survives the impact (and tells the tale for Steel, in this documentary). Steel would catch many of these at long distance, but managed to capture a handful's dying moments in full detail close-up. The next step was to then research these victims, and interview their friends and families (and a couple of witnesses), piecing together the sad tales that led to these horrifying moments. The result is The Bridge, one of the most extraordinary and unique documentaries you're ever going to watch.
Is it morose? No, I don't think so. Suicide is one of this society's most lingering taboos, and it says so very much that few of us hardly stop to think about the presence of this phenomenon (particularly for us, here in Australia, with the highest youth suicide rate in the world), and just how common an occurrence this is. Steel himself said he was inspired by the apparent contradiction (perhaps, even hypocrisy) in the amount of murder covered on the nightly news; even though, in fact, there are almost triple the amount of suicides than there are murders. It is, therefore, one of our biggest problems; yet, we largely ignore it - perhaps, because our society has still not properly dealt with, or encouraged, such emotional experience, or perhaps because it touches some personal chord with each of us that we'd rather not consider. Steel's 90 minute consideration is, then, the least you can do.
Ultimately, it's a portrait that extends beyond the actual suicide problem, to the greater problem of how misunderstood and inadequately cared for, many who cannot deal with their lives and society are (on a range of levels). Each story slowly comes to life (intercepted from one to the other, the film revealing a complete picture of a handful of very touching, troubling cases), and the most frustrating aspect - for me, at least - was to see how impenetrable these people ultimately were in a society that should surely be doing more to break through. It is partly wrong, perhaps, to point fingers at the individuals around these lost souls for simply not understanding, and for not trying to understand more, because it's a provocative confound that extends into so many greater (often very complex) areas. For one, are these people, themselves - unable to reach their family and friends, and save them from the depths of San Fransisco bay - ultimately victims of social tabooism? Why do we choose to ignore depression, mental illness, the realities of drug addiction, etc, etc, when the inevitable cost is a total lack of understanding that, in some ways, is what leads to the loss of these people who cannot (or will not) be reached by those around them? Such questions are not posed in any blatant or didactic manner by the film, but arise from the provocative illustrations caught on camera, and the frustration that sets in, over the film's duration. Because, really, every one of these people could - or should - have been saved. That's the lingering problem when watching The Bridge; but it's an important crisis, posed without spoon-feeding, by an important film. Where is the empathy? And how are we going to generate it?
For those wondering, while you do actually see some of these people quite literally entering the depths of their brutal ends (it was, on the whole, a critical success, but was slammed by a few conservative critics for being an intellectualised snuff film), the nature of this death is not graphic (it's not a graphic way to die, in so many ways, you're simply watching someone dive into the sea), and so, the film isn't challenging on this level. Emotionally, however, it is; I admit that I shed my first tears, only minutes into the experience. Some of the footage is just entrancing - Steel manages to obtain the photographs that one of the boys takes from the bridge, before he jumps - and there's a strange fascination, obviously, with such a glimpse into something we would, normally, never be privy to. But, even so, rather than creating a morbid "attraction to the car accident" kind of viewing experience, these are used, instead, to create one that is so much more powerful because it manages to recreate, in such depth, the very atmosphere of those who are pushed to such a brink. It's heart-breaking, to say the least. So, I do think it's something you all should watch, but I do also want to say, quite seriously, that if you're feeling down or in a rut, please don't decide this is the moment to take up my advice, okay? Chances are, if you fall into this category, you know exactly what I mean; trust me, it's not something you're going to benefit from putting yourself through. But for all those on the other side of the screen (so to speak), then I can't recommend it enough. The cliche, "stays with you long after the screening", is a tired thing to say about cinema, in most cases. This time, however, it's an understatement.
In a very different tone to Steels' exploration of social dysfunction and depression, comes Harry Moses' "Who The Fuck Is Jackson Pollock?": the true story of American white trash trucker, Terri Horton, and her fifteen year war with the art world, over her finding, in a thrift store, of what she believes is a lost work of Jackson Pollock (the art world disagrees). Unlike The Bridge, which splinters the portraiture into a variety of characters connected only through the act each ultimately arrives at, this film focuses squarely on its single subject, and introduces an array of supporting figures who can't possibly usurp the spotlight from Moses' endearing protagonist. The film is a fairly light ride, for most of it (in comparison to The Bridge, perhaps - I watched this straight after it, so I may be affected by a contrast, there!), but still manages to have many subtle yet touching moments.
It doesn't ever really shove any message in your face, and the power of these kinds of films is often how this subtlety leaves the work open to each viewer's subjective interpretation - with this one, you partly bring your own agendas to the party. For me, I loved it most, as a beautiful portrait of the fire that brews within the underdog. This is certainly intentional, and one of the film's major - and conscious - themes, but it sits alongside a few, and I think this is just the element that clicked with me (perhaps, partly, because I come from such working class origins, and am so familiar with this fire!). Slowly, the portrait of this is deepened, as we roll backward into Terri's past and psyche, and are left to contemplate the function this drive may serve for her. So, don't get me wrong - it's not fluff, as such. It's just never bombastic, or screaming the intensity that a work like The Bridge is (perhaps, by its subject matter alone) doing. And, beside this, is a funny detective story, a heart-warming narrative of family and friendship, and just a rollicking satire (although it's using real stories and people) of the pretentious - perhaps, absurd - art establishments of LA and New York.
So, is Horton's three-dollar purchase ("I thought it was the ugliest thing I've ever seen," she remembers) the real thing? In so many ways, by the end, this is hardly the point. But you'll have to see this one, for yourself, and make up your own mind. Trust me, you'll enjoy doing just that.
As harrowing as Steel's The Bridge may be, it still paints its portrait with a kind of paradox, between the reality of the tale, and the beauty it is often told with. There is no such beauty, however, in Amy Berg's (oscar nominated) Deliver Us From Evil, the horrific story of Father O' Grady, a pedophile priest from the upper corridors of the Catholic church. Following the heart-breaking tales of the priest's victims, the film is not simply a study of the consequence and nature of child abuse (though, it is still this, as well), but also an expose of the corruption of the church who tries disturbingly hard to cover up - even protect - their star believer... even when they are completely aware of what he has done. Get ready to get very angry.
The film's most amazing attribute is that, as was the case with Capturing The Friedmans, we actually get to meet the man responsible; documentaries, such as these, now rising above the perpetrator of such crimes being nothing more than a few eerily zoomed snapshots accompanied by ominous music. Father O' Grady is alive and well, and willing to talk. It's an eye-opener, to say the least.
Clearly, this isn't the kind of film you cook up some popcorn for, and I imagine it will be a little off the radar for some's capabilities or willingness. But for those prepared to take a closer look into such areas - for those willing to have a good, long look at some rather dark realities of our society and culture (I'm sure it will appeal to many, here, as a study on religious institutions, and its rather clever relating to patriarchal poison - and, remember, it's both these things, as much as a study on child abuse) - Deliver Us From Evil is the most famous of the docos I have suggested here, for good reason. It's a smartly made, compelling film, and an important piece of investigative documentary-making that any Catholics among us should have the guts to rent. Go on. I dare you.
