April 20, 2005

What makes a movie a movie?

Here at the Palm Beach International Film Festival, I have been confronted twice in two days by films that were heartfelt, emotional looks at daring young men who have overcome their handicaps with the support of their loved ones to live life more completely than anyone else felt possible. And I couldn't wait for the films to be over.

The more professional production was 39 Pounds of Love, which is somehow associated with HBO Docs and tells the story of Texas-born Israeli Ami, a man diagnosed in early childhood with Muscular Dystrophy and told he would not survive past six. The film centers on a cross country road trip that Ami - now in his 30s - and a very supportive team, including his best friend and the filmmakers, takes across America, the final goal being a meeting with the doctor who falsely predicted Ami's premature death.

Truth is, I think there may be a good documentary in there somewhere. The story is, obviously, compelling. But the inherent flaw, as with so many docs these days, is that the filmmakers rely on the power of that story and forget that good documentary filmmaking still requires some narrative structure. Worse, the love of the subject - Ami - seems to get in the way of a harder look at him and the hard parts of his life.

Ami is somewhat shocking to look at. In polite, p.c. society, we are not support to stare. But with his nearly triangular head, garden hose size arms and dysfunctional legs, he takes some getting used to. And this is where a filmmaker has to be sensitive and reasonable. You can't play "exploit the freak," but at the same time, you can't pretend the curiosity of the audience doesn't exist. And you can't pretend that this man, who is terribly courageous in his pursuit of living aggressively, doesn't have unpleasant challenges that are more mundane than life and death.

There are two elements of the film that were particularly aggravating for me. One was some animation done by Ami - remarkable for having done it at all - that is used repeatedly. The problem is, it is kind of maudlin, as it is all about Ami's obsession with a young girl who invested years of time to Ami, but who does not return the level of his affections. The animated analogy - to him as a wounded bird - is syrupy and obvious. Worse, the animation stands as the dominant analysis of the situation, without a tough interview of the girl or Ami or his friends and family about this disconnect. Perhaps by the end of the film Ami has gotten over her. Perhaps not. But it feels trite and, again, syrupy.

The other problem is the musical score of the film, which thunders and sighs unrelentingly. You have a 39 pound MD survivor with a broken heart and a quest and the score keeps hitting the audience over the head, as though the story wasn't enough.

This is the genius of Murderball, the big hit at Sundance this year, soon to be released by IFC. No telling the audience what to feel. Why? Because you don't have to if the story is good enough.

My personal problem with this film is that after a while, even though I 100% believe that it is not the intent of the filmmakers, I feel like there is an emotional exploitation of this man going on... a private misfortune successfully being overcome turned into entertainment.

I suppose that the way to avoid this sensation is to make a documentary that does not so overtly fall in love with its subject. This is not always necessary. A film like the Robert Evans documentary, The Kid Stays In The Picture, uses his onanism as an asset. His self-love is part of what drives the story. But when that love is not ironic or instructive, it can be tooth jarring.

God bless this guy for overcoming... but what is the hard price that those around him have paid? Why don't the filmmakers really explore the obsession by his mother with her ill son that got so extreme that her healthy son estranged himself from the family rather than continue to feel neglected? With Ami suffering with his unrequited love, what is the story of his best friend, a very good-looking young guy who - especially given his loyalty to a physically challenged friend - surely gets a lot of attention from the opposite (or same) sex?

Winning a near impossible battle is greatly enhanced by a strong dose of human truth. It is easy to manipulate an audience. But greatness requires more.

The other doc about the physically challenged that I saw here (there was a third called Champions on Wheels) was Skip Walking, Let's Dance. This is a personal documentary by "Daddy" Ron Taylor, father of Micah, a boy diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy before the age of two. The film, made up almost exclusively of home video footage from over the years, is not a motion picture. It is a home movie.

There is nothing inherently wrong with this. But it begs the question of what the film is doing in a film festival. The Taylors are a remarkably patient, loving, generous family. The simple reality that this family unit is so engaged with the life of one of its members is the most compelling thing about watching this presentation. And there is a clinical element, watching Micah evolve through his life, taking figurative step after step towards a less dependent daily life.

But in order to embrace this as a movie, you have to be willing to buy into the sunny-side-of-the-street part of this completely. Perhaps it makes me a heartless villain, but I need more to feel that I am watching a film... even a point-of-view film. This movie reminds me of the film that Adam Sandler makes to remind Drew Barrymore of her life each morning in 50 First Dates. It induces "awww"s, but its purpose is so narrow and personal that anyone watching the videotape would be endlessly searching for context.

The bottom line is that this young man who has had, it seems, all of the benefits of his family's unflinching love and support, is still utterly dependent on them for the most basic things. It is wonderful that in Colorado there is an aggressive effort in the school program to integrate the physically challenged and that they have found that the "regular" kids are not only not slowed in learning, but are better for the integration. And it is wonderful that inside of that program, teachers are smart enough to groom the independence of the challenged kids.

But the micro/macro of reality is so overlooked that it is not as powerful as it should be. The subtext here, seems to me, is that this family is so willing and able to focus on one needy member of the group, with no greater expectation than raising the quality of Micah's daily life in the most simple of ways.

It is as clear an issue as one beat in the film. A new caregiver is being trained and Micah's brew of vitamins goes in a sealed plastic cup with a grip that he can handle with three fingers and a straw that he uses with ease. There is a feeling that Micah is in real control because he exhibits this skill. But looking from a distance, this is still a 21-year-old drinking his vitamins out of a sippy cup that someone else prepared for him, stuck in his hand and taken away when he is done. The victory for the Taylors is real... I don't want to diminish that. But what is really remarkable is the kind of focus that makes that level of accomplishment an important part of their lives.

The film here would be the documentary that a real filmmaker would make about Ron Taylor making this film and the effect on the Taylor family of caring for Micah so intently for, now, over 21 years. This film is a love letter from Ron to his son. And feeling that love almost makes viewing the film worth the time. But, in the end, it is a home movie... with all the good and bad that the tag implies. Is Micha's experience unique? The film doesn't tell us. Can any family that is wiling to make this kind of effort likely to have this degree of success? The film doesn't tell us. Do the Taylors live "in the world" or has this experience been so demanding that it has isolated them completely? The film doesn't tell us.

Cinema of The Personal is a new territory that could be and often is remarkably fulfilling. But just because someone offers up their heart does not make their effort a work of "real" cinema. It is more than an issue of quality. And most everyone at PBIFF has liked 30 Pounds of Love quite a lot. But liking something and truly believing it lives up to the filmmaking standards to which we would hold less inherently emotional stories are two different things.

READER OF THE DAY: SL 500 writes: "I did an article about sanitized films a couple years back and watched a few of these films. The most shocking was "Monster's Ball." The sex was gone, the profanities (including the "divine profanities" -- hell, damn, etc.) were gone, the violence was gone, but every single instance of "nigger" was still in it. I returned the film to the place where I rented it and told the guy there how offensive and stupid this was. He said they'd left in the racial epithets to "give the flavor" of the culture depicted. I told him I'd rather my kids watch people fuck and kill each other than think that "nigger" was an acceptable word the way it was used in that film. (I also pointed out that if you used "nigger" that way in the wrong company, the resulting action taken against you would have to be
edited out by his company if somebody filmed it.)

I also rented "Finding Forrester," which I couldn't believe existed in a
"cleansed" version. I called the screenwriter before I watched it and
asked him what scenes to look for the cuts in. It took him almost a whole day to figure out that there was a divine profanity or two in his
script. And he's a guy who doesn't swear in front of his kids.

These people are idiots. But so are the studios for not making the
airplane or broadcast TV cuts of films available to people who would prefer them. We were told when DVD first hit the market that you would be able to choose a rated version much the way you can choose language or subtitles. Fire up "Private Ryan," choose PG-13, and you'd get the version that Spielberg approved for TV. But that hasn't come to pass and look what stepped into the void...."

E-ME: Where is your line for the new trend of Cinema of the Personal?