Before I left San Diego a few years ago, I made an effort to try and visit all of the local attractions that I'd always avoided as tourist traps, such as Sea World. All the times I'd driven to and through Mission Beach, I never stopped at Sea World. Seemed like a cool place since I'm a sucker for zoos, but either the admission price ($65) or the lukewarm endorsement from others put it near the bottom of my list. Ultimately I never went, and after seeing The Cove I'm actually relieved.
Picking up where Free Willy 3: The Rescue (what, you didn't know there was a second?) left off, The Cove is another one of those hip documentaries that tries to convince you that saving the world doesn't have to involve boring activities like signing petitions and holding up signs at rallies. You can free dive after dark. Or wear masks and arrange car decoys and elude the police. Or use military-grade thermal cameras. You can trespass and install cameras hidden in rocks, or you can barge into an international conference and parade around with a flat-screen monitor strapped to your chest. And you can do all of this without having to call your Congressperson once.
I say all of this tongue-in-cheek, because the truth is that activism really does involve being active, and as the daredevils in The Cove tell us, a relatively small group of people acting can accomplish more than a relatively large group of people talking. In fact, the whole reason the film was made was because Ric O'Barry (pictured below) wasn't even allowed to talk at a particular conference sponsored by Sea World. O'Barry contacted photographer/marine life activist Louie Psihoyos (nd why wouldn't he? Psihoyos looks like a guy who can get things done), and together the men set out to Taiji, Japan, where O'Barry had for years tried to pull back the curtain for the world to see that this small fishing hamlet had a very big secret: several thousand dolphins are slaughtered each year as part of the local fishermen's effort to catch young and healthy dolphins to sell (for up to $150,000 each) to aquariums and marine parks all over the globe, including places like Sea World.
Two facts here underscore the effectiveness of this film in earning your sympathy. First, Ric O'Barry is the root of the problem that he's trying to solve. It's true, he not only acted on the hit show "Flipper" that helped popularize dolphin domestication decades ago, but he actually caught all five of the dolphins who played the title character. As he explains it, it was the suicide (yes, suicide) of his favorite of the five dolphins that opened his eyes to the cruelty of domestication. Since that time, nearly forty years ago, he has committed himself to saving these cetaceans.
His confessional and attempt at redemption brings to mind documentaries ranging from The Fog of War to Tyson, the difference being that O'Barry is neither at the end of his life or in the middle of rehab. He's been clear-headed about this cause for half of his life, and you can't help but wince when you see the archival clips of him on the show. The man has paid for his sins and then some.
The second fact of note in The Cove is that the fishermen who are massacring the dolphins in the hidden cove are actually not doing anything wrong, legally speaking. Their trade is legal and their methods are legal. Whether they are ethical is another question, and that's the question O'Barry and his team are seeking to definitively answer. Aside from the violence wrought on the dolphins, and aside from the ironic identity of Taiji (where you can eat dolphin while you watch dolphins perform), they are concerned with the mercury-contaminated dolphin meat sold and served throughout the country, and the public resources Japan and other countries invest to ensure that dolphin hunting remains legal. Above all else, they are outraged by the killing and domestication of a species that is many people consider as sentient and intelligent as humans. Hunting these animals for these purposes may not be against the law, but you're convinced by the end of The Cove that it probably should be.
But this isn't the case - there is no joking around and slapping of hands back in the hotel room and mugging for the cameras, because these people really do care about their cause, and I admire that. I think there could have been a little more exploration at the history behind the practice and the effect that stopping it would have on the local economy, but based on the evidence presented you can't help but be convinced that something is very wrong when ocean water is turned bright cherry red with blood. Although I wasn't moved to tears by the end of The Cove, I certainly had an unsettling feeling about the hunt that's about to begin again this September. And I was glad I never went to Sea World.
Grade:
Writing - N/A
Acting - N/A
Production - 9
Emotional Impact - 9
Music - 5
Social Significance - 5
Total: 28/30= 93% = A
It wasn't too long ago that Morgan Spurlock's mischievous Super Size Me successfully, and perhaps surprisingly, ended any argument in this country about the ill effects of consuming fast food. McDonald's immediately swapped their triple cheeseburgers (I remember eating one as a part of a Jurassic Park promotional meal that was literally fit for a dinosaur) and Super Sized fries for garden salads and apple slices; their audacious recent marketing campaign spelling out slogans in fruits and vegetables only brings to mind the music video for Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer", not necessarily a new identity.
Kentucky Fried Chicken, on the other hand, recently went so far as to launch a risky marketing campaign that wags a finger at their very own brand - fried chicken - in favor of a new line of Kentucky Grilled Chicken. Ooh. Whether these blatant about-faces in the fast food industry will result in a healthier populace is, in my opinion, unlikely, but that won't stop people from believing it. You may have noticed that in the face of this recession, fast food corporations haven't appeared to suffer quite as much as other American businesses.
So we're still eating plenty of fast food (or not, in my case), but we're making sure to order the side of fruit salad instead of cheese fries. Spurlock helped transform an industry and at least indirectly affect people's eating habits, while those of us who were not fast food loyalists in the first place, well we've just been able to scoff at the whole affair and continue to indulge in our own self-righteously "healthy" diets.
Until now.
Fast food establishments aside, it's evidently also no longer even safe, or in some cases even moral, to eat food from your local supermarket.
Like the indigestion that follows when you have one too many toaster-ovened Tyson Stuffed Chicken Cordon Bleu Minis (I looked them up), Robert Kenner's convicting documentary Food, Inc. leaves you squirming in your chair with a sweaty brow, taking a silent oath that you'll never eat that way again. Of course, decisions are always easiest made away from their corresponding action, and when your friend slides a basket of crisp, seasoned fries your way at the restaurant after the movie, well then you'll discover if your fears will really change your actions.
It should be noted that Kenner's documentary is arriving a little late in the game. Since Super Size Me, the documentaries Our Daily Bread and King Corn have criticized the food industry, while Richard Linklater's Fast Food Nation proved both that slaughterhouses are hellish dungeons and Avril Lavigne can't act. But where those films tried to deliver shock treatments that would send you out of the theater in an ill state, Food, Inc. uses a bit of a softer approach. Not quite as soft as Al Gore's soothing voiceovers behind shots of idyllic creeks, but still relatively gore-free, if not Gore-free, as it were. Kenner rightly assumes that legal injustices, animal abuse, and human rights violations can be just as disgusting as bloody carcasses, making Food, Inc. much more watchable than you might expect walking into the theater.
The film's central thesis, as I understand it, is that the industrialization of food production in the United States has created a perfect storm of greed and carelessness, which has in turn led to countless economic, health-related, and community-based problems, including but not limited to obesity, unemployment, exploitation of factory workers, bacteria-laden meat produced in mass quantities, special-interest legislation, and a complete lack of awareness of where our food actually comes from. Indeed, in a state of blissful ignorance, the majority of Americans fuel this fire with every meal we eat and food item we purchase. The solution: eat as much organic, unprocessed, locally-grown food as possible. Of course, "possible" is a very relative term, because organic, unprocessed, locally-grown food is neither accessible or affordable to millions of people.
That fact aside, authors Eric Schlosser ("Fast Food Nation") and especially Michael Pollan ("The Omnivore's Dilemma") have been leading this charge for a few years now, but most people are as unlikely to read as they are to grow their own vegetables, so for some viewers of Food, Inc. these may be revolutionary new ideas (i.e., "Hmm, I wonder why every chicken breast I buy is identical in size, shape, etc.?"). Unsatisfied with simply giving Schlosser (a co-producer on the film) and Pollan a forum to speak, Kenner also makes a strong case that agricultural monopolies and food conglomerates such as Tyson, Perdue, and Cargill are fully aware, and thus liable, for a host of the aforementioned problems.
Kenner positions agricultural company Monsanto, for example, as quite the evil empire (I began imagining the "Monsanto crime family" ruling some old world Italian hamlet), accusing them of running small farmers out of business and essentially infiltrating government agencies, including the U.S.D.A., with former Monsanto employees and board members.
It's all very scary and sinister - and backed by a Mark Adler score reminiscent of Philip Glass's haunting work - but honestly it did little to convince me that fighting these companies will amount to much change. Like the tobacco companies, they're well-funded and well-supported by all the right lobbyists and interest groups, and any attack will be met with a slippery rebuttal (how many companies have their own response blog?). Furthermore, as evidenced by the tragic case of Barbara Kowalcyk, in some cases it is literally against the law to make critical claims against these companies, even if they are thought to be complicit in the loss of life (her 2 year-old son died after eating E. coli-contaminated beef).
Much more persuasive, at least to me, was the voice Kenner gave to farmers like Joel Salatin, a philosophizing owner/operator of a Virginia farm with as much charisma and analytic panache as a star politician. I found his astute arguments both brilliant and entertaining, and it was important to hear from someone who is actually doing the work, not just prescribing it. His message of hope and doability may come off to some as naively optimistic, but it nonetheless leaves you feeling a little better on the way out than you did after flammable documentaries such as The Corporation or Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room.
Moving forward then, will Food, Inc. change the national conversation in the same way An Inconvenient Truth did? Both films were produced by (the fantastic) Participant Productions, and a visit to their blog will give you a sense of the grassroots support behind both the film and the local food movement. If there is anything standing in the way of this film exhibiting its full power, I think it's the economy and socioeconomic disparity. If people can afford to see it, it's highly likely that won't be able to afford the lifestyle that goes along with it.
John and Jane Public, if still employed, are living in 2009 with an emaciated retirement plan, a refinanced mortgage, and zero discretionary income. Even if they have access to the co-op groceries and organic farmers in their area (which is unlikely), how will they able to afford and then justify a monthly grocery bill 3-5 times higher than what they pay now at the local big-box supermarket? Despite the Inconvenient Truth-style laundry list of tasks within the closing credits, the affordability of "good" food is the one question I felt was left unanswered here, at least to my satisfaction. Yes, as Pollan or Schlosser (I can't remember which) mentions at the end of the film, we'll know things are right when a bag of chips costs more than a bag of carrots. But I just don't see that happening anytime soon, and financially speaking, the best food remains the most inconvenient food.
But despite a couple of unanswered questions and a propensity for giving the issue a "good vs. evil" storyline that felt a little too black and white for my taste, Food, Inc. is possibly the most thought-provoking documentary so far in 2009. As it claims, "you'll never look at dinner the same way again". But then, you might not look at your grocery bill the same way again, either.
Did you know there are only 13 slaughterhouses in the United States, down from thousands that operated several decades ago? Meat consumption hasn't decreased at that rate, so what gives - and what does that mean about the meat we're all eating? Hmm...
Food, Inc. attempts to answer such questions by pulling the veil back on America's food industry to expose food corporations as monopolies that control our mind, body, and soul (at least that's what I gathered when the word "evil" flashed on the screen). It's not a "do you know where your food comes from?" scolding, but a "here's why it matters" explanation.
Equal parts Fast Food Nation, The Corporation, Super Size Me, and Enron: The Smartest Guys In the Room, Robert Kenner's Food, Inc. is perhaps most similar to a certain Oscar-winning, action-stirring documentary starring Al Gore. Think of it as An Inconvenient Food, healthy living recommendations before the end credits included.
(Disclaimer: I'll make no effort to hide the fact that I'm automatically in the tank for everything Participant Productions churns out. Founded by eBay magnate Jeff Skoll just about five years ago, Participant produces films with the implicit purpose to inspire social change (check out their TakePart blog in the "Do" section of my sidebar). Recent films include The Soloist, The Visitor, Standard Operating Procedure, and Charlie Wilson's War, but looking back a few years you'll find Fast Food Nation, An Inconvenient Truth, Murderball, North Country, Syriana, Chicago 10, The Kite Runner, Darfur Now, American Gun, and Good Night, and Good Luck.)
Make sense why I'm a big fan? Then check out the trailer for Food, Inc., or watch the first three minutes here:Food, Inc. will be shown at MSPIFF this Friday, 4/24, and Sunday, 4/26. Because Minneapolis goes ga-ga for all things "green" and because the film is co-produced by Minneapolis-based (Bill Pohlad) River Road Entertainment, I will go ahead and guarantee a sellout for both shows. Get your tickets now.
Watch this space for my full review of Food, Inc. prior to its Minneapolis opening on June 19. In the meantime, visit TakePart's website for all kinds of good stuff related to the film, including a preview screening schedule and a laundry list of action items.
Background: Actor Tom McCarthy's first film as a writer and director, The Station Agent, was a critical darling in 2003 and truly one of the most original American films to come along in the last 10 years. His second film, The Visitor, explores more conventional terrain albeit with mostly unfamiliar faces. You know Richard Jenkins as "that guy" from maybe 20 movies over the last two decades, and he was most recently in The Kingdom. Co-starring are Hiam Abbass (The Nativity Story, Munich) and relative newcomers Haaz Sleiman and Danai Jekesai Gurira. A piece of trivia: McCarthy developed the theme for The Visitor when he was presenting The Station Agent on a cultural exchange program in Beirut.
Synopsis : Walter Vale (Jenkins) is a widowed economics professor at a community college in Connecticut who finds joy in little in his life besides a glass of Cabernet. Tired of his teaching duties and stuck in a creative rut, he can hardly even motivate himself to go through the motions of his job, let alone actually do any work. When he's sent to present a paper at a conference at NYU, he's given a new lease on life. Upon discovering an undocumented immigrant couple living in his vacant NYC apartment, he finds himself oddly attached to them. Tarek (Sleiman), a Syrian, plays the djembe at local jazz clubs. His Senegalese girlfriend, Zainab (Gurira), makes and sells jewelry at an outdoor market. Walter is sympathetic to their plight and becomes somewhat of a father figure to them over the next 10 days. He watches Tarik play the djembe with equal parts envy and childlike awe; the drumming releases some innate emotion that he can't otherwise express, and he's soon drumming with Tarik at every opportunity. You can sense the third act of the film coming, but it's not simply Tarik's mistaken arrest and detainment. His mother, Mouna (Abbass), soon arrives from Michigan, vowing to remain there until he is released, despite the fact that neither she nor Zainab can visit him due to their legal status. Walter, in the meantime, has found his life's new calling in the mission to free Tarik before he is deported. His motive to help is genuine, but it's no doubt aided by his budding romance with Mouna. There aren't a lot of places the story can go from here, so I'll stop...
I Loved:
+ The drumming. As a former percussionist myself, I couldn't help my legs from going along with it.
+ Richard Jenkins, who almost certainly has his breakthrough performance here - 30 years into his career.
I Liked:
+ Danai Jekesai Gurira, who brought the film to another level with her excellent performance as Zainab. I am going insane trying to place her from another movie, but this is her first film credit. Maybe I actually know her? She graduated from Macalester College here in St. Paul. It's really early, but if her name came up in the Oscar buzz at year's end, it wouldn't bother me.
+ The somewhat abrupt ending. Initially I was irritated, but I soon accepted the fact that sometimes life just happens that way.
I Disliked:
- Tarek. He was a likable guy, but almost too much so. I wouldn't go so far as to call it manipulative on McCarthy's part, but it's pretty easy to elicit sympathy for a character who's perfect in every imaginable way.
I Hated:
- Nothing.
Grade:
Writing - 9
Acting - 10
Production - 8
Emotional Impact - 9
Music - 5
Significance - 5
Total: 46/50 = 92% = A-
Last Word: With only two films to his credit as a writer/director, Tom McCarthy has demonstrated an incredible ability to put square pegs into round holes. His characters are completely mismatched, but he creates incredibly intimate connections between them. While The Visitor doesn't necessarily achieve the grand vision McCarthy may have had for it as a referendum on America's treatment of immigrants, it still works splendidly as a glimpse into one man's rediscovery of his life. Richard Jenkins delivers a painfully honest performance, and early calls for an Oscar nomination are justified. His Walter Vale carries so much emotion that a simple smile appears to unload years of grief, yet Jenkins never exaggerates (like Haaz Sleiman) or missteps, which is vital since the film almost entirely depends on him. The film lags just a bit after Tarek's detainment, but the arrival of Mouna - while not seeming entirely natural - adds a romantic, comforting aspect to what would otherwise be a really depressing story. I think I prefer the quirks and the characters of The Station Agent, but I admire Tom McCarthy's ambition with The Visitor and I'm confident in calling him, at only 39 years old, one of the most promising American filmmakers of his generation.
Background: At the risk of losing any credibility I might have, I need to admit that I've not seen Gates of Heaven or The Thin Blue Line (considered two of the most important documentaries of all time) in their entirety. Unfortunately, the only work I've seen by documentary filmmaker Errol Morris is The Fog of War: Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara. If you have not seen the 2004 Academy Award winner for Best Documentary Feature since it played in the theater, revisit it as soon as possible. You'll lose sleep, but you'll gain perspective as well. Morris' new film, Standard Operating Procedure, focuses on the infamous photographs from Abu Ghraib, and it was the winner of the Silver Bear at the Berlin Film Festival in February. I have to mention here that I attended a screening of Standard Operating Procedure followed by a discussion with Errol Morris and his set photographer, Nubar Alexanian. In most cases this does not significantly affect my impression of a movie, but I'm convinced that my experience with Standard Operating Procedure would have been very different had it not been followed by such a lengthy and illuminating discussion.
Synopsis: Do a little research if you've never heard of Abu Ghraib before, because Morris is not interested in educating us with elementary facts. Right away we're in the middle of the videos and photographs - thousands of them from several different cameras, including angles the public hasn't seen before. As we're taken through an examination of the circumstances surrounding these infamous photos, we hear directly from the familiar faces that are in front of and behind the camera, including Lynndie England, Javal Davis, Megan Ambuhl Graner, Sabrina Harman, Janis Karpinski, and Jeremy Sivits. They candidly explain not just why and how the pictures were taken, but what they were thinking at the time and, most importantly, what was going on that wasn't documented. Within this analysis, Morris interjects artistic reenactments and showy camera work. He lets the interviewees present most of the political talking points for him, and perhaps consequently, he leaves a lot of room for misunderstanding and misinterpretation.
I Loved:
+ The fascinating interviews that left me hanging on every word. The honesty with which the interviewees speak is unbelievable, and Morris' "Interro-tron" creates an unparalleled sense of intimacy for the viewer.
+ The cinematography, particularly the extreme close-ups and mesmerizing, 1000 fps slow-motion shots. On the cooking egg shot, Morris quipped that his favorite practice (and his advice for future filmmakers) is to "just show things dropping."
I Liked:
+ The singular and unwavering focus on the photographs and the circumstances surrounding them. The precision to which the photographs are examined is stunning, and the visual organization is well designed.
+ The funniest line in an unfunny film - Javal Davis, on using country music as a torture device after "Hip Hop Hooray" and "Enter Sandman" failed: "That worked."
+ The musical score by Danny Elfman, even though it initially reminded me of the Spider-Man trilogy.
I Disliked:
- The reenactments of the torture and photo incidents. I understand that we were supposed to see what wasn't in the photographs, but to me they were flashy, unnecessary visuals that ultimately didn't show us anything new. The uncropped photos were more illuminating for me.
I Hated:
- Not hearing from Charles Graner, who is imprisoned and has no way to try to convince us that he is actually human.
- The uncensored photographs. I mentioned the same thing in my review of Alex Gibney's Oscar-winning Taxi to the Dark Side: despite the fact that we don't know who they are, these men are still actual people, and continuing to humiliate them for years after they were tortured doesn't sit right with me. This film actually happens to be about the power of photographs (unlike Taxi), so I can't fault Morris for using them. It's not the use that I hate; I just have a visceral reaction that tells me these men, if truly innocent, somehow deserve better.
Grade:
Writing - N/A
Acting - N/A
Production - 8
Emotional Impact - 9
Music - 5
Significance - 5
Total: 27/30= 90% = A-
Last Word (expanded): "There is an inherent mystery to every photograph," said Errol Morris early in the post-screening discussion, which lasted nearly as long as the film itself. If you're familiar with his blog (and his other films), you know Morris has an obsession for studying images. An important excerpt:
"...photographs attract false beliefs...photography can makes us think we know more than we really know. It is easy to confuse photographs with reality. To many of us, photographs are reality. But however real they may seem, they are not reality. Reality is three-dimensional. Photographs are but two-dimensional, and record only a moment, a short interval of time snatched from the long continuum of before and after...They provide an imperfect simulacrum of the surface of things."
As Morris outlines with the meticulous detail of a forensic scientist in Standard Operating Procedure, the photographs from Abu Ghraib have simply tricked us into believing in a reality that did not exist the way we think it did. He attempts with moderate success to convince us that the "few bad apples" we want to blame are the wrong ones - that their complicity only relates to the photographs and the extent to which they were influenced by their environment.
In terms of the technical merits of the film, Morris has created an absorbing and often gripping documentary. His use of light, sound, quick edits and music borders on manipulative, but it also adds a stylish sense of professionalism and expertise that you don't see very often. The photo arrays were impressive and the interviews transition smoothly. I didn't get a lot out of seeing the handwritten letters from Samantha Harman so often, but they're critical as the only evidence of a conscience at Abu Ghraib.
One of the most intriguing aspects of Standard Operating Procedure is, in fact, that evidence, and you can't help but admit that without these photographs we may never have known about Abu Ghraib or any of the interrogation methods used by U.S. military intelligence. You could argue that the photos literally changed the course of the war, and a study of them was a clever choice by Errol Morris. The questions they raise about war, leadership, gender, behavior, control, psychology, and culture are worthy of doctoral research, and Morris touches on them enough to satiate the intellectual viewer. Unfortunately, his main thesis - that blame should be placed on the U.S. government instead of the enlisted soldiers - is just a tad too extreme for me to embrace. His true political leanings aren't fully on display in the film (believe it or not), but speaking afterwards he didn't hold back, using words like "monarchy" and urging us to "impeach Bush."
In fact, at one point he could hardly contain himself in his chair, shouting and pointing at a questioner who inquired about any signs of remorse or apology from the interviewees. His face flushed with anger, Morris unloaded a tirade about how the soldiers were used as pawns; how Bush was reelected because he was able to blame everything on them; how the entire Abu Ghraib debacle was a big cover-up. He gradually calmed down and apologized, but he'd made his point: though they did some questionable things, the soldiers weren't evil and they weren't complicit, they were just cogs in the war machine. He concluded, "The crime was not the torture; the crime was the photography. And that's sick. And amazing." In other words, embarrassing the country by taking pictures of torture turned out to be a more punishable offense than the torture itself. That's a sad truth, but it's not given enough attention by Morris, who tries only to convince us only that the wrong people were held accountable.
Separating those two issues is splitting hairs, but the failure to do so prevents Standard Operating Procedure from reaching its full potential. For all the time spent studying photos and interviewing the key players, we should have learned something more about human nature, something more about the military mindset, something more about interrogation and intelligence and American culture. Instead, Standard Operating Procedure brings us right back to where we started: people were mistreated and nobody knows why. All anyone wants to do, including Errol Morris, is point fingers at the government.
Background: I've been meaning to see Brett Morgen's first film, 2002's The Kid Stays in the Picture, but despite the miss I've been excited about Chicago 10 for some time. I'm a big fan of historical anniversaries and 1968 was a year in American history without equal. The film, all documentary but part animated recreation, features the mostly recognizable voices of Hank Azaria, Mark Ruffalo, Nick Nolte, Jeffrey Wright, Liev Schreiber, and the late Roy Scheider. The animation is, I believe, in the same rotoscope style we were first dazzled with in Waking Life before it was ruined by those ridiculous "pity me and my outrageous wealth" Charles Schwab commercials. Anyway, Chicago 10 premiered to rave reviews at the 2007 Sundance Film Festival, and there's a possibility that it will be followed up with an oddly cast but sure to be entertaining live action version. Can all of those people really be involved in the same movie?
Synopsis: The first screen tells us the courtroom scenes are adapted from official court transcripts. This is important - it will be hard to believe later on. As Chicago and Mayor Richard Daley prepare for the 1968 Democratic National Convention, anti-war protesters from two separate groups, MOBE (National Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam - yeah, I don't get the acronym either) and the "Yippies" make plans to non-violently demonstrate in Lincoln Park and the surrounding area. Their requests for a permit are denied, but the protesters show up in droves anyway. Conventional wisdom rings true, as what starts out as innocent marching and pranking ends up with tear gas, billy club beatings, and old ladies being shoved into paddy wagons. Led in spirit by the obnoxious and incredibly narcissistic Abbie Hoffman (Azaria), the other seven on trial in 1969 for conspiracy and intent to start a riot were Jerry Rubin (Ruffalo), David Dellinger, Tom Hayden, Rennie Davis, John Froines, Lee Weiner, and Bobby Seale (Wright). The film cuts back and forth between the trial animations and archival footage from the protests, much of which is pretty incredible to see. The riot scenes are tense and the trial scenes are showy. All the while, The Eight are held in high esteem by Morgen, while Judge Julius Hoffman (Scheider) is portrayed as a grumpy old jerk. Certainly the defendants weren't totally innocent, but their circus of a trial was hardly just. Even the defense lawyers (William Kunstler and Leonard Weinglass, thus making 10) served multiple year prison sentences for their "contemptuous" behavior in the courtroom. By the abrupt conclusion we're supposed to be left in a fit of rage, but I had more questions than I had answers.
I Loved:
+ The rare archival footage, though you could never see what started each violent outburst. Everyone's just standing around anxiously and then BOOM - beatings and running for lives.
I Liked:
+ The animation, for the most part. What can I say, I'm a sucker for rotoscope, and even the traditional animation was interesting to look at here.
I Disliked:
- The use of Eminem's Bush-bashing song "Mosh." What, were there not enough war protest songs from the 60's to use here? Totally out of context, but in a funny spot right after Allen Ginsberg's "ommm" chants.
- Nick Nolte's gutteral, growling voice - the guy sounds like an animal. Literally, like a disgruntled dog or a dying alligator or something. Casting him here was unnecessarily distracting.- That the driving rock music was an almost constant presence, even in the courtroom. Trust me, I can pay attention during a trial scene without needing to be "entertained." For that matter, was the animation even necessary? Couldn't it have simply been a live action reenactment with the same actors?
I Hated:
- Roy Scheider's voice, channeling Hans Moleman from "The Simpsons."
Grade:
Writing - N/A
Acting - N/A
Production - 8
Emotional Impact - 8
Music - 4
Significance - 5
Total: 25/30= 83% = B
Last Word: I'm easily annoyed by people. People like Abbie Hoffman. Not because of how they act, but because of what gets lost when they act the way he did. What went missing here was the central message of their "protest." By the final march, their speeches aren't about the war at all, they're about "us" and "the pigs." This kind of inflammatory language was the style in the 60's to be sure, but that doesn't make it any less immature and ineffective. In this case, "the whole world" was watching, alright - watching people act like idiots for no good reason. If I'm sounding like Bill O'Reilly, I don't mean to. It's just that my hackles are raised whenever people place themselves in front of the message, and for all their good intentions (and constitutional rights), the protesters at the convention didn't accomplish as much as they could have with a more reasonable approach. Although I haven't mentioned him yet, what I just said could apply to Brett Morgen here as well, who's essentially made a cartoon out of cartoonish characters. I applaud his ambition to make an important story relevant 40 years later, but he doesn't fare much better than the protesters in making a convincing argument for anything. He's made a visual and auditory feast, but I'm hungry for some more substantive information in my documentaries, maybe flavored with some structure and just a dash of objectivity. It's incredible to say so about a documentary, but despite all the flashy panache of Chicago 10, I think the live action version (if it happens) may end up being the more important film.