The inconvenient truth about documentaries
It's 2010. Does anybody know what a documentary is? This week marks the DVD release of Oliver Stone's "South of the Border," an eye-opening, purposely controversial and maddeningly frustrating film about sweeping political changes in South America that have either been misreported or underreported here in the U.S. of A.
What's frustrating about the film is that even though it's clear Stone is making a number of valid and important points about both media manipulation and America's untoward political influence, he's also so obviously biased in his reporting on the political movement involved that the truth is always in question.
He's practically in a nonstop group hug with the figures he's talking about — most frequently with Venezuela's Hugo Chavez, who has been demonized in America. It's like a cheerleader doing a documentary about her home team; it may be accurate but it's so skewed you get the feeling it's incomplete.
This is, of course, common among documentaries today. Objectivity rarely seems to be the goal; for the most part advocacy is the goal.
Not that this is necessarily a bad thing. The biggest doc in America right now is Davis Guggenheim's "Waiting for 'Superman
,'" a grim examination of America's broken public schools system. Guggenheim transformed climate change into a much-needed topic of world discussion with "An Inconvenient Truth."
With modern television news reduced to so much cross-network pots and pans banging balanced by the monotone hum of whatever passes for the day's "respectable" stories, we need this stuff.
We also need the rabble-rousing spirit that Michigan homeboy Michael Moore has introduced to the documentary form — the political activism and entertaining gotchas of "Sicko" and "Fahrenheit 9/11." Love or hate Moore, he gets people talking. And people need to talk.
But watching "South of the Border" drives home the possibility that maybe documentaries have become a bit too much of a soapbox medium; films that preach far more than they observe. Films that — whatever their good intent — can border on propaganda.
The entire definition of documentary was blown open earlier this year when a film called "Exit Through the Gift Shop" was released. Made (supposedly) by the guerrilla artist Banksy, it told the story of an eccentric guy who liked to photograph street artists who then decided he himself was a street artist.
So he put some art up for sale and, despite lacking a whiff of discernible talent, made millions.
By the end of the movie you had no idea how much, if any of it, was true. What had been documented was the impossibility of documenting anything.
It was a nice trick, but let's hope it hasn't come to that. The truth is out there, and if it can't be absolutely captured, it can be described.
Perhaps the most fascinating film in theaters right now is "Catfish," the story about how a young guy became involved with a family in Michigan's U.P. and traveled there in hopes of meeting the love of his life.
His brother and a buddy taped the entire relationship. And it just so happened to become much more than a love story.
There's no political agenda to the film. No one even knew where it was going until it arrived there.
There's room in the documentary genre for all sorts of approaches. But let's not forget the one that simply captures the wonder of life.
It's 2010. Does anybody know what a documentary is?This week marks the DVD release of Oliver Stone's "South of the Border," an eye-opening, purposely controversial and maddeningly frustrating film about sweeping political changes in South America that have either been misreported or underreported here in the U.S. of A.
What's frustrating about the film is that even though it's clear Stone is making a number of valid and important points about both media manipulation and America's untoward political influence, he's also so obviously biased in his reporting on the political movement involved that the truth is always in question.
He's practically in a nonstop group hug with the figures he's talking about — most frequently with Venezuela's Hugo Chavez, who has been demonized in America. It's like a cheerleader doing a documentary about her home team; it may be accurate but it's so skewed you get the feeling it's incomplete.
This is, of course, common among documentaries today. Objectivity rarely seems to be the goal; for the most part advocacy is the goal.
Not that this is necessarily a bad thing. The biggest doc in America right now is Davis Guggenheim's "Waiting for 'Superman,'" a grim examination of America's broken public schools system. Guggenheim transformed climate change into a much-needed topic of world discussion with "An Inconvenient Truth."
With modern television news reduced to so much cross-network pots and pans banging balanced by the monotone hum of whatever passes for the day's "respectable" stories, we need this stuff.
We also need the rabble-rousing spirit that Michigan homeboy Michael Moore has introduced to the documentary form — the political activism and entertaining gotchas of "Sicko" and "Fahrenheit 9/11." Love or hate Moore, he gets people talking. And people need to talk.
But watching "South of the Border" drives home the possibility that maybe documentaries have become a bit too much of a soapbox medium; films that preach far more than they observe. Films that — whatever their good intent — can border on propaganda.
The entire definition of documentary was blown open earlier this year when a film called "Exit Through the Gift Shop" was released. Made (supposedly) by the guerrilla artist Banksy, it told the story of an eccentric guy who liked to photograph street artists who then decided he himself was a street artist.
So he put some art up for sale and, despite lacking a whiff of discernible talent, made millions.
By the end of the movie you had no idea how much, if any of it, was true. What had been documented was the impossibility of documenting anything.
It was a nice trick, but let's hope it hasn't come to that. The truth is out there, and if it can't be absolutely captured, it can be described.
Perhaps the most fascinating film in theaters right now is "Catfish," the story about how a young guy became involved with a family in Michigan's U.P. and traveled there in hopes of meeting the love of his life.
His brother and a buddy taped the entire relationship. And it just so happened to become much more than a love story.
There's no political agenda to the film. No one even knew where it was going until it arrived there.
There's room in the documentary genre for all sorts of approaches. But let's not forget the one that simply captures the wonder of life.
What's frustrating about the film is that even though it's clear Stone is making a number of valid and important points about both media manipulation and America's untoward political influence, he's also so obviously biased in his reporting on the political movement involved that the truth is always in question.
He's practically in a nonstop group hug with the figures he's talking about — most frequently with Venezuela's Hugo Chavez, who has been demonized in America. It's like a cheerleader doing a documentary about her home team; it may be accurate but it's so skewed you get the feeling it's incomplete.
This is, of course, common among documentaries today. Objectivity rarely seems to be the goal; for the most part advocacy is the goal.
Not that this is necessarily a bad thing. The biggest doc in America right now is Davis Guggenheim's "Waiting for 'Superman
,'" a grim examination of America's broken public schools system. Guggenheim transformed climate change into a much-needed topic of world discussion with "An Inconvenient Truth."
With modern television news reduced to so much cross-network pots and pans banging balanced by the monotone hum of whatever passes for the day's "respectable" stories, we need this stuff.
We also need the rabble-rousing spirit that Michigan homeboy Michael Moore has introduced to the documentary form — the political activism and entertaining gotchas of "Sicko" and "Fahrenheit 9/11." Love or hate Moore, he gets people talking. And people need to talk.
But watching "South of the Border" drives home the possibility that maybe documentaries have become a bit too much of a soapbox medium; films that preach far more than they observe. Films that — whatever their good intent — can border on propaganda.
The entire definition of documentary was blown open earlier this year when a film called "Exit Through the Gift Shop" was released. Made (supposedly) by the guerrilla artist Banksy, it told the story of an eccentric guy who liked to photograph street artists who then decided he himself was a street artist.
So he put some art up for sale and, despite lacking a whiff of discernible talent, made millions.
By the end of the movie you had no idea how much, if any of it, was true. What had been documented was the impossibility of documenting anything.
It was a nice trick, but let's hope it hasn't come to that. The truth is out there, and if it can't be absolutely captured, it can be described.
Perhaps the most fascinating film in theaters right now is "Catfish," the story about how a young guy became involved with a family in Michigan's U.P. and traveled there in hopes of meeting the love of his life.
His brother and a buddy taped the entire relationship. And it just so happened to become much more than a love story.
There's no political agenda to the film. No one even knew where it was going until it arrived there.
There's room in the documentary genre for all sorts of approaches. But let's not forget the one that simply captures the wonder of life.
It's 2010. Does anybody know what a documentary is?This week marks the DVD release of Oliver Stone's "South of the Border," an eye-opening, purposely controversial and maddeningly frustrating film about sweeping political changes in South America that have either been misreported or underreported here in the U.S. of A.
What's frustrating about the film is that even though it's clear Stone is making a number of valid and important points about both media manipulation and America's untoward political influence, he's also so obviously biased in his reporting on the political movement involved that the truth is always in question.
He's practically in a nonstop group hug with the figures he's talking about — most frequently with Venezuela's Hugo Chavez, who has been demonized in America. It's like a cheerleader doing a documentary about her home team; it may be accurate but it's so skewed you get the feeling it's incomplete.
This is, of course, common among documentaries today. Objectivity rarely seems to be the goal; for the most part advocacy is the goal.
Not that this is necessarily a bad thing. The biggest doc in America right now is Davis Guggenheim's "Waiting for 'Superman,'" a grim examination of America's broken public schools system. Guggenheim transformed climate change into a much-needed topic of world discussion with "An Inconvenient Truth."
With modern television news reduced to so much cross-network pots and pans banging balanced by the monotone hum of whatever passes for the day's "respectable" stories, we need this stuff.
We also need the rabble-rousing spirit that Michigan homeboy Michael Moore has introduced to the documentary form — the political activism and entertaining gotchas of "Sicko" and "Fahrenheit 9/11." Love or hate Moore, he gets people talking. And people need to talk.
But watching "South of the Border" drives home the possibility that maybe documentaries have become a bit too much of a soapbox medium; films that preach far more than they observe. Films that — whatever their good intent — can border on propaganda.
The entire definition of documentary was blown open earlier this year when a film called "Exit Through the Gift Shop" was released. Made (supposedly) by the guerrilla artist Banksy, it told the story of an eccentric guy who liked to photograph street artists who then decided he himself was a street artist.
So he put some art up for sale and, despite lacking a whiff of discernible talent, made millions.
By the end of the movie you had no idea how much, if any of it, was true. What had been documented was the impossibility of documenting anything.
It was a nice trick, but let's hope it hasn't come to that. The truth is out there, and if it can't be absolutely captured, it can be described.
Perhaps the most fascinating film in theaters right now is "Catfish," the story about how a young guy became involved with a family in Michigan's U.P. and traveled there in hopes of meeting the love of his life.
His brother and a buddy taped the entire relationship. And it just so happened to become much more than a love story.
There's no political agenda to the film. No one even knew where it was going until it arrived there.
There's room in the documentary genre for all sorts of approaches. But let's not forget the one that simply captures the wonder of life.
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posted by Tom at
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