Review: "Stories We Tell"

Director: Sarah Polley
Runtime: 108 minutes

Early on in Stories We Tell, director Sarah Polley's third film (and first documentary), one of Polley's sisters asks if anyone will really care about the film's subject matter. At the outset, it seems like a reasonable question. Plenty of other buzzed-about documentaries cover everything from the AIDS epidemic to violence against women in the military. Polley's film is all about family. Her family. And virtually no one else. Yet in focusing her keen eye on her family the way she does on her fictional characters, Polley is able to create a film that is at once unique and universal in its emotions and themes. That Stories We Tell is about Polley's late mother is but the jumping off point to this elegant, thoughtful, and very human documentary about families and the secrets they keep.

Polley's first two films, 2007's Away From Her and 2012's Take This Waltz, were focused on childless couples enduring very different sorts of marital strife (alzheimer's and infidelity, respectively). By contrast, Stories We Tell is all about parents and children, even as issues of marriage remain present. Having barely known her mother, Diane, Polley decides to create a portrait of the woman based on stories from her siblings, her father (who also writes Sarah's journey down as a short story), and a handful of family friends. Mixing straightforward interviews with a treasure trove of Super 8 home movies (some of which have a rather surprising background), Polley weaves a quietly engrossing look at her mother and her family life. 

That may sound like limited material to work with, but Polley's mix of footage is steadily engaging from the beginning. The film achieves a very careful balance of showing and telling that is rarely, if ever, thrown off. Even when her father's readings of his short story border on overwritten, the editing keeps the pacing largely in check. The film covers surprisingly intimate ground, and Polley captures it with a smart, understated perspective. It allows the film to start as an open-ended documentary about life, only to gradually evolve into a docu-narrative that raises questions about true stories and who they belong to. 

By stitching together so many different points of view, Stories We Tell feels much more complete. Had it been confined strictly to Polley's point of view (or that of one subject), the material would have worn thin far too quickly. By carefully hopping between and among interviewees, Polley is able to turn the film into a puzzle. There are even a few twists spread across the film's length. Some come from a narrative point of view, while others merely have to do with emotional developments that we previously knew nothing about. Altogether, it's a fascinating way to put together a documentary, and it allows the film to speak to its bigger themes, and function as more than a project for just Polley and her family.

Yet for all of the interesting things that Stories We Tell has to say, Polley ends up overstating her case. Just as the film seems primed to wind down into a graceful, low-key conclusion, its engine revs back to life. From that point on, the film starts to overstay its welcome. There are any number of scenes in the final 25 minutes that feel like perfect moments to let the film end, yet Polley keeps it chugging along to the point of becoming longwinded. Rather than scramble to create an all-inclusive final act, Polley should have let it end sooner, and let the material speak for itself. 

Grade: B+

Trailer: "Samsara"

No plot, no characters, just images. These sorts of films don't come around often, but when they do, they can be one-of-a-kind wonders, as looks to be the case with Samsara. I haven't seen Ron Fricke's previous film (Baraka), but I have seen his work as a cinematographer on Godfrey Reggio's masterful Koyaanisqatsi (1982), one of my all-time favorites. Fricke knows how to capture the vast beauty of untamed nature and rampant human development, and it looks like his gift is on full display here. What also interests me is the theme. Similar character and plot-free films have used the nature vs. industrialized world device before, but Fricke's seems to have a positive, unitive goal in mind. The theme can be found in the title, which is Tibetan for "the ever-turning wheel of life." If the visuals and music of the trailer are any indication, Fricke's latest may just succeed at what it wants to capture. Considering that it involved five years of shooting across 25 countries, I'd say its odds are looking pretty good. Let's just hope this receives strong enough distribution, as it looks like it deserves to be seen on the big screen, what with it being shot on 70mm film (when was the last time a trailer actually advertised its own medium?).


Trailer Grade: A

Review: "Bully"

It almost feels wrong to say anything bad about Bully, Lee Hirsch's documentary on bullying in American public school systems. In addition to the film's noble goals, it has also faced a rather ludicrous dispute involving its rating, which would affect its ability to be screened in elementary and middle schools. This is tough material to deal with, and at the very least, Hirsch, the rest of the crew, and the Weinstein Company should be applauded for how hard they've fought to promote not just the film, but also its message. All the same, Bully falters in two critical areas that severely hamper its effectiveness from both ethical and filmmaking standpoints. 


Bully wastes no time in getting to the hard hitting material: the opening sequence revolves around the Long family, whose oldest son committed suicide after torment from his classmates became too much. Hirsch gives us plenty of moments like this revelation that hit quite hard, including a mind-boggling and infuriating scene involving parents and the school administrator they appeal to for change. There's no question that there's enough material covering both kids and their families, but Hirsch seems more interested simply in showing the footage instead of crafting it into something more informative, insightful, and purpose-driven. For, as good of a look at bullying as the film gives us, the film's goal seems to stop at "bully is bad, let's make it stop," without ever trying to probe into the deeper issues, such as the motivations for bullying. Obviously, this is a documentary, so there are no 'characters,' but that doesn't stop the film from pulling out moments that seem engineered to make us hiss as if we were seeing a villain twirling his mustache.

Not that the film was ever going to try and go so far as to excuse the actions of the bullies, but a little examination of them wouldn't have had adverse effects. It would have only helped, and could have made Bully a much richer viewing experience. And even among the subjects that it does focus on, Hirsch and company fumble the ball more than once. Each of the stories of the central kids - Alex, Kelby, and Ja'Maya - would have been enough to illuminate the issues of bullying, so it's admirable that the film takes on all of them, their families, and the Long family. Yet even though each kid and/or family is allotted time, Hirsch and company fail to effectively manage them all fairly. Kelby Johnson, a high school girl who finds her whole family practically ostracized after she comes out as a lesbian, is particularly let down, as though Hirsch felt that they had enough material of some of the other families and didn't need to give her as much screen time. 


And if Bully doesn't have enough problems tripping up its noble (albeit overly simplistic) intentions, it can be a bit of a mess from a production standpoint as well. Right off of the bat, the film has distracting issues in audio and focus, and they don't stop for the entire 100 minute run time. It may seem nit picky, but it has to be said: there are times when Bully simply isn't well-made, and just like all of the aforementioned issues, it keeps the film from being as effective and powerful as it could be. Bully is ultimately a success, but not by much. For all of the effective looks at bullying and administrative negligence, though, superficiality gets in the way often enough to make you wish that there was another, better documentary coming out soon covering the same basic subject matter. People like Alex or Kelby deserve to have their stories told, but they deserve to be part of a much better film, one that is willing to delve deeper into its material and its subjects, instead of telling us what we more or less already know. 


Grade: B-/C+

Documentary Double-Whammy

I rarely talk about or review documentaries on this site. Prior to 2010, I only reviewed one: 2008's Waltz With Bashir. Yet this year, while the available offerings (thus far) for foreign language films have been on the underwhelming side, the docs have picked up the slack. Earlier this year I reviewed Banksy's Exit Through the Gift Shop, and today I've got two more that are worth taking a look at.

Restrepo - dir. Sebastian Junger & Tim Hetherington:

Despite being released a year later, this Afghan-war doc makes a perfect companion piece to 09's excellent fictional piece The Hurt Locker. Directors Junger and Hetherington follow a US platoon stationed in the Korengal Valley, considered one of the deadliest regions on earth. As one soldier recounts, 4 or 5 firefights a day is standard, with the sloping, forested valley provided plenty of room for Taliban insurgents to surround and attack at any time. While their, the platoon is tasked with establishing a new outpost, pushing deeper into the valley while under fire and trying to find ways to connect to the local populace, in an attempt to put a dent in the Taliban's control of the region. And while this may be a documentary, it has all of the intensity and emotional weight of a fiction piece. We as an audience spend barely any time with Capt. Restrepo, after whom the men name their new outpost, but that's not important. What is is the way Junger and Hetherington are able to capture the whirlwind of emotions that these men go through over roughly a year spent in the valley, fighting and dying together. The result, which mixes in on-the-ground footage with a healthy does of talking-head bits, is a powerful experience, particularly when the talking heads recount the worst part of a three-day operation, only to have the film jump to the actual footage of the tragedy. It's often said that truth is stranger than fiction, but Restrepo is proof that truth can also be just as moving as fiction.

Grade: B+/A-

Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work - dir. Ricki Stern & Anne Sundberg:

As evidenced by footage of a vocal heckler, not everyone loves Joan Rivers. Yet while there is some self-promotion involved in this bio-documentary of the iconic comedian, the goal doesn't seem to be to convert you. It simply wants to shed light on a surprisingly complex individual's (continuing) journey through show business. As the film traces one year in the life of Rivers' career, we get a behind-the-scenes look at a woman who considers herself an actress first and above all, despite her place as a stand-up legend. And whether you're familiar with the personal details or not, by the time the doc is over, it's hard not to feel like you at the very least understand and respect Rivers a little more, even if you still aren't a fan. Granted, some parts feel incredibly slanted. When the doc covers Joan and Melissa's stint on The Celebrity Apprentice, we hear the pair talk about how NBC will likely edit the footage to make Melissa appear as the "bad guy" in the situation. But we're not shown anything that even begins to resemble the full picture of what happened between Rivers and competitor Annie Duke. So while A Piece of Work may have some incentive to be biased in certain aspects, it's still a surprisingly affecting piece, and an insightful look at how even legends can still have ups and downs in their careers.

Grade: B

"Exit Through the Gift Shop" - REVIEW

Some documentaries with extraordinary footage/subject matter come under fire and cause people to ask whether they're real or bogus. Exit Through the Gift Shop, allegedly directed by the rarely (if ever) photographed underground street artist Banksy, is no exception. But what separates 'Gift Shop' from similar fare, is that the sheer enjoyment factor wouldn't be ruined by the revelation that it was all faked. The film traces the paths of Banksy and amateur videographer Thierry Guetta. After Guetta becomes drawn into the world of underground street art, he makes it his mission to record the activities of the underground art world's biggest names. But his dream target, despite working with the likes of Shepherd Fairey (the now ubiquitous Obama-Hope poster), is the ever-elusive British artist Banksy. By a series of (planned?) coincindences, Banksy and Guetta become acquainted, and what starts off as a tale of artist and documentarian becomes turned on its head as Guetta blossoms in his own strange way. It's all handled with good pacing, and engaging looks at the creation of the stencil and paint-based art, and it can even be very funny at times. However, if you're looking for an in-depth look at the meaning of this sort of art, or people's deeper motivations for doing it, you might be left wanting; this isn't about the underground art world, but rather a look at how two men's relationship drastically changes the ambitions of one of the pair. Maybe somewhere in some dark alley with a spray can and stencil outline in hand, Banksy is having a laugh at all of us, but I frankly don't give a damn. His "documentary" is an extremely engaging, well put together tale of illegal art, obsession, and delusion.

Grade: B/B+