2.19.2004
bio movies
so i watched two quasi-documentaries this week and they got me thinking...
first, i saw the vastly overrated american splendor, a film that reminded me that i'm as sick of glorified nerd movies as i am of ones with "american" in the title (i say this, of course, as a tried-and-true nerd myself). it's not that it's a bad film neccessarily-- the little trick of intersplicing the actual comic writer in with the actor playing him was amusing-- it's just that it fits so complacently alongside all the other comic guy movies. unlike ghost world and crumb, it's far less critical of its hero, and inevitably falls prey to the same "he's a genius" routine as man on the moon did a few years back (and, no, it's not nearly as bad as that one).
the film begins by informing its audience that a seeming loser (underground comic writer harvey pekar) is actually brilliant, and then proceeds to award that very audience as if it came up with that epiphany itself. what's the fun in discovering hidden talent if it was never hidden in the first place?? i guess this brings up the least interesting aspect of "documentary," in my opinion, which is the "document." the aspect that serves as proof of something's haven-taken-place. i wonder if often in establishing such parameters-- and the assumptions/opinions that attend them-- we eliminate what makes a figure interesting in the first place.
second was the derrida documentary, which gives you a glimpse into the life of the post-structuralist philosopher (and his fabulous hair). it takes a more admirable approach-- albeit a bit typical given its subject. instead of playing out as a kind of "deconstructionism for dummies" or even a vanity piece, the majority of the film is more or less devoted to derrida evading questions. and they ask the inevitable e-true-hollywood-story-ones, too (e.g. what does derrida think of "seinfeld"??? what's his relationship with his wife like???, etc.). the thing that's most interesting about the film is that derrida himself seems simultaneously resentful of what the filmmakers expect of him, while remaining affectionate towards them as people. it's as if he's doing the filmmakers a sort of favor. and it works to the film's favor, surprisingly. through a series of very careful explanations as to why he cannot answer a variety of questions, a kind of strange portrait emerges.
i guess sometimes it takes an obstacle to get the proper flow going.
first, i saw the vastly overrated american splendor, a film that reminded me that i'm as sick of glorified nerd movies as i am of ones with "american" in the title (i say this, of course, as a tried-and-true nerd myself). it's not that it's a bad film neccessarily-- the little trick of intersplicing the actual comic writer in with the actor playing him was amusing-- it's just that it fits so complacently alongside all the other comic guy movies. unlike ghost world and crumb, it's far less critical of its hero, and inevitably falls prey to the same "he's a genius" routine as man on the moon did a few years back (and, no, it's not nearly as bad as that one).
the film begins by informing its audience that a seeming loser (underground comic writer harvey pekar) is actually brilliant, and then proceeds to award that very audience as if it came up with that epiphany itself. what's the fun in discovering hidden talent if it was never hidden in the first place?? i guess this brings up the least interesting aspect of "documentary," in my opinion, which is the "document." the aspect that serves as proof of something's haven-taken-place. i wonder if often in establishing such parameters-- and the assumptions/opinions that attend them-- we eliminate what makes a figure interesting in the first place.
second was the derrida documentary, which gives you a glimpse into the life of the post-structuralist philosopher (and his fabulous hair). it takes a more admirable approach-- albeit a bit typical given its subject. instead of playing out as a kind of "deconstructionism for dummies" or even a vanity piece, the majority of the film is more or less devoted to derrida evading questions. and they ask the inevitable e-true-hollywood-story-ones, too (e.g. what does derrida think of "seinfeld"??? what's his relationship with his wife like???, etc.). the thing that's most interesting about the film is that derrida himself seems simultaneously resentful of what the filmmakers expect of him, while remaining affectionate towards them as people. it's as if he's doing the filmmakers a sort of favor. and it works to the film's favor, surprisingly. through a series of very careful explanations as to why he cannot answer a variety of questions, a kind of strange portrait emerges.
i guess sometimes it takes an obstacle to get the proper flow going.
