Documentary Roundup
I want to shine the spotlight on a few really terrific documentaries I’ve seen recently. I would recommend all three wholeheartedly. In the order I saw them:
Though this film has been out in the States for at least a year, it’s only just now running the festival circuit in Canada. Though it purports to be a documentary about the new subgenre of “nerdcore” hip-hop, it’s really a concert film following the style’s founder and namer, MC Frontalot, on his first nationwide tour. It’s supplemented with interviews with people like Prince Paul, Weird Al Yankovic, and Jello Biafra, but the stars of the show are without a doubt Frontalot and his band, a crew of geeks so quirky and lovable that the filmmakers don’t have to do much else but point the camera at them to make a thoroughly enjoyable movie.
But more they do, weaving together a lot of really touching human stories: both those of the social outcasts driving hundreds of miles to see Frontalot rhyme in front of a crowd of maybe twelve people, and those of Frontalot himself, who’s using the tour as a sort of acid-test for whether or not he wants to pursue his music career full-time. I saw it as part of Calgary’s Underground Film Festival, and the crowd in the theater was having a great time; this may have been the only time I’ve heard a movie theater audience emit a collective “awwww”. The film is just that cute. It’s a joy to watch, and I strongly recommend it. (You don’t have to be a hip-hop head, since nerdcore is really its own kind of animal, but being a nerd of some form probably helps.)
Now for a movie to wipe that goofy smirk off your face. Radiant City was recommended to me by someone when they heard me poke fun at Calgary’s euphemistic use of the word “Communities” to describe its suburbs. The movie aims to make exactly that argument: they are anything but.
A lot of attention gets paid to the environmental consequences of urban sprawl. But Radiant City instead focuses on the sociological impacts, and doesn’t find much by way of silver lining. The movie follows the ordeals of the Moss family, who have just moved to the suburbs of Calgary (the city is never named in the film, however). The kids are alienated, sometimes an hour’s drive from friends they see at school everyday. The father seems filled with a sort of resigned despair, and his only outlet is a neighbourhood production of Suburb: The Musical. Meanwhile, the mother’s frayed nerves are coated with a thinning veneer of everything’s-ok, but as the film progresses cracks begin to appear in that facade. Scenes of their family life are punctuated by interviews with urban planners, architects, and real estate agents. One guess as to which of the three has anything positive to say about the suburbs.
This is not a feel-good movie. Its portrayal of the Moss family can be downright terrifying at times. It is, however, extremely well produced, and it gets its point across powerfully. There’s a twist at the end that may reduce the film’s impact somewhat, even though I personally enjoyed it. I won’t give it away, but if you’ve seen the film give me a shout and let me know what you thought.
I was expecting not to like this one. I recently read Remix by Lawrence Lessig and was a little disappointed: I didn’t think the book brought anything new to the debate, and it felt more like a lecture than an impassioned call to arms. This movie, by Canadian director Brett Gaylor, could be that call to arms.
The debate in question is the questionable morality and social value of some facets of current copyright law. Lessig puts it best: while there’s no doubt that commercial, non-transformative use should be illegal (think bootlegged DVDs), the case against commercial transformative uses (selling an album with sampled music on it) and non-commercial non-transformative uses (P2P file-sharing) is perhaps less clear-cut. The film, however, rightly focuses on the other type of copyright infringement: non-commercial transformative uses (like Garfield Minus Garfield, for example). In these cases, it’s extremely hard to come up with a rationale for prohibition: it’s ludicrous to argue that sales of the original would be hurt, and the remixer isn’t profiting off of someone else’s work, so why not?
Focusing mainly on the mash-up artist Girl Talk, but branching out as far as Brazilian baile funk, AIDS drug patents, and Mickey Mouse, A Remix Manifesto abandons any pretense of impartiality and makes the case for liberal copyright reform with zealous fervor. And I think that’s what saves it. Trying to pass for a straight documentary offering balanced commentary would have made it seem dry at best and hypocritical at worst. But by finally making these ideas fun, and energizing, I think Gaylor manages to make his point far more effectively than those who’ve come before him.
