Category: Documentary

By Joe Bendel. Swami Dyananda Saraswati is exactly the sort of spiritual teacher most seekers hope to study under. He is witty, charismatic, and decidedly beyond worldly concerns. Yet, he functions in our terrestrial realm with quite a high level of competency. It is easy to understand why his Arsha Vidya Gurukulam ashram draws students from around the world for its celebrated five-week course—and he is a major reason why they keep coming back. They might not necessarily attain enlightenment, because that is the sort of thing you never find when you look for it. Nevertheless, the Swami’s diverse students will find some degree of illumination through his words in Jillian Elizabeth & Neil Dalal’s Gurukulam, which fittingly screens this weekend at the Rubin Museum of Art in Chelsea.

Advaita Vedanta is the oldest school of Vedanta, the Hinduist philosophical tradition to which J.D. Salinger subscribed to sometime after the publication of Catcher in the Rye. Frankly, Salinger was far more of a hermit or Stylite than the Swami ever was. Despite renouncing the world, he is quite sociable and gregarious. Clearly, enlightenment will not begrudge a little friendly conversation.

For obvious reasons, those most interest in Vedic and Hindu religious thought will get considerably more out this documentary than comparatively casual viewers. However, it is still rather intriguing as a work of non-fiction filmmaking. At various points, Elizabeth and Dalal essentially present the audience with a choice. They can either join in Swami Dyananda’s meditation and visualization exercises, or they can remain spectators. They are both valid choices, but you have to choose.

Of course, much of Gurukulam is devoted to quiet observation, but it is never as hushed as Into Great Silence (a not terrible comparative film). There is always plenty of life going on at the Arsha Vidya. In fact, even to shallow agnostics, it looks quite livable for an ashram nestled in the rainforests of southern India.

Indeed, this is an unusually transporting film, submerging viewers in the sights and ambient sounds of Arsha Vidya Gurukulam and its surrounding environs. Serving as cinematographer, documentarian J.P. Sniadecki (whose films are screening throughout Manhattan this week) has a keen eye both for the big, symbolically loaded Samsara-esque shots, as well as the smaller, lighter moments of bonhomie.

Gurukulam will probably not inspire scores of new Vedic adherents to flock to the Swami’s ashram, but that means all of us unabashed materialists can feel safe watching it. It will definitely take you someplace you have never been before. Once there, Elizabeth, Dalal, and editor Mary Lampson show a shrewd editorial judgment focusing on telling details. It is a finely crafted film under any circumstances, but there will be no better venue to see it amongst a knowledgeable and sympathetic audience than the Rubin Museum. Recommended for those who enjoy meditative and immersive documentaries, Gurukulam screens this Saturday (8/22), Sunday (8/23), and Monday (8/24) at the Rubin Museum of Art.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on August 19th, 2015 at 6:38pm.

By Joe Bendel. If you were kid growing up in the late Seventies, you were probably all about Stars Wars, but if you were carrying a lunch box to school before 1976, there is a good chance Evel Knievel was on it. Subsequent decades were hard on the self-styled daredevil, but fans like skateboarding champion Tony Hawk and Jackass’s Johnny Knoxville still remembered the tarnished icon. Daniel Junge revisits the highs and lows of Knievel’s story in the Knoxville-produced Being Evel, which opens this Friday in select theaters.

Butte, Montana was still a bit of a rugged frontier town when young Knievel grew up there, but their cops were pretty funny. According to legend, Knievel once spent a night in the holding cell with a fellow troublemaker named Knoffle, prompting a deputy to dub them “Evil Knievel and Awful Knoffle.” That worked for Knievel, after softening the “Evil” with a second e.

One can find barnstorming precedents for Knievel’s death-defying stunts, but Knievel came up at the perfect time to most fully exploit the media. There were only three real networks in the 1970s, so just about every sports fan watched the buffet-style coverage of ABC’s Wide World of Sports on Sunday mornings. Somehow Knievel talked his way on as the opener for a dirt track race and quickly became a media phenomenon.

Seeing docs like Being Evel reminds us just how much the media landscape has changed within our lifetimes. It also explains the influence Knievel had on the culture, inspiring the extreme sports movement of the 1990s and perfecting an unparalleled personal merchandising machine. You will not see a lot of documentaries co-produced by Knoxville and George Hamilton (who played Knievel in the John Milius-scripted 1971 film), but here it is.

While carefully tracking Knievel’s cultural significance, Junge never loses sight of the outrageousness of his stunts. Frankly, he crashed out more often than his fans probably remember, which still makes for voyeuristically compelling viewing. Junge talks to just about all of Knievel’s surviving family and associates, including his much neglected first wife and his former promoter, Shelly Saltman. Despite being on the business end of Knievel’s notorious baseball bat attack, the latter is remarkably gracious, all things considered.

In many ways, Evel Knievel exemplified American self-invention. Being Evel clearly establishes his many flaws, but the risks he ran were still very real. Junge assembled some spectacularly dramatic and telling footage that evokes an era that is no so long ago, but feels so very far away. Briskly paced and stylishly constructed, it is one of the more watchable documentaries of the year. Recommended beyond the Knievel-extreme sports fanbase, Being Evel opens this Friday (8/21) in select theaters, including the Roxie in San Francisco, and also releases on iTunes.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on August 17th, 2015 at 9:26pm.

By Joe Bendel. Family is important to notorious art forger Wolfgang Beltracchi. His closest accomplice was his wife Helene and his documentarian is the son of his lawyer, Reinhard Birkenstock. Beltracchi’s best forgeries were not copies of known works, but rather “newly discovered” works from important early Modernists, designed to fill holes in their oeuvres. This was not a new approach to art fraud, but Beltracchi was unusually successful at it. Even now, the art world still does not know how many of his “originals” have penetrated into museums and galleries. The rather unrepentant forger has no intention of revealing those secrets in Arne Birkenstock’s Beltracchi: The Art of Forgery, which opens this Wednesday in New York at Film Forum.

Thanks to a lenient work release program, the Beltracchis still enjoyed the fruits of their criminal endeavors during the day, puttering around their villa before returning to prison in the evening (supposedly they are employed by a friend’s photography studio). Wolfgang Beltracchi is now required to paint solely under his own name, but he shows Birkenstock how it is done, for old times’ sake. He is happy to explain the process, but plays it coy when asking for specifics on his past forgeries.

It is a shame Art of Forgery was not released while the Beltracchis were serving their sentences, because it could have spurred the court to revoke their privileges. Clearly, Birkenstock expects viewers to consider Beltracchi a roguishly jolly Falstaffian fellow, but instead we see someone who always manages to flaunt the rules. Frankly, it is annoying. There are also predictable questions raised regarding the fundamental value of art. Beltracchi and Birkenstock are definitely right about one thing, the current market climate gave experts every incentive to give his forgeries a pass, rather than digging into them with a fine tooth comb.

There is no question Art of Forgery would have been a more compelling film if it had taken a more narrative-focused true crime approach, in the tradition of Smash & Grab and The Life and Crimes of Doris Payne. Art and Craft, the documentary profile of the socially awkward forger Mark Landis might be an obvious comparative film, but filmmakers Sam Cullman & Jennifer Grausman give nearly equal time to Landis’s Javert, thereby establishing conflict. Instead, Birkenstock’s film is like one long boasting session for Beltracchi.

Between Beltracchi and Landis, it is hard to have confidence in the integrity of any art you might find in most respectable institutions. That is not good for fine art’s place in the wider universe. Beltracchi’s story is indeed fascinating, but Birkenstock never fully tells it, omitting for instance a former business partner’s allegations he burgled their gallery (a nice bit of sensationalism surely worth re-dredging). Unfortunately, Birkenstock is just too thoroughly charmed by his subject. Beltracchi: the Art of Forgery has its intriguing moments, but it is too much like an artist’s working process doc, like Gerhard Richter Painter, which is a tad problematic for a film about a convicted forger. A mixed bag best enjoyed by those who bear a grudge against the established art world, it opens this Wednesday (8/19) at New York’s Film Forum.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on August 17th, 2015 at 9:25pm.

By Joe Bendel. Lobsang Phunstok is sort of the Father Flanagan of Tibetan Buddhism. At the foot of the Indian Himalayas, he founded Jamtse Gatsal, or “The Garden of Love and Compassion,” an orphanage and school for abandoned children. He might be a former Buddhist monk, but he has the patience of a saint when it comes to difficult children like Tashi Drolma. However, you have to feel for the five year old, considering how much she has already faced up to in her young life. Lobsang Phunstok and his staff will help her find her place in Jamtse Gatsal and start to heal her trauma in Andrew Hinton & Johnny Burke’s Tashi and the Monk, which premieres this coming Monday on HBO.

Drolma’s alcoholic father abandoned her sometime after her mother died at a tragically young age. That is more than any kid should have to deal with, so it is hardly surprising her behavior tends towards the aggressive. There is no question she is disruptive, but when you hear her make-up revealing stories about little girls just like her that are haunted by ghosts, it is easy to see she is hurting. Lobsang Phunstok understands only too well. He was also abandoned during childhood. That is why he will not give up on a trouble-maker like Drolma, even while he wrestles with difficult administrative dilemmas, especially his admissions process.

Clocking in well under an hour, T&M is comparatively brief, but it pummels viewers’ heartstrings. The disarmingly innocent looking Drolma will activate every protective instinct the audience might have, so it is rewarding to see her finally settle in, thanks in large measure to Raju, her “big brother.” However, the film also makes it painfully clear the good monk simply cannot save every child in need, showing us the tragic consequences for one child he was unable to admit.

We often think of Tibetan Buddhist monasteries as exotic places of spiritual sequestration. In contrast, T&M and Frederick Marx’s Journey to Zanskar paint a dynamic portrait of Tibet Buddhism as an activist faith, very much engaged with the welfare of the young and desperately disadvantaged. Both documentaries capture deeply moving human stories, while acting as a corrective to Lost Horizon-style exoticism.

After watching T&M for forty-some minutes, you will ardently care about what happens to both Tashi and her guardian. Hinton & Burke also have a good eye for visuals, giving viewers a vivid sense of the stunning Himalayan environs. It is a truly inspirational film that never feels saccharine or manipulative. Highly recommended for those interested in Himalayan culture and faith in action, Tashi and the Monk airs this Monday (8/17) on HBO.

LFM GRADE: A

Posted on August 14th, 2015 at 8:54pm.

By Joe Bendel. Experts contend the greatest degree of corruption in American government happens at the local level, because that is where most land use decisions are made. Apparently, it is the same in China, but more lethally so. The late Qian Yunhui was a rare breed—a village chief who actually protested the government’s land appropriation schemes. That may very well be why he is now the late Qian Yunhui. Ai Weiwei and his filmmaking team investigate the suspicious circumstances surrounding his death in Ping’an Yueqing, which screens as part of Cinema on the Edge, a retrospective tribute to the Beijing Independent Film Festival now playing in New York at Anthology Film Archives.

If you were still unclear how independent the Beijing Independent festival was and why the Communist government so resented their maverick programming, just start watching Ping’an Yueqing. Sadly, the village of Yueqing is anything but “peaceful.” Qian was imprisoned for over four years, but the village refused to elect another headman, because he was faithfully representing their concerns. Then one morning, Qian was conveniently struck and killed by a heavy truck owned and operated by the local power authority.

After an unseemly short investigation, Qian’s death was ruled an accident and his two deputies were arrested for obstruction of justice. Sensing a cover-up, the internet quickly took up the case. As the citizen investigators explain to Ai Weiwei, the traffic surveillance camera was ever so strangely offline for maintenance exactly during the so-called accident. However, video recorded by Qian’s smart-watch device (like his own, personal Zapruder film) did not match the description of the scene in police reports. The few eye witnesses willing to testify also contradict the official story in various ways. Yet, perhaps the most damning circumstantial evidence is the pattern of troublesome Zhejiang officials who were previously done in by similar traffic accidents.

Teacher Ai and his team do their best to put the dissembling officials on the spot. It is not always pretty, but the state mouthpieces generally conduct themselves more shrewdly than the apparatchiks in his classic Disturbing the Peace and So Sorry. However, the most disturbing sequences are the dozens of Yueqing villagers who tell Ai’s camera crews “if I talk to you, they will make me disappear tonight,” in exactly those terms. Regardless of the Qian case, this is obviously a profoundly ailing community, suffering from oppressive corruption.

Ping’an uses the same straight, unfiltered approach as seen in other Ai Weiwei documentaries, but in this particularly complicated case, it would have been helpful to have an on-camera presence to help marshal the often contradicting testimony and to occasionally provide context. Of course, Teacher Ai would have been perfect for such a role, but he is not inclined to inject himself into other people’s stories.

Regardless, Ping’an is a courageous example of independent filmmaking and investigative journalism. It shines a searing spotlight on a tawdry episode the Party would love the world to forget. Yet, thanks to Ai Weiwei and the Beijing Independent fest, cineastes who have never heard of Qian Yunhui will keep revisiting the events in Yueqing. A bold and chilling work of non-fiction filmmaking, Ping’an Yueqing is highly recommended for anyone who really wants to see what speaking truth to power really looks like when it screens again this Thursday (8/13) at the Anthology Film Archives and as part of the forthcoming tour of the Cinema on the Edge retrospective.

LFM GRADE: A

Posted on August 12th, 2015 at 10:11pm.

By Joe Bendel. If you think it is tough for women to get a fair shake in Hollywood, try breaking into the business in mainland China. Two young and jaded film school grads have been stymied thus far, so they are making their own darned movie now. However, their hybrid mockumentary will reveal more than they anticipated in Yang Mingming’s Female Directors, which screens as part of Cinema on the Edge, a retrospective tribute to the Beijing Independent Film Festival now playing in New York at Anthology Film Archives.

Even though they are the compromised guardians of Mao’s leftist revolution, the Party is rather puritanical when it comes to sex. It therefore takes all of ten seconds to figure out why Female Directors had to be produced outside the system. There is more “slut-shaming” in its caustic forty-three minutes than in of Amy Schumer’s films to-date, repeatedly played ten times in a row. Of course, it is important to remember, when Yang and her cohort Guo Yue make naughty jokes, they are actually running real risks with the powers-that-be, whereas Schumer is hailed as the new Sarah Silverman, until the next one comes along.

Soon after Ah-ming and Yue Yue (their fictionalized personas) commence shooting their DIY chronicle of creative unemployment, they discover they have both been carrying on with the same married sugar daddy. Neither professes to feel much for the wealthy little creep, yet they each clearly resent how the other has allegedly cashed-in on the relationship. Actually, they use terms for this that would be inappropriate for a family site. Will their friendship survive? Will they finish the film? Will they confront the man they dub “Mr. Short?”

Given the running time, we will have these answers in short order, but one thing is certain—they will not be welcomed into the filmmaking establishment anytime soon. At one time, Yue Yue might have had a shot. She joined the Party during her high school years, but was expelled for attending an Ingmar Bergman retrospective, which is depressing in multiple ways.

Even by western standards, Female Directors’ dialogue is unusually explicit, but the film never shows any actual whoopee-making and very little skin. Compared to Ah-ming and Yue Yue, the Sex in the City characters sound like Amish women at a quilting circle. Yang and Guo Yue are incredibly charismatic and acerbic, wielding their cutting dialogue like machetes. They seem so believably messy and frazzled playing off each other, and the entire film feels uncomfortably real.

Regardless, Yang is critical of more than just double standards and glass ceilings. The film is also disrespectful to most forms of authority. As a result, the finished package is sly, tight, and surprisingly refreshing, but absolutely not for kids. Recommended for fans of adult meta-comedy, Female Directors screened again with Listening to Third Grandmother’s Stories this Wednesday (8/12) as part of Cinema on the Edge at Anthology Film Archives.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on August 12th, 2015 at 10:10pm.