Column #28 - The Rise of Docu-tainment

I vacillated over whether to post this last year but feel the time is right, now. (Also they've this adorable movie about penguins out there and I couldn't resist it any longer.)

The film genre experiencing the greatest post-modern renaissance isn't the noir, the comedy, or the horror. It's the documentary. Or rather the newest incarnation, the "docu-drama", a combination of narrative driven story and traditional documentary. This is probably more than a little due to the success of Bowling for Columbine, which in addition to earning a truckload of money, another Oscar for director Michael Moore, and the ire of every neo-conservative in the Bush administration, also proved that documentaries could be...ENTERTAINING. But mostly they could make money. Real money. Movie money. Money, money, money...In fact, Fahrenheit 9/11 opened at number one at the box office pounding the living daylights out of White Chicks -- a movie that finally answered the question, "How many blondes does it take to make a truly atrocious film?" Answer: The Wayans.

Fahrenheit 9/11 is not a superior movie compared to Bowling For Columbine. It's more laborious, slower, and the personal components feel forced. That said, Fahrenheit 9/11 raises some of the most damning accusations ever leveled against an American citizen not named Rosenberg in the suggestion that decades-old ties between the Bush patriarchy and the Bin Laden patriarchy led to the White House facilitating the evacuation (?), no that's not the word, the escape (?), better, stronger, but still not the word, abscond (?), closer, wait, now I remember, it's called obstruction of justice. That's what happens when material witnesses disappear following a crime, in this case the destruction of the World Trade Center, four airplanes, and the innocence of an entire nation. Hey, here's an idea: Your half-brother kills three thousand people, you get an interview with the FBI. Your son organizes a hijacking; you get interrogated. You give money to the mastermind of Al Queda; family or not, you take a dirt-nap. I don't know whether Moore's allegations are fact or fiction, but the mere possibility of something this atrocious, shocks me to my very core. That a sitting President would put his financial and personal liability above his nation, there's a word for that, too: Treason. Give me a break. Compared to Clinton shutping a fat girl, this is felony-homicide captured live on television. If Gore had won the popular vote...wait, he did, I mean the electoral college, Republicans would be sharpening their knives at the potential of skewering him for "Presidential Failures prior to 9-11."

Of course, Gore didn't run in 2004 and John Kerry was so boring that even democratic states didn't vote for him. I think his home state did. The problem is we all want Clinton BACK but the constitution forbids a third term for an incumbent President. On the other hand, it seems that Bush and his cronies pay little attention to any law, even the constitution that maybe "Ol'Bubba" could make his comeback. The truth is, divisiveness is really the result of the absence of a good sex scandal.

Now, to be upfront I'm a fan of Moore's "catch-em with their pants down" style of journalistic ambush. Heck, most politicians deserve a good ass-kicking and don't even get me started on corporate executives, I still can't figure out why Martha Stewart was on trial for making/saving/keeping $83,000 when the World.com hierarchy made off with tens of millions, wait, maybe there's some of that...obstruction of justice going on...Hmmm...Makes one think don't it...Must stop t-h-i-n-k-i-n-g...brain beginning to leak brain goo...orrff...

Bowling For Columbine's examination of the culture of fear that permeates American media was bang-on. I remember one weekend when speaking on the phone from deep inside the US, I was told about an accident on Highway 22X, the road of death in cow-town. Maybe three had perished. I rebutted that about forty-five died in a holiday weekend of death on the I-4. I'm pretty sure she thought each day was a scene out of the Road Warrior for me. It wasn't, but the media, that means television and to a lesser extent print, played up the violence, the drugs, the disaster, the violence, the horror, the violence, the drugs and the violence and did I mention the violence? Funny thing, you get used to it.

Now, I don't always agree with Moore. His comments on the progressive conservatives during the last election were dumbass, but not as dumbass as the suggestion from a UofToronto student with nothing better to do, than to have Moore, because he's a foreigner, charged under the Elections Act for "attempting to influence" the outcome of the federal election...blah, blah, blah.

To quote that last great icon of intelligent television, South Park, I call shenanigans! Does this mean that every time a foreign leader mentions the good job that the (usually liberal and always Quebec-centric) prime minister is doing, they're attempting to influence an election. Send'em to prison! Break out the stun guns! Off with their heads! Sorry. It just once again proves the old axiom that the only thing good to ever come from Toronto was the Tragically Hip. Wait...They come from Kingston.

Supersize Me is one of those really great movie ideas. Dude eats nothing but Mickey-D's for a month, suffers depression, weight gain, and liver failure, and asks that most pertinent of questions, "Can anything with 600 calories and 51 grams of fat really be all that good for you? Answer: Not when you eat it 30 straight days." Morgan Spurlock has an idea, eat Mickey-D's for an entire month and see just exactly what happens. Granted this is in the realm of the extreme, but they are individuals who eat fast food every single day, it's become so commonplace, so cheap, and so...everywhere that it's impossible not to. Think Las Vegas porn-flyer hand-er-outer guy, always in your face, ready to put a bill in your hand, whether you want it or not. This and spam is the crack-dealer of the digital age. It's impossible not to take a look. Or so I'm told. Ever take a road-trip? I mean a real, drive across the continent/country journey? You'll be sick to death of fast-food by the third day. By the fifth your backed-up like a prison toilet. By the eighth, you hate yourself and your trip. By the twelfth, deli is your new heroin, just cause it's different.

Spurlock uses meticulous medical documentation (and a brilliant insurance plan) to chronicle his body's subsequent breakdown. The most poignant moment comes when his primary care physician compares his liver failure to the abuse inflicted by a life-long alcoholic. He even goes so far to say that if he drank, he's tell him "to stop, cause your killing himself". His exasperated pleas fall on deaf ears as Spurlock pushes on like the good little soldier he is. It was at this point, tinged with perverse pleasure that the viewer internally cheered. It was like a slow-motion car accident. You wanted to look away, but something deep inside compelled you to watch, hoping for that little bit of carnage. Suffice to say, Spurlock doesn't die, merely gains weight, develops depression, gets addicted, and freaks out his doctors. Thanks to this movie, I no longer order fries as often. Has it been tough? Oh, how I love those salty lard-soaked sticks of death, but then I remember that the super-sizing might be in my heart. And I order anyway. Or not. Least not as much as before.

Touching The Void was the most "filmic" of the three films examined here and also had the best and most "Hollywood" potential of the three. Void examines a couple of mountain climbers that get stuck in a Rube Goldberg design of pernicious execution involving a hanging catch-22 over the edge of a 22,000 foot cliff, a plummet into a crevasse, and the decision to climb down rather than up. It's intense as docu-tainment but in the hands of Hollywood it could only have gotten better. (Note: This is a lie. And probably the reason it took some fifteen years to get any version to the big screen.)

The future of docu-tainment is as strong as it has ever been. I look forward to the behind-the-scenes examination of Middle East news in The Control Room, the evils of corporations in The Corporation, the challenge of whatever it is that Michael Moore decides to ferret out next; word is, it's an examination of the American healthcare system focusing on mental health called Sicko. I'll be the first (of many) in line. And don't forget those damn and determined tuxedo-eaters, the Penguins. And no, Sydney Crosby isn't in the flick.
Jess Nakaska is an aspiring screenwriter always on the lookout for the next great script idea. He'll let you know if he finds it. Feel free to contact him at jessnakaska@hotmail.com.