Tag Archives: documentaries

Born in the Southwest USA

Western Stars

by Hope Madden and George Wolf

Back in 1985, with “Born in the USA”-mania raging, Bruce Springsteen’s small acting performance in the John Sayles video for “I’m On Fire” spurred talk of a Boss move to feature films.

Aside from a cameo or two, it never happened.

But now, after becoming both an author and playwright in the last five years, Bruce hits the big screen as both star and co-director of Western Stars, an enchanting and meditative live presentation of his 19th album.

Gathering his current, non E-Street band, a 30 piece orchestra and a select audience of friends inside his one hundred-year-old barn, Bruce brings emotional new life to his musings on “the struggle between individual freedom and communal life.”

Tramps like us already know these songs are not what many expect from the Boss. There are no fist-pumping anthems here. These are lush pop symphonies, draped in the 1970s California pop sounds of Brian Wilson, Jimmy Webb, Glen Campbell and even Burt Bacharach.

Bruce has toyed with these styles as far back as “New York City Serenade,” but it was his 2007 album “Magic” that unveiled the first major step toward the musical promise fulfilled by Western Stars.

And though the comments by Bruce and band about the music “taking on a life of its own” sound like self-serving cliches, these live performances back them up. His speaking voice may show his 70 years, but Bruce’s singing only seems richer and more inviting.

“Sleepy Joe’s Cafe” is powered by a more joyous swing and “Sundown” soars with a newfound drive. For both “Stones” and “Moonlight Motel,” by sharing one mic with wife Patti Scialfa, Bruce adds layers of confessional intimacy.

The soul searching is only bolstered by dreamy, between-song vignettes from Bruce and co-director Thom Zimny. Amid gorgeous vistas, charming home movies (the Boss likes tequila!) and flashbacks to the America that shaped him, Bruce shares the songwriting inspirations he found in cars, risk, lies and love.

Longtime fans have often heard Bruce speak of the “conversation” he’s always had with his audience. In that vein, after his autobiography and broadway show, Western Stars is a can’t miss portrait of both the artist and the human being taking life’s journey.

And if you’re new to the conversation, welcome. Today’s Springsteen may not be quite what you’re expecting, but the days are still pretty glorious.

The Long Way Home

Midnight Traveler

by George Wolf

“How do you say ‘help’ in English?”

A harrowing first person account of one family’s flight from a death sentence, Midnight Traveler frames the refugee debate with honest, heartbreaking intimacy.

In 2015, the work of Afghan filmmaker Hassan Fazili earned him a call for death from the ruling Taliban. Fazili and his family sought asylum in neighboring Tajikistan, only to be denied after 14 months.

Midnight Traveler joins Fazili, his wife Nargis and two young daughters the night before their scheduled deportation back to Afghanistan. Filmed only on three iPhones, the movie documents the family’s years and thousands of miles-long journey in search of a safe place to call home.

In last year’s Oscar-winning doc Free Solo, the filmmakers expressed angst over the effect their cameras might have on the decisions of free climber Alex Honnold. As the dangers mount for Fazili and family, we begin to feel the same, worrying our intrusion might somehow cloud their judgement.

As the Fazili family deals with smugglers, broken promises and spur of the moment evacuations, we also see smaller moments of daily life. The daughters manage to laugh and play, and there is tenderness between Hassan and Nargis, as they smile over past memories of a much simpler and safer time.

Even with a verite nature that is often frantic and understandably desperate, Hassan’s footage reveals an unmistakable eye for form and structure.

This is a family literally crying for help in real time, and a human rights issue that can suffer from anonymous enormity transforms before our eyes, consistently adding strength to the touching impact of Midnight Traveler.

Refugees are more than statistics and political footballs. They are human beings with families, dreams and dwindling options. Within the reams of names on a waiting list are urgent, personal stories of survival.

This is one.

The Shapes of Water

Aquarela

by George Wolf

“We swam out through the trunk!”

Those are six of the very few spoken words in Aquarela, and they quickly establish the stakes in Victor Kossakovsky’s immersive documentary. His aim is to get you startlingly close to the world war between man and water.

There is power, there is beauty, there is death. And there’s some death metal, which isn’t as out of place as you might think.

In case you haven’t noticed, this is a great time to be a documentarian, and thus, a fan of documentaries. This year alone, we’ve seen technological breakthroughs make possible the wonders of Apollo 11, They Shall Not Grow Old and Amazing Grace.

Like those, Aquarela (“watercolor” in Portuguese) employs cutting-edge wizardry for an experience that begs for the biggest screen you can find.

Monstrous ocean waves build and crash, huge chunks of ice fall prey to rising global temperatures, and a hypnotic narrative emerges. Mankind has battled the shapes of water for centuries, in hopes of lessening its dangers and harnessing its power, and Kossakovsky feels it’s time to hear from the other side. The few humans who speak feel like party crashers.

Don’t expect explanations, you won’t get any. What you will get in Aquarela is an utterly astounding profile of a living, breathing, dying force of nature.

Living Out Loud

Raise Hell: The Life & Times of Molly Ivins

by George Wolf

Even if you know nothing of Molly Ivins, you won’t be long into Raise Hell before you’re wondering: WWMID?

After a lifetime of speaking truth to power was ended by cancer in 2007, what would Ivins do – or more pointedly, what would she say – about the cesspool of blatant corruption that is American politics in 2019?

And as entertaining as Janice Engel’s documentary is, its biggest takeaway is just how badly Ivins is missed in a profession now facing unprecedented threat.

Engel is clearly a fan, but her portrait of Ivins as one of a kind is hard to rebut. A six-foot-tall Texas native who could out-drink the Bubbas while she skewered their elected reps, Ivins blazed a gender trail through newsrooms across the country.

Ivins even covered Elvis’s obit and funeral for the New York Times before settling in as a Pulitzer-nominated political columnist and author, the role that brought her legions of what one longtime colleague called “not readers…constituents.”

Her writing was smart, informed, and extremely opinionated, laced with acerbic wit, a passion for civil liberties and an undeniable voice. And Engel, as director and co-writer, makes sure you realize how unnervingly prescient it was, as well.

Of course, all this also brought Ivins plenty of haters, and though Engel isn’t preaching to that choir, she doesn’t completely shy away from the personal demons that dogged Ivins throughout her life.

Like its subject, the film is fast-paced, smart, fun and funny, as Engel deftly uses Ivins’s timeline as a microcosm of shifting political landscapes. But more importantly, Raise Hell is a fitting tribute to a woman who wasn’t afraid to, and an urgent call to follow her lead.

One Is the Loneliest Number

One Child Nation

by George Wolf

A heartbreaking, sometimes devastating and absolutely necessary history lesson, One Child Nation turns a filmmaker’s very personal story into a profile of shared helplessness.

Nanfu Wang grew up in China during the nation’s strict “one child per family” social policy. Launched in 1979 and added to the Chinese constitution three years later, the policy endured until 2015, leaving scarred generations of parents and children in its wake.

Wang (who also provides frequent narration and commentary) and her co-director Jialing Zhang detail the shocking number of people affected by the policy, the horrifying lengths with which it was enforced, and the splinters of impact it continues to leave on families living oceans apart.

With interviews often reminiscent of Joshua Oppenheimer’s unforgettable doc The Act of Killing, Wang looks back on atrocities with those who personally carried them out. The repeated defense of “I had no choice” is layered with startling and timely reminders of both Orwellian propaganda campaigns and the worldwide struggle for women’s rights.

In another deeply poignant segment, we meet an elderly midwife desperately using the last years of her life in hopes of atonement for her past.

But the success Wang has with many of these interviews only makes the film’s main weakness more glaring.

Where are the women who personally endured the forced abortions and sterilizations? Where are the mothers whose newborn daughters were casually abandoned or sold? Despite an early warning for Wang to “not make trouble,” there is no clear explanation why this seemingly necessary perspective is lacking.

Otherwise, One Child Nation – disturbing as it often is – attacks an inhuman policy with an effectively informed humanity, along with a dire warning about whitewashing history.

“No child should be separated from their parents.”

Imagine that.

California Dreamin’

Echo in the Canyon

by George Wolf

For a musician and a record executive, it was the look of an old movie that led them down a path toward becoming documentarians.

The movie was 1969’s Model Shop, and to Jakob Dylan (Wallflowers, son of Bob) and Andrew Slater (former president of Columbia Records), that film “looked like a Beach Boys record.”

Inspiration took root, with Echo in the Canyon standing as the sweet fruit of their efforts to research and honor the music that defined the film’s setting: L.A.’s Laurel Canyon in the late 1960s.

With Slater directing and Dylan serving as producer and on screen guide, Echo digs deep into a fertile musical catalog. Mixing interviews and performances—both new and archival—the film effectively bridges the gap between those who created the music and those who continue to be inspired by it.

And, oh, the stories are priceless.

From Tom Petty (shown in one of his final interviews) winning his copy of Pet Sounds from a radio contest, to Dylan’s influence (“You’ll have to be more specific,” Jakob deadpans), to Neil Young wanting to take on some cops (“he’s Canadian!”) the tales keep coming, nearly all of them captivating.

And, of course, so is the music.

Classics from the Byrds, Beatles, Beach Boys, Mamas and the Papas and more are explored from their beginnings, and then reborn. From the studio to the stage, Jakob and assorted guest stars (Fiona Apple, Beck, Cat Power) give the songs new coats of paint, and while this approach casts vanity project shadows on Dylan the younger, the motivations always seem properly reverential.

At 82 minutes, the film does seem like it closes the curtain a bit early, but it gets the point across. By the time Graham Nash gives a near tearful declaration that Laurel Canyon in the 60s will one day stand with Paris in the 30s as a watershed of collaborative art, you’re not apt to argue.

Suicide Squeeze

The Spy Behind Home Plate

by George Wolf

Two movies about Moe Berg in the last twelve months? What gives?

And who’s Moe Berg?

Decades before Austin Powers, Morris “Moe” Berg was an international man of mystery. A 15 year veteran of the Major Leagues, Berg was also a Princeton grad, a voracious reader with a photographic memory who clung to his privacy. He was a lawyer, a quiz show champion and an international spy who was once dispatched on a WWII kamikaze mission to assassinate the head of Germany’s nuclear research program.

Astounding stuff from a guy who, according to baseball legend Casey Stengel, “Could speak seven languages, but couldn’t hit in any of them!”

Just last summer, Paul Rudd played Berg in the enjoyable but underseen The Catcher Was a Spy. Now, documentarian Aviva Kempner brings a no-frills, uber-informative approach to uncovering the real Berg with The Spy Behind Home Plate.

Kempner (Rosenwald, The Life and Times of Hank Grennberg) unveils a succession of talking heads joined by wonderful archival stills and videos. Perhaps to mirror her subject, Aviva’s film is short on style, but it’s substance is extra innings worthy.

As unbelievable as Berg’s story is, the dry presentation doesn’t do much to entice the casually interested. But if you find these undertold slices of history fascinating, you’ll be hooked enough to want to seek out Rudd’s version next.

Sexplicit Content

Ask Dr. Ruth

by Cat McAlpine

Ruth Westheimer stands only 4’ 7” tall and she knows it, mentioning her small stature frequently throughout the documentary Ask Dr. Ruth. She believes being small made her less intimidating when she took the world by storm talking frankly about sex. Ruth’s small stature also came in handy when she was grievously injured in the 1947-49 Palestine War, as she was able to stay in an overcrowded hospital by sleeping on a bookshelf.

Oh, that’s right. Ruth didn’t become Dr. Ruth until her 40’s. First she survived the holocaust in a Swiss orphanage, emigrated to Palestine, became a sniper for a Jewish paramilitary group during the war, started her education in Paris, fell in love and was married three times, emigrated to the United States, and raised a family.

Director Ryan White curates a beautiful narrative that explores Ruth’s constant position at the forefront of change and upheaval. The story flickers between a retelling of Ruth’s early life, the beginning of her career, and a reflection of what she’s managed to accomplish today. At 90 years old Ruth is still teaching classes, performing speeches, writing books, and giving advice. At one point she’s asked “Why write another book now, at 90?” (she’s published at least 30).

She replies with good humor, “What a stupid question.”

Ruth herself is a marvelous star. She’s proud of what she does – she’s kept recordings of all of her performances and you can spy flyers and posters of her appearances tacked up in her New York apartment. She’s warm and welcoming, a care-giver to her core, but she is also shockingly stoic for her jovial nature. Ruth keeps the events of her life at arm’s length. Accounts of past wars and lost loves are highlighted with animated re-enactments.

This is the point where I typically balk at documentaries. Animation or actor re-enactments often feel like a necessary evil in telling a story that cameras weren’t present for. I find the mixed media style off-putting and, honestly, tacky. In Ask Dr. Ruth though, the effect works pretty well. It helps that the dreamy animation is done with vignettes rather than characters mouthing a voice-over.

Toward the end of the film, there’s a super-cut montage of Ruth’s life. Black and white photos alternate with the beautiful animations and clips from 80’s talk shows. It’s wild and crazy, happy and sad, and so very, very Ruth.


This film is a heartwarming tale of what life is like as a refugee and an immigrant, a feminist icon who denies the label, and as a doting mother and grandmother. Allow yourself to be delightfully surprised by Ask Dr. Ruth.

Team Rocket

Apollo 11

by George Wolf

A majestic and inspirational marriage of the historic and the cutting edge, Apollo 11 is a monumental achievement, one full of startling immediacy and stirring heroics.

Just weeks after the debut of Peter Jackson’s time-traveling masterwork They Shall Not Grow Old, director Todd Douglas Miller also makes history live again through similar reliance on restorative genius and respectful restraint.

There is no flowery writing or voiceover narration, just the words and pictures of July 1969, when Americans walked on the moon and returned home safely.

The restored footage is so crisp and detailed (even more so in the IMAX version) that shots of a young Johnny Carson among the launch spectators stand as a bracing reminder this is not the latest big budget Hollywood production.

This is living, breathing history you’re soaking in. And damn is it thrilling.

From the capsule “home movies” of Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, to the mission control checklists and ticking event countdowns, Apollo 11 immerses you in moments that will elicit breathlessness for the drama, pride for the science, respect for the heroism and awe for the wonder.

And still, Apollo 11 stands even taller for its own humble nature. Even in this grand scale, the film never feels like it is trying to deliver a final word, in fact just the opposite.

It is a salute to the thirst for knowledge and discovery with an invitation, on the near 50th anniversary of the iconic voyage, to reconsider the achievement.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check if there’s any theaters still playing First Man….

IMAX version:





Concrete Jungle

Minding the Gap

by George Wolf

The legendary inscription carved into Woody Guthrie’s guitar read, “This machine kills fascists.”

In the Oscar-nominated documentary Minding the Gap, a Sharpie-scrawled proclamation on a skateboard declares, “This device cures heartache.” And despite the free-flowing and exuberant skateboarding footage, it is the way first-time director Bing Liu chronicles those heartaches that enables the film to soar high above skatepunk stereotypes.

It’s anchored by footage Liu began filming over a decade ago, while still a restless teen in Rockford, Illinois. Liu and his friends Zack, Kiere and Nina forged early bonds through the joy they found in skateboarding and the escape it provided from their troubled home lives.

Spurred by the foresight of wisdom beyond his years, Liu began focusing his lens less on “big air” tricks at the local skate park and more on what he and his friends were experiencing on the way to adulthood. It results in a consistently touching ride.

Liu, who’s been working behind the scenes on various film and TV projects the last several years, displays remarkable instincts assembling his first feature. He weaves old and new footage deftly, drawing us into the lives of he and his friends with an amazing knack for knowing just when a shot needs to be held one beat longer, or when a quick cut to a Rockford billboard might subtly underscore the issues at hand.

And as the kids grow into young adults, their interviews sometimes reveal amazingly clear bits of self-assessment. Zack and Nina face a tough road as new parents, and when a troubling issue threatens their relationship, Liu frames it with skillful delicacy. Kiere has an enthusiastic spirit and a bright smile you won’t forget, even when you can’t ignore the pain hiding behind it. It is a pain that Liu shares, something he believes connects them all and inspired the direction of his film.

It’s instantly easy to care about these young people, about what they are going through and where they might end up. And it is through them that Liu is able to organically present a microcosm of America itself, beset as it is with issues of race, class, violence and opportunity.

Minding the Gap entertains as a testament to the love of skateboarding, but it transcends as an emotional statement on the fragile bonds of parenting and an earnest ode to the power of love.