Tag Archives: Lance Oppenheim

Catch Me If You Can

Primetime

by Hope Madden

In 2021, Lance Oppenheim directed the wild documentary Some Kind of Heaven about Florida’s exclusive retirement community, The Villages. Beneath the blinding aqua pools, savage tans and vacant smiles, a seediness rotted away.

The director dials that tone up a notch for Primetime, the based-on-real-events feature that chronicles the rise and fall of a TV phenomenon.

 Robert Pattinson is Chris Hansen, host of NBC’s To Catch a Predator. Often, when an actor portrays a reprehensible character, the strength of the performance comes from finding the humanity at the center of the monster. And yet, Pattinson—among the most fascinating actors of a generation—chooses to do the opposite. His turn is just this side of farcical, beautifully so. Pattinson offers Hansen exactly the empathy Hansen himself possessed, and the character is so compellingly repugnant you cannot look away.

Hansen’s frantic ambition leads an already unseemly production to new lows in search of ratings. His emotional regulator and quiet puppeteer, producer Andie Bender, is played with magnificent nuance by Merritt Wever. Like the character, Wever quietly controls the film.

And for the human heartbeat, Skyler Gisondo, in a rare dramatic role, offers a tenderness that amplifies the ugliness, the garishness, of not only the true story itself but Oppenheim’s film.

To Catch a Predator was insanely popular, viewers tuning in to watch a would-be sexual predator lured into committing to a terrible decision. It brought out the ugliness in viewers, and Oppenheim’s film delivers its take on the predatory nature of the show and of the entertainment industry with the same salacious verve.

Daniel Garber’s editing mimics and mocks true crime sensationalism, almost hypnotizing you with seediness and a strange comic sensibility. That hint of humor—in Pattinson’s performance, in the way he’s lit and made up, in the editing—is what makes the film such a grotesque success.

Nights Are Warm and the Days Are Young

Some Kind of Heaven

by Hope Madden

There is something absurd and mesmerizing about Lance Oppenheim’s documentary Some Kind of Heaven. The greens of the golf courses are insanely green, the aquas of the pools are blindingly blue/green, the synchrony of limbs or golf carts in the choreographed dances is hypnotic.

They have synchronized golf cart dances.

The Villages is nuts!

Sort of the Disneyland of retirement communities, Florida’s The Villages is a 100,000 strong city, gated and catering exclusively to elderly residents. Their town square is painted and constructed to look like a real town square – it even has a fake history that city tour guides will spin with a smile and a deep, savage tan.

This is a community of affluence ripe for satire in an era of catastrophic generational income inequality. Instead, Oppenheim finds a more melancholy and poignant inspiration. Rather than lampoon the wretched excess, the filmmaker develops character studies, unveiling something more bitter than sweet in this dessert topping of a town.

Anne and Reggie, married 47 years, began falling apart before they moved to The Villages, but his recreational drug use and attempts at spiritual awakening are taking a toll. A poignant look at loneliness inside the happiest place in old age, the recently widowed Barbara works all day and finds herself an outsider in a world full of vacant, smiling eyes.

But the true outsider is the seediest and most fascinating character of the bunch. Eighty-one-year-old Dennis cannot afford The Villages, but he’s not ashamed to scam his way in. Living in his van and preying on lonely women with money, he reminded me of the sublime Senior Love Triangle from 2020.

That comparison, though, only draws attention to the fairly superficial treatment Oppenheim gives the subjects. Dennis seemed to be an opportunity to comment on an unseemly reality seeping into this community, itself a perversion of reality.

Oppenheim’s framing and David Bolen’s cinematography create an unforgettable visual experience, preparing you for a Wes Anderson meets John Waters documentary about rich old people synchronized swimming.

Well, that’s just too high a bar. Who could live up to that? Instead, Oppenheim settles for a little razzle dazzle, a little character intrigue, and enough footage to make you wonder what the hell goes on in The Villages.