The Captains


The CaptainsKirk. Picard. Sisko. Janeway. Archer.  Just hearing these names is enough to bring a smile of fond remembrance to Star Trek fans of all ages, and conjures images of heroism in the face of danger, face-offs with alien races, and some egregious fashion faux pas.  From the original Star Trek in the 1960′s to the 2009 movie by J.J. Abrams, the Star Trek franchise has been one of the most enduring and profitable in Hollywood history, and even though interest in the TV shows has waned in recent years (the recent series Enterprise was cancelled after four seasons), the characters and the actors who played them continue to be a force of pop culture with which to be reckoned.  But despite (or perhaps because of) the myriad documentaries, interviews, and convention appearances that the actors have taken part in over the years, it is the individuals who played the storied captains of the various vessels in the show who continue to fascinate millions of fans worldwide.  And it is with this in mind that William Shatner, who wowed audiences and wooed women as Captain Kirk in the original series, set out to create a film that offers a singular insight into the hearts and minds of the actors who have had the distinct privilege to sit in the fabled captain’s chair.  The result is a documentary consisting almost entirely of simple conversations between Shatner and these actors that is equal parts compelling and funny, while also managing to be heartbreaking and even a bit awkward.  Shatner, whose career includes high profile shows like Boston Legal, melodramas like Rescue 911, and a dose of sitcoms and commercials to boot, is clearly in his element as he interviews the actors–often providing a window into his own heart and even upstaging his subjects from time to time.  It all comes together to make The Captains a fantastic and singular work of art that boldly goes where no documentary has gone before, and offers Shatner the unique opportunity to blaze a trail that no one else could hope to trod.

What would you say if you could sit and chat with Patrick Stewart for an afternoon?  Would you ask him what it was like to play Jean-Luc Picard, one of the most recognizable figures in modern science fiction?  How about Kate Mulgrew, the woman whose Kathryn Janeway helmed the starship Voyager on its 70,000 light year journey through the Delta Quadrant? Or Chris Pine, the young actor who filled Shatner’s Starfleet-issue boots as Captain Kirk in the 2009 film?  What questions could possibly be worth their time–surely nothing these actors haven’t been asked hundreds or thousands of time before.

Shatner-Pine

Captain Kirk vs. Captain Kirk in the arm wrestling match of the century!

And so Shatner wisely stays away from all of the topics that would, on the surface, be of most interest to fans.  Instead, his conversations with the “captains” wander back and forth from pop culture to horseback riding to philosophy, religion, and even death and the afterlife.  Heavy subjects to be sure, but counterbalanced by a liberal dose of Shatner’s off-kilter sense of humor and glowing charm.  The most profound and compelling segments come from his discussions with Patrick Stewart, where things start off cordial but end up digging deep, exposing a side of both actors that has rarely been seen in public.  Stewart goes as far to divulge regrets that are as deeply felt today as they were back when he was filming The Next Generation, and Shatner likewise comes to a realization about his role as Kirk that has haunted him for decades.  I doubt the two are best friends, but it’s clear there is an incredible mutual respect and genuine appreciation for the contributions both have made to science fiction and modern culture.

His visits with the rest of the captains may not be at heart-wrenching, but each is compelling in its own right.  It’s hard to not smile as Shatner and Scott Bakula (Captain Jonathan Archer) shoot the breeze over drinks at a diner, talking about the acting profession and their appreciation of each other’s work.  He visits with Mulgrew on stage at a New York theater, where the two discuss the pioneering work she did as the first female captain in Star Trek and how the work put impossible demands on both of them–the effects of which were bitterly felt by their spouses and children.

While these conversations are thoughtful and compelling, Shatner’s afternoon with Avery Brooks (Benjamin Sisko) goes somewhat off the rails.  Brooks improvs jazz licks on a piano while Shatner provides a somewhat bewildered impromptu lyrical accompaniment, and the two go off on metaphysical tangents that make me wonder if part of Brooks is still lost in the wormhole somewhere.  The weakest link by far is Shatner’s all-too-brief conversation with Chris Pine.  Even though the two men give it a good honest try, their segments are brief and lack nearly all the chemistry from the other interviews.  To their credit, neither actually has much in common besides the Kirk character, and Shatner is old enough to be Pine’s grandfather.  But whereas the role of captain serves as the genesis of Shatner’s conversations with all the other actors, it actually seems to hamper his dialogue with Pine.

There are plenty of other Star Trek documentaries and behind-the-scenes featurettes out there, but none so personal and intimate as the portraits Shatner constructs in The Captains.  It is an impressive labor of love that could have been made by only one man, and as a lifelong Star Trek fan I am grateful for the work Shatner has done to assemble this collection of interviews–if nothing else than for sheer posterity.  I would imagine this film would come across as boring or obscure to non-Trek fans, but if you wouldn’t feel at home in a Star Trek convention rubbing elbows with Klingons, Cardassians, and Orion Slave Girls, this is definitely not your kind of movie.  However, for those of us who have spent years venturing into the final frontier with the Star Trek captains, this film is a jewel and not to be missed.

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Anvil: The Story of Anvil


Anvil: The Story of AnvilThis Is Spinal Tap is one of the most well-known documentaries to be released in the past 30 years.  It tells the story of a has-been heavy metal band that is about to embark on an American tour (dubbed “Tap into America”) while promoting their new album Smell The Glove.  And even though things get off to a fairly decent start, problems start to creep up: poor management, disastrous prop mishaps, and lagging ticket sales lead to a near-implosion of the band as lead guitarist Nigel Tufnel walks offstage during a show at an Air Force hangar.  Along the way we get glimpses into the individuals behind the band like Tufnel, whose custom guitar amplifiers go up to 11, and his friend and rhythm guitarist David St. Hubbins, whose romantic involvement with the band manager leads to all kinds of problems.  It would be tragically sad if it were true, but fortunately, it’s all a fake documentary from the brilliant minds of Christopher Guest (who plays Tufnel) and director Rob Reiner.  It’s an entertaining and sublimely hilarious look at the strange world of Rock ‘n Roll, and one of the funniest movies of all time.  Viewers with so much as a modicum of appreciation for the music scene watch and laugh because, like all good comedy, it’s funny because it’s true.

But what if it really were true? What if Spinal Tap really were a band haplessly careening toward obscurity with all the power a Marshall amp could muster? Would their plight still be funny, or would viewers watch in horror like rubberneckers observing a car wreck, drawn to the experience but shocked at what they see? Anvil: The Story of Anvil begs just such a question, along with a host of others, and in the process of exploring the careers of this motley crew of quinquagenarians struggling to polish the dust off their aging heavy metal careers with a European tour and a new album, we get not only an intensely intimate look at the lives of these musicians but an incredibly powerful story of perseverance, friendship, and dedication.  And a whole lot of heavy metal.

Anvil: The Story of Anvil

Sure they might be collecting social security, but the guys in Anvil can stand toe-to-toe with any heavy metal band out there.

The film documents the band’s rise to popularity at the height of heavy metal’s popularity in the mid-1980s, when lightning-fast guitar riffs were melded with overblown stage personas, and bands like Metallica, Guns and Roses, Van Halen, and Def Leppard could sell out the biggest arenas in the world.  And in the middle of it all was Anvil, an act hailing from Toronto that stood toe-to-toe with the best metal bands around and whose influence carried over to guitarists like Slash and drummers like Lars Ulrich.  But for whatever reason, Anvil never found commercial success like so many of their peers, and spent the next three decades wandering directionless in a changing musical wasteland. They recorded twelve albums, none of which made more than the faintest blip on any type of cultural radar.  And yet, through it all, the band persisted–jamming, recording, playing shows whenever and wherever they could.  This is where things really get interesting, though, as director (and childhood friend of lead guitarist Steve “Lips” Kudlow) Sacha Gervasi follows Anvil throughout Europe that is so horribly botched the band misses trains, fights with bar owners, and plays shows with less than a dozen people in the audience.

Through it all, and through the process of recording a new record with fabled heavy metal producer Chris Tsangarides, Lips and drummer Robb Reiner never cease to give up on their dream to be rock stars, and that’s where the real heart of this documentary lies.  These two live for one thing: to be rock stars, and they will do whatever it takes to get there. Even if it means working a day job delivering school hot lunches, asking relatives for money to finance a recording session, or taking a telemarketing gig selling knockoff sunglasses.  Like their fictional counterparts in Spinal Tap, they have more than their fair share of hard knocks, but if whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, Anvil has to be one of the toughest acts in the world.  Interviews with friends, family, and music industry insiders reveal how much the deck is stacked against these aging headbangers, but Lips’ persistent optimism and good-natured attitude, not to mention Reiner’s almost-unwavering commitment to the band, keep things grounded in stark contrast to many of the stars of the music scene we see in the news today.  Anvil: The Story of Anvil is an exceedingly heartbreaking but ultimately fulfilling and supremely rewarding story of what it means to never give up on your dreams.

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Exit through the Gift Shop


Exit Through the Gift ShopTrying to nail down just what this film is about is a pretty tricky proposition.  Is it a documentary? A comedy? A commentary on modern attitudes about art? A critique of pop culture? The answer is yes, but with a rather large asterisk.  Exit Through the Gift Shop is, ostensibly, a documentary about an aspiring filmmaker named Thierry Guetta who bumbles his way through life peddling overpriced clothing at his shop while also filming everything around him.  Guetta takes a camera everywhere and fills bins upon bins with digital tape recordings of all the elements of his life.  So far, so good–the documentary has a unique subject and a story to tell.  Soon Guetta becomes fascinated with the world of street artists, and sets out to capture the underground world of graffiti art through the lens of his handycam.  Again, things are going pretty well, especially as Guetta begins to form a relationship with Basksy, one of the most brilliant and infamous street artists in the world.  But near the hour mark something strange happens–Banksy asks Guetta to show him the documentary he has been making (keep in mind the film we are watching is a documentary of a documentary…still with me?  Good.)  Guetta has piles of tapes and a passion for filming, but no clue how to actually edit and produce a film.  So Banksy takes over, and turns the film into a new kind of documentary:  he chronicles Guetta as he attempts to reinvent himself as Mr. Brainwash, legitimate street artist.

Mr. Brainwash Thierry Guetta

Mr. Brainwash...brilliant street artist?

And reinvent himself he most certainly does, with a blowout first show that attracts thousands of visitors over the course of its five week run in Los Angeles.  The catch?  Guetta isn’t really an artist.  He’s not really a filmmaker either.  He’s…well, he’s a frenchman with extraordinary sideburns who repackages the work of true artists with a team of Photoshop wizards and down-on-their-luck sculptors.  Just don’t tell that to the haute coutre crowd, the art world elite whose party Guetta crashed with a building full of poorly-conceived paintings and misshapen sculptures masquerading as modern art.  The crowd who now happily shells out tens of thousands of dollars for Mr. Brainwash originals.  The crowd who includes such high-profile names as Madonna, whose Celebrations album cover is a Mr. Brainwash original.

The real twist, though, comes when the film is over and the credits roll, as you start to wonder what it is that you just witnessed.  Would a guy like Guetta, who doesn’t strike me as someone who could properly cook a box of macaroni and cheese, really be able to pull off a full-scale art show with no artistic talent and no history as an artist? Would people around the world really be gullible enough to buy into the wares he was peddling?  What is it that defines art?  Or was the whole shebang just a ruse?  A massive practical joke played on the critics, collectors, and purveyors of the art scene by Banksy himself?  Certainly there are more questions than answers here, and the film does an outstanding job of challenging our conceptions of what constitutes art.  Banksy himself remains a steadfast enigma, shrouded in guttural voiceovers and pixellated blurs throughout the film.  His talent as an artist is undeniable, his methods legally questionable, and his vision unmatchable.  His film, too, is eminently watchable and thoroughly enjoyable.

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Lord, Save Us from Your Followers


It's hard to take a documentary seriously when it's billed as "Michael Moore-meets-Monty Python."In this age of digital movie making, instant YouTube publishing, and homebrew editing software that anyone can use, I’m starting to wonder just what qualifies a work of film as a documentary.  In the classic sense, a documentary should investigate a subject in the hope of arriving at some type of conclusion.  And if no conclusion can be found, then at least the documentary should unearth facts, viewpoints, or ways of thinking that are generally missing from the public consciousness.  But when anyone can pick up a camera and start filming, the brute force research and legwork required to produce a quality piece of work is often missing at the expense of graphical flair and story narrative.  Even though Lord, Save Us from Your Followers is an interesting look at faith in America today, it doesn’t function well as an actual documentary on the subject.  In the end it is more of a video-blog of one man’s journey to some sort of spiritual enlightenment or resolution.  An entertaining and at times touching video blog, but nonetheless, it would be hard to draw any meaningful conclusions about religion, or specifically Christianity, after watching this film.

The idea, as director/narrator/star Dan Merchant tells us, is to find out why Jesus’ gospel of peace has resulted in such extreme viewpoints in our country.  Fred Phelps, Pat Robertson, Jerry Falwell, David Koresh, James Dobson…all have espoused a particular brand of Christianity, but all are fairly divisive when expressing their viewpoints or political opinions.  How can this be, asks Merchant, and how can we rectify the Culture War that supposedly exists in our society today?  His solution is to dress up in a white jumpsuit with all manner of religious extremist bumper stickers and paraphenalia, cobble together a camera crew, and interview people on the street about what they think of Jesus, Christians, and Christianity.

Lord Save Us from Your Followers - Dan Merchant

Dan Merchant, stirring the melting pot.

His results are about what one would expect–some people think Christians are mean-spirited, others think they are kind and loving.  Some think Jesus was the son of God who died for our sins, and others think he was more along the lines of a troubadour with an impressive array of parlor tricks at his disposal.  Also chiming in are Al Franken, Michael Reagan, Rick Santorum, and other prominent figures in American politics and media, each with a position on the issue or at least a personal story to tell.  Excerpts from speeches by Presidents Bush and Obama, as well as prominent media figures like Jon Stewart and Bono, also add some good perspective into the mix as well.

The most interesting, and ultimately effective, segments are when Merchant talks to  secular radio host Shelia Hamilton in Portland, Oregon, about her station’s involvement with the Christian relief organization World Vision, his exploration of the Christian response during the aftermath of hurricane Katrina, and his time spent with Night Strike, a ministry that serves homeless people in Portland.  In each of these instances he discovers that, despite the politicking of some outspoken leaders in the Christian community, the ground-level view held by many in the secular world is that Christians are nice, decent folks who are willing to lend a helping hand or two when the going gets tough.  It’s these bits that are comforting and reassuring, and help dissipate the pharisaical air of so many national Christian figures.

Lord Save Us from Your Followers - Sister Mary Timothy

Sister Mary Timothy, who has a less-than-positive opinion of most Christians...

Unfortunately, for every morsel of genuine insight in this movie there are a dozen flashy gimmicks and Michael Moore-style empty-headed stunts that do nothing except to draw attention and generate a few laughs or crocodile tears.  A few statistics are thrown out here and there, like the fact that 9 out of 10 individuals in America profess a belief in God, but a cheesy Family Feud-style game show pitting Christians against Atheists sheds light on nothing and only serves as a distraction from the main argument of the film.  Anecdotal evidence, gleaned from dudes on the street or interviews with mid-level politicians, should never be confused with actual research.  But actual research is rarely flashy and, darn it, just takes so much time.

A large segment near the end of the film is dedicated specifically to the mainstream Christian treatment of the gay community–or at least the perception of mainstream Christians by a handful of gays and lesbians.  In a bit that seems oddly self-serving, Merchant sets up a fake reverse confessional at a gay and lesbian festival in Portland, and invites people to hear his confessions and apologies on behalf of all Christians and their treatment of the GLBT community.  Discounting all serious theological arguments that many decent, level-headed Christians have to the GLBT lifestyle, Merchant sanctimoniously offers his apologies to the gay community and promises to offer love and support rather than condemnation and ridicule.  It’s the kind of stunt that might generate a few DVD sales, much like Michael Moore driving around Washington D.C. with a megaphone, but ignores the deeply-held convictions of many individuals on both sides of the fence.  Editorializing should have no place in a documentary, but sadly, it is far too often on bold display here.

The film does serve as a somewhat compelling wake-up call for Christians who might need to swallow a taste of their own medicine from time to time.  It is certainly worth watching, and should be required viewing for Sunday School classes (if for no reason other than to generate a discussion), so long as it is accompanied by a healthy-sized grain of salt.

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Lost in La Mancha


Lost in La ManchaTerry Gilliam is one strange dude.  His films run the gamut from entertaining to head-scratching to cerebral to just plain nut-job.  He’s not exactly a household name, though chances are most people have seen at least one of his movies or remember at least one of his sketches from the heyday of Monty Python.  A visionary he certainly is, though, and after a few decades of filmmaking he tried to get a production of the classic Spanish novel Don Quixote off the ground.  Lost in La Mancha is a story of how the entire production of The Man Who Killed Don Quixote went down, from the early stages of preproduction to the final nail in the coffin, and even though Gilliam’s movie never did get finished, directors Keith Fulton and Louis Pepe were able to craft an astonishing documentary that chronicles the entire production.  In doing so we are treated to an intimate look at the process of getting a big-budget Hollywod motion picture brought to life, and how sometimes even the sharpest vision and strongest determination just can’t make a project work.

Perhaps the most apt comparison I could make with Lost in La Mancha is to Spinal Tap, but whereas the latter was a chronicle of the fictional exploits of a heavy metal rock band with the purpose of poking fun at the whole music scene, La Mancha is, sadly, an all-too-true tale of how crazy things can get during a movie production.  Like Quixote himself, Gilliam is consumed by a desire to make his film no matter how irrational it might be.  The project, the most expensive movie ever to be filmed in Spain, had to be cut drastically from its initial projections in order to come in under budget.  But such woes are the beginning of Gilliam’s troubles.  Preproduction is beset by scheduling conflicts, prop disasters, and location issues, but the crew forge ahead nonetheless with a hopeful optimism and desire to see it through to completion.

Lost in La Mancha: Terry Gilliam

Gilliam directing Rochefort, and fighting his own windmills the whole time.

From the very first day of filming, though, the hassles just continue to pile up.  Fighter jets flying overhead disrupt the initial shots, and a rainstorm that night literally washes thousands of dollars of film equipment down the drain.  And when Jean Rochefort, who plays Quixote, develops health problems that prevent him from riding a horse, it’s clear the writing is on the wall.  And yet Gilliam and his crew forge ahead, shooting scenes with Johnny Depp, posing for group photos with the project’s financial backers, and scrambling to adjust schedules to accommodate Rochefort’s continuing health issues.  Christopher Guest himself couldn’t make this stuff up if he tried, folks.  It’s as heartbreaking as it is entertaining, and through it all is Terry Gilliam–the indomitable visionary who will do everything in his power to make the film come together.

The strength of La Mancha is how Fulton and Pepe treat their subject with such a deft hand.  Neither overly melodramatic nor overly lighthearted, they simply show the events as they unfold.  Bits of footage that did get filmed, screen tests of the giants, magnificent costumes, and the exuberance of Johnny Depp as he gives 100% to a part that even he knows is never going to end up in theatres, hints at the fantastic Movie That Could Have Been.  The determination of Gilliam and his crew to accomplish the impossible against all odds, even when it’s pretty obvious that the film is really not going to get finished, is admirable but drenched with an undertone of foreboding and even sadness.  Gilliam’s undaunted spirit is well-nigh inspirational, though, and even though his Quixote film eventually gets canned, the experience, as anyone who watches Lost in La Mancha, was certainly not without merit.  And besides, word has it Gilliam is even planning to give it another shot…if things don’t fall apart again.

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It Might Get Loud


It Might Get LoudA few years ago director Davis Guggenheim set out to create a documentary about one of the most iconic instruments in music, and the driving force behind the entire rock and roll scene since its inception:  the guitar.  His way of doing so was to get the perspective of three musicians, each in some way the driving force behind a particular brand of rock music.  Jimmy Page, the guitarist from Led Zeppelin; The Edge, the genius behind the unique and experimental sound of worldwide rock sensation U2; and…Jack White from The White Stripes.  Guggenheim essentially films a conversation between the three men as they sit with their guitars in the middle of a warehouse, talking about their personal stories, influences, creative visions, and thoughts on the history of rock music.  It’s a daring concept to be sure, and one that is inherently fraught with musical controversy:  ask any guitarist to name their three heroes in the genre, and it’s doubtful Page, Edge, and White would all be mentioned in the same sentence.  The three are masters of their craft, but how many hundreds or thousands of brilliant, influential guitarists (Eric Clapton, B.B. King, Chuck Berry, Neil Young, Stevie Ray Vaughan, or modern virtuosos like Buckethead, John Petrucci, or even Mark Tremonti) were left off the list?  Why these three specifically?  The answer, it turns out, doesn’t really matter.  This isn’t a movie about the best, or most influential, or most popular, or most innovative, or hardest-shredding guitarists.  It’s just a movie about three dudes who are masters of their craft and offer their perspective–take it or leave it.

It Might Get Loud: Jack White, The Edge, Jimmy Page

Jack White, The Edge, and Jimmy Page. Two out of three ain't bad, I guess.

Beyond just filming a conversation, Guggenheim offers a much richer experience than just watching three dudes wax nostalgic about their geetars.  He offers glimpses into the creative processes each musician has gone though to lead them to where they are.  From Page’s humble beginnings as a studio musician and then playing backup for the Yardbirds, to the streets of Detroit where White, the youngest of 10 children, spent his days working in an upholstery shop and playing music with his boss in the evenings.  Even The Edge, who practically sleeps and bathes with a full set of pedals and FX boards, takes a trip back to the high school where he and his friends practiced music in their teacher’s classroom after the bell rang.

On some levels the movie succeeds quite well, and it’s fascinating to see how each of these men have taken the guitar and made it their own.  The most captivating is Page, who having achieved the pinnacle of rock and roll stardom, and been there/done that by any definition of the phrase, is just as enthusiastic as ever about the guitar.  Like watching a child utterly captivated by the simple pleasure of a rubber ball or toy car, Page jams away to classic Zeppelin tunes like Ramble On, exuding joy from every pore.  Watching him play air guitar as he listens to his early influences like Link Wray’s classic instrumental Rumble is the standalone highlight of the entire documentary, as his infectious affectation for the molasses-thick riffs practically oozes through the screen.

It Might Get Loud: Jimmy Page

Jimmy Page, rambling on with no regrets.

In stark contrast to Page and Edge, Jack White spends much of the film brooding over the sad state of over-produced music today, and strumming out harsh contrivances on old dusty guitars as if trying to make some kind of point about keeping the soul of music pure. It’s rare that he smiles, even when sitting inches away from Page and Edge, and watching him play the piano while encouraging his son (with whom he shares a scarily identical wardrobe of slacks, vest, and dour scowl) to simply bang on a guitar with his foot, as if the nonsensical rubbish were some kind of expression of musical purity, was actually a tad frightening.

Seeing the bombed-out haunts of Edge’s childhood in conflict-ravaged Dublin, the cavernous Headley Grange mansion where Zeppelin recorded IV, and the dirty streets of Detroit where the White family struggled to make ends meet is all very interesting, but the trouble is there’s just not much substance in the movie to go along with the powerful imagery.  It Might Get Loud seems like an extended trailer for what would make three very interesting biographies, and by merely touching on the primal elements from which some of the greatest tunes in recent history were born, it feels like so much more could have been explored that time just did not allow for.  It Might Get Loud is an interesting curiosity, though it lacks a true punch or even a real message.  So the guitar is a cool instrument–whether it’s a basic acoustic setup or a high-tech magical wand at a U2 show.  We already knew that.  And seeing these three men talk about it, while watching bits of their personal biographies, comes across like the impromptu jam session they find themselves in near the end:  curious but more than a little awkward.

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Second Skin


Second SkinLet me get this out of the way right off the bat:  Second Skin is outstanding.  It is a documentary that does what it should:  document.  There’s very little in the way of agenda or self-aggrandizing.  There’s no narrator, no artificial plot or conflict created by the director, and some loose ends are purposely left hanging and questions left unanswered.  What we have, then, is a thoroughly compelling, entirely engrossing exploration of online games and the people who play them.  Director Juan Carlos Pineiro-Escoriaza follows several individuals from a variety of walks of life who all happen to play some form of online role-playing game such as EverQuest or World of Warcraft.  Through the course of the film we see how these online games affect the lives of the individuals–for better or for worse–and also hear thoughts and insights about online games from game developers and other industry insiders.  And while online gaming might seen like a strange subject for a documentary, it’s the way in which these games affect the subjects of the film that transforms the film from a mere curiosity to a must-see for anyone who either plays online games or know someone who plays them.  And there’s a lot more than you might think.

The individuals that Pineiro-Escoriaza uses as the subject of his documentary are fairly normal people:  they have jobs, significant others, and social lives.  But the one thread they all share is their love of online gaming.  And I don’t mean love, like one might say “I love cookies.”  These people game (yes, it is a verb) for six, eight, even twelve or more hours a day.  Online gaming has, in many cases, supplanted reality as the preferred method of social interaction for these individuals–and in some cases for very good reasons.  As is pointed out through interviews with the gamers as well as developers and academics, online games and their social communities can be a place where looks, cultural background, talent, and past failures are entirely erased.  In essence, the first time anyone logs on to World of Warcraft or any one of the hundreds of online games available, he or she is free to create a dopplegänger that can literally be anyone he or she wants it to be.  In a world where people are so often judged by looks, clothes, social status, and myriad other factors that belie the true character of the individual, online games offer a refuge in which people are free to live out alternate lives free of the prejudices and trappings of reality.  And within the massive constructs offered by these worlds, people are free to pursue goals, gain new skills, meet friends, even join secret societies and elite clubs like The Syndicate.  A compelling alternate-reality existence indeed.

Second Skin: Kevin Keel

Kevin Keel, an online gamer who found what he hopes is true love through EverQuest II.

Careful to not gloss over the complications of living this type of life, Pineiro-Escoriaza shows the good and bad sides of how this passion (some would call addiction) affects the subjects of his film.  Andy Belford is a man who moves to Indiana to live with three other men he met online, and the four of them form a friendship that is deep and fulfilling both in real life and online.  Kevin Keel moves from Texas to Florida to be with Heather Cowan, a woman he met on EverQuest.  And Andrew Monkelban, an individual severely crippled by cerebral palsy, is able to life a fulfilling virtual life within the confines of his computer screen, meeting people, forming relationships, and enjoying simple activities like walking in a park that are beyond his reach in reality.  Liz Wooley, a woman whose son committed suicide after becoming so engrossed in World of Warcraft that he lost touch with reality and took his own life, is now committed to helping gamers with their online addictions and even provides a safe house and a 12-step program.  But with all the positive ways in which online games affect the individuals of the documentary, there are plenty of downsides too.  Keel and Cowan have incredible difficulty relating to each at times, and are forced to deal with the many struggles inherent in merging lives in the real world.  Belford and his friends drift apart after marriages and children begin to take over, and encounter an entirely new set of difficulties when they try to balance their love of (addiction to?) online games with newfound responsibilities in real life.  And Dan Bustard, a healthy and prosperous man in real life, becomes so entrenched in playing World of Warcraft that he loses his friends, job, girlfriend, and even thinks of taking his own life.

Second Skin: Andy Belford

Faced with the birth of twins, Andy Belford is forced to balance real-world responsibilities and maintaining a Level 70 WoW character.

Interspersed throughout the stories told in Second Skin are a number of interviews with couples who have found each other online, brief investigations into the shady practice of Gold Farming, history lessons on online gaming, as well as the aforementioned interviews and comments from actual game developers (though, curiously, none of the individuals behind WoW, EverQuest, or any of the other online games which are the subject of the film).  In fact, more than most documentaries I have seen, Second Skin succeeds because it accomplishes the goal of the medium:  it documents.  And while there is always more to the story than what is shown onscreen, it doesn’t really push one particular viewpoint over another.  Is online gaming good or healthy for people?  How much online gaming is too much?  Is is normal for people to take sick days off work just to play a World of Warcraft expansion pack?  Such questions are raised but not answered, and instead left for the viewers to decide.  And while the film does leave some loose ends, it does offer as much conclusion as possible on some of the storylines.  But beyond the basic interviewing and reporting, Second Skin is a thoroughly engrossing and often entertaining look at a subset of a subset of our culture that is actually a lot bigger than most people realize.

Perhaps most interesting of all, though, is Bustard, who eventually kicks his gaming habit not through the help of Wooley and her program, but through sheer will and determination.  In the end he regains his health, trims his waistline, and decides that even a solitary walk around town on a snowy evening is far better and more satisfying than any excursion in an online gaming.

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Friday Night Lights


The faithful reader might remember a piece I posted last fall on Glory Road. Thad H. posted a comment on that piece suggesting that I might enjoy Friday Night Lights, the story of the 1988 Permian “Mojo” Panthers, led by Coach Gary Gaines (Billy Bob Thornton) in their bid for their 6th State Championship.

If you like high school football you’ll love this movie. It takes place in small-town Texas (Odessa, to be exact), where football is a religion and the high school players are hailed as much as NFL stars. Director Peter Berg serves up plenty of bone-bruising hits, body-bending catches, and tackles that have to involve a trampoline just off camera.

Odessa is a blue collar, nearly impoverished town, and there are two kinds of boys: those who might make it out of this town, and those who won’t. Those who might play their hearts out on the field in hopes of getting an NCAA scholarship. Those who won’t play their hearts out on the field because this is all they’ll ever have.

Beginning of the season.

All this creates an intense environment to grow up in. Gaines is threatened with termination if he doesn’t win State, and after one loss, comes home to find “for sale” signs all over his yard. One of his players, Don Billingsly (Gerrett Hedlund), is cursed to be the son of a local football legend, and not have his ability. For several painful scenes, Chuck Billingsly (Tim McGraw) verbally abuses Don and grinds him down for cut-ups on the field. The Panthers win most of their games, but people flagellate them for every mistake. All of this spills onto the field, of course, and Berg makes the action nasty enough that you wonder if this is a sports movie or the teen version of  Braveheart. If you enjoy watching young men get their noses smashed and fingers broken, this is the movie for you.

FNLdoes keep the audience involved. I kept backing it up to revisit what happened. The pacing is a little off, though. In a couple of close games, for example, Mojo is getting killed for awhile, Gaines yells a lot, and then suddenly they have some big plays, and end up winning or making it close. The film never builds your anticipation or shows what they changed on the field to get that result. A good sports movie would at least have some kind of inspirational speech that turns things around.

But why complain? This is a movie made for sports nuts, and it makes you feel like you’re watching a real game. There was only one thing about this film I really didn’t like. (Spoiler alert: you might want to skip the next paragraph.)

Target audience of "Friday Night Lights."

For the championship game, Mojo goes up against Dallas Carter, a team full of 300-pounders that hardly seem to belong in high school. As a matter of fact, in reality, D.C. was later stripped of its title for playing an ineligible player.

End of the season.

 No one expects Mojo to give D.C. any trouble. After being down as much as 21 points, Mojo comes back to close the gap to six, and then falls inches short of a TD at the last second. We then see a lot of slow motion walking across the field. One person walking is Don Billingsly. Chuck comes out of the stands and gives him a hug – which Don actually accepts! WTF?? Now that he’s fought overwhelming odds, covered himself in bruises and sprained every joint in his body, he’s good enough for acknowledgement from the man who’s treated him like dirt all his life, and he takes it?? I wanted him to push dad aside and congratulate his team, or kiss his girlfriend, or something.

A lot of guys love to talk about how football produces the best kind of men, and this movie was made for them. I tend to think the success of ex-players has less to do with qualities the game instills than the fact that having played for the local high school is a golden ticket into the local country club. It gets a little old having to be twice as good and work twice as hard as the guys that played football. That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate and enjoy the drama that comes with sports, however. FNL succeeds at what it sets out to do, and for that I give it

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