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.

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.

Rating: ****½ (4.5/5)

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.

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.

Rating:****½ (4.5/5)

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.

Rating: ****~ (4/5)

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.

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.

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.

Rating:***~~ (3/5)

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.

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.

Rating:****~ (4/5)

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.

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.

Rating:***½~ (3.5/5)

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.

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.

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.

Rating:****~ (4/5)

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

***~~ (3/5)

Historically, my taste for Walmart has swung from nonchalance to animosity and back to somewhere between the two.  I have never had a particular affinity for the store, but there have been a few periods of time during which I stood on a rather feeble soapbox and carried out lowly one-man boycotts of it.  In college I went through a period of a few years during which I didn’t set foot into a Walmart, but now I shop there once every other week or so for a few things–as well as the local grocery store and other places too.

Had I watched this movie during my college years I would have been cheering it on for its exposé of Walmart’s shady business practices, somewhat disdainful treatment of women and minorities, shady environmental practices, and the like.  But I would have also failed to notice the movie’s decidedly one-sided treatment of these issues, and much like the director Robert Greenwald, I would have probably been first in line to condemn the Walton family for eternity.  Things are a bit different now, though…

But I’m getting ahead of myself here.  Let’s step back and look at how this movie functions as a documentary, and I must say, it handles its subject matter pretty well–up to a certain point, anyway.  Not content to focus on one aspect of Walmart, Greenwald examines myriad ways in which the retailer is not as wholesome as its smiley-faced logo would have the public believe.  His thesis (Walmart = evil) is supported by several vignettes, each of which serves to highlight a particular way in which Walmart is a abomination unto mankind.  He of course launches into the requisite run-the-small-guys-out-of-business complaint, choosing to focus on a hardware store owner whose 40+ year family business was done in by the construction of a nearby Walmart.  Charges of racism are brought to light through interviews with a management trainee who was allegedly told by her manager that she was ultimately denied the position because she was a black female.

The film's climax showcases several communities that have successfully blocked Walmart from building nearby.

Similar accusations of malfeasance are brought forth via interviews with employees from all over the Walmart food chain (entry-level cashiers to former multi-decade managerial types) as well as people on the periphery, such as conservationist experts and even Chinese factory workers.  In fact, one of the most poignant segments involves a young Chinese girl who works in a factory making products for Walmart.  When word gets around that an inspector is going to be coming to the factory to investigate working conditions, the girl explains that she and her coworkers were taught specifically how to lie in order to cover up their deplorable work environment.  However, one of the weakest points made by Greenwald is in the area of environmental concern, where his entire argument is supported with only one interview with a public environmental worker who had a great deal of trouble getting one particular Walmart store to properly cover up some palettes of fertilizer.  Not much ammunition for the accusation that the entire company is environmentally irresponsible.

Intercut through all these individual stories, though, is footage of the company CEO, Lee Scott, specifically making claims that Walmart is *not* evil.  He states at a company meeting that Walmart is a great place to work, while Greenwald rolls interview footage with employees who decry just the opposite.  Scott claims that Walmart will work together with communities, while Greenwald shows how they specifically try to choke local businesses and build outside city boundaries in order to avoid paying taxes that would benefit the community.  It’s this type of point-counterpoint style that sets High Cost of Low Price apart from other documentaries, and serves to do a great deal in order to bolster Greenwald’s claim of Walmart’s inherent infamy.

Lee Scott, CEO of Walmart.

However, where I take issue with the film, and thus where it ultimately fails as a documentary and becomes more of a propaganda piece, is the fact that it completely ignores any argument that Walmart might *not* be evil.  Greenwald never interviews low-income families who are able to get clothes because of Walmart’s low prices.  He never talks with seniors who benefit from Walmart’s cheap generic prescription drugs.  He steers wide of any employee who does happen to enjoy his or her job at Walmart and only focuses on those who have been wronged.  It’s a classic case of the blind men and the elephant; there is much more to the story that is entirely ignored here.

A quote on the poster at the top of this article compares High Cost of Low Price to Morgan Spurlock’s famous documentary about McDonald’s, Super Size Me.  Ultimately both movies fail to be truly convincing because they ignore one crucial point:  if you don’t like something, don’t buy it.  The real indictment here should be the people who support Walmart, just as the problem with fast food isn’t entirely the fault of McDonald’s, it’s the fault of those who choose to eat at McDonald’s. While Walmart certainly could clean up their act, they do a lot of good for various communities too–and again, I’m trying hard to stay away from judging the thesis of the movie.  I just think High Cost of Low Price fails to be truly convincing, and thus fails to be effective as a documentary, because it is so one-sided and brazenly biased.

Rating:**½~~ (2.5/5)

Ostensibly, American Movie is a documentary that chronicles would-be director (and beer-swilling Wisconsin thoroughbred) Mark Borchardt as he struggles to complete his horror film Northwestern.  Due to a severe lack of funds, though, Borchardt decides to finish another film he had been working on called Coven instead.  His plan is to sell 3,000 copies of Coven, at $14.95 each, which would give him enough financial wherewithal to accomplish his goal of completing Northwestern.  Documentarian Chris Smith thus follows the filming of Coven for over three years, and in doing so, creates what is essentially a Spinal Tap for low-budget indie flicks (one of the jokes being that American Movie is itself a low-budget indie flick).

Mark Borchardt and Mike Schank, the dynamic duo of Milwaukee filmmaking

The hero, or perhaps simply the protagonist, of American Movie is Borchardt, a guy in his upper 20′s with a dream of becoming a filmmaker.  He has almost no means by which to accomplish his dream, though, and instead whiles away his days by drifting from one odd job to another (one day he’s delivering papers, the next he’s a cemetery custodian), occasionally parenting his children, trying to make a relationship with his girlfriend work, and also get in some shots for Coven.  Helping him out is his longtime friend and movie-making buddy Mike, a burnout with a penchant for playing the guitar and barely enough motivation to even get out of bed in the morning.  Rounding things out is Mike’s uncle Bill, a miserly, crotchety, bitingly sarcastic retiree who lends money to Mark even though he’s not entirely sure why.

No one can fault Borchardt for a lack of vision, though, and despite all common sense he dutifully forges ahead with the filming of Coven, oblivious to a fault to just how badly the odds are stacked against him.  He has grand visions of what he wants to accomplish, but things never seem to work out quite right.  Actors (read: locals who responded to “casting call” flyers in grocery store windows) don’t show up for filming, equipment breaks down, footage is lost, and money is virtually nonexistent.  Nevertheless, Borchardt continually forges ahead with Coven, often at the expense of family and friends, not to mention a relationship with his own children.

The cynical, sarcastic, and profoundly hilarious Uncle Bill

And this is where American Movie becomes more than a simple documentary about a guy who wants to make a movie.  It’s a deeply profound insight into the plight of the American Dream as it exists today.  Beneath that is also an indictment of the grade-school creedo that you can accomplish anything you put your mind to.  Borchardt has to face the harsh realities that span the gulf between dream and realization, but one thing that stands in his way more than anything else is his refusal to take stock of his situation and realize that he could possibly change things if he wanted to.  Better planning, a clearer line of communication between him and his (albeit somewhat limited) support staff, some community college courses in film production…any number of things could have been done by this aspiring director to lift himself, and his projects, to the heights he dreams for them.  He really does want to make movies, and he really does set his mind to it, but he seems condemned to wander the path of mediocrity.

But something about Borchard’s story is very interesting, engrossing, and often flat-out entertaining.  Watching him interact with Uncle Bill is often downright hilarious, and one priceless scene involves Borchardt trying to get his uncle to say what is supposed to be the opening line of the movie–a very simple recording process that just doesn’t quite work out.  Another highlight of the film is a scene in which a man’s head is shoved through a cabinet.  Borchard knows what he wants to happen, but he and his “crew” just can’t get it right:  the cabinet door doesn’t break like it’s supposed to, the cameras aren’t positioned correctly, and when they finally get the man’s head through, he is seriously injured and lays on the floor bleeding.  A microcosm of the movie as a whole, really, that also showcases Borchard’s odd sort of dedication to his craft:  he is so concerned with wanting to be a good director that he doesn’t just be a director.  Smith also includes a host of clips from interviews with Borchard’s family, friends, and people around town who have heard of him through the grapevine.  In the end we get a very intimate portrait of a dedicated but somewhat misguided man (his fumbling camerawork often comes at the expense of even having a good relationship with his children), and yet, we are never asked to gawk like distracted commuters passing an interstate accident.  We are instead shown the portrait of a man with myriad personal faults who chases his cinematic windmills with such aplomb that it’s perhaps even a bit inspiring.

And so I leave American Movie with some confused semi-admiration for its subject, wondering if I witnessed something deeply profound, profoundly sad, or confoundingly entertaining.  Maybe in another ten years I’ll give it another shot and see what happens.

Rating: ***½~ (3.5/5)