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)

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)