Oh No, Another Holocaust Movie

www.afilmunfinished.com

I was talking with a friend today about "A Film Unfinished," the new documentary about a Nazi propaganda film shot in the Warsaw ghetto. I reviewed it last week and still can't get it out of my head (perhaps that's why I described it as "haunting"). But not because the footage was so shocking, upsetting or rare (which it is), but because it was able to alter my emotional understanding of the Holocaust after so many years of thinking I had wrapped my head around its awfulness.

There are plenty of films about or related to the Holocaust. So when another one comes out, you can just feel the unspoken (usually) groan of "Oh no, another Holocaust movie." I don't begrudge people that --unless it's coming from the "can't these Jews just get over it?" perspective, which I've heard before and pisses me off to no end.

But whether a film is based in truth or just pure imagination, it all comes down to compelling storytelling. And if you can rationally argue that we've used up every story, every struggle, every shred of the human condition from the Holocaust, then perhaps it's time for us to stop making films entirely.

However, if you're going to take your audience down this well-traveled path of horrors, then you better bring something new -- whether it's facts, style or perspective. Thankfully, "A Film Unfished" does in at least four ways:

• it provides the general public access to rare film footage of the Warsaw ghetto, normally available only to researchers;
• deepens our understanding of the Nazi propaganda machine through newly discovered outtakes and an in-depth investigation of Nazi records and post-war trial transcripts;
• shocks us out of our emotional detachment to black-and-white "history" with striking color footage of life in the ghetto;
• and it warns us by showing how a supposedly "civilized" Western society can segregate, degrade and dehumanize a group of people in plain sight.

Sadly, I have no doubt that my new depth of understanding will be applicable to the "history" that lies ahead.

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"Catfish" Bait

I was absolutely enthralled by "Catfish." And I hate myself a little for it.

(I wasn't able to review the film. If you want a summary and "real" review, check out Christy Lemire's  here; )

I've heard complaints about it being exploitative or perhaps disingenuous. I definitely felt those moments and came really close to agreeing a few times. But just when I was about to proclaim the film entirely frivolous and in bad taste, that damn Nev Schulman would do something sweet, or say something adorably charming, or just smile that smile and, well, I was back in it like a pre-teen with an embarrassing crush.

See why I hate myself?


I'm 37. That's not really old (if it is, don't tell me). But in the eyes of an early 20s hipster kid, I'm just some irrelevant 40-year-old or, at best, a cougar (a term I loathe). But I am young enough to relate. To remember when life felt like just one clever joke: fresh out of college with some artsy degree, living in New York City with time to waste, and the absolute certainty that what you and your friends do is interesting enough to document on video at all times.


Just thinking of myself at this age makes the hate grow just a little more. Sort of that "If I knew then what I know now...." thing. But if I did actually know then what I know now, would I  have done something like what these guys did: produce and sell a buzzworthy documentary that's complex in tone, asks relevant questions of a modern lifestyle, and is more suspenseful and entertaining than most fictional films I've seen this year?

Of course, I was also living below the poverty level when I was wandering the streets of Manhattan--something I'm pretty sure this group of guys, with their expensive camera equipment, NYC office (in addition to apartments, I presume), can't claim for themselves. Hence the fruitlessness of regret.


But I hate myself the most because I walked out of that theater with a dizzy-headed crush on a 24-year-old "reality movie" pretty boy just because he showed admirable courage (especially while his filmmaker brother tried to wimp out), followed by an unfathomable amount of compassion in how he handled the fallout. 

Was I entirely duped into believing that Nev actually is all of those wonderful things? After all, a film--any film-- is just a carefully selected and edited set of scenes, usually staged in some way or another. Just because it's called a "documentary," doesn't mean any of the characters' I met were being real. (Uh, "I'm Still Here" anyone?) But it sure is a lot more fun to believe a fantasy than pick apart the lies.

I guess I'm a lot like Nev. After all, he was willing to believe that there really are sweet, sexy, artistic, property-owning, flexible young women living on rural Michigan horse farms, out of reach from any man even close to his league.


Guess we all have reasons to hate ourselves a little. But you should see "Catfish" anyway.

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He's Not Here

I just finished writing up my review of "I'm Still Here," the Joaquin Phoenix "documentary" directed by Casey Affleck. You can find out what I thought of it when it runs on Friday in the U-T, but I just had to take a moment to say one simple thing: I still miss River Phoenix.


If you're anywhere near my age (and a girl who liked her Tiger Beat), then River's untimely death on Halloween 1993 was at least a little upsetting. For me it was more than that. I felt like I'd grown up with the guy--well, at least adjacent to him. And his talents were only touched upon before one bad choice stopped him cold (it frustrates me to no end seeing the Britneys and Lindsays of the world making even more destructive choices over and over again, and surviving to make the cover of yet another US Weekly).

I was in college when he died. Actually on a rare weekend away at a friend's beach house. When I realized I was the only one of my friends significantly upset by the news, I packed my bags, took the LIRR back to my dorm, and sat in my room to wallow.

I still think about him from time to time. When I'm near the Tijuana border crossing, I remember his performance in the 1988 Spy Thriller "Little Nikita," set in San Diego. When I see Leonardo DiCaprio in yet another Scorsese movie, I grow more convinced that River would've been his actor of choice if he were still here (sorry Leo, but you are a mere shadow in comparison).

But tonight, as I watched his younger brother Joaquin disintegrate into a (real or feigned) manic, paranoid mess, I wondered just how much River's death shaped his brother's life. He was with him the night he collapsed in front of the Viper Room and refuses to speak about his brother publicly. But it's impossible for me to consider Joaquin and his state of mind without thinking of River's place in it.

"I'm Still Here"opens with old Phoenix family home movies, including one scene of the Phoenix kids  bouncing about, performing some silly musical number. While the circular spotlight picked Joaquin out of the group, I desperately searched for signs of River. And there he was, in the back row, with an oversized guitar strapped to his small frame. It was hard for me to shake the image of that blurry boy and the grief that his brother probably still feels.

Having tragically lost a sibling myself this year, I'm willing to admit that I could be just projecting much of my grief onto the wild-eyed actor. But something tells me there's more to it than that.

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Stewart's Shades of Gray

When Jon Stewart takes a vacation, the news of the world gets a little harder to take. I'm not one of those people who rely on The Daily Show for "real" news, but Stewart's "fake" newscast takes the edge off the ridiculousness and hypocrisy of politicians, talking heads, everyday racists, and everything involving South Carolina.

When my boyfriend and I load up the latest show (one day delayed), we experience one half-hour of camaraderie with other people who actually see the world in shades of gray.

Instead of getting down in the dumps when Stewart takes a vacation, we've started watching archived episodes of The Daily Show. Our TV is connected to the web (we ditched cable, hallelujah) so we have all 11 years of the show at our fingertips. Neither of us watched the show regularly before about 2007 (night owls, we aren't), so we've had a blast going back and "discovering" correspondents like Steve Carell, Ed Helms and Steven Colbert.

But The Daily Show is so much more than comedy. Sure, some mistake it as a mouthpiece for the Left, but that characterization only holds water for lazy thinkers who see the world in black and white. That kind of thinking is for Fox News and MSNBC blowhards who want you to turn off your brains and tune in their channel for some adrenaline-pumping cheerleading.

Stewart, on the other hand, is the referee. He cuts through the bullshit, blows the whistle, and calls foul on anyone who step out of bounds. He uses humor to get your attention and, more importantly, illuminate the convenient narratives being shaped by politicians, media, and the corporations who own them all.

In effect, Stewart is America's mainstream media critic and, as far as I'm concerned, should be essential viewing for anyone who wants to see the world more honestly.

Since my review of "The Tillman Story" ran last Friday, I've received only two kinds of feedback: kudos for "telling it the way it is," and disdain for implying that the military or the Bush administration did anything wrong. Sides are clearly drawn - black and white, Left and Right.

But I'm curious to know what both camps will think if and when they actually see the film, which throws every assumption we're pressured to make -- about politics, war, honor, football players, family--into question. It's a film about shades of gray.

With "The Tillman Story" still on my mind, we decided to dig into The Daily Show archive and watch episodes from significant events in recent history. First we went to March 19, 2003, the day before the U.S. invaded Iraq. Then further back to February 6, 2003, the day after Colin Powell's presentation to the United Nations about Iraq's hidden weapons of mass destruction. If you need any proof of Stewart's good-natured ability to cut through the crap, these video time capsules are it, especially his interview with Bush speechwriter David Frum, whose smugness and phony "awe" of the President are sickening.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
David Frum
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Tea Party

You also can't help but notice how much sunnier Stewart was back then in the early days of the Bush administration. Of course, he's older now, fuller-faced with more gray hair and better suits. But he's also angrier, more frustrated. I was a bit startled by the levity he displayed in talking about our run-up to Iraq. Still sharply funny, but without the "I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore!" vibe he has now.

You know why? Because he knows that his gray-shaded take on the world is losing to the inanity of the Birthers, Tea Baggers and Glenn Becks of the world. And all these years he's been preaching to the choir. The very small, cable television choir.

We need more Jon Stewarts, more mainstream media critics, more angry, clear-thinking people insisting that Americans shove aside the black and white lazy-mindedness and start thinking (and acting) our way out of this mess of stupidity.

Start by going to see "The Tillman Story"-- and bring everyone you know.

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And we're off.....

Hi there. I'm Alison Gang, movie critic for the San Diego Union-Tribune.

As much as I love seeing my reviews in print, there's only so much I can cram into 14 column inches. So I've launched this blog to create a place where I can share my unedited opinions on film, television, media -- basically anything that dares to inform or entertain us.

Not that I pussyfoot around in my U-T reviews, but there are some scabs I choose not to pick in a mainstream, daily newspaper. So in print, I stay focused on the film and do my best to help the reader decide if it's something that fits their tastes.

None of that crap here. I plan on using this blog to get personal, political and just plain profane -- when I want to anyway. I can also be philosophical, emotional, and a total dork. The one thing I can't be is insincere, so whether you agree with me or not, I hope you'll at least know I mean what I say. I'm open to hearing why I'm wrong too, so use the comments section to tell me, or send me an email at alison@alisongang.com.

Who the hell am I to spout opinions? Well, I have a Film Studies degree from Columbia University, a Masters in Mass Comm/Media Studies from SDSU, and have worked in and around the TV/Film business for more than 15 years. So I think I have a broad perspective of how "the business" works - both good and bad. I've been the U-T's critic since January 2010, and before that for the La Jolla Light. I'm also a member of the San Diego Film Critics Society.
 
For more about me, read the U-T's "Meet the Critic" Q&A (January 22, 2010)

When I'm not in a crowded movie theater telling some loudmouth behind me to shut up, I'm usually at my day job as Communications Manager for University of California Television (UCTV) and UCSD-TV. I've been there since 2003 and love and believe in our public service mission. And I'm lucky to work for an institution that supports my extracurricular endeavors--and the extra cash during furloughs and budget cuts doesn't hurt either.

Thanks for joining me here!

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