TFC Journal at TheFilmChair.com

By the People: The Election of Barack Obama (2009)–***

By the People: The Election of Barack Obama has the least amount of political analysis of any political documentary that I’ve seen. That’s not to say it’s lacking substance, but in telling the story of Barack Obama’s historic election, you realize that not much reflection on style or cunning is needed. It’s a story so simple that the title sums it up. This election wouldn’t have happened without the dedicated millions who stood up for one man and his vision of America.

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Fox showcased its critical darling Glee last night after American Idol, creating what may be the first mass audience preview of one of its fall shows. To be fair, pilot episodes don’t mean a series will be either good or bad. I remember being over the moon for Aaron Sorkin’s Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip at the end of episode one. And I remember wondering if I’d ever watch True Blood a second time after the weak first hour. I quickly cooled on Studio 60 and have had a thirst for True Blood as the show evolved.

Here’s hoping Glee, a undeniably uneven hour of television, is a True Blood and not a Studio 60.

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Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired (2008)–***1/2
TV Review

In France, he’s desired, and in America, he’s wanted.

Roman Polanski’s films were often about the forces of corruption going up against justice and winning. It wasn’t hard to find a similar narrative in the story of Polanski’s high-profile 1977 trial, one where the charge of raping a 13-year-old girl are equally as heinous as the famed director’s treatment at the hands of a spotlight seeking judge.

The balanced, just-the-facts approach to Marina Zenovich’s Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired—a
documentary chronicling the events leading up to Polanski’s trial and his flight to France after pleading guilty to a lesser charge—forces the audience to search its own conscience to determine where corruption won and justice lost.

The backstory: Polanski was commissioned to photograph girls for a Vogue spread. Polanski had to this point managed to keep his lust for life despite a past marred with personal disasters. His mother was gassed by the Nazis. His father had been sent to Auschwitz. His pregnant wife Sharon Tate had been murdered at the hands of the Manson family in her Los Angeles home. On one photo shoot, he took a 13-year-old girl to the home of Jack Nicholson, who was out of town, photographed her and admittedly had sexual intercourse with the girl. The girl said she was raped, plied with booze and Quaaludes by the director.

Polanski’s hard-living ways, his exuberant personality, and his penchant for seducing teenage girls made the uber-talented Polanski a celebrity among direcotrs, and thus the target of a Judge Laurence J. Rittenband. The PR savvy Rittenband loved his Santa Monica courtroom, where he often presided over celebrity cases. He handpicked the Polanski case.

Polanski is not interviewed here. Nor is Rittenband, who died in 1993. The entire film is told from the perspective of eye-witnesses to the events, which puts even more pressure on the audience to sort through the details.

Where do you stop judging Polanski for what he did and where do you start blaming the situation on Rittenband for his corrupt, even criminal efforts to put Polanski in jail over the advice of authorities? The attempt to answer that question results in a demanding documentary, not unlike Capturing the Friedmans or Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room (two of the most successful documentaries of the last 10 years).

It never seems like the job of this doc to uncover whether Polanski raped his victim or simply engaged in unlawful sexual intercourse (the charge he pled to). Instead it acts as a well-researched profile of a man who found anyway to survive despite moments of great struggle and injustice. Thirty-one years after the incident, the matter is as unsettled as the charges were unsettling. That may be the greatest injustice, not just for Polanski, but also for the victim and the American justice system.

Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired premieres Monday, June 9, at 9 p.m. on HBO

Recount (2008)–***1/2
TV Review

With equal parts The West Wing and The Queen, HBO’s Jay Roach-directed telefilm Recount rivetingly chronicles the chaos surrounding the disputed 2000 Florida presidential election. There’s a necessary sense of seriousness around the subject, but the polished-scripting from actor-turned-writer Danny Strong and Roach’s comic sensibilities perfectly capture the ups and downs of the most dramatic presidential election in our lifetime.

I thought I would hate having Austin Powers helmer Roach take over the directing duties after Sydney Pollack dropped out due to health reasons. At times, Recount is unapologetically light-hearted, which serves the audience well considering the exhausting drama that has unfolded in the current presidential race. We needed a break today, and we got it.

Kevin Spacey plays Ron Klain, an attorney working for Gore’s presidential campaign. Klain (who served as the former vice president’s chief of staff) is still stinging a bit from being ousted from the campaign in its early days, so much so that he won’t take a position in the Gore administration. It’s an eight-year demotion, he says, but Klain turns into a major fighter for Gore when Florida’s election results are too close to call.

Even with a massive ensemble cast, Spacey’s Klain is the film’s central character. He didn’t have as high a profile as a Warren Christopher (John Hurt) or a James Baker (Tom Wilkinson). He didn’t have the national spotlight like Katherine Harris (played here by Laura Dern). But here, maybe more because of Kevin Spacey than anyone, Klain takes center stage. He’s the film’s dramatic touchstone.

Spacey has an inviting personality that can seem both buoyant and serious all at once. He’s a solid fit for a film that has a lot going on under the surface. Recount is more polished than it appears at first glance, so we are comfortable laughing at Katherine Harris’ stumbling into the national spotlight or the confusion in the faces of elderly voters looking at those butterfly ballots.

Yes, some of these moments are worthy of a laugh even though the situation could hardly be more serious. Who couldn’t find humor in the ridiculous discussions about punch card ballots? (“The plural of chad is chad?”) The balance, however, is key. In fact, if the Recount team had taken over The West Wing after Aaron Sorkin left, the drama’s audience might have stuck around. But regardless of what could have been, Recount is still as entertaining as any film about American politics can be.

Recount, directed by Jay Roach, starring Kevin Spacey, Laura Dern, and Tom Wilkinson with John Hurt, Dennis Leary, Bob Balaban, and Ed Begley, Jr., airs Sunday, May 25, at 9 p.m. on HBO.

Bernard and Doris (2008)–**
TV Review

While watching Bernard and Doris I waited for the other shoe to drop. Hell, I was even waiting for a glass to be thrown. I was waiting for any hint of drama, but there was no drama to be had. Thus is the problem with Bob Balaban’s telefilm about the relationship between billionaire philanthropist Doris Duke and her butler and caregiver Bernard Lafferty; it is a bore.

Duke (played by Susan Sarandon) isn’t a diva here. She drinks a little too much occasionally. She likes things her way, and she doesn’t like waste. We first meet Duke when she fires her butler for informing her that he is going to throw out food she refused. He didn’t pay for that food, she reminds him and then gives him the boot.

Enter Lafferty (Ralph Fiennes), a mysterious, unassuming fellow who just happened to work for Elizabeth Taylor and Peggy Lee. Without asking or without being offered the job, Lafferty begins to serve Duke, who quickly takes him on once she’s sober enough to make the decision. Lafferty, who is gay, isn’t susceptible to Duke’s usual fuck and fire antics. Instead a friendship develops that, though dubious in the eyes of most of her handlers, both she and Bernard understand.

The film flirts with the idea that Lafferty is scheming to cash in on Duke’s inevitable death (which he does). It nearly goes so far as to make Duke out to be a hardcore lush and a insatiable cougar. It sniffs around the idea that Duke had a wild outburst now and then, even if she is a solid, considerate figure. Then it bludgeons us with Lafferty’s alcoholism, which isn’t that interesting.

There’s no doubt that Duke is an incredibly intriguing figure, but the film plays out like a badly staged theatrical production without any theatrics. The single location (Duke’s estate) is cramped and claustrophobic, and we merely hear voice-over references to Duke’s exotic exploits.

There’s a moment where memos to the staff from Lafferty, who is out globe-trotting with Duke in southeast Asia, are narrated to the audience. Instead of getting to see the adventuring, we watch the staff at the estate put dust sheets over her antique furniture. There’s a sense that the relationship really blossomed during those months away, but we don’t get to see it. We remain disconnected, and even talented performers like Fiennes and Sarandon can’t draw us in.

Bernard and Doris airs Saturday, Feb. 9 at 8 p.m. on HBO.

Starz has a long way to go before it attains the quality of HBO or Showtime. The cable channel’s original shows just aren’t all that original. I guess that comment pertains more to the unfortunate airing of the home makeover parody Hollywood Residential than it does to Head Case. Both shows premiere on Wednesday, Jan. 23 on Starz, with Head Case celebrating it’s expansion from a 15-minute comedy to a full half-hour show.

I didn’t love Head Case when I first saw it, but at a quarter-hour, the show had a pace that made up for its often patronizing, Hollywood insider humor. Thankfully, the half-hour version keeps its momentum. With Alexandra Wentworth as Dr. Goode, therapist to the B-list stars, you still get the female equivalent of Steve Carell’s Michael Scott, only with patients instead of subordinates.

It’s hard to believe a Starz program would actually decline in quality from Head Case. But with Hollywood Residential, an agonizing half-hour comedy about a celebrity home renovation show, you get a cheap knock-off of a Comedy Central original.

The episode I saw featured a kitchen remodeling for Chris Kattan, who gets the show’s host Tony (Adam Paul) an audition for a part in his movie. From there we learn, that Hollywood has its phonies and egomaniacs, much like we do in Head Case. Hollywood Residential is plagued by its paring with Head Case, if only because the celeb guest concept can only go so far in one night, and Head Case does it better.

Of the two shows, I can still see myself watching Head Case, if only for the fleeting moments of humor that occur when Dr. Goode is analyzing a patient. The sessions quickly become excessive ethnic jokes or sexual situations (just because you are on premium cable doesn’t mean you should mention cum-guzzling), which are often exposed as less than stellar attempts at edgy humor. Dr. Goode’s quirky personal life outside the office, which is thankfully a major focus of the half-hour version, adds some much needed punch.

Both shows have a similar gimmick, featuring celebrity guests as themselves with moments of self-parody. Yet, no one looks like they are having much fun. Here’s a suggestion. Instead of watching either show on Starz, rent Extras: The Complete Series and watch serious celebrities (David Bowie, Kate Winslet, Robert DeNiro, etc.) enjoy making fun of themselves.

Head Case’s second season premieres Jan. 23 at 10 p.m. followed by Hollywood Residential at 10:30 p.m.

Hollywood Residential
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Head Case
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I grew up in the same city as Justin Fatica, a Catholic youth minister who infuses his religious program with a touch of Scared Straight. It’s a small city with a predominantly Catholic citizenry. Fatica, a Catholic, attended the region’s most notable Catholic high school (one that is still boys only). The HBO documentary Hard as Nails follows Fatica as he builds his controversial Catholic ministry, Hard as Nails.

Fatica’s ministry is intense and extreme by any measure, but when he’s preaching to Catholic youth who are used to convention and not conviction, the experience is visibly jarring for those being evangelized. Though the ministry builds a team of youth ministers, all of whom share the same clarity of faith, none are nearly as powerful as Fatica, who may even have the audience converted by the end of the film.

He shouts and screams. He talks about loving sex (but not pre-marital sex) and calls one team member fat over and over again in front of an audience of at times hundreds of teens. He then asks why in the hell isn’t that audience helping the fat girl or the lonely boy or any others who feel excluded from the mainstream of any given group.

To go with his unconventional preaching style, Fatica has an unconventional look. He carries himself like a mob boss’s muscle. In his mind, he probably sees himself as God’s muscle. But while creating an almost mythic story about Fatica, the prophet, Hard as Nails doesn’t forget to tell at least part of the story of Fatica, the man. He’s noticeably uncomfortable around his father. The family house on Lake Erie where his parents live is a massive monument to materialism, something Fatica has more or less rejected. Though Fatica tries to explain his relationship with his father, we still see their mutual lack of understanding about each other’s lives.

I would have liked to know more about Fatica’s personal side. After all, there was a reason he found his faith. We don’t get much more than allusions to his past in the film. While the lack of personal background means Hard as Nails isn’t as well-rounded as any great documentary, it’s certainly another laudable effort from HBO.

Hard as Nails premieres Monday, Dec. 17 at 8 p.m. on HBO.

Late in the documentary I Am an Animal, PETA co-founder Alex Pacheco says that PETA founder and president Ingrid Newkirk believes there’s no such thing as bad publicity. If that’s the case, PETA could have used a scathing indictment and not this boring, balanced portrait.

I Am an Animal is at once a profile of Newkirk, an historical look a PETA, a contemporary tale of animal activism and a look at PETA’s controversial publicity machine. After catching the recent release Your Mommy Kills Animals, a documentary on the history of the animal rights movement which didn’t have anything kind to say about PETA and its fundraising over fur-saving, I fully expected this film to be a rebuttal. It’s not. It’s hardly anything. With fairness in its sights, I Am an Animal, in a mere 75 minutes, woefully attempts to cast a very wide net without knowing what it is trying to catch.

We are teased in the first moments of the film with a look at a PETA investigation into abuse at ConAgra’s turkey processing plant. This could have served as an emotional anchor for the film but is hardly revisited as the program proceeds. The film, with its facts and figures approach, never even captures the spirit of the activists.

Maybe that says more about PETA than it does the actual film. I Am an Animal is a corporatized version of the unfortunately titled Your Mommy Kills Animals (named, ironically, after a PETA flyer), much like PETA is a corporatized version of the animal rights movement. It’s at times dreary in its labored ambitions to find out who Newkirk and PETA are, and there’s never a sense that it breaks down the organization’s image control. The documentary proceeds like a cable news show’s profile of a seasoned politician who is making a run for the White House. There’s just no bark or bite.

Even when the film does address PETA’s less than perfect image in the eyes of non-PETA animal rights activists, it does so without the vigor we should expect from a documentary on HBO or otherwise. There are moments in the film when Newkirk and her employees discuss the apparent failure in their ConAgra investigation, maybe for dramatic effect or maybe as an subtle admission that the focus of the film, too, had disappeared. I hope for the sake of the filmmakers that the former is the case. If not, it may be time to return to film school. That or get a job at CNN covering the 2008 election.

I Am an Animal premieres Monday, Nov. 19 at 8 p.m. on HBO.

To Die in Jerusalem (2007)–***

To Die in Jerusalem, a documentary account of two mothers in mourning after an 18-year-old Palestinian girl’s martyrdom operation kills a 17-year-old Israeli girl, leaves the viewer with two questions in the end: who will lay down their arms first and who should lay them down?

It’s not surprising, the questions we are asking, because they are the same questions we were asking before the documentary. To Die in Jerusalem doesn’t claim to answer either question, but rather shows the audience the ideological stalemate through the eyes of mothers who lost their daughters.

The daughters are Rachel and Ayat, the former being an Israeli teen who went to the supermarket for her mother and the latter being a suicide bomber. Both girls look eerily similar with long dark hair, dark eyes, and dark complexions. Their deaths were not lost on the world, so much so that the director even includes a sound byte from George W. Bush that is surprising in its eloquence. Bush mentions the dying of youths as the death of the future, and for the mothers, their ideas of what the future should be are representative of the broader conflict.

Though the film has about 40 minutes of poignant exposition, To Die in Jerusalem is mainly focused on getting to the last 30. In that half hour, the mother of the Israeli girl, Abigail, confronts the mother of the Palestinian girl, Um Samir, via satellite. The meeting comes four years after the bombing, and whatever answers Abigail was still looking for aren’t found.

The mothers tend to talk around each other, Abigail from the perspective of the free Israeli who has time to ponder the seemingly illogical attack and Um Samir from the perspective of the oppressed Palestinian who mourns her daughter but not the reasoning behind the attack. Um Samir, in fact, has one of the single most passionate moments when she argues that only through resistance have the shackles of oppression been historically removed.

Um Samir doesn’t have the ability to see the event from Abigail’s perspective. Likewise Abigail, who could barely stand to be in Palestinian Authority-controlled territory long enough to experience its horrors, cannot empathize with Um Samir’s life. Even the mutual prayer for peace and their hatred of the political systems that perpetuate the violence come from their differing points of view.

To Die in Jerusalem ends with the pictures of the girls juxtaposed once again on screen, a sobering reminder of the tragic consequences of the continuing struggle to find peace. There are no solutions proposed, but the delicacy of the subjects allows an audience well aware of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict to consider it again in a way they haven’t before.

To Die in Jerusalem, directed by Hilla Medalia, airs Nov. 1 at 9 p.m. on HBO.

There are some books that you can’t put down. And then there are some DVD sets that you can’t stop watching. NBC’s 30 Rock is too hilarious and too lovable to merely casually watch one episode at a time. The half-hour comedy, set in the world of late-night TV, is a riotous laugher that tempts first time viewers with seven and a half hours of marathon-worthy episodes.

Starring Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin, 30 Rock follows Liz Lemon (Fey), head writer and producer of The Girlie Show. Lemon’s show is a safe, secure hit until GE exec Jack Donaghy (Baldwin) takes over as Vice President of Television and Microwave Oven Programming. Donaghy, the author of Jack Attack: The Art of Aggression, sees a hit that can do boffo business outside of the show’s mostly female audience. Before Lemon can say no, Donaghy adds the unstable comedian Tracy Jordon (Tracy Morgan) to the cast and changes the name to TGS with Tracy Jordon. Hilarity ensues.

It’s not hard to nail down that hilarity. 30 Rock may be the smartest, cutest, funniest, most charming comedy on network TV, a package as rare as it is great. From the downright crazy, off-the-wall Tracy Jordon moments (as seen in such classics episodes “Tracy Does Conan” and the season finale featuring The Black Crusaders) to Tina Fey’s adorably neurotic, tragically lovelorn power female antics (see the episode titled “The ‘C’ Word”), 30 Rock has non-stop dialogue we expected from Sorkin’s canceled Studio 60 with ten times the laughs.

While the show’s best comedic moments are the random, unexpected laughs that audience off guard, the consistently funny Alec Baldwin playing Jack Donaghy is an unfaltering reminder of how good network TV can be. Baldwin’s acting chops bring a sense of legitimacy to his character, while his surprising ability to out-funny the show’s best comedians makes his stints on Saturday Night Live look like batting practice for the All-Star Game.

Baldwin’s Donaghy even bests Steve Carrell’s Michael Scott from The Office, making him the funniest boss on NBC. Baldwin leads an ensemble cast that complements The Office and allows NBC’s Thursday night line-up (featuring both shows) to regain the luster it lost when Seinfeld ended.

The Extras
If there is one disappointment on the 30 Rock DVD set, it’s the extras. The deleted scenes should have been deleted. The 10-second Internet sitcom isn’t funny out of context. The country bumpkin NBC page who, out of love for television, works the desk at TGS has uninspired moment after uninspired moment on his fake late-night talk show. He’s funnier than the extras let on. For longtime fans of the show, it’s better to simply indulge in rewatching the season than sitting through unfunny extras from one of the funniest shows on TV.