Apollo 11 (2019) / For All Mankind (1989)

Tags

Documentary, History

 

A lonely halo is the moon,
A muse for which romantics croon,
And nobody is quite immune
From such a storied, distant sphere.

Upon its face, mankind has walked,
From which the moon no doubt was shocked,
For how could men have flown and docked
Upon this pioneering pier?

And now, alone again, the moon
Has only space for its commune
And wonders if we’ll come back soon
To face and further its frontier.
_____________________

MPAA rating for Apollo 11:  G
MPAA rating for For All Mankind:  Not Rated (G is fine)

It’s hard to believe that it’s been 50 years to the day since man first landed on the moon. Those familiar with this blog probably already know that my family has a personal connection to the space program, my grandfather having worked for NASA from 1955 to 1973 and my mother working for NASA contractors during the space shuttle program. That personal connection heightens even more my appreciation for the spectacular feat of engineering and cooperation that was the Apollo 11 mission, a mission depicted in several documentaries, two of which seemed perfect to review today.

Both documentaries were released as anniversary retrospectives, 1989’s For All Mankind on the 20^th anniversary of the first moon landing, and this year’s Apollo 11 for the 50^th anniversary. Both films are entirely archival, made up of actual footage from the Apollo program, though For All Mankind also features voiceovers from interviews with the astronauts. While they both follow the same structure and even share a few of the same shots, both are exceptional in different ways.

Apollo 11 has been making the rounds on TV and theaters, raking in acclaim along the way. It’s an excellent account of the mission, from the monumental launch of the Saturn V rocket as crowds of onlookers marveled from a distance to the tense landing sequence plagued by false alarms. Its best aspect is the visual restoration of the footage, which now lacks any trace of the age inherent to film from 50 years ago. As with Peter Jackson’s They Will Not Grow Old, the footage looks fresh and recent, making every moment feel immediate and much more real than some ancient faded images.

The only drawback for me was how strictly archival the film was, without any narration or sound other than what was filmed. This made several extended scenes of space borderline boring; while the spacecraft’s staggering speeds and dwindling fuel gauge were added for the sake of context and danger (with far-too-small captions), interest definitely depends on how mentally engaged the viewer is, since there isn’t always much happening visually.

Interestingly, after taking 10 years for its assembly and release, For All Mankind had the same issue, originally compiled from old NASA footage without voiceover, only for director Al Reinert to add in interviews based on audience feedback. I thought these interviews added a lot to the film, providing insight directly from those who lived these missions, including Jim Lovell, Michael Collins, and Jack Swigert. You might have noticed that not all of them were on the Apollo 11 mission; that’s because For All Mankind, despite being edited to look like one mission from start to finish, is actually a compilation of all the Apollo moon missions, with a little Gemini thrown in.

The footage may not have the crispness of Apollo 11, but I found that For All Mankind offered far more unique and memorable scenes that I had never seen before: an astronaut making a sandwich in zero gravity, a montage of astronauts playing and repeatedly falling over on the moon, David Scott of Apollo 15 dropping a feather and a hammer to prove Galileo’s theory of gravity correct. I only wish there were some captions or on-screen notes saying which mission each clip was from and which interviewee was speaking during the voiceovers. For All Mankind may not be as detailed as Apollo 11 (the Apollo 13 disaster is glossed over in a matter of minutes), but I thought it offered a more engaging history lesson than the more recent film, ending with a touching tribute to the space program’s casualties, both American and Russian. It’s up there with the best documentaries I’ve seen.

Now fifty from that historic day, it’s equally hard to believe that we haven’t been back to the moon in over 46 years since then. I realize some may view space exploration as an impractical pursuit, but Apollo 11 was an amazing moment in human history, and I sincerely hope that the spirit of dreaming and daring that made it possible will again yield fruit and prove what mankind is capable of accomplishing. In the meantime, we at least have some great documentaries (which I recommend far more than last year’s First Man) to remind us of our past achievements and perhaps renew that same spirit.

Best line, not counting the really famous quotes: (from For All Mankind, summing up how all this was possible) “We are all in this together as a team effort. We’re gonna make it work, and I don’t know how to make it work; I don’t know how to do most of this mission, but I do know that I can assure you that my piece of it is gonna work, and it won’t fail because of me.”

Rank (using thumbs for documentaries):

Apollo 11 – One thumb up, one thumb down
For All Mankind – Two thumbs up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
636 Followers and Counting

 

2018 Blindspot Pick #8: Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father (2008)

Tags

Documentary, History

 

A normal day, no thought of death—
Till one call makes me catch my breath,
And all at once, the world I knew
Is marred by news that can’t be true.

It seems just yesterday we spoke,
And just this morning both awoke,
And now before the day’s complete,
It’s only one whose heart can beat.

“Why?” is foremost in my mind,
Which can’t be answered by mankind.
We only know one evildoer
Dared to make good people fewer.

Once anger, blame, and heartache fade,
And all my searchings have been prayed,
My memories of you remain,
And love of them must keep me sane.
_______________________

MPAA Rating:  Not Rated (a few F words, but most of the content is PG-13 level)

I haven’t had much time for anything other than school lately, but I don’t want to forget about my Blindspot picks this year. Some of them, and quite a few others I’ve seen since starting this blog, I owe to MovieRob. His seemingly non-stop movie-watching/reviewing has introduced me to plenty of hidden gems (many of which I’ve still yet to see), but when he ranked a documentary called Dear Zachary among his favorite films of all time, I knew I had to check it out. Plus, I loved director Kurt Kuenne’s time-hopping Shuffle, another MovieRob recommendation and my favorite Blindspot from last year, so I was curious to explore his previous work.

As some may know, I’m not the biggest fan of documentaries in general, since they’re often well-executed and informative but never have as much entertainment value as a normal movie. Even if it was the best doco ever made, I’d pick a feature film every time if I had the choice (which is why I grade them as a simple “Thumbs Up” or “Thumbs Down”). That being said, Dear Zachary is probably the best documentary I’ve seen, simply because of how engaging it is. This is not a true-life story to watch casually, vaguely absorbing facts as they’re doled out. No, this film strikes deeper because of what a personal project it was for its director and how its focus evolved during filming.

Handling everything from music to editing, Kurt Kuenne originally wanted to memorialize his lifelong friend Andrew Bagby, who was murdered after breaking up with the clearly unstable Shirley Turner. Once in custody, Turner announced she was pregnant with Andrew’s son Zachary. To eventually introduce Zachary to the father he’d never know, Kuenne traveled the country to gather interviews with Andrew’s friends and extended family, all of whom attest to what a special and loving man he was. If the story had ended there, it might never have been released to the public, probably remaining a personal collection of bittersweet video recollections.

Yet, as I said, the film’s focus deftly shifts from Andrew to Zachary to Andrew’s long-suffering parents, who face a lengthy legal battle with Shirley, the details of which I won’t spoil. Through it all, Kuenne’s narration manages to be both objective in stating the facts and deeply impassioned about the loss of his friend. His editing sometimes borders on too frantic, spitting out details a bit too fast to keep up, but it imbues the account with an urgency that never lets the viewer’s attention lag. Between his commentary and the heartbreaking interviews with Andrew’s parents, it’s easy to share their heartache at how things turned out and their anger at the miscarriages of justice they endured.

Watching Kuenne’s meticulous recap of this tragedy, I couldn’t help but admire his devotion to his departed friend, who I felt I knew well by the end. If I were to suffer the same fate as Andrew Bagby, I’m not sure there would be the same outpouring of grief from friends and relatives, close and distant, but Andrew clearly left behind a legacy that Kuenne captured beautifully. Yet Dear Zachary is as much a love letter to Andrew’s parents as to Andrew himself, representing their Job-like patience and resolve with clear affection. Between the drama of the unfolding crime story and the profoundly personal heartache it leaves, I certainly see why MovieRob is so fond of it. It’s criminal that the Academy didn’t even deign to give it a nomination for Best Documentary. Even if documentaries aren’t my preferred cup of tea, this one is too good to miss.

 

Rank: Thumbs Way Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
592 Followers and Counting

 

For the Love of Spock (2016)

Tags

Biopic, Documentary, History, Sci-fi

Ideas are born and met with scorn
More often than embraced.
It’s hard to tell what might do well
Or else end up disgraced.

That’s why the rise of one franchise
Can be a wondrous thing
When someone’s pitch can find its niche
And gain a following.

Ideas sow seed while sponsors lead,
But icons call for skill,
For one who spans the dreams of fans
To live and prosper still.
__________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (should be PG-13 for 2 F-words)

I don’t typically watch and review documentaries, but as a lifelong fan of Star Trek, I couldn’t pass up a celebration of Leonard Nimoy and his most iconic role. Funding through Kickstarter, For the Love of Spock  is unique in that Nimoy himself was actually involved in its production until his death in 2015, and his son Adam Nimoy not only finished the doco but turned it into a moving retrospective of his father and their rocky relationship.

I love Spock. Who doesn’t love Spock? Whether it’s Nimoy in the original series and films or Zachary Quinto in J.J. Abrams’ reboots, the half-human, half-Vulcan science officer of the Enterprise is a both compelling and surprisingly lovable character, even with his famous emotional reserve. For the Love of Spock dives into the original man behind the ears, from his early acting days to his musical and artistic pursuits to how he and his family reacted to the sudden stardom that Mr. Spock foisted upon them.

Apart from Nimoy and his son, there are a plethora of celebrity interviews that provide commentary of Nimoy’s life, whether the experiences of co-stars like William Shatner and George Takei or the geeky influence he imparted to Neil deGrasse Tyson, Jim Parsons, and J.J. Abrams. It’s a brilliantly edited encapsulation of all that Nimoy and Spock have given popular culture and boasts the emotional resonance of the loss of a legend and some surprising stories of how that legend developed, such as the Jewish origin of Spock’s “Live long and prosper” hand gesture. (You probably can’t see, but I’m doing it right now.) Occasionally, it’s also very funny, as when it recaps Nimoy singing “The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins,” which is possibly the biggest what-the-heck moment I’ve seen all year and which I had to include below.

As I said, I don’t often watch documentaries, but I’ve liked the few I’ve seen, with For the Love of Spock up there among the best. I use a simpler “Thumb” system for docos since they’re harder for me to compare to narrative films, but this is undoubtedly worth Two Thumbs Up. Perhaps certain periods aren’t covered in as much detail, like the original films or Nimoy’s first autobiography I Am Not Spock, but Star Trek geeks and semi-geeks alike will find plenty to enjoy.

 

Rank: Two Thumbs Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
582 Followers and Counting

That’s Entertainment! (1974) and That’s Entertainment, Part II (1976)

Tags

Documentary, History, Musical

 

For centuries, great entertainers
Wowed the crowds and made them cheer,
With song and dance, speech, and romance,
Their famous names known far and near.

Yet soon they died, their plays and songs
Preserved in libraries and hearts;
We saved the page, but those on stage
Were soon forgotten from the arts.

Not till the novelty of film
Could actors prove their artistry
And ply their skill to awe and thrill
With hope of immortality.
_______________

MPAA rating for both: G

It’s hard enough trying to keep up with all the new releases that pass through the cinemas week after week, but what about the plethora of old classics stretching back to the 1920s? What about the hundreds of musicals that MGM churned out back in the days when contracted actors were assigned roles rather than offered them? Where does one start? Well, That’s Entertainment! is an excellent reference point, a star-studded documentary that also serves as a highlight reel of old musicals, famous and obscure.

Older musicals often seem to have just a thin plot meant solely to string together spectacular song-and-dance numbers, and That’s Entertainment! gets rid of the connective tissue to provide a musical tour of MGM’s forgotten pageantry. The early days of 1929’s The Broadway Melody may not be all that impressive, but within a few years, MGM had the musical extravaganzas down to a science. I’m well familiar with favorites like Singin’ in the Rain and The Wizard of Oz or famous scenes from On the Town (the three sailors singing “New York! New York!”) and Royal Wedding (Fred Astaire dancing on the ceiling), but there are boatloads more that I’d never even heard of, such as the series of suspiciously similar small-town romances starring Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland. Most of the clips are worth watching just as highlights, but a few have made me curious to check out the films themselves, such as the navy grandeur of Hit the Deck (1955) or the High School Musical forerunner Good News (1947).

Sprinkled throughout the singing and dancing are introductions filmed by a variety of stars in 1974 as they wander the decaying MGM backlot where these musicals were filmed decades earlier. (The sets were torn down shortly after filming.) The star power is incredible, including Frank Sinatra, Gene Kelly, Elizabeth Taylor, Jimmy Stewart, Fred Astaire, Mickey Rooney, and the late Debbie Reynolds. Each screen legend introduces the work of one of their friends and costars, passing the baton as the film progresses. Old film buffs are sure to recognize the less widely known stars from the old film clips more than casual viewers like myself, but seeing some of these stars in action helped me appreciate the talents of performers whose reputations have waned over the decades. I wasn’t familiar with the incredible tap dancing of Ann Miller, the water-fountain displays of Esther Williams, or the impressive voice of Kathryn Grayson, but I’m glad I am now.

The film also features a few familiar faces in unexpected musical roles. Mainstream musicals may be anomalies these days, but back in the day, they were everywhere, and stars didn’t always have a choice of whether to sing or not. I never thought to see Jimmy Stewart trying to carry a tune, much less Clark Gable dancing to “Puttin’ on the Ritz” in 1939’s Idiot’s Delight. Let’s just say, there’s a reason they eventually left the dancing to Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire.

Speaking of Kelly and Astaire, they actually teamed up to host That’s Entertainment, Part II, proving that there was far too much material in MGM’s vault to fill only one documentary. (There’s also a Part III from 1994, but I didn’t get to see that one.) While it features the same retrospective montage of film clips, Part II feels even less like a documentary, thanks to the more sensational production values and the entertaining interludes of Kelly and Astaire as the sole hosts. In the first That’s Entertainment, Astaire admitted that his favorite dance partner was actually Gene Kelly, whom he had danced with only once in 1946’s Ziegfeld Follies. In Part II, the two reunite to dance together again, which was actually Astaire’s last dance on film, and they reportedly did so just to prove that they hadn’t lost their mojo, even in their sixties and seventies.

As with the first film, the musical moments are plentiful and dazzling, again with a few stunning dance numbers that are undoubtedly the centerpieces of their films. I won’t soon forget the operatic rebellion of New Moon, the athleticism of Kiss Me, Kate, or the amazing extended shot of a young Bobby Van literally hopping across town in Small Town Girl. Plus, the almost disturbing sight of Fred Astaire, Nanette Fabray, and Jack Buchanan singing on their knees dressed as babies in The Band Wagon. Plus, I did get to recognize a few familiar scenes, including one for Cabin in the Sky, an all-black older musical I happened to randomly watch last year. In addition, there are more than just musical scenes. Part II also has tributes to screen greats like Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn and comedians like the Marx Brothers, including the famous packed stateroom scene from A Night at the Opera.

That’s Entertainment! and its sequel reveal just how much fabulous musical cinema is on the verge of being forgotten, and I’m quite glad that MGM kindly boiled down its heyday into these affectionately repackaged collections. I only knew of these films from my mom, who talks about how they opened her eyes to the Golden Age of Hollywood musicals, and in some ways, it did the same for me. The tunes are both new and familiar (I had no idea that the music to “Make ‘Em Laugh” predated Singin’ in the Rain and was used in The Pirate), the choreography and star power are staggering, and the whole package is, well, entertaining. I doubt I’ll ever get around to seeing all the films featured, but at least I know I’ve seen all the best parts.

Best line: (Liza Minnelli) “Thank God for film. It can capture a performance and hold it right there forever. And if anyone says to you, ‘Who was he?’ or ‘Who was she?’ or ‘What made them so good?’ I think a piece of film answers that question better than any words I know of.”

 

Since documentaries are ineligible for my List, it’s the return of the five-star system.
Rank for both: Five Stars out of Five

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
437 Followers and Counting

 

Life, Animated (2016)

Tags

Documentary

 

“Life as we know it” – a strange thing to say,
As if we all share every daily cliché,
As if you and I, in our habits and cares,
The views she retains and the burdens he bears,
All somehow add up to the same.

Life outside yours cannot fully be known;
Though we walk together, our paths are our own.
When other lives deviate, some may presume
Their paths are less worthy where tragedies loom,
And some may regard it a shame.

Life can have weakness without being weak.
Life can have sorrow without being bleak.
Support can be found where we least would suspect,
In plans that are clear only in retrospect,
In paths that are never the same.

Life in its innocence, life in its trials,
Life in its mirth and its merciless miles
Is something we each have the privilege to face,
Each life its own story and none a disgrace,
“Life as I know it,” by name.
_______________________

MPAA rating: PG

One genre that I’ve barely scratched the surface of is documentaries. I’ve always thought of them as interesting and informative, but lacking in entertainment value. Seriously, would you rather watch a Disney movie or a documentary? (I know; depends on which one, right?) Not to mention, I’m always suspect of many “true” stories if there seems to be an agenda behind them. The few documentaries I’ve seen have been quite good (In the Shadow of the Moon, The Drop Box), but they haven’t whet my appetite to seek out others of their kind. Life, Animated has.

I actually had a unique opportunity with this film. It was being shown at a local theater that usually shows second-run movies for $2, but they were showing Life, Animated for free, presented by a local autism organization complete with a Q & A with Ron Suskind, the father of the film’s subject. That subject is Owen Suskind, who seemed like a normal child until he stopped talking at the age of three and was diagnosed with regressive autism. After years of silence, he found his voice again through the inspiration of Disney’s animated films. Donning a hand puppet of Iago from Aladdin, his father discovered that Owen would converse with him through the puppet. Over time, they were able to share conversations with dialogue memorized from Disney films, and Owen even learned to read using the names in the credits.

Life, Animated features a pleasantly non-linear style, jumping between 23-year-old Owen in the present day as he learns to be more independent and flashbacks to young Owen, often told through semi-animated drawings. Owen himself is winsome and naïve, still somewhat of a child who has come a long way and has far yet to go. My earlier suspicion of documentaries being potentially manufactured doesn’t apply to him, since he is inherently earnest and open whether a camera is there or not. Ron called this sincerity a “compensatory strength” to offset Owen’s social weaknesses and mentioned that the cameraman called him one of the best subjects he’d filmed.

Interspersed with Owen and Ron’s narration are a multitude of film clips from Disney classics and even an unexpected cameo from some voice actors. Honestly, I can’t imagine any bigger compliment to Disney filmmakers than this movie, a tribute to how their work literally helped to change Owen’s life, which might explain why they allowed the use of their fiercely guarded films for a reasonable price. As much as we all love Disney movies, they are mere entertainment to most of us, while to Owen, they were a lens through which he could understand daily life. In a world that was suddenly hard to make sense of, he latched onto this “scripted constant” that provided accessible insights, which the film’s editors managed to translate to the screen. When Owen and his brother regret having to grow up, they reference the likes of Mowgli and Peter Pan. When Owen talks about enduring bullying in school, we see Quasimodo’s flogging in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. When Owen suffers his first taste of romantic pain, we remember Ariel’s despair over Eric in The Little Mermaid. During Owen’s first night on his own, he watches Bambi.

The film’s most fascinating visual touch is two extended animated sequences of a story Owen wrote called The Land of the Lost Sidekicks, brought to life by the French animation studio Mac Guff. In a swirling, painterly style, Owen imagines himself as the protector of various Disney side characters, battling despair and darkness. It’s simple yet profound, like so much of Owen’s story. Owen was encouraged that Life, Animated showed him to be, not a sidekick, but on a hero’s journey, and the struggles and joys he goes through depict him as a person, rather than a collection of tics as autism may seem at first glance. As Owen relates during a climactic speech, those with autism can latch onto any number of fixations, and Disney films allowed him to comprehend a constantly changing world. During the Q & A afterward, Ron confirmed autism’s similar patterns when he and a young man in the front row, much like Owen, shared a few back-and-forth lines of dialogue from The Lion King. (I was also interested to learn from Ron that Owen has branched out into live-action films and enjoys the Dark Knight trilogy as well.)

It may not be saying much, but Life, Animated is one of the best documentaries I’ve seen, and despite its independent status, I do hope it gets some notice for a Best Documentary nomination during Oscar season. Not only does it ennoble the Disney canon as “human sagas of struggle and triumph,” but it provides an endearing look at how they helped shape one boy’s inspiring development. Owen’s family is a constant encouragement for him, worrying and helping him however they can, and one question his parents asked was particularly resonant: “Who decides what a meaningful life is?” Ron said his wife and he asked it many times, but Owen finally answered it. “I do.”

Best line: (see above)

 

Rank: No documentary has made me reconsider my opinion of them like this one, but I still can’t help but put them in a different category from “regular” movies. Thus, any documentary reviews won’t be eligible for my List but will just use a simple Five Star system, and this one is definitely worth Five Stars!

 

© 2016 S. G. Liput
413 Followers and Counting