2018 was the highest grossing year for documentaries ever. From the everlasting warmth of Mr. Rogers and his cashmere sweater in Won’t You be My Neighbor, to a lofty suspense giving new meaning to the term “cliffhanger” in Free Solo. Audiences oohed and awed as a new cinematic language was born in Hale County This Morning, This Evening, and sobbed as they watched Minding the Gap, a skateboarding film about rolling with life’s punches. The one-two-punch these movies presented to us over the year was deciding what to see. The options were infinite! And the rewards hardly infinitesimal.
I found myself overwhelmed by the genre’s endless excellence, as did countless others – four films pulled in over 10 million dollars at the box office. Yet another sign that we are living in the Golden Age of documentaries. But there’s a problem. With so many notable documentaries, some had to have drifted to the wayside. Don’t worry, we have your back. Below are a few movies that might have slipped under your radar, however, having seen them, you will wish they hadn’t.
Searching For Ingmar Bergman (Margarethe von Trotta, Bettina Böhler, Felix Moeller)
A Renaissance chorus sings over the howling winds and whimpering waves on the Swedish coast. Meanwhile, a pale knight and an even paler death play chess on the jagged rocks. Death has appropriately chosen black. And as the sun sets, we get the sense our swashbuckler’s morality and faith are fading with it. It’s a strikingly beautiful image, and Swedish director Von Trotta has the utmost confidence that you have seen this incendiary morality tale titled The Seventh Seal. Because if not, why exactly are you here?
Here is a memoir not devoted to the man’s history, rather, it takes the form of one master’s unswerving fondness for another. She’s in Paris interviewing Bergmaniacs ranging from Liv Ullman to Mia Hanson. “Paris is cold and bleak” she says, “Bergman would have loved it here”. Indeed he would have! What cinephiles will love about this charming swansong is in the little things. Stories of the director watching Michael Bay’s Pearl Harbor at his home theater, skipping, like the rest of us, to the action sequences. Or background footage from Wild Strawberries, Scenes From Marriage, and Persona.
But what I found most enticing was the notion of two friends of his, just talking, discussing life changing moments they experienced watching his films. The human condition was something he captured with unconditional understanding. And it’s the heartwarming compassion that Trotta has for Bergman’s condition that services as the movies checkmate.
Ryuichi Sakamoto: Coda (Stephen Nomura Schible)
The term “coda” refers to the closing measures of a composition. Here, it refers to the final stages of Ryuichi Sakamato’s career. As we learn that one of the world’s finest composers, and finest people, has been diagnosed with throat cancer. But that doesn’t seem to stop his mysterious mind from voicing unwavering wisdom. Like a piano that has survived a tsunami, he never really loses his tune.
The film’s greatest pleasure is the way it keeps in tune with the subject’s tender, meditative persona. For a film about music, there is a splendid quietness to it. Almost as if the movie itself was trying to parallel the poetry of the melodies. It almost does! When Sakamato plays Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence at a charity for tsunami survivors, the harmony can only be compared to the hypnotic grace of a still moving sea. The movie itself is always moving. We follow Sakamato from anti-war and industrialization protests to his quest for purity in sound in the frigid North Pole, lush forests, and his studio brimming with bells and whistles. Literally. You will happily join in on his discovery of new sounds. Violin stings against drum sets; whatever it takes to achieve the atmospheric brilliance of a Tarkovsky score. He somehow does it.
With Solari (a reference to Tarkvosky’s Solaris), tissues will be needed for those drawing parallels to Bach’s dreamlike organ, and the theme here. But the real entertainment comes from the journey leading up to the piece. Sure, it is about a musician, but really, it is about the creative process. Relentless as it is. But just one smile from Sakamato, whose grin looks like that of a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar, reminds us that it is all worth it.
Bisbee ’17 (Robert Greene)
Righteous but American, chaotic but unified, empowering but soul-crushing; director Robert Greene’s masterpiece is a reminder that history repeats itself. And no place better exemplifies this than the land of opportunity. So Greene takes the opportunity to capitalize on a Freudian deal struck up with the town of Brisbee to showcase his ambitions.
Once the richest city in Arizona, this border town now borders on being a ghost town. How can this be? After digging up ghosts of future past, we realize that what haunts this town dates back to 1917. A time when 1,300 copper miners on strike, mainly minorities, were deported like cattle sent to the slaughter. Now, the townspeople are divided. Was this justified or just plain cruel? In hopes of understanding the mindset of their ancestors, they partake in a city-wide reenactment. It’s a radical notion, but the outcome is undeniably powerful.
Not since The Thin Blue Line have colors been so important to the framing. Metaphoric reds and blues clash in the desert sunsets, the deserted rocks, the buildings, the clothes, and obviously in the stripes on the American flags. The stars? The people of Brisbee, who are the heart and soul behind this haunting, provocative work. They aren’t just playing themselves, or even the people of 100 years past, but they are playing each and every one of us; just doing it with an impassioned fire all their own.
What were some overlooked documentaries you enjoyed in 2018? Let us know in the comments below!
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