One Child Nation (2019)

Directed by Nanfu Wang and Jialing Zhang. Motto Pictures.

Babies left to die in the elements, women tied up and forced to undergo sterilisations — One Child Nation, a new documentary that won the Sundance Film Festival’s Grand Jury Prize this year, pulls no punches in documenting China’s extraordinarily cruel family planning policy that lasted more than three decades. In order to avoid a population explosion, the party dictated that couples were allowed to have just one baby, or two in some regional areas. Combined with a strong cultural preference for boys, the policy lead to suffering on a mass scale.

Chinese-American filmmaker Nanfu Wang frames the horrors of the policy, at least initially, through the ways in which it changed her own family. She is a new mother herself, so it’s a powerful device. Her mother sits bouncing her beloved grandson, confirming that if Wang’s younger brother had been a girl, she would have given the child away. Wang’s uncle’s testimony is particularly striking. When his wife gave birth to a girl, his mother demanded he get rid of the child, threatening to kill herself and the baby if he did not. He left the infant at the local market, hoping a stranger would take her home. After two days the little girl, Wang’s cousin, died.

Wang does not sugar-coat the shocking nature of their revelations, but nor does she judge those she interviews. Her examination of the depravity of the situation is frank, but not gratuitous. Towards the end of the film, she deftly ties together the theme that runs through many of her discussions with the family planning officials and midwives who performed thousands of forced abortions and sterilisations, neighbourhood officials who enforced the law and members of her own family. “Policy is policy” and “there’s nothing I could do.” Both victims and perpetrators, she paints a picture of a population so deeply indoctrinated by the brutal ruling party and so unused to exercising their own will, that the only way they are able to live with the tragedy is blind acceptance.

As Wang notes, since 2015 China has encouraged families to have two children, but no more. All the same propaganda techniques are being used — slogans are painted on buildings, ‘One is too few, two is just right.’ But her brave film is an important recording of the brutal ramifications of the one-child policy and a warning against governments that seek to exercise control over the most intimate and personal parts of family life.

One Child Nation was originally published in 52 Features on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Kusama: Infinity (2018)

Directed by Heather Lenz. Magnolia Pictures, Tokyo Lee Productions Inc., Submarine Entertainment, Dogwoof, Parco, Dakota Group LTD

On a weekend visit to the National Gallery of Victoria’s Triennial exhibition last year, it was almost impossible to get into the room of red flowers. Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama’s Flower Obsession was a show stopper, beautiful, poignant and bold. Kusama: Infinity uses interviews with her friends and colleagues and with Kusama herself, along with historic footage and archive material to tell the story of this once marginal artist became one of the best loved in the world.

Kusama overcame incredible odds to pursue art. Hailing from a conservative and dysfunctional family, with a mother who would snatch the pencils out of her hands whenever she tried to draw, she moved to New York to try to make a name for herself in the art world. She was not afraid to hustle, but for many years never got very far and Kusama: Infinity makes a convincing case for her gender and race being largely to blame. It also shows how several of her white, male contemporaries, shamefully, took credit for ideas. Kusama also battled mental ill health throughout her life, attempting suicide more than once, before her work was rediscovered in the 1990s and became increasingly popular.

Kusama: Infinity is a triumphant story, but it is no fairytale. The artist still sleeps every night in a mental health ward, travelling to her studio each day to work. But what work it is. Most wonderful about Kusama: Infinity is the way the film uses the colours and motifs of the artist’s own work to enhance its storytelling. Coloured spots dance over the screen, interlocking scales blend with lapping water. Kusama herself is interviewed in front of a wall of coloured polkadots, an intense, almost stern figure under her helmet of bright red hair. It does not always succeed in conveying the great despair that has clearly dogged this woman for most of her life. But it offers the viewer an opportunity to be immersed in the strange, technicoloured beauty of Kusama’s mind, in the same way her best works do.

Kusama: Infinity was originally published in 52 Features on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Directed by Jennie Livingston. Academy Entertainment, Off White Productions.

Paris is Burning is a touching and wonderfully entertaining look at the drag ball scene in 1980s New York City. African American and Hispanic gay men, drag queens and transgender women stalk the runway and compete in vogue dancing battles, part of an intensely creative subculture that has since been endlessly raided by the mainstream. It is a film about resilience and finding joy, even in the face of danger and discrimination.

Director Jennie Livingston intersperses ball scenes with intimate one-on-one interviews with the performers. By giving these outsiders a voice, she helps reflect American society back to itself. Venus Xtravaganza, a beautiful young trans woman, longs to be a spoiled, rich, white girl. Before the film is finished, she is found murdered in a hotel room, the suspected victim of client who discovered she was trans. In the years immediately after the film’s release, more than one of its stars will be lost to the AIDS epidemic.

Since the film’s release, Livingston has been plagued by criticisms that she exploited its subjects. Livingston is white and college-educated and identifies as a gender-queer lesbian. The film cost about $500,000 to make and while it did well at the box office by documentary standards, bringing in about $4 million, she has insists it did not make her rich. According to a New York Times story, several of Paris is Burning’s stars tried to sue Livingston after the film’s release, saying it fraudulently used their services. But the claims were dropped when it was discovered they had all signed standard release forms. Livingston decided to distribute $55,000 between 13 performers, based on how much time they spent on screen.

It is not usual or arguably even ethical for a documentary maker to pay her subjects, although in the case of people who are impoverished, a share of subsequent profits may be justified. The situation does though speak to the importance of any documentary maker not only getting all appropriate release forms signed, but also of having a frank conversation with potential subjects about what will involved and how they will benefit, if at all.

There are also interesting arguments about whether the film helped enable the cultural appropriation of the ball scene. Some of those points are outlined here.

Paris is Burning (1990) was originally published in 52 Features on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Directed by Steve James. Mitten Media, Motto Pictures, Kartemquin Films.

Abacus Federal Savings Bank is a small, family-run bank serving New York’s Chinese immigrant community. It was also only US bank indicted for mortgage fraud in the aftermath of the 2008 global financial crisis. Steve James’ film argues that while Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae were deemed too big to fail, Abacus was scapegoated by prosecutors for what amounted to relatively low-level offending among a limited number of staff.

Thomas Sung founded the small New York bank in the early 1980s to help Chinese immigrants access loans. Today it is run by two of his four daughters — a third daughter, Chanterelle, left the district attorney’s office to work on the bank’s legal case. The family are impressive and the three women are all trained lawyers. This is not a film that sits on the fence, it clearly has a great deal of respect for the Sungs. But that such a minnow in American banking should face the harshest penalties is so absurd, in this case the bias seems justified.

It is a David and Goliath tale, but more than that, Abacus is a family story. Thomas Sung’s daughters did not grow up in Chinatown, or even in New York City, but they are drawn to defend his legacy within that community. Access to the family’s private moments, including disagreements as the case drags on, make this impressive documentary memorable.

Abacus: Small Enough to Jail (2016) was originally published in 52 Features on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Directed by Tom Berninger.

Matt Berninger is the brooding lead singer of indie rock darlings The National. His younger brother Tom, who wants to make horror films, lives at home with their parents and is no great fan of the band— he prefers metal. When Matt invites Tom to join The National as a roadie on their biggest ever tour, Tom takes a hand-held camera along, planning to film a documentary about the band. The result is less about The National and more an entertaining and very honest reflection on sibling rivalry and brotherly love.

Tom is front and centre in Mistaken for Strangers. At his best he is the loveable slacker to his brother’s aloof, rather self-important frontman — a guy just out to have some fun on tour. But he can also be deeply frustrating, immature and prone to self-sabotage. Watching Mistaken for Strangers with no prior knowledge of the film, it can be difficult to work out whether Tom has any awareness of how he comes across. It was interesting to note after watching that Matt’s wife, former New Yorker fiction editor Carin Besser, suggested Tom edit the film to be about himself and his relationship with his brother. It is a suggestion would appear to have saved it from being a very mediocre rock documentary, to something more nuanced and interesting.

The success of Mistaken for Strangers is in Tom and Matt’s willingness to share some of their weakest moments . When an early screening of rough cuts of the film falls through because of problems with the projector, Matt is shown berating Tom for not preparing properly. Tom says the failure had made him cry and that he had felt compelled to film his tears, for the good of the film. Matt laughs.

Mistaken for Strangers (2013) was originally published in 52 Features on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Directed by Asif Kapadia. Film 4, Krishwerkz Entertainment, On The Corner Films, Playmaker Films, Universal Music.

Amy Winehouse’s death at 27 was sadly predictable. The acclaimed jazz and soul singer and songwriter had been disintegrating in plain sight. Drug addicted, alcoholic and bulimic with a chaotic beehive of hair, she had become the butt of jokes, a laughing stock. Asif Kapadia’s Amy offers an peak into Winehouse’s life and insight into her death.

Kapadia interviews Winehouse’s friends, family members, managers and collaborators, but he never shows those interviews on screen. Instead he allows their voices to mingle with recordings of Winehouse’s own, playing them over a collage of footage of the artist’s life, from gifted teenager to hounded celebrity. The words of her songs, always deeply autobiographical, are scrawled across the screen. It is a technique that brings Winehouse closer to the audience. She is not yet simply an idea or a memory, someone whose legacy might be discussed. She is right with us, brash and witty, clever and destructive and sad.

Amy is a heart wrenching documentary. It only seems a shame that with its focus on her many troubles, it does not pause a little longer on Winehouse at work, writing, recording and performing. She is considered by many to be a once-in-a-generation voice, an artist held in high esteem by her peers. It would have been rewarding to focus on that story, too.

Amy (2015) was originally published in 52 Features on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Directed by Errol Morris. American Playhouse, Channel 4, Third Floor Productions.

In 1976, intinerant worker Randall Adams runs out of gas. He hitches a ride with passing teenager David Harris, who is driving a stolen car. The two spend some time together, drinking and visiting a local drive-in. Later that night, when Dallas police officer Robert Wood pulls the car over, someone shoots him dead and drives away.

When The Thin Blue Line director Errol Morris first met Adams he was languishing in prison for Wood’s murder, a crime he insisted he did not commit. Morris meticulously pulls apart the prosecutor’s case against Adams, highlighting its use of unreliable witnesses and the weight to gave to the testimony of Harris himself. A final, devastating interview leaves the audience with very little doubt about who was really to blame for the crime.

The Thin Blue Line is an extraordinary documentary, not only because it was key in winning Adams his freedom. It makes masterful use of interviews and pairs them with a suspenseful original score. Of particular note is the way the film returns time and again to a reenactment of the crime, allowing different people’s memories and theories about the crime to be played out, not matter how unlikely they seem. It is said to have influenced any number of true crime documentaries made since, including Netflix’s series Making a Murderer.

Morris’ interrogation of the legal process is key to the film’s success. He examines, how once a story is formed in the minds of investigators, evidence can be found to confirm it. The popular podcast Serial achieved a similar result and interestingly, in this recent interview Morris himself compliments Making and Murderer along the same lines.

“But what is powerful in Making a Murderer is not the issue of whether [Steven Avery and Brendan Dassey] are guilty or innocent. It’s the horror of the courts and how that story was handled the first time around and subsequently.”

The Thin Blue Line (1988) was originally published in 52 Features on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Directed by Dan Krauss. f/8 Filmworks, Motto Pictures.

A group of American soldiers in Afghanistan shoot dead three civilians and pose for photos with their bodies. One man in their platoon, Specialist Adam Winfield, asks his father for help with exposing the war crimes. But when word finally gets out, Winfield is among those arrested. The Kill Team examines how and why the soldiers murdered three people, seemingly in cold blood.

The Kill Team uses talking heads and photographs to piece together what happened in Afghanistan, as the camera follows Winfield and his family as they prepare for his trial. It is visually simple, but not dull. The camerawork is beautifully crisp, the editing masterful. It is a an example of how, when done well, a film does not need many bells and whistles to make it appealing.

The Kill Team’s greatest strength is its interviews. Winfield’s former squad mates are upfront and mostly unashamed about killing innocent civilians for fun. They say other American soldiers were committing similar crimes in Afghanistan, they were just the unlucky ones who got caught. It is chilling.

It was interesting to learn after watching the film that the director Dan Krauss had done pro bono work for Winfield’s defence team and that he shared a bond with the family. Perhaps the filmmakers would not have gained such access to the Winfields if Krauss did not know them, but the relationship should have been acknowledged on-screen.

The Kill Team is mostly sympathetic towards Winfield, but sometimes the camera lingers just long enough on his face to plant a seed of doubt about him in the mind of the viewer. There is an ambiguity there that could have been further explored.

But The Kill Team is still a very good film — shocking, probing and exceptionally well made. It will be interesting to see how many more documentaries emerge from that very long war in Afghanistan, where compared with Vietnam, media access to soldiers is limited.

The Kill Team (2013) was originally published in 52 Features on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Directed by Eleanor Sharpe, Nickolas Bird. Waterbyrd Filmz.

What a wonderful find.

An oral history project by the National Library of Australia, designed to preserve the stories of AIDS victims, featured an interview with writer Tim Conigrave not long before he died. Filmmakers Nickolas Bird and Eleanor Sharpe found the recording, which meant the author of much-loved Australian memoir Holding the Man narrates part of his own story in their recent documentary, Remembering the Man.

The filmmakers use the device to good effect. Conigrave is articulate and matter-of-fact as he lays out his life with high-school sweetheart John Caleo. Old footage, stills and interviews with the pair’s close-knit group of friends all help flesh out the romance. They also use reenactments, although they sometimes distract from the story rather than add to it and could have been used more sparingly, or not at all. Those interviewed are lively enough to animate the story

Benjamin Law a few years ago wrote this lovely reflection on Holding the Man. He said the book may have struck such a cord because it is essentially a love story — one that had ended in death, which even the longest-lasting love stories must. In that sense, Conigrave and Caleo’s tale is universal.

Remembering the Man does not quite capture the essence of their relationship in the way that the book did — perhaps it never could. There would always be a huge hole at the heart of the film.

That is not to say that Remembering the Man does not make an impression. It is deeply moving. The way their friends speak about how Caleo and Conigrave got together is touching. The historic footage showing the bigotry and hatred gay and lesbian Australians faced is infuriating. The recent tragedy of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Australia is heart breaking.

Remembering the Man (2016) was originally published in 52 Features on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Directed by Maya Newell. Marla House.

Ten-year-old Gus is mad about WWE wrestling. Twelve-year-old Ebony wants to get into a prestigious performing arts secondary school. Graham is adapting to life in a new country and Matt wants to play football on Sunday instead of going to church.

These four Australian children are the heart of Gayby Baby, a gentle little film about growing up with same-sex parents.

Its casting is this documentary’s greatest strength. The children are sweet and funny, honest and likeable. Their families open up their lives to the filmmakers so they can be shown exactly as they are — imperfect, but loving families. Their day-to-day struggles and joys are intimate and familiar and Gayby Baby observes them well, piecing together four distinct storylines from what must have been many hours of footage.

Having same-sex parents is a part of these children’s stories. One of the reasons Ebony wants to attend Newtown High School of the Performing Arts is because her mothers think she is more likely to find acceptance among students in that inner-Sydney suburb. But it is not the only important thing. Graham, who was adopted after being neglected by his birth parents and only learned to talk aged five, is struggling to keep up in school. The love and concern shown by his fathers is heartwarming.

The camerawork in Gayby Baby is a little amateurish at times and the editorial decision to focus solely on the children’s experiences sometimes means story opportunities are lost. It would have been interesting to hear more about how Matt’s birth mother reconciled her church attendance with her pastor’s belief that same-sex relationships are sinful, or why Matt’s fathers chose to move to a country where they felt forced to keep their relationship private. But it is a life-affirming film that serves as a snapshot of Australian family life at an interesting time in the country’s social history.

Gayby Baby (2015) was originally published in 52 Features on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.