As a late edition to my festival lineup, I went on Friday afternoon to watch the documentary Man on a Wire (2008). For the most part I had read only “rave” reviews of the film, but had not fully flushed out how or why this was the case. The synopsis of the film as well somewhat obscured its hype, I thought to myself ok, it’s a man tight rope walking between the twin towers in NYC sometime in the 70s, amazing but how does that equate to the reviews the film had received? The answer to the film’s success however was provided on Friday during the 90-minute screening.

There are a lot of small details in Man on a Wire that are nearly impossible to describe for the purposes of a blog review, I would classify them as sublime, they are elements describable in thesis or require an individual himself to view and more importantly “feel” in the film. One thing I can point out though is that most of these details and overall subject material of the documentary were made possible by an extraordinary human being in Philippe Petit. From the moment he speaks in the documentary an exchange of energy occurs between one’s soul and the celluloid. Addressed beyond the journey one as a viewer is taken through following Petit’s own dream, is the question of how and why we follow or don’t follow our own dreams.

For me Man on a Wire, coupled with the actual act itself Petit pulled off, is one of the most perfectly constructed critiques of capitalism’s  flawed logic. I use the word perfect because of its simplicity and the fact this is and never was the point of the film or the act, which is to be political. It simply is what exists in the background, like a photograph perfectly framed, contrasting its opposites. As a viewer one is made very aware that dreams on this scale, that provide such sublime feelings of inspiration, are difficult to achieve with how we currently pursue and live our lives. Not to mention that the road from childhood to adulthood involves the creation of a great many “whys”. There is simply too much red tape, lack of encouragement and resources, in so many different ways shapes and forms, to dream as big and as childishly as Philippe Petit dared to do.

Inspiring in many different ways the second documentary of the day, Our Children Will Accuse Us (2008) wasn’t a disappointment. The documentary’s subject material deals with a small French community set at the foot of the Cvennes Mountains, whose Mayor is determined to make his community organic, from agriculture to plate.

What makes Our Children Will Accuse Us so inspiring are the facts it reveals pertaining to the logic of how we eat. When it comes to organic food in the grocery store the majority us who prefer to bypass organic food, due to its “hefty” sticker price, create a demand for pesticide laden foods instead. As one researcher states in the film these over chemisised foods costs are not properly represented in their price tag. The fact remains that our bills for chemo therapy and the subsidies given to farmers who grow shitty produce are never reflected therein. If they were properly priced with these after costs then organic foods would be the cheaper of the two. Another key point given upon the price tag of organic foods is that while perhaps it costs more one should just buy less, in effect also solving the problems and illnesses associated with over eating. Let’s not even get into the fact that organic tastes better.

The themes in the film are something I have advocated and stressed as my main reasons for becoming a vegetarian; that being said I don’t eat organically for the exact same faulty logic listed above, something the documentary has inspired me to change. There exists no reason, as the documentary states that cancer rates have sky rocketed 93% in the last 25 years, no reason beyond the perverse food chain we now have. I have always compared this process, and conceived of my “philosophy of food”, to the one reminiscent and present in Tim Burtons Batman (1989). The Joker products don’t kill anyone who uses just one product, but the combination of everything is what inevitably gives them that “dirt eating” grin. The same is true in real life.

Ah, a day full of good old, educational documentaries. One about basketball and one about organic living/farming, I sense a strong correlation there between the subject materials!

Adam Yauch’s Gunnin’ For That #1 Spot (2008) was the first of the two documentaries watched. It’s pertinent to point out that I’ve seen a few basketball documentaries in my time, and this really is no Hoop Dreams (1994). In fact, I obsessively played the game, ignoring girls and the other pleasures of adolescents, throughout my high school years. I should by all intensive purposes feel a certain connection with Yauch’s documentary, but I simply don’t. There are some brilliant moments and aspects to the film, of course the music is “phat”, and the game played at the end between the superstars is brilliantly highlighted with sounds and slow motion, for a basketball fan. There is also an interesting editing aspect involving Google and website info that is used in a very eye catching manner to lend some info into the players. That’s about it though, much more aesthetically pleasing then content engaging.

There simply is no depth or time laid down on the individual players journeys that would have turned this into an interesting documentary. We get the feeling that they all hail from extremely varying geographical and class based environments but this contrast is never pushed to its proper level. The potential salvaging point on this matter is the fact that a European audience here gains a quick overview and appreciation into how fundamentally different America is from place to place. The tendency is to lump it altogether, typically with a critical eye, which is one of the most retarded things I’ve dealt with during my 8 year tenure here, so props to the film for this angle.

It’s a documentary worth watching for sports fans, beyond I think that it would probably wear anyone else out about half way through, with the game at the end being the final nail in the “I’ve fallen asleep” coffin.