“Toast,” the tale of a Brit food writer, mostly meanders like a ditched dinghy – until final act

“Toast” is a peculiar “family” story where a father (played by Ken Stott) and son Nigel (Oscar Kennedy, when young; Freddie Highmore, when older) in 1960s England clash before and after the his mother (played by Victoria Hamilton) has passed on.

The family is used to simple, banal suppers: mom has the opposite of the Midas touch in the kitchen.  When Nigel asks his mum to bake a cake with him, she concedes “if we have to.”  Nigel daydreams about being either a grocer or cook, with grateful customers.  Frustrated, the middle school age Nigel is ambitious: he wants to cook for his family, show them that dinner can be something better than buttered toast – seriously!

Mum and son struggle to bake a cake in "Toast" (Courtesy: W2 media)

When Mrs. Potter, their housekeeper (Helena Bonham Carter) arrives, she excites the dad in ways he’d forgotten, and pushes Nigel’s buttons as she seems inclined to take his mom’s place.

As happens in some misguided movies, this one is vague and meanders without purpose, with the most interesting plotting waiting the final act!  By then, an older Nigel begins to compete with the new woman of the house, Mrs. Potter, to satisfy his dad’s stomach.  She won’t play nice.

And, then it’s fun.  This opens at the Edina Cinema on Oct. 14th.

This might be splendid inside baseball for foodies.  Until the final act, others’ll feel they’ve been plunged into the deep end.

A “Happy, Happy” story of love from Norway?

Lust blinds.  Love confounds. “Happy, Happy” is the feature-length debut of Anne Sewitsky.  Each of us has faced the questions of whether someone is the one for us.  Sometimes the answer to that question is easy; it’d be great to know that life.  What happens when you have to face the fact that you chose the wrong partner and lover?

This not quite love story opens at the Uptown Theatre on October 7th.

“Happy, Happy,” a Norwegian film, confronts that question in sensitive and sloppy ways.  There are two very different couples, neither of which is happy.  One man is fleeing from the memories of his wife’s infidelity.  One woman isn’t sure why her man feels nothing for and in fact belittles her.  And why he’s fine with ignoring his reasons why.

A happy marriage – each to someone else. (Courtesy: Magnolia Pictures)

Love is often a compromise, but how much do you give or give up for happiness?  In this story of love, which might not be a love story, an educated couple Sivge (Henrik Rafaelsen) and Elisabeth (Maibrett Saerens) rents a house from and is greeted by a provincial and friendly couple, Eirik (Joachim Rafaelsen) and Kaja (Agnes Kittelsen). Elisabeth and Sivge are professionals, while Kaja and Eirik do…we don’t know what.  Each couple has a son.  Elisabeth and Sivge is adopted from Ethiopia.  Why they are in this story is a mystery – neither helps the story.  Mysteriously Kaja no longer interests Eirik.  Some months ago Elisabeth cheated on Sivge.

Kaja, made vulnerable by Eirik’s chronic disinterest in and belittling of her, finds a role model in Sivge and Elisabeth, and a distraction in Sivge.  He finds a refreshing and welcome warmth and sweetness in Kaja.  But Eirik faces a different, confusing problem: why’d he choose Kaja?  What does he want?

This is a competent film with problems, which make you scratch your head: there’s a bizarre, awkward subplot concentrating on Elisabeth and Sivge’s adopted Ethiopian son.  For an inexplicable reason, after having found a children’s book on slavery, Kaja and Eirik’s son decides to play “slave” games with the boy.  He somewhat playfully treats him as one.

How does love look when you want the other's partner? (Courtesy: Magnolia Picture)

These distractions work like a musical segment from a circa mid-20th-Century movie: a Negro band plays a song, which is irrelevant to the movie, and, which when played in the South, could be removed so that it wouldn’t offend that region’s sensibilities.

There’s a palate-cleansing devise bombs:  a choral group, which sings between acts.  While the songs suit the story sometimes, they don’t serve it.  The subplots don’t support or propel the main story – they give nothing to it.  If the director had omitted either of these problems, she could’ve also omitted at least 15-minutes from the film.

This is a competent film with a nice, quiet and smart story.  But doesn’t need to run for much longer than an hour.

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“El Bulli: Cooking in Progress” highlights a movement, but leaves all but foodies in the cold

When one restaurant, El Bulli, stands above all others with its adventurous and experimental food, and becomes world renowned, why not document its story?

“El Bulli: Cooking in Progress” is a pure documentary in a sense; that’s no praise.  While most documentaries are edited to create a story structure and reveal memorable characters, this film avoids that.

The opening shot seizes our attention: the chief chef, Ferran Adrià, is in the dark sucking on a piece of glow-in-the-dark fish on a stick.  That’s cool.  Sadly, it’s also the just about the best part of this documentary.  The film-maker, Gereon Wetzel, omits any sense of artistic direction, or style or purpose.  Maybe you should call it observational movie-making?  He seems to have left the cameras on-location and merely edited the project for time and comprehensibility.  Maybe this is one of those films where a critic outside of the film’s target audience, oughtn’t write about it?

Yep. Cooking in progress (Courtesy: creative commons/flickr)

In a conversation with a different documentary film-maker, Morgan Spurlock, he mentioned someone that Werner Herzog said, “every cut is a lie.”  Well, none of the cuts used here are made in the interests of a story.  It ignores elementary rules of storytelling, which every working film-maker knows and uses to win an audience.

This opens at the Film Society of Mpls/St. Paul on Sept. 23.  The film-making should not be the focus.  It should be Spanish molecular gastronomy, which can transform a diner’s experience, and lift their dining standards.

After Mr. Adrià, the trio of co-executive chefs, Oriol Castro, Eduard Xatruch and Mateu Casanas, are emphasized, but we only get shallow gists of any of them, who they are or why they do their work.

Divided roughly in two, the film shows the testing and experimentation process and then how the chef foursome, and the restaurant team make the successful experiments work for diners.  Their serving process must abide by military precision; their diners consume 30 courses within three hours.

Another obstacle for you: their work is not just technical, but highly technical.  Too much so for those who aren’t either intensely curious, or foodies, or cooks themselves.

The chefs’ challenges might lose most other viewers.  It’s a shame because in a “60-Minutes” segment, from April 2010, one of Adrià’s protégés, José Andrés, who, according to renowned food critics, Ruth Reichl, is the pioneer in America of Molecular gastronomy, shows how exciting molecular gastronomy is!

If food excites you, but on a more common level, I urge you to watch a different, equally esoteric, but amusing story: PBS’ documentary, “Kings of Pastry,” about ambitious, competitive French pastry chefs.  It’s a superior example of a culinary documentary.  It’s exciting: it delivers drama, suspense and personal stories.

“The Names of Love” is a fantastic French romantic dramedy about two clashing lovers

“The Names of Love” (« Les noms des gens » in French) is a story, from director Michel Leclerc, that one could easily say is “so French.”  It pits Baya Benmahmoud (Sara Forestier), a 20-something, hypersexual, left-winger, born of an Algerian dad, against Arthur Martin (Jacques Gamblin) a middle-aged healthcare professional born of a Jewish mom.  They clash politically and ideologically.  But they face an undeniable chemistry despite occasionally rational thought.

This shows at the Edina Cinema for a week from August 26th.

Baya Benmahmood (Sara Forestier) is a lefty charmer in "The Names of Love" (courtesy Music Box Films)

Still each tries to be rational because they don’t know how they could be together and not go nuts, or kill each other, if not both!  Arthur is the story’s star, but also Baya’s milquetoast straight man in this fantastic, joyous and hilarious story.

The first scene is indelible.  Arthur is on-air on the radio in the middle of discussing bird flu on a call-in show.  Baya shows up at the station for work, screening the show’s calls.  Finding his ideas dangerous, she abandons her cube and barges into the studio, and then calls Arthur out, with animated zeal.

The story follows this clashing couple’s relationship from accidental meetings to meant ones and the milestones.  Their romance’s absurd comedy feels like a smart version of Abbott & Costello.

After that auspicious beginning they go to an eatery where Baya offers Arthur sex on the first date – that’s her policy.  She strikes him dumb and speechless, and he flees the awkwardness and opportunity.  His daily luck with women?  Let’s put this way: to steal a line from The Prince of Tides: “he had the opposite of the Midas touch!”

Baya meets Arthur's conservative parents in "The Names of Love" (courtesy Music Box Films))

The first act’s mania and hilarity follow the first sequence’s lead: Baya and Arthur each tells us how they were brought up and by what sort of parents.  Arthur’s memory plays games on him, and in-turn on the story.  For example: he can’t imagine his dad when he was young.  No matter how young he should be in his son’s flashback, like as a college freshman he looks like a retiree, and loopily out-of-place.  It’s often hilarious.  It works.  With Baya, there’s less drama.  Her mom was a daughter of middle-class privilege who rebelled, eventually loving an Algerian, a former soldier.  Her memory plays tricks in different, subtler ways.

Her sexual conduct and attitude has a political agenda.  She lives by the creed “make love, not war.”  She uses it as a weapon, as another prong of rhetoric.  Kind of like a one-off from Carl VonClausewitz’s “On War:” a continuation of political struggle by erotic or erotic and rhetorical means.  She uses her erotic and sensual skills to convert her conservative foes to her way of seeing.

Strolling in "The Names of Love" (courtesy Music Box Films)

“The Names of Love” provides a bounty of charming, witty, amusing characters, scenes and sequences and touches of technique.  And these at such a quick pace that we’re swept up.  It’s not profound.  It is a profound gem in how it can make a viewer smile, chuckle and then guffaw.

Other sight gags: in other important scenes, the camera plays with point of view. This works some subtly potent wonders; it shows a two-shot of a couple, that makes sense, and then pans to reveal a third wheel that changes the scene’s meaning entirely.

Because of temporary “lessons” with her piano teacher as a child, subtly played out, the college-aged Baya holds none of a common sexual or erotic conservatism that’s familiar to most Americans.  If a tit peaks or bounds out of her often loose blouse by accident, it’s a non-event to her.

In one of the many memorable sequences they meet accidentally each other at a polling place.  There, she offers him sex again.  On the way to that, they stop at a grocery.  In line, she flees to find the last vital ingredient, coriander.

And then her scattered brain goes full-tilt: she runs into someone.  He reminds her to make a 180 degree change in plans.  Not toreturn to Arthur, but to prepare for a party.  She goes home to collect something, strips, forgets to dress, and then leaves home to take care of yet another scatterbrained errand.  On the way, she passes the market, naked save for boots.  Arthur, incredulous, seesher.  He’s still waiting for her inside.  This concisely summarizes the movie’s looniness and charms.

Baya and Arthur charm each other in "The Names of Love" (courtesy Music Box Films)

La pièce de résistance: before the mania of that sequence ends Baya winds up on a train flashing a Muslim couple the female half of which is dressed in what is almost a burqa.

This witty, funny, often hilarious film will suit you whether or not you want to think; it provides an intelligent escape.  The romance’s common peaks and valleys are drawn with great gaiety.

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“Point Blank” is a French thriller that gives good chase. Good smart chase.

“Point Blank” starts just as its title does, without foreplay.  The first shot jolts us into a story, of smart escapism.

On a typical workday Samuel (Gilles Lellouche), a nursing assistant in France, tries to stop a suspicious hospital visitor in a lab coat from messing with an injured criminal, Hugo Sartet (Roschdy Zem), being treated after having fled an attack.  He pursues the man in a lab coat, but merely shoos him.  In another world that wouldn’t even be a blip.

Too bad he and his pregnant wife, Nadia Pierret (Elena Anaya), are in for the shock of their lives: someone breaks in to their apartment and seizes her before he can see or sense anything.  But why?

Sam leaps into a situation well beyond him

“Point Blank,” from director Fred Cavayé, opens at Minneapolis’ Lagoon Cinema on August 19th.

This event up-ends loving pregnant couple, Sam and Nadia’s, work-a-day urban life, like a chainsaw.  Sam must deliver a dangerous package – that seasoned, violent criminal – to the man who has taken his pregnant wife.  His pregnant wife is in the middle of a volatile pregnancy.  The stakes couldn’t be more grave or personal.

This resembles a familiar, iconic character, right?  Smart and ambitious, Samuel is an ordinary man who’s thrown into extraordinary circumstances of crime, betrayal and corruption.  Remember Roger Thornhill in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1954 “North By Northwest,” or simply 1993′s “The Fugitive.”

The worlds of Sam, the abductor, and Hugo, his hostage, collide; the irony is that the innocent one is the abductor, pushed to desperation, to muscle and hustle a real criminal away from his guarded hospital bed to freedom.

The biggest irony is probably that these two disparate men amount to a good pair!  They cooperate with each other when one of his agendas – Hugo’s safety, or Sam’s, but particularly Nadia’s – is jeopardized.  This, while they spend most of their time tugging and yanking each other into opposite, rarely natural directions.  Against the American stereotype of non-Anglo criminals, Hugo is consistently calmer than Sam.  He’s also a complex, thoughtful semi-compassionate criminal, with copper skin and wooly hair.  In American crime stories, the brown, black or beige criminal is either foolish or viscious, if not both.

"Hostage" Hugo isn't to be trifled with

At 83-mins, “Point Blank” is just long enough to be seen as a feature-length film, but it still feels like a full movie.  When as an American, you think of a French thriller, “La Femme Nikita” pops to mind, and even “Taken,” although the latter merely takes place in Paris.  “Point Blank” is fast-paced, and has wit.  For a thriller, a chase thriller that’s rare.  It provides more than the basics: characters we care about and a gripping plot.

Another interesting surprise: when’s the last time you got opera music in a thriller, it fit and worked for you?  “The Man Who Knew Too Much,” with Jimmy Stewart, had an orchestra scene, hmm almost a motif, but that’s different.­  Well, after an intense chase scene (one among many) we get this vocal, which let’s the pace and our hearts slow down.

“Point Blank” borrows music and specific shots from “The Bourne Ultimatum” and takes cues from Bernard Hermann’s music, which marked a few different Hitchcock oeuvres, such as “The Man Who Knew Too Much.”  It’s worth noting that family, the protection of family is at the heart of both that film and “Point Blank.”  That’s atypical for a thriller.

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“Vincent Wants to Sea” is a charming German roadtrip about escape, both real and imaginary

“Vincent Wants to Sea” is a German-made story of escape and healing, both real and imaginary from director Ralf Huettner.  The original German title: “Vincent will Meer.”   Vincent’s a young man with the socially isolating Tourette Syndrome,  who’s mourning his mom’s death, and also has to deal with his dad.  A dad whom he barely gets, and who barely gets him.  With all this in his head and heart, he simply wants to escape or vacation to the sea.  In Italy.  Where his mom finally wanted to be.

Troubled young people on a roadtrip in "Vincent Wants to Sea" (courtesy Boston.com)

But he’s left with his dad.  Vincent’s (Florian David Fitz) tics seem to be worse with his mom gone and his dad not.

This worthwhile small German story is showing at the Lagoon Cinema from August 12th.

Vincent’s Alpha-male dad, Robert (Heino Ferch), fits a stereotype.  He doesn’t understand, how to help his son, or even want to.  When life events clash with his plan, as with a dead wife and a troubled son, he acts like a child: picture Gordon Gekko’s infantile outbursts in 1987′s “Wall Street.”  Robert  finagles a spot in a therapeutic clinic, and drops his son there.

Soon after, Vincent clashes with his obsessive-compulsive and anti-social roommate, Alexander (Johanne Allmeyer) and might click with a curious, coy anorexic woman, Marie (Karoline Herfurth).  But the clinic is too much for this odd, needy fledgling couple.  Vincent and she decide to seize and flee in the doctor’s car, and take the at-times man-child Alexander with them so, he doesn’t tattle.  They become a surprising team.

A healing, erotic connection? (courtesy fanpop.com)

After the clinic’s doctor, Dr. Rose (Katharina Muller-Elmau), tells Vincent’s dad about the incident, he comes to help her bring them back.  The duo cooperates to find the trio.  They also become a team of sorts.  Their teamwork is the sort, which we’d expect to amount to kisses and more.  But maybe not.

“Vincent Wants to Sea” is a simple, amusing road trip with wit.  Laughter marks the teams’ run-ins with car theft, petty gas station robbery and car accidents.  There are touches of 1986′s “Stand By Me,” albeit with different brush strokes on power, self-discovery and adventure from that.

“Life Above All” is a simple, but potent story about coming-of-age in the face of a taboo plague

In South Africa we have the story of a girl, Chanda (Khomotso Mankaya), who has to confront stigmas that hurt her small one-parent family, which is led by her mother, Esther (Keaobaka Makanyane). It’s “Life, Above All,” by Oliver Schmitz.

We start when Chanda runs an errand to take care of her youngest sister, Sarah’s, funeral.  She died from a plague that no one discusses.  Above all, in dealing with life, theirs is a story about survival: how they pay their bills, deal with  shameful rumors and the sneers from their neighbors are open questions.

Mom and daughter keep hope tight between them (courtesy Sony Classics)

This simple story, about a complicated fight to survive disease and ignorance, both willful and desperate, will show at the Lagoon Cinema starting on August 5th.  This story is interesting, beginning too slowly, and getting and giving us its bearings about half-way through.

Chanda, headstrong and critically thoughtful, lives in a provincial, barely educated culture that’s more invested in religion and superstition than in education.  She succeeded in school until her family’s burdens, especially Sarah’s death, began to weigh on her.  She stands-up for her mom’s health, and stands up to the rumors, deadbeat dad and her traditional family’s scorn, and superstitious neighbors who disdain her.

The plague finally takes the steam out of Chanda’s mom, who is moved away, out of view of gossip mongers.  After what seems like weeks without parents,  Chanda tracks down her mom, having to ignore some neighbors’ misdirection on the way.  Chanda’s smart enough to understand that some questions and topics are beyond herself; she needs her mom.

It's hard for an 11 year-old to lead a family (courtesy Sony Classics)

This simple, but gripping coming-of-age story is worth watching.

As with Ree Dolly, from 2010′s splendid “Winter’s Bone,” Chanda must grow-up too early and too quickly, around people for whom education is simply an extra.  For her it promises an array of freedoms.   She faces a short, but hard journey as she tracks down her mom and needs to suck comfort from that.

Ms. Mankaya’s performance as Chanda is potent; her talent is either natural or her craft so formidable that her nuances and touches make Chanda live, be real.  Just as with Jennifer Lawrence’s extraordinary, under-appreciated performance in “Winter’s Bone,” Mankaya her character a similar subtlety.

Broader takeaways: “Life, Above All” is a decent film about a simple family, who must deal with a merciless, taboo disease and neighbors who won’t picture themselves beyond superstitions.  These people’s lives are basic.  They’re prepared for no questions more ambitious than “how do I feed myself and children?”

One reason to watch Chanda’s and her family story: she is prepared for those ambitions.  That’s a different kind of hunger.

“Crime After Crime” is a moving documentary about a woman’s perseverence, and the sausage-making in “justice”

“Crime After Crime,” a feature-length documentary by Yoav Potash, about a troubled young woman, Deborah Peagler, who was convicted of homicide more than 25 years ago.  This, after having asked neighborhood gangsters to make her abusive lover stop beating and terrorizing her.  While a 2003 California law would only demand six years of her life in prison, her 1983 sentence took more than 25.  This is her story.

This suspenseful true story will show at the Film Society of Minneapolis/St. Paul starting on July 29th.

Ms. Deborah Peagler awaits justice and freedom (courtesy Sundance)

Two lawyers, Nadia Costa and Joshua Safran, stepped up to take her case, pro bono, after a 2003 California law was passed that changed the game for victim/survivors of domestic abuse who are convicted of homicide, and free her.  In doing so they found a sympathetic client, and a District Attorney’s office, run by Steve Cooley, that has committed and is committing “Crime After Crime,” as Mr. Safran described their conduct, to save face and keep careers.

When you picture justice, this isn’t it: not “Crime After Crime.”  It’s a spectacular story, where the themes and stakes will remind some of you of the activist 1970s movie trend with such titles as 1980′s “Brubaker,” 1979′s “…And Justice for All,” and 1975′s “Dog Day Afternoon,” of the underdog.

Winston Churchill, an extraordinary political icon of the United Kingdom, once said that “Democracy is the worst form of Government except all those other forms…”  As it goes with that, so this seems to with justice: she was denied parole at least thrice.  At one point Safran describes how the parole and appellate process work in ways, which ignore or preclude the convict’s promise for doing good.  Ms. Deagler had been an ideal inmate, had earned a two-year degree, become a mentor to junior inmates and served far more time than 2000s laws demanded.  So the case requires Herculean efforts even when the law, precedent and rhetorical are on their side.

Lawyers Josh Safran and Nadia Costa guide Ms. Peagler toward freedom, if not justice (courtesy Berkeley Side)

The Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office does so many things that clash with the public’s interests or Ms. Peagler’s.  It makes you wretch and doubt America’s commitment to justice, or equal justice.  Originally she was sentenced via a legal perspective that lumped women, who lash out is desperation at their abusive husbands or lovers, with those women who kill in cold blood.

The stakes, offenses and perversions of justice, and morals in this story make it a crackerjack whodunit.  What makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand is that “Crime After Crime” trains its crosshairs, more and more, on the prosecutors misconduct.  The DA’s office conceals a pivotal document, uses unreliable and impotent witness testimony and reneges on compassionate agreements.

California's masses support Peagler's cause (courtesy LATimes.com)

“Crime After Crime” boasts as many plot twists and is as fast-paced as a sweeps week episode of “Law & Order.”  In some ways this is similar to 1993′s “In the Name of the Father,” even though that drama, which was based on a true story, exonerates justice in the United Kingdom.  In both stories, convicts languish in prison for crimes, and with sentences, more heinous than the evidence warranted.

Ms, Peagler’s odyssey is even more trying and dramatic than another documentary, POV’s “Presumed Guilty,” from 2010.  That  indicts the Mexican version of justice – and a very non-Western.  That candid and uncomfortable exposé provides excellent and telling comparison to Ms. Peager’s story.

Alongside being a splendid true crime drama, this documentary pushes us to consider several uncomfortable questions: what is justice?  what color is it?  why must it not only have a price, but one that makes our noses bleed?  Finally, what do we expect from it vs. what America’s founders wanted us to expect from it.

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“How to Live Forever,” a baby boomer’s light-hearted documentary on aging, which offers sparse chuckles

America isn’t obsessed with youth, living longer or forever, but it probably seems so.  As fashion expert Tim Gunn has lamented, models aren’t yet fully developed women, and still the masses look to them as a standard of beauty.  In the public’s imagination youth rules.  Young beauty, that is.

101 year-old Buster mugs for the movie

A documentary feature, “How to Live Forever” from middle-aged filmmaker, Mark Wexler, is coming to the Lagoon Cinema on Friday July 29th.  His effort is a look at how we consider age and what do to about it, avoid death and in general try to beat the odds.

The story is peculiar in that Mr. Wexler starts off with funeral director’s convention in Las Vegas; this opening bodes poorly.

“How to Live Forever” almost seems to last that long.  It’s interesting and amusing, but only entertains, amuses or informs once in a while; when you find yourself sitting back in a recliner, nodding off for a bit, and feeling sure that, when you open your eyes, you missed nothing, something wrong.

Mid-20th-Century fitness icon Jack Lalanne is one of the highlights.  Others include a 70-something Japanese male porn star, a beauty competition for women over age 60 and a high school class that visits a retirement home.  That final one is remarkable: the youths confront their own preconceived ideas about how depressing, off-putting or gross old people might be.  But Mr. Wexler also speaks to more than a few 100+ year-old women.  Strangely he doesn’t mix men among them.  When’s the last time you asked yourself what 100 years looks like?  105 yrs?  110 yrs?  Or 114?

What does longevity look like? (courtesy Flickr)

“How to Live Forever” is interesting and sweet, but is also clearly an amateur’s work; it’s long and even indulgent.  It has two vital problems:  Wexler has made an incoherent narrative from his footage.  The point of his story, and what he wants us to find in it, are vague.  If he’s disinterested in a clear narrative, then so be it, but that’ll chafe viewers who expect more.  The lack of organization harkens somewhat to the way the vignette format that Spike Lee used in his autobiographical “Crooklyn;” but that choice worked because the sequences were connected in a nearly explicit way.

Also Mr. Wexler rarely engages or excites as a host; he looks and acts tired and run-down, which seems to be one of his motivations for examining “How to Live Forever.”  He isn’t having much fun throughout the story; that tone, which he set, rubs off on viewers.

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“If a Tree Falls” preaches to the leftist choir as it tells us about a group of “environmental terrorists”

“If a Tree Falls” is a feature-length documentary, by Marshall Curry and Sam Cullman, about a group of environmental activists who go way beyond the call of duty – to a violent edge of it.  They are the Earth Liberation Front. “If a Tree Falls” clearly sympathizes with this group, which the FBI calls “domestic terrorists.”

The Environmental Liberation Front acts (courtesy Oscilloscope Laboratories)

This film doesn’t run down a history of the movement, or even the psychology behind that.  It describes some incidents that led to the domino-effect arrests of a cell.  The film concentrates on the cell’s principal personalities: Dan McGowan, Suzanne Savoie, Jake Ferguson, and one or two other outstanding ones.  This story tells of the offenders on the extreme left, and not the offended.  Those offenders may feel that the mainstream media had taken their foes’ side.  The question of who’s the offended may be disputable.  But those whom the ELF attacked are barely heard.

“If a Tree Falls” may be righteous.  But also self-righteous.  This film shows at Minneapolis’ Lagoon Cinema for a week starting on July 22nd.

A clear bias toward the extreme leaves the film’s point-of-view weak. The bias is about 60-40 or even 70-30 in voices in favor of the extremists or terrorists.  The centrist viewers, who are against violence with this cause, are left with valid, yet open questions. Those centrists won’t be convinced by a tale of how a docile McGowan slipped into this conviction.  Objective, non-partisan voices would keep viewers’ attention.  How will they respond when they find that in fact, with one battle, McGowan, Savoie and their compatriots torched a lumber location based on false information?

Mr. McGowan describes a few cracks in his reasoning and decision-making.  Several voices, including his, explain why he, the focal character, decided that confrontation was a superior, more potent path to waking-up the offenders than mid-20th-Century tactics: marching, singing, chanting, picketing and the like.

Poster image (courtesy of Oscilloscope Laboratories)

Only a few voices discuss the innocents who are bunched in with the worst violators, and hurt.  Only a couple of voices consider the lumber industry’s efforts to do good.  Some of the best documentaries may not carry an agenda, but instead a reportorial, objective point of view.  This one informs, entertains and might enlighten viewers, especially in terms of “preaching to the choir.”  The want for a moderate and balanced voice is disappointing.

With the film’s faults, it’s a good, clear, almost well told story of this sect’s work.  This film is worth watching, but DVD will suffice.

It’s easy to sympathize with the zealots’ desire for faster, more satisfying results: those, which are more progressive and aggressive than typical 20th-Century tactics.  Faster than diplomacy.  But it takes a certain gut and heart to move from the fantasy of revenge to urban or guerilla combat.  I doubt that many or even most viewers share that one with these former ELF members.

“If a Tree Falls” uses interview footage with the characters almost exclusively.  It’s a late 20th-Century story of violent protestors; other than news clips, there isn’t archival or behind-the-scenes footage.  It provides reenactments of specific details shots; it uses animation, in lieu of banal, traditional live-action reenactments of some criminal scenes, in an amusing, playful, refreshing way.

This film poses large ideological, legal and moral questions: who is a terrorist?  What is terrorism?  Does each form of terrorism pose an equal threat.

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