Night of the Animated Dead (2021)
George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead is a true genre milestone that is praised not only by horror film fans but mainstream critics alike. If you are interested in watching an intelligent, well researched and entertaining documentary about the film’s provenance and cultural impact then I thoroughly recommend Birth of the Living Dead (2013) by Rob Kuhn. It tells you pretty much all you need to know about why this classic film is so important. As for Night of the Living Dead itself, it still holds up well after 53 years. It is the immediacy and relatability of the premise and overall story that still makes the film relevant. The zombies are purely a “MacGuffin” and the real focus of the plot is how people behave under pressure in life threatening situations. It’s a film about how we can react to the same situation differently and how cultural baggage and the need for people to be “right”, hinders co-operation and thwarts progress.
George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead is a true genre milestone that is praised not only by horror film fans but mainstream critics alike. If you are interested in watching an intelligent, well researched and entertaining documentary about the film’s provenance and cultural impact then I thoroughly recommend Birth of the Living Dead (2013) by Rob Kuhn. It tells you pretty much all you need to know about why this classic film is so important. As for Night of the Living Dead itself, it still holds up well after 53 years. It is the immediacy and relatability of the premise and overall story that still makes the film relevant. The zombies are purely a “MacGuffin” and the real focus of the plot is how people behave under pressure in life threatening situations. It’s a film about how we can react to the same situation differently and how cultural baggage and the need for people to be “right”, hinders co-operation and thwarts progress.
The legacy of Night of the Living Dead is far reaching. It turned zombies from a minor horror subset into an entire genre of their own and propagated the idea of the “zombie apocalypse”. A plot device that can be used to scrutinise and explore all the various facets of the human condition or to provide an endless litany of gore and body horror. The central premise of Romero’s film lends itself to reinvention and interpretation. It has already been officially “remade” in 1990 which added an interesting feminist angle to the story. And there have been numerous unofficial remakes and variations on the same theme from all over the globe. All add something to the basics of the story. Which brings me on to Night of the Animated Dead (2021). The title clearly sets out the film’s pitch. This is an animated feature film remake which closely follows the narrative structure of the original.
According to director Jason Axxin “This is a remake of the original movie. It’s essentially a way to make a classic more accessible to modern audiences. This is in color and there’s a lot more gore and violence. If you were ever hesitant to watch the original film, this is the version to see. It’s a fast-paced roller coaster ride of violence”. Frankly I find this statement and its premise somewhat spurious. Is Night of the Living Dead really outside of a modern audience's frame of reference? If so, that doesn’t say a lot for the average cinema goer. However, if we are to take Axxin’s comments in good faith, the only credible comparison I can come up with is that this version of Night of the Living Dead is intended to be the cinematic equivalent of a Reader’s Digest Condensed Books. A streamlined and somewhat lurid distillation of Romero’s vision. It is also devoid of any character and is possibly the most redundant film I’ve seen since Gus Van Sant’s remake of Psycho in 1998.
Despite having a competent voice cast, featuring Dulé Hill, Katharine Isabelle, Josh Duhamel, Nancy Travis, James Roday Rodriguez, Jimmi Simpson and Will Sasso, the animation style lacks any distinction or innovation. Classic scenes are lovingly recreated but the overall design slavishly adheres to that of the 1968 film and therefore fails to add anything new and say anything different. The minimalist style doesn’t really bring the story or themes into sharp relief and the character designs are somewhat lacking. The screenplay is credited to John A. Russo who wrote the original, as it is a verbatim summary of the 1968 version. The score by Nima Fakhrara is used sparingly and is evocative of the library music that Romero used. As for the “gore” it lacks any real impact due to its rather crude realisation. It comes off as a rather unnecessary embellishment.
I appreciate that there were probably budgetary restrictions that had an impact on the production. Setting aside such considerations, Night of the Animated Dead provides a simplified, less nuanced version of Night of the Living Dead. It hits all the essential beats of Romero’s classic but offers nothing beyond that other than its own inherent novelty. The animation is functional but far from accomplished. That said, Night of the Animated Dead is not an utter disaster. It manages to hold your interest. However, a film being mildly engaging due to its pointlessness is not really a great selling point. If you are a diehard horror fan who is curious to see an ill conceived project, then by all means watch Night of the Animated Dead. But I cannot recommend it in any way as a substitute to the original. At best it is just a minor footnote that serves to highlight the merits of the 1968 version and the talent of George A. Romero.
It is not unusual for Disney to change film titles when marketing them outside of the US. In 2016 they renamed the animated feature film Zootopia to Zootropolis in the UK and Europe to avoid trademark conflicts with other existing businesses. For example there is a Danish zoo which already holds the “Zootopia” name. Similarly, in Germany there is a children’s book which caused copyright conflict, which led to the film being released under the title Zoomania. Such changes, although practical for legal reasons, can sometimes cause a degree of confusion. Especially as there are numerous, low budget productions companies that go out of their way to produce similarly titled “mockbusters” whenever there are big, tentpole, releases. So for clarity, Zootopia 2 has been released in the UK as Zootropolis 2.
With the proliferation of lore driven, franchise movies in recent years, a culture of analysis has developed online. Hence you will find a lot of YouTube videos that claim to “explain” the ending of specific films or provide clarification of their respective themes and subtexts. While critical debate and discussion about cinema is welcome, I think it is a mistake to always look for a specific meaning in cinema. Even clearly narrative films can be ambiguous. Art is ultimately a very subjective field of expression open to personal interpretation. Which brings me neatly to Flow, an animated feature film which tells a compelling story but raises more questions than it answers. It leaves the viewer to fill in a lot of the blanks themselves and the film is all the better for this approach. Flow is an extraordinary example of animation and a fascinating example of innovative, thought provoking filmmaking. Quite the rarity these days.
For those unfamiliar with Dav Pilkey’s graphic novel character Dog Man, he’s a half-dog, half-human police officer. This comic chimaera is the result of a surgical procedure carried out after Officer Knight and his trusty dog Greg are blown up while defusing a bomb. Greg’s head is grafted to Officer Knight's body. Post surgery, Dog Man (Peter Hastings) remains an officer of the law and continues to track his nemesis, Petey (Pete Davidson), an orange cat and criminal genius. However, despite positive media coverage and a high arrest rate, Dog Man incurs the ire of his Chief (Lil Rel Howery) who is jealous of his success. Furthermore, Dog Man becomes depressed due to the loss of his owner, girlfriend and former home. Meanwhile, Petey decides to clone himself in an attempt to find a worthy assistant and also plots to resurrect a deceased super villain, Flippy, who is an evil telekinetic fish.
I have always found it curious that there haven't been more feature films set in Middle-earth, after the success of Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy. However, a little research shows a very complex set of rights regarding Tolkien’s work, with different material being controlled and administered by different bodies. Hence, the market has not been saturated with officially licensed material. Thus, when The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim was announced to be in production, it aroused a great deal of curiosity both among fans and those with an interest in the wider film industry. To base an entire feature film on something that is effectively just a few paragraphs in the appendices of The Lord of the Rings is quite intriguing. The producers claimed it afforded them greater artistic freedom not to be constrained by an excess of lore. Industry pundits theorised that the film was being produced solely to ensure that wider rights were retained.
Whenever I feel that mainstream filmmaking is becoming increasingly bland and I grow despondent with it, along comes an animated film to prove that there is still greatness and art to be found through the medium of cinema. Robot Dreams begins as a tale of loneliness and then quickly becomes a eulogy to friendship and participating in life. The story then turns things on its head as it explores loss and finally concludes with a profoundly beautiful resolution, as it muses upon accepting change and new friends. Robot Dreams succeeds where so many other films fail by being honest, candid and sincere. Hence the emotions expressed by what is essentially a simple story are genuine and palpable. The film’s lack of dialogue is a blessing, with music doing a great deal of the narrative heavy lifting. This allows audiences to focus on the main characters without unnecessary distraction. The animation is uncomplicated but very specific in its style and setting. It utterly suits the tale being told.
Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio is a bold and inventive take on Carlo Collodi's classic story of the puppet that aspires to be a “real boy”. As you would expect from the director, it is a far cry from Disney’s 1940 version, taking a more bleak and sinister tone. Despite songs and exuberant set pieces, Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio is an exploration of grief, death and even fascism. The screenplay by Guillermo del Toro and Patrick McHale also tackles the complexities of the relationship between parent and child. It is a remarkable example of stop motion animation and is visually very striking. However, it is a somewhat niche market adaptation and is not exactly easily accessible to children or the furiously hard of thinking. It comes as no surprise that this cinematic venture was green lit by Netflix, which appears to be the new home of the experimental, rather than a mainstream studio.
George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead is a true genre milestone that is praised not only by horror film fans but mainstream critics alike. If you are interested in watching an intelligent, well researched and entertaining documentary about the film’s provenance and cultural impact then I thoroughly recommend Birth of the Living Dead (2013) by Rob Kuhn. It tells you pretty much all you need to know about why this classic film is so important. As for Night of the Living Dead itself, it still holds up well after 53 years. It is the immediacy and relatability of the premise and overall story that still makes the film relevant. The zombies are purely a “MacGuffin” and the real focus of the plot is how people behave under pressure in life threatening situations. It’s a film about how we can react to the same situation differently and how cultural baggage and the need for people to be “right”, hinders co-operation and thwarts progress.
It would appear that there is a Minions 2, although it’s release around the world has been staggered due to the pandemic. So I thought I’d revisit the original movie for a second viewing. Spin-off movies can be a risky venture. Side characters may work well in a supporting role within a successful movie but may not necessarily find an audience in their own vehicle. However this is most definitely not the case with Minions. The movie is ninety one minutes of exquisitely crafted cinema. From the opening Universal fanfare (which the Minions sing-a-long to) to the post credit rendition of Revolution, the film is consistently funny and perfectly paced. The production design and overall aesthetic is beautifully realised and the central characters of Kevin, Stuart and Bob are thoroughly engaging. Actually, forget "engaging ''. They are genuinely loveable. Directors Pierre Coffin and Kyle Balda barely put a foot wrong.
Although I have a passing interest in the franchise per se, I'm not a consummate fan of all things Batman. Hence a lot of content passes me by or I catch up with it years later. So it came as a great surprise when I discovered Batman: Return of the Caped Crusaders; a 2016 release in the ever growing catalogue of DC themed direct to DVD animated films. The movie is a de facto continuation of the sixties TV series, with the original actors reprising their roles (where possible). The cast includes Adam West as Batman, Burt Ward as Robin and Julie Newmar as Catwoman. Due to the death of actors Cesar Romero, Burgess Meredith and Frank Gorshin the voices for The Joker, The Penguin and The Riddler have been provided by Jeff Bergman, William Salyers and Wally Wingert. All of whom do their best to recreate the tone and idiom of the original artists.
There are three key elements to Disney’s 2009 3D computer-animated adaptation of A Christmas Carol. Firstly, director Robert Zemeckis clearly seeks authenticity and hence includes a lot of original dialogue from the novel, as well as a bleaker depiction of the period. Secondly, he uses the digital production tools at his disposal to create sweeping vistas of 19th century London as well as highly stylised caricatures of the central characters. Thirdly, as this is a Disney production, there is an occasional lapse visual humour and levity that is required by their business model. Sadly all of these aspects of the production make for strange bedfellows that are at odds with each other. The result is a visually sumptuous film that loses its way as it lurches between bleak drama, odd humour and CGI driven spectacle.
Upon its theatrical release, Mickey’s Christmas Carol was the first animated film to star Mickey Mouse for thirty years. It was therefore accompanied with a large amount of hype and a wave of nostalgia. The US marketing stated “He’s Back. Mickey Mouse in his first new motion picture” which was somewhat misleading, as the actual animated film was just 26 minutes long. It was shown theatrically along with a re-release of The Rescuers in the US and The Jungle Book in the UK and other territories, in late December 1983. And despite his name being in the title, Mickey doesn’t have a lot of screen time as he plays Bob Cratchit. This is very much a vehicle for Scrooge McDuck as Ebenezer Scrooge. Overall, it’s a succinct distillation of the plot of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, filled with cameo appearances by classic Disney characters. Naturally it is replete with the humour and sentiment that is inherent in the process known colloquially as Disneyfication. However, does this mitigate the book’s message?
At first glance, there is not much to distinguish this low budget production by Burbank Films Australia, from any of the other adaptations that were ubiquitous during the seventies and eighties. However, attentive viewers will discover a few details that lift this particular version above the mundane. Firstly, this is the second animated adaptation to feature the voice acting of Ron Haddrick as Ebenezer Scrooge. He had previously voiced the character in Air Programs International's shorter version of A Christmas Carol in 1969, thirteen years earlier. Secondly, despite the modest production values, there are a few additional scenes taken from the source text by Dickens, that don’t usually make it most film and TV adaptations. It is these minor embellishments that compensate for the simplicity of the animation (during the opening scene, some background characters do not move).
Scoob! is one of several movies that was slated for a theatrical release this summer but ended up being premiering on VOD instead due to the global pandemic. As a result, it is difficult to ascertain exactly how successful this animated film has been. A lot of trade newspapers have indicated that rentals have been high and that the film has proven more popular than Tom Hardy’s new movie Capone. Some industry sources have estimated a gross of $100,000,000 in a two week period. I suspect that the current lockdown has provided a market of children craving new entertainment and parents happy to pay for 90 minutes of peace and quiet. Hence Scoob! appears to have been in the right place at the right time. Whether that popular success would have happened if the movie had been released theatrically is another matter.
The first I found out about Top Cat: The Movie was when I received an email from an events company that was handling promotional screenings, prior to the film’s UK release in the summer of 2012. For some reason I missed the usual pre-production publicity that comes with the rebooting of a popular franchise. One of the benefits of this was that I didn't have time to fret or fuss about this reimagining of an integral part of my childhood. I must admit I was flummoxed that this 50-year-old franchise was subject to a makeover and was even more discombobulated to find out that the original show was a massive hit in Mexico and had garnered a huge cult following. This was why Warner Bros. subcontracted this production to Mexico's Anima and Argentina's Illusion studios. Subsequently Don Gato y Su Pandilla (Top Cat and His Gang) opened on 16th September 2011 in Mexico to weekend box office returns of 41m pesos ($2.9m). It subsequently became the highest-grossing independent animated films released in the United States that year.
It’s interesting that so many adaptations of Charles Dickens’ iconic seasonal story are brought to us via the medium of animation. Naturally, this is a far more economical means of depicting the story with its period detail and supernatural elements, compared to a live action production. However, for an animated version of A Christmas Carol to work successfully, it needs three things. An innovative and striking production design, robust voice acting and a screenplay that keeps the core themes while offering significance difference compared to prior adaptations. You’ll find all of these elements in Richard Williams’ 1971 animated short. Sadly they’re conspicuously absent from the 1997 version. Despite the presence such talents as Tim Curry, Ed Asner and Whoopi Goldberg, this is a distinctly arbitrary animated film. Considering that the screenplay was written by Jymn Magon who has years of experience working for Disney, I had hoped this would be better endeavour.
There’s a degree of hubris implicit in such a definitive title. At the very least the inference is that this is a notable adaptation of Charles Dickens’ classic book. And at first glance, it is perfectly reasonable to assume just that. Jimmy Murakami was an animator of note with such unique movies as The Snowman and When the Wind Blows to his credit. Hence it is reasonable to expect a similar quirky and experimental treatment of this well know yuletide story. However, what audiences actually get is a rather bold adaptation that substantially embellishes upon the established narrative. Veering between sinister and borderline psychedelic imagery, this is a very inconsistent version that tries to be too many things at once. Just as you think you’ve got a handle on the film approach it takes an abrupt turn in the opposite direction. Comedy, drama and even power ballads are thrown into the mix. Sadly, all these elements do not hang well together.
The Hobbit (1977) is a curious beast. It’s a made for television animated film, which despite its budgetary constraints, strives to comprehensively adapted one of the most beloved children’s books of the last century. I remember reading an article about this television adaptation of The Hobbit, in Starburst Magazine during the late seventies. There were rumours that this Rankin/Bass production, which had already premièred on US network television, would gain a European cinema release. This was presumably to cash in on the success of Ralph Bakshi's animated feature film adaptation of The Lord of The Rings. However, this never happened to my knowledge. In fact, The Hobbit was not commercially available in the UK until 2001, when Warner Bros. released it on DVD to capitalise on the success of Peter Jackson’s The Fellowship of the Ring.
Over the last few years I’ve reviewed several adaptations of Charles Dickens seasonal story A Christmas Carol. As I stated previously one of the stories greatest strength is that it lends itself perfectly to multiple interpretations. I recently had the good fortune to rediscover the animated version from 1969 by Air Programs International. I remember seeing this animated short as a child but could not recollect sufficient details to allow me to track it down via the IMDB. Then by complete chance, I stumbled across it again on You Tube while doing some research.
I have a great deal of affection for Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, not only because it’s a fine piece of literature but because it lends itself so well to dramatisation. I therefore have a keen interests in all the respective adaptation, of which there are many. Over the years there has been a trend to focus excessively on the sentimental aspect of the plot, resulting in a rather nauseating Disneyfication of the story. Although the redemption of the main protagonist is central to the narrative, the poverty and deprivations of the time are still very pertinent themes, especially in today's economic climate. I was therefore very gratified to rediscover the 1971 version of Charles Dickens' classic story which was originally shown on ABC. This short 25 minute animated feature realises the story superbly, capturing the tone of the book and accurately reflecting the darker aspects. Remember that A Christmas Carol is fundamentally a ghost story.
Birth of the Living Dead (2013)
These day’s zombies are a somewhat ubiquitous plot device and enjoy an entire literary, artistic and cinematic sub-genre. The Walking Dead is one of the most popular TV shows internationally and hundreds of thousands of gamers fight the undead, online every day. Yet there was a time when zombies were just a minor subset of the horror genre and far from a popular one. That all changed in 1968, when a low-budget, independent film called Night of the Living Dead was released upon an unsuspecting public. The movie’s impact upon the film industry and popular culture was extraordinary. Rob Kuhns’ appropriately titled documentary Birth of the Living Dead analyses the creation of George A. Romero’s seminal classic and strives to determine how a single movie could have such impact.
These day’s zombies are a somewhat ubiquitous plot device and enjoy an entire literary, artistic and cinematic sub-genre. The Walking Dead is one of the most popular TV shows internationally and hundreds of thousands of gamers fight the undead, online every day. Yet there was a time when zombies were just a minor subset of the horror genre and far from a popular one. That all changed in 1968, when a low-budget, independent film called Night of the Living Dead was released upon an unsuspecting public. The movie’s impact upon the film industry and popular culture was extraordinary. Rob Kuhns’ appropriately titled documentary Birth of the Living Dead analyses the creation of George A. Romero’s seminal classic and strives to determine how a single movie could have such impact.
The then 27-year-old Romero, learnt his craft working for local television (mainly children shows) and producing commercials via his company Latent Image. Relative success and ambition lead to a decision to make a movie and it was determined that a horror production would be cheapest to make. It was also potentially the most lucrative. Having previously read Richard Matheson’s novel I Am Legend, Romero decided to adapt one of his own short stories into the movie. The project was financed via friends and business partner who all contributed the grand sum of $600 each. Film stock was bought, an abandoned farmhouse was rented and the guerrilla-style production commenced. “Who knew that we were ever going to finish this thing” Romero has retrospectively stated.
Kuhns specifically explores Night of the Living Dead in the social and political context of the era, focusing on the radical casting of African-American actor Duane Jones in the lead role. The character’s race was unspecified in the script and the fact that it’s never a narrative issue in the film itself was particularly ground breaking at time. Sidney Poitier was a major box office star in the late sixties, yet there were still major cultural constraints on the depiction of black characters in mainstream movies. The documentary also focuses on the social and political climate of America at the time and the fact that much of the prevailing cultural angst seems to have seeped into the finished movie.
Where Birth of the Living Dead succeeds the most is in cataloguing the minor and more mundane aspects of the film’s production. For example, one of the investors provided real entrails as they ran a meat packing business. A genuine television news broadcaster played such a character the film, authentically writing his own dialogue. Most of the cast members performed additional roles, including designing the producing the makeup effects and local residents were recruited to play the marauding zombie hordes. Full co-operation was gained from the local law enforcement authorities who provided dog handlers and even a police helicopter. At one point, it seemed that pretty much every local business in Pittsburgh was involved in some capacity.
Birth of the Living Dead provides a succinct overview about one of the most iconic movies of the sixties. It is affectionate and informative, although it does get a little bogged down when it tackles the socio-political element of the movie. There are some insightful interviews with horror filmmaker Larry Fessenden (who also executive produced the documentary), Walking Dead producer Gale Anne Hurd, and cultural commentators as Mark Harris, Elvis Mitchell and Jason Zinoman. At a little over seventy five minutes it manages to pack a lot in. I did find some of the material a little curious, such as the teacher at a Bronx elementary school who was enthusiastically extolling the virtues of the movie to a class of pre-teens. Also, the documentary does not in any way touch upon any of Romero's later work or sequels.
Documentaries have become increasingly more popular with mainstream viewers in recent years. The benchmark appears to be whether you can engage a viewer who is not overtly familiar with the subject matter. Birth of the Living Dead achieves this as well as appealing to the die-hard horror fan. There has been a great deal written about Romero's Night of the Living Dead over the years and a lot of DVD “extras” have paid lip service to his work. For the time being Birth of the Living Dead has put all such commentary in the shade, offering the definitive exploration of the movie.
Music by John Williams is a documentary celebration of the famous composer and his illustrious body of work. It provides some interesting biographical background information as to how the man was born into a family of talented musicians. It then traces his rise from pianist for hire to the most well known film composer today. Along the way, anyone who is anyone in film and music appears to heap justifiable praise upon him and his body of work. It also features a continuous medley of John Williams’ greatest hits, as it catalogues his work in broadly chronological order. Music by John Williams is an upbeat and positive love letter to the composer and exactly what you would expect, when you consider that the documentary was produced by his friends and peers.
Despite being an analysis of the past there is a portentous air about Ken Burns and Lynn Novick’s Prohibition. A fascinating five-and-a-half-hour documentary produced for PBS in 2011. The history of this disastrous experiment, the banning of alcoholic beverages, is a textbook example of how the transactional nature of US politics can be effectively used upon “wedge” issues. Prohibition follows the format and style of Burns previous documentaries such as the Civil War (1990) and The War (2007) with the wider subject broken down and analysed according to protagonists, events and the political background. Specific historical figures and key players are followed throughout the documentary’s narrative, giving viewers a sense of focus. Hence we meet the hatchet-wielding Carrie Nation, Wayne Wheeler from the Anti-Saloon League and media savvy gangsters like Al Capone. It is interesting to note that some themes continue from Burns’ previous work, such as the political and cultural conflict between native-born Americans and European immigrants. The rural heartlands versus the big cities.
Joel Allen Schroeder's documentary Dear Mr. Watterson is a curious beast insofar that it takes some time before it decides exactly what it wants to focus upon. It begins by examining the cultural impact of the hugely popular comic strip “Calvin & Hobbes” and what it means to people around the world. However, little information is given about the creator, Bill Watterson beyond a very simple biography. Joel Allen Schroeder’s also makes no attempt to contact and interview the reclusive Mr. Watterson to find out more about the man and his iconic work. Instead, the documentary eventually settles into an assessment of Watterson’s work by other industry luminaries and a broader accounting of the overall decline of the newspaper cartoon as a social institution. The presentation is bright, stylish and there’s a lot of love for the subject but it takes some time before it commits to a specific approach.
“Kurt Vonnegut: Unstuck in Time” is a sprawling, non-linear eulogy to the to the life of writer Kurt Vonnegut, by Emmy-winning director Robert B. Weide (“Curb Your Enthusiasm”), who was a friend of Vonnegut's throughout the last 25 years of his life. Weide himself features heavily throughout the two hour running time, which is something Weide says he usually hates in documentaries. However, what unfolds is a story of a documentary maker who wanted to film his idol and was granted an opportunity to do so in the early eighties. The project was never completed and both Weide and Vonnegut continuously returned to it over the years as their friendship grew, leading to Weide eventually becoming Vonnegut’s personal archivist. However, despite this curious relationship, this is still very much a film about Kurt Vonnegut, the author, the social commentator and the man. It becomes quite clear why he is considered one of the most important writers of the 20th century.
Benjamin Franklin is in many ways the most interesting of the American Founding Fathers. A self taught man who went on to become a polymath. An inventor, accomplished writer and publisher. A diplomat who successfully held multiple public offices. A loyalist who went on to become a “reluctant revolutionary”. A slave owner who eventually became an abolitionist. A questionable parent who favoured specific children over others, as well as a negligent husband. Franklin was all these things, as Ken Burns’ documentary takes great pains to highlight. A broad cross section of historians tackle these foibles and contradictions from multiple perspectives. As Joseph J. Ellis states, Benjamin Franklin was “a Nobel-calibre scientist, the greatest prose stylist of his generation, and probably the greatest diplomat in American history”. His legacy is chronologically analysed over four hours in two distinct episodes.
Giuseppe Tornatore’s sprawling documentary Ennio, is a finely detailed and absorbing exploration of prolific and iconic Italian composer Ennio Morricone. Despite its very traditional approach to its subject matter, looking at Morricone’s career chronologically, intercut with celebrity talking heads, it still manages to convey the unorthodox, innovative and experimental nature of the composer. The 156 minute running time is not necessarily the impediment that one expects. Rather it is the sheer weight of the emotional impact that comes from Morricone’s music that is at times overwhelming. Archival footage and a new and comprehensive interview recorded just prior to the composer’s death in 2020 is intercut with a wealth of audio cues and concert footage from a broad cross section of his work. The result is most illuminating with regard to the man and his approach to composing. The conclusion backed by many of those interviewed is that Ennio Morricone has shaped the nature of film music and elevated it to an artform.
Gerry Anderson: A Life Uncharted is a documentary that focuses specifically on the man, rather than the shows that he created. If you are more interested in the latter then you would be better off watching Filmed in Supermarionation (2014), which provides a comprehensive overview of all productions, wrapped in a cosy blanket of nostalgia and fandom. Gerry Anderson: A Life Uncharted offers a more challenging viewing experience due to its honesty and candour. Gerry Anderson had a difficult childhood and suffered a bereavement early in life. During the course of this 88 minute exploration of his life it becomes clear that these traumas both drove his creativity as well as marred his own personal life. Furthermore, this documentary is also about a son looking for answers, as Jamie Anderson attempts to learn more about his father’s past.
Star Trek documentaries are very much like Bruce Lee documentaries, in so far as they’re both a saturated market and more often than not, new content frequently ends up covering the same ground. However, fans tend to watch anything new in the hope that they will find a few new nuggets of information. Brian Volk-Weiss’ new 11 part series, The Center Seat: 55 years of Star Trek, not only covers established facts about the iconic show but also expands upon them as well as providing a wealth of new information. Volk-Weiss has previously explored popular culture with documentaries such as The Toys That Made Us and The Movies That Made Us. The Center Seat: 55 years of Star Trek is an in-depth chronological study of the Star Trek franchise, from its creation at Desilu Productions in 1965 all the way through to the latest iterations, Star Trek: Picard and Star Trek: Discovery.
Shatner in Space is a 45 minute documentary about the 90 year old actor, William Shatner and his recent foray into space via Jeff Bezos’ Blue Origin sub-orbital spaceflight service. Considering the provenance of this entire undertaking, attitudes in general towards billionaires and the obvious publicity seeking hubris of sending a cultural icon into space, it’s easy to dismiss Shatner in Space as nothing more than a very, very expensive infomercial. However, the quiet dignity of Mr Shatner whose age and experience means that he draws a very different conclusion from his space flight than his fellow passengers, is utterly compelling and possibly a little profound. If you can endure the soulless polish of the scenes with an immaculately staged managed Jeff Bezos, then you’ll be rewarded with the philosophical musings of a man approaching the end of his life who is naturally curious about his own mortality.
I am not a fan of conspiracy theories, nor those who are heavily invested in them. There are many reasons to repudiate such ideas but for me the main one is just a simple observation on human nature. Any major conspiracy, plot or cover up requires large swaths of people to participate and remain quiet about the facts. Yet one of the most common attributes of the human condition is peoples total inability to shut up. Simply put, most conspiracy theories don’t hold water because someone would have blabbed. Hence, documentaries about how the moon landings were faked or how 9/11 was an “inside job” tend not to “butter any parsnips” with me. However, JFK Revisited: Through the Looking Glass is a surprisingly different beast. I was surprised by its measured approach and its inferred conclusion. Has old age mellowed the filmmaker Oliver Stone?
Television programmes that deal with the so-called supernatural, mysterious and the unexplained are commonplace these days. They fill the schedules of channels that used to broadcast quality wildlife, historical and scientific documentaries. All too often these shows focus on the sensational nature of their subject matter and lack any real objectivity, analysis and scientific rigour. The idea is not to impartially explore a subject to determine its veracity but to simply provide a degree of spectacle for as broad a viewing demographic as possible. However, that was not always the case. Back in 1980, Yorkshire Television produced Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious World. A high profile exploration thirteen-part British television series looking at unexplained phenomena from around the world. The presence of Clarke, who introduced and book-ended the various subjects the show explored, brought a degree of impartiality and credibility to the proceedings.
Over the years I have seen many documentaries about World War II. Although I do not claim in any way to be an expert, I believe I have a good grasp on the causes and the course of that six year conflict. However, it recently struck me that I could not say the same about World War I. In my youth I watched a repeat showing of the BBC documentary series The Great War (1964) but I remember very little of its prodigious 26 episodes. The one thing that stood out were the interviews with veterans. So I was very pleased when perusing BritBox over the weekend to find the 2003 documentary The First World War, based upon the book of the same name by Professor Hew Strachan. This ten part analysis takes a global view of the conflict, rather than excessively focusing upon the Western Front and also debunks a lot of the apocryphal ideas and notions that have persisted over the years. I found it so compelling that I binged watched the entire thing over two evenings.
The music business is a strange, interesting and broad church. A spectrum of musical styles and personalities all fulfilling the needs of different markets. There are pop stars who are buoyant but ephemeral. Then there are singer/songwriters who take their work seriously as they express their critique of the human condition via their music. There are also style icons, novelty acts, indie bands, lounge crooners and a myriad of other niche acts, all doing their own thing. And occasionally there are enigmas. Artists and bands that fly in the face of prevailing trends and commercial interest, who do consider their work to be an artistic endeavour and an expression of themselves and as such, do not see the virtue of personal compromise or corporate interests. Esoteric musicians who reinvent themselves continuously as they grow and age. Constantly defying the expectations of both their own fans and naysayers. Sparks are such a musical entity and the subject of a fascinating documentary by director Edgar Wright.
Carl Sagan's seminal science documentary Cosmos: A Personal Voyage was initially broadcast in the US between 28th September and 21st December 1980. Six months later it was shown in the UK on BBC One throughout the summer of 1981. I was thirteen years old at the time and this science documentary series had a tremendous impact upon not only me but an entire generation. The complexity of some of the subjects explored and discussed by Carl Sagan often left me perplexed. However, I knew that there was something special about this show and the way it presented science in such a personal manner. Therefore, I found myself going to both my local and school library to further read about the topics raised in each episode. But perhaps the most standout aspect of the show was Sagan himself. His commentary delivered directly to the camera was both enthralling and lyrical. His love and enthusiasm was palpable and clearly bled through into every aspect of the show. His ability to communicate clearly, complex and at times esoteric ideas, was a revelation and in many ways a gift. Similar to that of Jacob Bronowski and David Attenborough.
There was a time when film making was seen as an artistic endeavour and the idea of the auteur director pursuing a vision was considered a romantic and even noble undertaking. Big multi-million-dollar productions were welcomed when they filmed on location, providing work and glamour to the local population. The might of the dollar would often grease the wheels of industry, making the impossible possible. Egos were massaged, and actors were indulged and treated like minor deities. Huge sets would appear in the middle of nowhere, like Victorian follies and luxury items would be flown around the world to placate the capricious nature of the various Hollywood stars. Money would flow like water, much to the dismay of the producers, sitting back in the offices in the US or Europe. But this era has now past. Big budget movies are still made but it is now driven by corporate accounting and artistic vision is no longer a primary consideration. It is now a rather soulless business process. Hence a movie such as Apocalypse Now would never be made today in the same manner that it was back in 1976 when the production started.
MR James: Ghost Writer is a sixty-minute documentary written and presented by Mark Gatiss, exploring the life of Britain's foremost ghost story writer. Gatiss, a long-time admirer of James, delves in to the life of the author from his devout Anglican upbringing and close-knit family life, through to his ascent to the summit of academia at King's college, Cambridge. The program seeks to discover what motivated this scholarly bachelor to create some of the most iconic and chilling ghost stories in English literature. By following in James’s footsteps, the documentary attempts to gain a greater insight in to the enigmatic author.
Wisconsin Death Trip is a strange, enigmatic, non-linear docudrama and that makes for compelling viewing for the open minded. It is based upon the 1973 non-fiction book Wisconsin Death Trip by Michael Lesy, which explores a collection of late 19th century photographs by Jackson County, photographer Charles Van Schaick. These are mainly taken in the city of Black River Falls. The authentic black and white pictures are further embellished by local news reports from the same period, predominantly taken from the Black River Falls newspaper. These articles emphasise the harsh aspects of Midwestern rural life under the pressures of crime, disease, mental illness, and urbanization. The book has been a source of influence over the years, with authors such as Stephen King and Rod Jones citing the impact its had upon their respective work. Film maker James Marsh has subsequently taken this curious microcosm of rural life and death and extrapolated it a compelling reflection upon mortality and the fragility of human existence.
Dean Haglund is best known for playing Richard Langly, one of the Lone Gunmen on The X-Files. In recent years has capitalised upon that role and has become closely identified with the realm of the paranormal and the world of conspiracy theories. The documentary The Truth Is Out There follows Dean as he travels the US and attempts to discover just what it means to search for the truth in a world where conspiracies theories, untruths and fake news abound. The documentary directed by Phil Leirness, humorously takes the viewer on a journey of discovery, talking to those who believe that the world is not what it seems.
Once again Jamie Benning has created a filmumentary that is pretty much a definitive exploration of its subject matter. Inside Jaws contains a staggering amount of facts, details, insight and commentary about one of the greatest films ever made. Yet despite a wealth of information, it is presented in a way that is easily digestible and enhances the movie, rather than overwhelms it. As with Star Wars Begins, the original movie is annotated with on-screen text, commentary tracks and behind the scenes footage, which provide incisive overview into the movies production.
Star Wars Begins is a detailed documentary by film maker Jamie Benning that explores the creation of what is now considered to be the most iconic movie of the seventies; namely Star Wars. It features a wealth of deleted scenes, alternate takes, behind-the-scenes footage, bloopers, original on set audio recordings and a great deal of commentary by the original cast and crew. As far as I’m concerned, it is the most thorough and in-depth analysis of Star Wars I have yet to see. Frankly it beats hands down, any of the officially sanctioned documentaries that have appeared over the year on the various DVD and Blu-ray releases of the trilogy.
Indie Game: The Movie is a genuinely fascinating documentary not only about the machinations video games industry but also the blood, sweat and tears that go into any creative process. It is a film that really does give you pause for thought and encourages you to reflect upon what you may want in life. It clearly shows the true cost and the star reality of any labour of love. It should be required viewing in schools and colleges for any wannabe who dreams of being on a reality shows and achieving a fast path to their perceived heart’s desire. Such is the impact of the documentary’s message.
Despite having played a broad spectrum of games in my time, I've never really had much dealings with the Blizzard. Beyond owning Overwatch, a game I’ve long stopped playing and trying a free trial of both World of Warcraft and Hearthstone, I have little personal experience of their games. However, I am fully aware of their product range and their reputation within the gaming industry. Overwatch has taught me how well-conceived and polished their games can be. Blizzard may not be incredibly innovative, but they learn from others and produce titles with all the elements that work well. Sadly, I have no real affinity to their flagship MMORPG, as my point of entry with that genre was LOTRO. My interest in World of Warcraft mainly stems from a business perspective and the place it holds in gaming history. Overall my curiosity about the game, its community and culture is mainly academic. So, I finally got around to watching the documentary World of Warcraft: Looking for Group that showcased at Blizzcon in 2014 and was subsequently released on You Tube thereafter.
Certain groups just lend themselves to ridicule from the media and in popular culture in general, irrespective of whether they deserve it or not. Star Wars fans are a prime example of this. Their love of the lore, predilection for cosplay and hunger for collectables at first glance makes them an easy target. Film maker Mark Edlitz, takes a decidedly different approach in his documentary Jedi Junkies. Instead of finger-pointing and making cheap jokes, Jedi Junkies puts a very human face on a group of enthusiasts, showing their passion to be in essence, no different to that of sports fans or other more mainstream hobbies and pastimes.
After watching several hours of the documentary, The Vietnam War, one has to wonder at the utter inability of the US government of the time, to think outside the box during the period of that conflict. Seldom does a military, political, and social analysis of an historical event go this deep. During its eighteen hour running time directors Ken Burns and Lynn Novick cover a wealth of issues associated with this conflict, exploring it from multiple perspectives. Not only do they shine a light upon the hubris and folly of both respective governments, they manage to keep a very intimate and human perspective. Personal stories from both sides are told and if there is a common theme, it is sadly one of tragedy and regret.
I recently found a DVD boxset of Return to the Planet of the Apes in a charity shop which I bought for £4, which is a ridiculously cheap price. I considered it an interesting find because it was a Region 1, US copy. However, that is not so unusual these days as most DVD players are now region free and Amazon (UK) sells media from all over the world. As for the show in question, I vaguely remember Return to the Planet of the Apes being shown on UK network TV when I was a child, probably circa 1976. Back then it would usually take a year or so before US shows made it onto UK television. From a commercial perspective, the entire Planet of the Apes franchise was beginning to run out of steam. I was 8 years old at the time so had missed most of the film releases. However, I enjoyed the live action TV show hence an animated follow up had obvious appeal to a child of my age.