War—and editing documentaries—is hell. What editors won't tell you about, however, are those moments of ecstasy they experience in the privacy of their cutting rooms, when they lay down a new piece of music and it completely transforms and uplifts a montage with which they've been struggling. It's heaven. Mike Majoros and Bestor Cram experienced this happy phenomenon a few years back, while working through a large body of black-and-white footage of a Vietnam veterans’ protest that took place in Lexington, MA in 1971. They used a part of Henryk Gorecki's 3rd Symphony, and it happened: this
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If ever there was a film festival that reminds us of what it is to be human, it is the Cinéma du Réel festival of ethnographic and sociological films. As a meeting place for visions of how we see the world, the ten-day festival, held at the Pompidou Centre in Paris, shows documentary films from “all corners of the earth.” A common thread running through all of the films is the focus on the human element of life—where and how people live, how we resist, what we do under duress and how we move on. Founded in 1979 by BPI, Bibliothèque Publique d’Information (the public library network), and
From the treasure of documentary riches at the Berlin Festival, celebrating its 52nd year this past February, six films merit special acknowledgement, in terms of originality, social commentary and the passionate self-expression of the film artist. Those terms apply particularly to Jonas Mekas, the foremost proponent of the American cinema avant garde. At Berlin, Mekas screened his five-hour personal journal film, As I Was Moving Ahead Occasionally I Saw Brief Glimpses of Beauty. The film seems casual, but it is studied and controlled. "My film,” he maintains, “is a record of subtle feelings
I was in Los Angeles in 1986 opening my first film, Partisans of Vilna, when I had heard on the radio that Hank Greenberg, the Hall of Fame baseball player for the Detroit Tigers, had died. I grew up in Detroit hearing wonderful stories about Hank Greenberg—how he almost broke Babe Ruth’s home run record, how he went to the synagogue on Yom Kippur in the middle of a pennant race. My father was an immigrant Jew, and like many immigrants to this country, one way you become American is you learn about baseball. Just like for the Black community, where Jackie Robinson was both a sports hero and a
With much regret, I write this farewell to Tim Lyons, dear friend and former editor of International Documentary. I was one of his writers, specializing in foreign and domestic documentary film festivals. Our working relationship lasted about three years, until his departure, which I protested vigorously, but in vain. After that, until his death, we kept in touch by phone and letter and by exchange of materials, at times. He was a special bloke. I miss him now and will remember him for that special comradeship between writer and editor. Often the writer is impulsive and extravagant, the editor
With Jack, it was a friendship that went back over 40 years. I had been working as an independent film researcher in New York when David Wolper persuaded me to come out to Los Angeles, and join his “huge” organization. I still remember my shock at entering the touted headquarters of Wolper Productions, which consisted of two rooms in a beat-up building on Sunset Boulevard. Wolper had the larger office. The smaller room contained a desk, which I would share with Jack. Sensing my disappointment, he put me at ease with a few irreverent remarks about Wolper. Talented, buoyant, carefree, blessed
Every good documentary has its own compelling story, concept and point of view. Writing documentaries on historical subjects carries an additional challenge—the filmmaker must tell a visual story, but he or she can’t just take a camera and record what happens in reality. On a March morning at the Writers Guild of America West office, Joan Owens-Meyerson gathered together five award-winning WGA writers for a lively roundtable discussion to explore the creative challenges of writing historical documentaries. Lyn Goldfarb’s credits as a writer, producer and/or director include the Academy-Award®
Lonely Boy stands alone, teetering on a precipice between everything that came before and everything that came after. When I first saw it in the late ’60s, we already knew it represented both a lost world of soppy innocence and a brand new world of very cagey cinema. It is a brilliantly photographed, tightly structured, elegant 30 minutes in the life of teen idol Paul Anka, his teenage fans and a film crew from the National Film Board of Canada. It is enormous fun, and it is still for me the granddaddy of all the great rock’n’roll films, though it was made in the last flickering days of pre-R
Dear IDA Members: The big news at the IDA is that we have a new Executive Director: Sandra Ruch. She was selected as the final candidate at a special board meeting held April 26 at IDA headquarters. Over 150 applications were received and reviewed. Two committees worked on the search. First. Barbara Leigh Gregson and Steve Poster headed a search committee that included Richard Wells, Cara White and Rick Trank. They worked for months laying the foundation for the final search, headed by Larry Cate. Richard Propper, Mitch Block and Lyn Goldtarb rounded out the committee. Lynne Littman, Sven
Dear Readers, It is never an easy task to salute the passings, in each issue of ID, of so many dignified members of the documentary community. But when we lose members of our own IDA family, as we did one weekend in April, the task is onerous, indeed. In this issue, former IDA President Mel Stuart reflects on Jack Haley, Jr., and Gordon Hitchens, a longtime contributor to these pages, recalls his 20-year association with Timothy Lyons. Jack Haley, Jr., was an IDA Trustee for many years, and was very generous and gracious with his time, emceeing many of the Oscars® receptions, IDA Galas and