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Documentarians Are Whores, Too

By Michael Murray | Posted Under Think Pieces | Comments (6)



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I don’t see nearly as many documentary films as I would like.

Typically, I ask very little of myself when selecting a movie to watch, happily giving myself over to the least challenging (and most immediately rewarding) option available. Given the choice between an award winning documentary about the Vietnam War (something like The Fog of War, for instance, which turned out to be brilliant),



or some slickly packaged promise from Hollywood, well, nine times out of ten, I will choose the movie that’s more likely to have some celebrity nudity in it.

Hell.

Who am I kidding?

I’ll watch the Hollywood film ten times out of ten, and I hate myself for this.

And so, each year when the Hot Docs Festival rolls into Toronto, I tell myself that this is my opportunity to change. I will watch all sorts of inspiring and fascinating documentaries and then dazzle all of my friends with the newly found evidence of my unquenchable intellectual curiosity.

Hot Docs, by the way, is the irritating brand name given to the International Documentary Film Festival, the largest such event in North America and one that takes place each spring in Toronto.

I don’t know if it’s fair to say that Hot Docs is the pale, flat-chested sister of the star-studded Toronto International Film Festival— you know, the bright, socially awkward girl who hates everybody else because they all seem to be happy and getting laid— but it sure feels that way sometimes.



No matter, the city loves having the festival, just not in exactly the same exuberantly ironic and giddy way that people love having that other festival. The movie star festival is ridiculous and over the top, and the public always feigns a big-city weariness for all the pomp and excitement it causes. “Can you believe that there was a traffic jam for Shia LeBeouf? I was late for yoga! For Shia Fucking LeBeouf! I can’t wait for this evil festival to be over!!” That festival allows people the opportunity to talk about movie stars without sounding like they actually care about the movie stars.

Well, at Hot Docs there are no traffic jams, shorter-than-you-would-have-thought movie stars on the streets, or really all that much else to complain about. There are about 150 films, made by earnest people for an audience of earnest people that are screened throughout the city. It’s actually an excellent festival, full of excellent films, but still, whenever a tribe gets together to celebrate and promote their own accomplishments, it gets kind of weird.

Like all festivals, Hot Docs naturally wants to bring as much attention to itself as possible, and so they always try to create a buzz, but they really don’t have the tools (movie stars) to generate a sincere groundswell of interest. People will line the streets and wait in the rain to see Clive Owen or Natalie Portman,

( )

but to see an average person who isn’t playing an extraordinary role? And so the sensation of an eager crowd must be engineered, and this is done by an army of volunteers, who carry out their tasks with the zealous glint of Green Peace warriors.

Attempting to create a climate of exclusion and privilege around the films being screened, the volunteers, all armed with clipboards and those heads sets that people who work in the Gap wear, patrol the sidewalks in front of the theaters like Storm Troopers, and they do not make going to see a movie an easy experience.

At one screening I was told to go to a line-up where I would be given a ticket that would allow me to eventually go to another line-up in order to buy an actual admission ticket. They had managed to create a Byzantine structure that contained five separate lines of people, all of whom where entering into some stage of getting in to see the movie, while a fluster of volunteers spoke with one another through their headsets, in spite of the fact that they were standing next to one another. Obviously, the overseers were making work so that the multitude of volunteers would have something to do, but I think it was also an intentional strategy to create an aura of exclusivity and industry. They were making it difficult for the people who wanted to see the movie, so that the people who didn’t want to see the movie would feel that they were missing out on an important happening.

They were marketing.

Later, I attended a festival function in which I was to meet with the director of one of the films that was being screened. I always feel like an outsider at these sorts of things and until the guy arrived, I stood there like a knob, sharing clumsy smiles with strangers while taking quick sips from my glass of wine and pretending to check non-existent messages on my phone. It was awkward, alienating, and just a little bit lonely.

Eventually, I spoke to the director, and as I was doing so I realized that this was likely the part of his job that he liked the least. He made the movie, and now he had to sell it to the media, and the media—who had been given free drinks, t-shirts, and tote bags—were now expected to write enthusiastic promotions for that movie. Everybody, I think, felt like a whore.

As high-minded and uncelebrated as documentaries generally tend to be, the dog and pony show that the film makers, and all the attendant hanger’s-on (the media, the volunteers) participate in is as nakedly manipulative and cynical, if not more, than that accompanying the great Hollywood beast. In the end, I guess, a festival, any festival, is about selling, and whether it’s about selling a product or a cause, it still must pass through the same oily machinery.

Michael Murray is a freelance writer. For the last three and a half years he’s written a weekly column for the Ottawa Citizen about watching television. He presently lives in Toronto. You can find more of his musings on his blog, or check out his Facebook page.









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Comments

Oh you do have a way with words Mr. Murray.

I also love how you uncannily hit the nerve centre with your metaphors. I AM the HotDocs festival! I understand!

And how very Canadian - 'busy people' doing 'culturally relevant busy things', justify your grants, and back pats for everyone!

Posted by: replica at May 12, 2010 2:28 PM

In the words of Pharrell Williams, everyone's sounding like strippers to me.

"Oh baby you want me?
Oh baby you want me?
Well you can get this lapdance here for free
You can get this lapdance here for free."

Posted by: Fredo at May 12, 2010 4:45 PM

"shorter-than-you-would-have-thought movie stars on the streets"

And thus have you summed up my Toronto Film Festival experiences. I usually wear heels - because I'm a girl blessed with beserk calves and I'll be spending most of the evening sitting down anyway... and I'm staring at the top of Brad Pitt's head. It's kind of... elevating, figuratively. It's like, "Well yes, my height advantage means that all my fantasies of you are kind of ruined, but then again, you're shrimpy, and thus I don't want you." And once I've freed myself from the shackles of lust for any movie star, I feel like an infinitely better person.

And all the women! It's like, "Yes, Penelope Cruz/Christina Ricci/Reese Witherspoon have more money and success than I could ever hope for, but one stiff wind and so-long to them!"

Hey, while we're on the subject, did I ever tell yizalls about the time Don Cheadle and I shared a shrug? I'm grinning like a fool thinking about it.

Posted by: Ling at May 12, 2010 4:59 PM

I'm not sure the Pajiba crowd is in with the N.E.R.D. Fredo. Then again, they've surprised me before.

No mention can go without the dog/Pikachu love video though:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qCt0-iO2p_o

Posted by: frobme at May 12, 2010 5:16 PM

Us Torontonians enjoy quality film..both the documentaries and the big Sept Film Fest. Not the type of city that swoons at fake books.
Great article by the way. Uber funny. Love Pajiba

Posted by: JaneSpotting at May 13, 2010 10:57 AM

I'm so glad that at least penguins have scruples.

Posted by: victor. victor immature at May 14, 2010 11:11 PM