One Lucky Elephant (Dir. Lisa Leeman)
For 16 years, an African elephant named Flora has been the star attraction of David Balding’s St. Louis-based circus, charming audiences with a repertoire of tricks such as packing a suitcase. Offstage, she holds Balding’s hand with her trunk when they walk, clearly devoted to him. But when Flora exhibits a listlessness, Balding decides it is time to return her to the wild. But can he? In a variation on the film Born Free, Leeman explores the challenges of placing wild animals in captivity and separating long-term friends while honoring the unique relationship forged by the pair. A bittersweet tale that is never mawkish.
*Phil Ochs: There but for Fortune (Dir. Kenneth Bowser)
The folk singer-activist, purer of intention, sweeter of plaintive voice, and rawer of poetry than his friend/rival Bob Dylan, is rescued from undeserved obscurity by this far-reaching, kinetic retrospective. Ochs’s rambunctious life, shaped by the watershed moments of the civil rights movement, is remembered by Joan Baez, Peter Yarrow, Billy Bragg, Sean Penn, and Van Dyke Parks. Vintage footage and a soundtrack of 30-plus Ochs songs complete this illuminating time-travel.
SoLA: Louisiana Water Stories (Dir. Jon Bowermaster)
When someone takes a dump in your backyard, you can either ignore it or raise hell. Meet a number of Louisiana residents pushed to the brink who are fighting back against the corporate pollution and willful destruction of their wetlands. (See interview with Jon Bowermaster, page 38.)
Sounds Like a Revolution (Dir. Summer Love)
Political manifestos are a drag, but a good protest song can rock the house—and perhaps the Republic—to its foundation. This slick and fast-paced film, ideal for VH1, celebrates the artists who jettisoned Top 40 fame to craft songs of dissent. Whether musicians led youth to the polls for Obama, as this doc suggests, is your call. Featuring several generations of troubadours and rabble-rousers, including Pete Seeger, Ani DiFranco, Michael Franti, David Crosby, Steve Earle, Henry Rollins, and Jello Biafra.
* The Disappearance of McKinley Nolan (Dir. Henry Corra)
The wounds left on America by our presence in Vietnam refuse to heal, and this staggering documentary explains why. In November 1967 a rural Texan named McKinley Nolan went AWOL in Vietnam and has not been seen since. Some say he took a Vietnamese wife and, sickened by American atrocities, went over to the other side. When a fellow veteran, Lt. Dan Smith, claims to have seen him in 2005, Nolan’s family is alerted and his brother Michael journeys to Vietnam with Smith. A voyage for answers stirs up dormant pain of more than four decades on both American and Asian sides. A masterful achievement that effortlessly tears at the heart while also reaffirming the notion that forgiveness is our only recourse.
The Kids Grow Up (Dir. Doug Block)
Watching a child leave home is never easy, but Doug Block seems to have been preparing fearfully for this moment since his daughter Lucinda’s birth, as evidenced by the extensive footage he has shot. Yet the Manhattanite continues to videotape his college-bound child, despite her protests. Block’s commentary is lackluster, but he is blessed with a wise wife and son who astutely, if mercilessly, analyze his cinematic motivations. The result is an unexpectedly affecting meditation on youth, age, and family ties.
The Singularity Is Near (Dir. Anthony Waller)
This fanciful mash-up of a film, part fiction, part documentary, suggests a near-future when computer-generated beings may well be considered individuals with rights. Waller plays loose and fast with the facts in service to his far-flung concept, the story enhanced by dazzling graphics. Featuring a parade of seers and hucksters, including self-help guru Tony Robbins, Alvin (Future Shock) Toffler, and lawyer Alan Dershowitz. The perfect computer geek date movie.
*William S. Burroughs: A Man Within (Dir. Yony Leyser)
Addict, homosexual, mystic, novelist. These are but a few of the facets displayed by Beat legend Burroughs. He would probably have a good phlegmy horselaugh, however, over Leyser’s fervent attempts to explain his inherent contradictions and the specifics of his indisputable legacy. The director calls on Patti Smith, John Waters, Iggy Pop, Amiri Baraka, Laurie Anderson, and Gus Van Sant for tributes, but their assessments bring to mind the six blind men describing the elephant: All have merit, but all differ substantially. Other interviewees, in an attempt to nail down Burroughs’s sexuality—straight or gay or bi?—offer cocktail psychology observations that are little more than self-inflicted Rorschachs. Ultimately, the value of this appropriately hyperactive film lies in the raucous, scattershot journey rather than the arrival at one purported destination.
