Werner Herzog! In a cave! In 3-D!
Reviewed
Page One: A Year Inside the New York Times, Andrew Rossi
Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop, directed by Rodman Flender
Cave of Forgotten Dreams, directed by Werner Herzog
One of the great things about documentaries is that they don’t need to be great to be worthwhile. When a fiction film is mediocre, you resent having to sit through the same stale scenarios you’ve sat through a million times before, but when a doc is mediocre you still have the pleasure of seeing real people doing real things. You might regret that the filmmakers haven’t done justice to the subject, but you’re not likely to feel bored or disinterested.
This week brings a trio of new documentaries, and I’ll apply the same backhanded compliment to all three: they’re worthwhile. The one I was most looking forward to, Andrew Rossi’s Page One: A Year Inside the New York Times, is done no favours by its misleading title. We never really go “inside” the Times in the sense of meeting all the major figures there or learning about the in-house culture, the rivalries, the politics, etc. Instead, we get a look at just one small part of the paper: the media desk, which was created in 2008 to cover the rapidly changing journalism landscape. It’s fertile enough territory, but it means the movie is less about the Times and more about a couple of Times staffers’ attitudes toward the “crisis” in print media. And when you consider how thoroughly that crisis has been mulled over by pundits in the past few years, there aren’t many new insights to be had.
If the filmmakers can be said to be “inside” the Times at all, it’s more in the sense of being imbedded. By which I mean they gain valuable access to media desk editor Bruce Headlam and reporters David Carr, Tim Arango, and Brian Stetler, but they lose perspective. There’s no question the Times is a great newspaper, but whenever we hear anyone – usually a new-media type – criticize the way it does things, the filmmakers immediately cut to a Times staffer putting them in their place. And while it’s fun to see these old media “dinosaurs” get a little of their own back – I cherished a scene where crotchety Carr tells off a bunch of posturing Vice staffers – the overall impression given is that the Times is above reproach. (The Jayson Blair and Judith Miller scandals are mentioned but given short shrift, as if they were mere aberrations and not examples of systemic problems at the Gray Lady.)
I should note that my lack of enthusiasm for Page One might stem from my background – I’ve worked in newspapers and magazines, and thus nothing onscreen held much surprise for me. But I laughed in recognition a lot, particularly when Headlam greets Carr at 9 am with the oft-asked editor’s question, “What should I know before I listen to my messages?” Page One may not tell us all we want to know about the Times, but it gets the little details right.
Also more interesting for its details is Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop, which documents the former Tonight Show host’s 32-city “Legally Prohibited From Being Funny on Television” tour, which took place last year. As O’Brien himself admits, he embarked on the tour mostly so he’d have something to do during the six-month period in which he was banned from the airwaves by NBC – one of the stipulations of his $45-million settlement with the network after his very public termination. The tour was also O’Brien’s way of channelling his anger over the situation into something productive. Or something semi-productive anyway. One of the problems with Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop is that the touring show – or what we see of it, at least – is clearly not that inspired. (O’Brien all but admits this during the early days of the tour.) At best, it’s an amusing variety act for the sort of fan who’ll watch him do anything, even perform bland guitar versions of classic rock songs.
The backstage footage, in which O’Brien frets about the show and continues to fine-tune it with his staff of writers and assistants, is more interesting, but it’s neither as revealing nor as entertaining as the similar material in the recent Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work. While Rivers made spectacle out of her raging need to perform, O’Brien is more modest about his neediness. And there was more at stake for Rivers, who’s older and legitimately concerned about losing her audience. O’Brien may not have his show anymore, but he’s got $45-million, and there’s no reason to think he won’t find himself back on his feet again. (He already has a new TBS show.)
Ultimately, the most telling aspect of the film is the frequency with which O’Brien accepts backstage visits from fans and fellow celebrities. The film is studded with such visits, and though O’Brien claims to be exasperated by them and to want more private time, he’s incapable of turning anyone down. (On some nights he greets so many well-wishers that he risks blowing his voice out in advance of the show.) It’s unclear if O’Brien is pathologically accommodating or just a pathological performer, but whatever the case, you have to concede it: he really does seem unable to stop.
I’ve put off until last Werner Herzog’s 3-D spelunking doc Cave of Forgotten Dreams, not because it isn’t well done, but because I just don’t have much to say about it. I enjoyed it while watching it, and moments of it linger in the memory, but it’s easily the most impersonal film Herzog has ever done. Aside from a few classic Herzogian voiceovers about “proto-cinema” and “albino crocodiles looking back into an abyss of time,” it’s not that different from a 3-D IMAX nature film. Don’t get me wrong – on that level it’s superb. But I missed the deeply idiosyncratic quality he brought to The White Diamond and Grizzly Man and his many other nature epics.
Then again, who else but Herzog could manage to talk his way into France’s Chauvet Caves, home of the world’s oldest-known cave paintings? The French government rarely grants access to the site, so this is likely the only chance most of us will have to see it. Part of the deal for Herzog was that he had to use relatively small cameras (to fit through the squeezes) with low-lighting (so as not to harm the paintings), and he was forced to stay on a small, roped-off pathway, all of which limited the kinds of shots he could get. Considering the conditions, I can’t imagine anyone making a better film. And though the 3-D isn’t always eye-popping, it’s not just a gimmick – it allows us to feel the contours of the cave walls, and to see how the paintings build upon those contours. It’s the difference between seeing a print of a Van Gogh and seeing the real thing, where you can vary your perspective and observe the near-sculptural thickness of the paint.
I should note that Cave of Forgotten Dreams has already proved a huge hit in limited release. It’s grossed over $4-million, an astronomical sum for a documentary, and it’s far and away Herzog’s most profitable film. For the most part, I’m happy to see it succeed, but why is it always the case that a filmmaker’s least personal works become their biggest hits? It’s a wonder they don’t all just give up and become hacks for hire.
