Your Guide To Becoming A Docuphile: Hands On A Hard Body

Bear with me, docuphiles. We're about to dig really deep into documentary lore. Hands On A Hard Body was a documentary I had heard about for a while, but haven't had much luck in finding more about it. Originally filmed in 1997, it was out of print for a long time before finally being released on DVD last year. There's still only the docuphile elite few who know of it, and in the weirdest twist of events, inspired the incredibly short-lived show on Broadway last year, with music co-written by Trey Anastasio of Phish. Yes, you read that correctly.

At face value, the documentary is simply a story about people in a small Texas town trying to win a truck. The Longview, TX Nissan dealership has an annual contest in which people compete to win a hard-body truck by being the last one standing with one hand on the truck. It's a game of stamina, mental manipulation, and survival. It's also about The American Dream: if you want something enough, you'll get it. It's about a descent into madness, what happens to people when they go three, four, even five days without sleep. It's about people having an experience together and the bond it forms, even though its very existence depends on manipulating the others to lose.

It's easy for me, the sophisticated and well-read West Coast city woman, to see these people and stereotype them as southern hicks with nothing better to do, but that is not fair or not helpful when viewing this film. Sure, the nineties fashion aesthetic doesn't help things, but this is a simple documentary about people. There's no overall message or agenda by the filmmakers; it simply lets you get to know the people who enter this contest and what it means to them. There's the smug previous champion, the woman who relies on prayer, and the familiar archetypes of the underdog and the villain.

I was actually surprised how invested I was in who would win and how tense I actually felt towards the end. I don't know why, but there's just something so fascinating about watching ordinary people.

I do, however, regret not being able to see the musical. Perhaps some community theater will revive it?

Your Guide to Becoming a Docuphile: Evocateur: The Morton Downey Jr Movie

Evocateur chronicles the rise and fall of Morton Downey Jr., son of Hollywood royalty and the pioneer, if you will, of trash television. I am embarrassed to say, even as quite the pop culture scholar that I fancy myself, I did not know much about his talk show. I was only ten when the Morton Downey Jr. Show was in its heyday, which lasted about two years, a mere blip on our attention spans.

Evocateur is a documentary that is well-crafted enough that it is nearly impossible not to be intrigued. The film also does its due diligence with covering Downey Jr.'s upbringing and rise to fame.. As the son of a Hollywood legend and a close friend of the Kennedy family, Downey Jr. seemed to have a charmed life. However, we are led to believe that he was a troubled man, always trying to live up to his father's ideals, and trying to use fame to cure his incredible insecurities. This angle is not uncommon among celebrity profiles, but it is a bold move to create this as a thesis statement, considering Downey Jr. is no longer with us and can't say anything in his defense.

Downey Jr., or at least the one portrayed on his show, was a total asshole. He had guests on to discuss things, yet never had any intent on discussing anything. Inevitably, he would end up screaming in their faces and kicking them off the set. He was especially known to go head-to-head with Al Sharpton, especially during the time of the Tawana Brawley case, in which a young woman was found to have made false claims about her rape and torture. In the biggest example of irony even a high school freshman could point out, Downey Jr. concocted his own fabricated attack in a last attempt for attention and fame.

Evocateur not only lets the audience know about the psyche of a man, but gives us a glimpse into how "news" and "entertainment" have merged into one vapid blob that is hard to discern. Downey Jr.'s shouting matches with guests are often how so-called "news" programs illustrate how to have a discussion. In fact, Jerry Springer owes a lot to Morton Downey, Jr. Like him or not, Evocateur will certainly convince you that he was a lot more complex than he may have appeared.

Your Guide to Becoming a Docuphile: Two Docs About Two Fascinating Families

Each column, I recommend lesser-known documentaries that I stumble across or are suggested to me, tweet me your suggestions @robinhardwick. This week, I look at two HBO documentaries that deal with the endurance of familial bonds.

My Flesh And Blood (2003)
My Flesh And Blood chronicles a year in the life of the Tom family. Susan Tom is the adoptive mother of thirteen children with serious mental and/or physical disabilities. My cynical self expected Susan Tom to consider herself a martyr and a savior. Sure, it's admirable, but is it possible? Is she really helping these children?

Absolutely. Susan provides a loving home for these children, but she is also stern when she needs to be and sets boundaries when needed. She shares her hardships, fears, and self-perceived failures in her quest to mother, which makes her relatable and not on a pedestal. The film only features a few of the children, who are fascinating and of course, heartbreaking. Faith was burned in a fire as a baby and suffers disfigurement that will affect her for the rest of her life. Xenia was born without legs, and appears to be very well adjusted and comfortable with her body, excelling socially in her junior high and is able to joke about her condition. Albert has a rare skin condition that gives him severe infections and loss of limbs. Finally, Joe has cystic fibrosis and is not expected to live much longer, along with severe HDHD and behavioral problems.

What I admire the most about this documentary is not a parade of illnesses and abnormalities. It's about Susan Tom dealing with whatever issues come along with parenting these children, which is anything from invasive hospital visits to typical parenting woes. What the camera shows is a well-behaved, although rambunctious group of kids, mostly due to Susan's patience. Even more surprising is that several of the children still have contact and relationships with their birth parents, which Susan encourages.

The most intriguing character is Susan's biological daughter Margaret, who at birth had brain illness but has since thrived without any recurring issues. Margaret acts as the second caretaker of the family, sacrificing a normal teenager's life for the care of her family. Now attending a nearby college, her situation begins to weigh on her and she suffers a near breakdown. Susan, despite being the caretaker of so many troubled kids, doesn't comfort her in the way you'd expect.

The documentary only covers a very short time, and even though this is an uplifting documentary, the viewer can't help but wonder what the future holds; several of her children are likely to die young, and several will need constant care for the rest of their lives. I've done extensive searches for what has become of the members of the Tom family, and other than an appearance on Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, there is little information about their fate. Maybe it is better not knowing.


There's Something Wrong With Aunt Diane (2011)
Diane Schuler, loving mother, aunt, and respected community member, drove for two miles in the wrong direction on a freeway, colliding with a vehicle, killing her two children, three nieces, the three passengers of the other car, and herself. The children in the vehicle managed to call their parents, claiming that Aunt Diane was not acting like herself. I remember hearing about this story on the news and being haunted by what really happened in that car. The toxicology report indicated she was three times the legal alcohol blood level and had been smoking marijuana. Her husband adamantly denies that Diane used any substances; he maintains til this day that a mystery sudden illness caused the crash.

The filmmaker of There's Something Wrong With Aunt Diane offered to cover the costs of hiring an investigator and retesting the blood samples if they could film a documentary about her family. Diane's husband and sister in law agreed to go forward; Diane's sister and the mother of the three girls who were killed declined to appear.

I vacillated between thinking that this family was in complete denial of Diane's problem, to thinking there was no way in hell she was drinking, and that something else had gone wrong. How well do you really know someone, even being married to them for nine years? Diane's friends and family are interviewed, painting a picture of Diane that was ideal yet not complete. The frustration of not being able to know the truth, coupled with watching the surviving family struggle with their grief makes this not suitable for a light viewing. Even after watching I still don't know what I truly believe.

Your Guide To Becoming A Docuphile: A Band Called Death

The "punk" lifestyle and movement typically conjures up anger, rebellion, isolation, etc. However, the new documentary, A Band Called Death is about the world's nicest punk band, Death, formed by three brothers in Detroit in the early seventies. What other punk band has the support of their parents to play as loud as they want in an upstairs spare room, but only from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM? That isn't the only out-of-the-ordinary detail in the lives of the Hackney brothers documented in this film, which I have been eagerly anticipating ever since I heard Death's For The World To See album a few years ago. The documentary, out now in theaters and video on demand, can be enjoyed by anyone, regardless of your interest in punk music.

It's hard to even figure out where to start when talking about A Band Called Death. It's a film about music, religion, the importance of family, and a film about amazing consequences and fortuitous events. David, Bobby, and Dannis Hackney wanted to start a band in the early seventies and, being black, assumed that they would start a funk/soul band. After David saw The Who and Alice Cooper live, he convinced his brothers to play rock and roll. What emerged was the origin of the greats like The Ramones, The Stooges, MC5, and other punk-influenced bands. However, Death was doing this years before any of those bands did, but no one had heard them until 30 years later.

David Hackney, the leader and visionary of the band, had a very set vision for Death, which included a triumvirate of spiritual elements, represented by their triangle logo. Death's music got the attention of major labels with the one stipulation: they must change the name. David refused, and his brothers, despite their frustration, valued sticking with their brother over doing what the labels suggested. After numerous rejections merely because of their name, the Death concept was abandoned and the master tapes of their album were relegated to storage in an attic. Bobby and Dannis Hackney continued with music, finally forming a reggae band and putting death behind them.

Thirty-odd years later, the amazing journey of one of their record singles begins. A record collector foumd their single "Politicians In My Eyes" in a batch of used records, listened to it, was amazed at what he heard, told another major collector about it, who then posted about it on a popular message board. Suddenly everyone was on a mission to find an elusive Death single, and one appeared on eBay for eight hundred dollars. The single is transferred to mp3, played by punk music aficionados and at a party attended by Bobby Hackney's son, who never knew his father and uncles had a punk band. He begs his father to find the master tape, and the album is re-released to critical praise thirty-five years later.

As with any documentary that chronicles a time in the past, it can only rely on flashbacks from interviews. The surviving Hackney brothers (David died from lung cancer in 2000) and their families are so funny, emotional, and charismatic that I found myself not needing actual footage to relive the story. They seem generally so happy and at peace with life, it's hard to imagine them as a hardcore punk band. They are also delightfully "aw shucks" about their newfound fame, illustrated by a great moment and Bobby Hackney proclaims, generally surprised, "Why would anyone want to pay eight hundred dollars for that record? I would have just given him one."

This documentary is already rich with different parts of Death's story, and there is only so many elements it can cover, but it also leaves so many fascinating questions. Firstly, what was it like for these men to play a music genre associated with white artists in Detroit during the early seventies? What were people's reactions to that? Also, is this another case of something created by black artists, co-opted by white artists who then receive all the acclaim and fortune? Hard to say, since the music wasn't found until now, but the idea must have come up. I believe this film will bring Death even more attention than they already have had among music bloggers and record collectors, and perhaps these issues will come up in further discussions.

The surviving family members recall David Hackney as a genius, a visionary, who like many creative people, also struggles with depression and substance abuse. "Don't lose these tapes," he tells his brother Bobby after they get the master tapes back from the studio. "One day someone will come looking for them," and he couldn't have been more right.

Your Guide To Becoming A Docuphile: The Woman Who Wasn't There

Let's be honest. When you get to the core, everyone one of us wants a sense of belonging and purpose. Some people spend their lives trying to hone this purpose, while others will force themselves into a purpose. Tania Head is one of these people, in one of the most bizarre and heinous crimes of human manipulation, chronicled in the great documentary The Woman Who Wasn't There.

Tania, so she claims, was on the upper floor floor of the World Trade Center when the plane hit on 9/11. Holding tight to her arm, which was nearly severed from her body, she escaped down the eighty-some flights of stairs until she collapsed in the arms of a firefighter. Only nineteen people were rescued alive from the floors above where the plane hit. If that wasn't traumatic enough, Dave, her husband of one month, perished in the other tower.

Tania's story was inspiring to other survivors, and her charisma led her to become the head of the WTC Survivors' Network. The only problem, as if you couldn't guess from the title, was that she made it all up. She was never at the WTC. She didn't work at Merrill Lynch as she claimed. Dave was a real victim, but they never knew each other.

The film uses earlier footage of Tania talking about her survival story, footage and interviews from her former friends and fellow survivors, and clever use of illustrations to visualize Tania's story. What causes someone to do this? Was she so starved for attention that this was the only way she could get it? Was she just a manipulative sociopath? How did no one question her on her story? My guess is that in their immediate grief, none of the survivors were in a place to question another survivor, and Tania was able to hold up her rouse for quite a while.

The Woman Who Wasn't There provides all the background and exposition, but will leave you with the question of why someone would do this, and this wondering is part of the appeal of the film. I discussed this film with four of my friends who saw it, and we all had different, but equally plausible explanations of her motives. Playing on Netflix Instant, it's a great watch and a great conversation starter.

Your Guide To Becoming A Docuphile: It's Not Easy Being A Teen

This week's documentary recommendations include some lesser-known finds that highlight youth angst.

Dirty Girls

This seventeen-minute documentary has had an interesting shelf life: filmed by high school senior Michael Lucid in 1996 about some of his classmates. It's an instant retro-gasm for those of us that were teens in the nineties, and focuses on two sisters, Amber and Harper, dubbed the "dirty girls" by their classmates for "not washing their hair" and making riot girl zines. (Are you kidding? How can I be friends with these girls?) The film contains interviews with other classmates who detest and put down these girls, showing us that although the cliques have changed, high school will always be high school. Lucid does a fantastic job of capturing youth angst and the feel of being "different." The sisters are doing just fine and are still as awesome, as expected. The full film can be seen below.

Billy The Kid

Billy The Kid is a simple, subtle portrait of Billy, a fourteen-year-old rural kid with the mind of a thirty-five-year old. He has really great insights into life despite his short time in it so far. As you can imagine, having older, wiser thoughts doesn't exactly make you the most popular kid in school. Billy struggles to find his identity, maintain relationships with his single mother, dealing with a new found crush working at the family restaurant, and feeling alienated at school. Despite Billy's coming-of-age struggling, it's comforting to know that someday Billy will come into his own and be the next great author/artist/whatever he wants to be. But for now, you can't help rooting for the awkward kid who loves the band Kiss. The entire documentary is below.

Sexy Baby

Sexy Baby is a film about three women: a retired adult film star, a woman who is considering surgery to reduce the size of her labia, and a thirteen-year-old girl trying to grow up in an age where everything is sexualized. Winnifred, the thirteen-year old, is really the most fascinating element of the story. For a thirteen-year old, she's already got a great life: she lives in an artist's loft in New York City, she writes and performs her own one-act plays, and she's quite smart. However, the forces of social media still tend to make her feel like she is only as good as her sexual appeal. As her parents try to instill self-esteem in her and set her in the right mindset, they are still no match for her peers who are obsessed with what identity they are projecting to the outside world. It's bleak and disheartening, and the film heavily asserts that the impact of women's sexuality is demoralizing women everywhere. I can't say I fully agree and the film does leave out the notion that sexuality can also empower women, but young girls have a hard time ahead of them... but what era has that ever not been the case?

This documentary airs regularly on Showtime, but can also be seen on DVD.

Your Guide to Becoming a Docuphile: Paradise Lost

As with any art form, there are classics of the form that every student of the subject should know. It doesn't necessarily need to be a favorite, but it should be known as a benchmark to which compare all other art forms. For documentaries, there are such films that define documentary filmmaking. The Paradise Lost trilogy are such films.

True Crime is almost always a fascinating subject to document. There's the mindsets of the perpetrators, the lives of the victim, the chronicle of the trial, and the media reactions to include, which all contain their drama. Fictional Crime shows continually dominate the TV ratings. For the first film in the series, Paradise Lost, The Child Murders in the Robin Hood Hills (1996), filmmakers Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky couldn't have asked for a more compelling story; it was serendipitous to the filmmakers for finding such a story arc. They went in to film a trial of an already interesting case, and what they ended up with was better than any Emmy-winning show.

But first, some background. The town of West Memphis, Arkansas, is, unfortunately as you would imagine, not very progressive or cosmopolitan. Religion pervades the small town, any thought or form of expression that is different is not accepted, and much of the town is encased in poverty that seems to be the ultimate fate for many of the residents. One afternoon, the mutilated and abused bodies of three seven-year-old boys were found in the woods by a creek. This would be a huge undertaking for any police investigation in any town, but the understaffed, inexperienced police of this small town were in over their heads. The collection of evidence was rife with errors and carelessness; the investigation was spotty at best.

Your Guide To Becoming A Docuphile: Room 237 Is A Must-See

Each week, I'll cover the documentaries that are worth a view. Consider it a primer to be becoming a docuphile. I encourage you to leave your favorite documentaries in the comments or tweet at me at @robinhardwick. This week, films about films.

Room 237 (2012)

Room 237 is unlike any other film, much less documentary, I've seen. I can already tell you it will be on my top films of the year, if not of all time. Yes, I am willing to make that statement. Why am I so obsessed with this film? Because it validates my obsession with movies. Room 237 looks at one particular movie in the ways that I obsess over films. I'm not crazy after all!

Room 237 highlights five different theories about the film The Shining, ranging from its symbolism and cinematography (basic Film Theory 101) to "okay, I guess I can see that" theories about holocaust allegories, to batshit-crazy theories like Stanley Kubrick was using this film to tell the world that he had helped fake the Apollo moon landing footage. And honestly, by the end of the film, I was not sure I could totally refute that. The five "panelists" of the film do not appear on screen, but their theories are carefully illustrated with clips, diagrams, and scenes from other Kubrick films to further illustrate the panelists' thoughts. Even the simplest, most innocuous moments are scrutinized, from the workers in a background carrying chairs, to how the opening credits are placed, to the way that someone shakes someone else's hand.

Many of you already realized that Stanley Kubrick was a genius, so I apologize for not fully realizing this until I saw Room 237. In further reveal, I didn't totally love The Shining when I saw it the first time, which was actually only about a year ago (I know, I know! How can I call myself a cinephile?) but watching this made me appreciate the level of meticulous detail that goes into Kubrick's film making. (It's no wonder there are rumors that he was a nightmare to work with.)

If I could wish anything (aside from wishing for more wishes), I would wish that more films would get the Room 237 treatment. Film geeks love nothing more than obsessing over every detail of their favorite films, and it's nice when there are films produced that do that for us.

Not to mention that the film also has an amazing trailer that is an homage to one of the most memorable scenes of The Shining. The film will open in select cities starting this week, and I am confident it will be one of your best movie-going experiences of the year.

Your Guide To Becoming A Docuphile: There She Is

Each week, I'll cover the documentaries that are worth a view. Consider it a primer to be becoming a docuphile. I encourage you to leave your favorite documentaries in the comments or tweet at me at @robinhardwick. This week, I was lucky enough to have a chat with a real-life documentary filmmaker.

As I've begun my concerted effort to watch more documentaries, I've become more interested in the production and "behind the scenes" side. As an avid film fan for years, I've seen and read a lot about the production of mainstream films and of course, many of those rules are out the window when it comes to documentaries. Fewer full-length documentaries are produced than feature films, and the public demand for them is less (hopefully not for long).

Documentary shorts are even less acknowledged by the typical theater-going public, but are just as, if not more, compelling. I had the privilege of viewing the film There She Is, which profiles Allison and Jenny, two best friends competing in the 2011 American Beauties Plus Pageant. The film is about the women as they compete in the pageant as both a statement and a celebration of their body acceptance. Both yearn for full acceptance of women of all sizes and have full confidence in themselves.

However, the unfortunate reality is that they do live in a world where women's body sizes are so obsessed over and judged, they can't help but escape the constant reminders in their world about how they are viewed. These women are open in their insecurities, which include scared to be out of the house in full makeup and never finding acceptance from a potential romantic partner. Although the film is only 18 minutes, the viewer easily relates to and makes the connection with the women. A good documentary should transport you into the subject's full world, and to do that so quickly is a tribute to the talent of the filmmakers.



At first, I was surprised that Allison and Jenny would willingly participate in something like a "pageant" that mimics the demeaning "beauty contest" that pageants do represent, but for them, it's a way to reclaim what beauty is. They also enjoy makeup and dressing up, which at times is seen as a conflict with "empowered women," but why can't a woman be empowered and enjoy such things?

Co-director Emily Sheskin was also gracious enough to answer my questions about the process of producing documentaries:

Your Guide to Becoming a Docuphile: Paul Williams: Still Alive

Each week, I'll cover the documentaries that are worth a view. Consider it a primer to be becoming a docuphile. I encourage you to leave your favorite documentaries in the comments or tweet at me at @robinhardwick. This week, a filmmaker sets out to find his former childhood idol.

What: Paul Williams: Still Alive (2012)

Who: Paul Williams, superstar of the seventies, writer of iconic songs ("The Rainbow Connection," "The Way We Were") and filmmaker Stephen Kessler who idolized him as a child

What: Filmmaker Kessler wonders what became of his idol since he hadn't heard anything from him in over two decades

Why It's Intriguing: This isn't just a documentary about Paul Williams's career, it's the story of the filmmaker's quest to make the documentary, and the relationship he forges with Paul Williams in order to make the documentary.

This also answers the question: what happens to the famous after they are famous? Unfortunately (or fortunately?), there's a whole genre of reality television specifically for these has-beens. But some are happy in their retirement, lucky enough to get by on royalties, and are fine just living their lives.

Spoiler alert: this has a happy ending. Paul Williams is just fine. He's happily living in a nice house in Florida, enjoys a good Hawaiian shirt and relaxed-fit jeans. He can walk around every day without being recognized. However, there are some places (Winnipeg and the Phillipines, for instance) where he is a superstar, and a couple times a year he plays shows where fans will come from all over the world to meet him.

At first, he's reluctant to be on film or talk about his past. As the film moves on, it's because he's embarrassed for some of his behavior. At the height of his fame, he was seduced by drugs, and caused pain to his then-wife and children. Fortunately, he's now sixteen years sober, and dedicated most of his life as a drug and alcohol rehabilitation counselor.

Williams has made amends with his past, but he battles against talking about it. This doesn't make him cold; this makes him incredibly human. He's got his quirks; is that surprising for a man in his late sixties? One could say that Kessler is a narcissistic documentarian, making the film a lot about himself coming to terms with meeting his idol, and trying to have a breakthrough with Paul to get him to talk about his past. He even goes as far enough to try to convince him not to take a gig in the Phillipines because he is afraid of terrorism.

Paul Williams: Still Alive is not sensational, it's not an expose, it's a fairly even-keeled look at a very talented man whose work touched a lot of people, and for all it's worth, it's just nice to see a happy ending to fame.