As a fan of documentaries, I’ve become fairly well acquainted with the various styles found in the genre. One of the less-discussed styles that greatly intrigues me is non-narrative docs/nonfiction films - particularly those that lack any sort of narration whatsoever.
The first time I saw this sort of thing was back in middle school, when our music teacher showed us some clips from Godfrey Reggio’s Koyaanisqatsi (we watched it in music class because of its remarkable score by Philip Glass). And as a middle school kid, of course I found it to be the most boring thing I’d ever seen. After that experience I stayed away from the genre until I found Ron Fricke’s 1992 film Baraka a few years later.
Baraka opened the door for me to the world of non-verbal film. It is a movie shot in 25 different countries on 6 different continents, and it completely avoids the use of dialogue, narration, and narrative. It is comprised of footage of people, nature, vehicles, infrastructure, etc. over a beautiful score. Regarding the film, producer Mark Magidson said “[the goal] was to reach past language, nationality, religion and politics and speak to the inner viewer.”
Baraka is remarkably captivating, yet in a different way from most films. There is no story to become invested in, or characters you get to know. However the cinematography is absolutely gorgeous, and the film keeps your interest by providing vastly different aesthetics as locations change. Here is an example, in a particularly depressing scene:
The film was shot in 70mm and later scanned at a ridiculous 8k for their 2008 blu-ray remaster. Even though I (or pretty much anyone, for that matter) am not getting anywhere near that resolution on my TV, it still looks absurdly good and it's certainly one of the best blu-ray film restorations I've seen. Take a look at the original trailer vs. a re-cut trailer with the restored footage:
I highly suggest checking out the Baraka blu-ray, it's good stuff. A sequel to Baraka called Samsara was released a few years ago, and it is equally as stunning.
The documentary takes many forms. Some talk about the past to make commentary on the here and now. Others digest contemporary events, aiming to prevent the unsavory future these events suggest. Some docs, like those of Morgan Spurlock or Michael Moore, center around the filmmaker's personality as they interact with subjects on camera and make each investigation a personal matter. Alternatively, others, like Our Nixon or The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975, consist almost entirely of vintage video clips, making what's generally relegated to dusty history books fresh again, while the filmmaker and the present day recede in importance. From the complex, interview-driven stories documented by Errol Morris to the poetic meditations of Werner Herzog, the documentary sports a wide variety of approaches to the medium and they all have the capacity to be done well.
Personally, I feel the most interesting of these is the avant-garde or experimental documentary. Often featuring little to no dialogue, these films rely on imagery and montage to create visual tapestries of a place/environment, a culture or an experience. In my eyes, this represents the documentary in its purest form. Uncensored observation meets expressive organization. Of course, these films don't always hit the mark (Take General Orders No. 9, for instance. While a nice idea, the film was a misjudged, overly-prosaic exercise in navel-gazing, in my opinion). However, when they do find the right balance, something transcendent can be achieved and I'd like to take this opportunity to highlight three of my favorite examples.
MAN WITH THE MOVIE CAMERA
Dziga Vertov's Man with the Movie Camera was one of my earliest encounters with experimental film. Just as the title suggests, the picture follows a man with a movie camera as he travels throughout a city, documenting the many events that take place there over the course of a day. Inside, outside, on busy street corners or at the beach, there is nowhere his camera cannot go. More than just a spectacular extended montage capturing the rhythms of urban life in late-1920's Russia (the Soviet Union, then) it was a grand demonstration of what film can do...what it can see and where can it go. This wasn't the first film to bring the medium's power to the spotlight, but it was a startling accomplishment nonetheless. Widely known and written about over the 85 years since its release, there's isn't much of anything new I can add to the discussion, but in closing, it's worth noting that it set the stage for another comprehensive masterwork...
KOYAANISQATSI
It's fitting that Godfrey Reggio's Koyaanisqatsi should follow Man with the Movie Camera in my discussion, because it is basically Vertov's film, circa 1982 (or maybe 1975, because that's when production started). This is a gross simplification, though, because it definitely distinguishes itself and there's a lot going on, philosophically in Reggio's film. It's less than 90 minutes, and yet, it feels gargantuan in scope. It's morbid and apocalyptic, but also vibrant and full of energy. It takes a bird's eye view of the cities and the deserts, but routinely returns to ground level to observe the people in their varied uniforms and social statuses. In the Hopi language, the title means "Life Out of Balance" and the film explores this concept. Beginning in the natural environment, it soon transitions into the urban world, where the cacophony and rapid pace of modern life is on display. The film thrives on visual juxtapositions. City layouts and highway strips resemble circuit boards and massive housing projects, once shown as formidable and impressive are demolished one by one. Technology is on the rise and artificial constructs are taking over and this neglect of the natural world, this rapid secession from our roots has led to a deceptively normalized chaos and disorder that has already begun to alter who we are. Koyaanisqatsi is stunning and a one of a kind experience.
LEVIATHAN
Released only last year, Lucien Castaing-Taylor and Verena Paravel's Leviathan proudlycontinues the tradition of the non-verbal experimental documentary, incorporating several nuanced touches in the process. Simply put, it is one of the most unique audiovisual experiences out there. Set on a fishing trawler in the North Atlantic, somewhere off the coast of Massachusetts, the film is as immersive as it gets, placing fisheye cameras along the side of the boat, in the water with the net and on the main deck with the fishermen, as well as their eviscerated catch. There is a complete lack of talking-head interviews or voice over commentary. The images speak for themselves...and they speak volumes. Non-distinct soundscapes and inky, unnerving visuals cause the film to take on a surreal quality (that absence of voices to give the viewer a sense of comfort adds to this as well). The boat gradually becomes like a living being (perhaps the sea monster "Leviathan" of the title), a shuddering, groaning behemoth with the fisherman acting as its silent, downtrodden servants, endlessly repeating a series of routine motions and mundane tasks.
I would describe the entire experience of watching the film as: riding a mechanical monster through the sinister waters of an alien planet on which no dry land exists. No part of the film is fantasy, but that odd sense of mythologizing and the notion of creating a surreal narrative out of real life footage works its way into every aspect of Leviathan, from the otherworldly glow of the debris in the underwater sequences, to the way the nets look and sound when lowered into the waters at night (like a lengthy, metallic tongue) to the way the birds are shot (an intense low-angle shot bobbing up and down in the sea, as the creatures glide along just above and occasionally dive violently into the water, hunting for what treasures the trawler has excreted). The sea takes a toll on the people, the ship takes a toll on the beings of the sea and the aesthetics of the film emphasize this mutual harshness. Many will find it tedious, but as far as I'm concerned, it's one of the most impressive documentaries of the last decade.
If it's not already obvious from the write-ups, all three of these films come highly recommended from me. Experimental documentaries have the unique opportunity to engage with audiences on both a visceral and intellectual level and they must be celebrated for this reason. It's important to note that they do not necessarily stand above all others, though (as my use of "pure" maybe alluded to earlier). Hoop Dreams is ambitious and heartbreaking, Grizzly Man is a fascinating character study and Grey Gardens is compellingly voyeuristic. All of these films are brilliant, but none of them stayed with me quite like Man with the Movie Camera, Koyaanisqatsi and Leviathan have...
...and I think there's something to be said about that.
Time lapse photography. I am fascinated with it. When we talked about Koyaanisqatsi (and a couple of other related films that I can't remember right now), I immediately thought of a project that I saw on Vimeo a couple of years ago, TimeScapes...
When I purchased my first DSLR, I researched a bunch of different tricks I could do with it. I naturally went to Vimeo where I stumbled across the profile of award-winning cinematographer Tom Lowe. His focus was nature, and his work was some of the most beautiful I have ever seen. He soon embarked on a journey across the American southwest to record some of the most beautiful landscapes and cultures on Earth.
Released a few months ago, TimeScapes is the first 4K film to be sold to the public. While I have not seen it yet, it looks gorgeous (I really want to see it, but am waiting for some cash so can purchase the Bluray version... damn being a poor college kid). From all of the trailers, I can gauge a few things: the night sky is freaking beautiful, I want a RED camera, time lapses are even cooler when on a moving rig, and there is no need for a narrative to make a film work.
Non-narrative films are things that I am starting to enjoy. As I grow up, I appreciate art more and more. These films are as much art as they are entertainment. With my camera and remote shutter/timer, I hope to someday create something 1/100th as creative as TimeScapes.
Check out one of the many awesome trailers for TimeScapes below. And for more information on the film, check it out here.
