HBO Documentary Films

Every F---ing Day of My Life

admin — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 18:17:00 +0000

Stark, appalling, and heartbreaking are all words that came to mind when I viewed Every F---ing Day of My Life. Every F---king Day of My Life depicts a woman’s last four days of freedom before being sentenced to ten years in prison for murdering her brutally abusive husband. The film, which follows Wendy Maldonado and her young sons, also bears witness to the resiliency of women and children who must survive within these dysfunctional unions.

The film opens with home video of a long-ago family outing, then cuts to the gut-wrenching 911 call that Wendy made the night she killed her husband, then cuts again to Wendy recounting her early days with her husband, Aaron. After marrying Aaron at age seventeen, Wendy, who is already aware of Aaron’s possessiveness, quickly realizes just how disturbed her young husband is. He becomes increasingly violent, frequently beating her and their four sons. Wendy endures the abuse for nineteen years before impulsively deciding to do away with her partner. She beats him to death with a hammer, caving his skull. Wendy’s eldest son, Randy, who participates solely out of a desire to protect his mother and younger brothers, is eventually charged and convicted of second-degree manslaughter.

Every F---ing Day of My Life serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of ignoring domestic violence. It is a documentary masterpiece due to its very simplicity; there are no voice-overs, no talking head interviews, no fancy cinematography to turn the film’s laser sharp focus away from its emotionally devastated subjects. Instead, the filmmaker cleverly intersperses home video footage (most of which was shot by Aaron) with the present-day activities in the Maldonado house.

As the Maldonados veer between a cheerful denial and a somber acceptance of their circumstances, they discuss the violence they endured at Aaron’s hands. The matter-of-fact, even jocular, tone the Maldonados use to discuss the unrelentingly cruel abuse is even more chilling than the crime scene photos presented at the beginning of the film. As Wendy shows off the only four teeth left in her upper jaw, exhibits the homemade artwork used to disguise the holes Aaron punched in the wall, and takes the film crew to the wooded “kill me” spot that Aaron regularly took her to, she makes an understated yet extraordinarily powerful statement about the chaos that intimate partner violence causes.

The extensive use of the home video footage highlights yet another reality about domestic violence: mainly, that it is perpetrated not by monsters, but by seemingly average men who are often careful not to let their true colors show to the outside world. As Aaron mugs for the camera, he appears almost freakishly normal. He doesn’t look like someone who would beat and terrorize his family for nearly two decades. Director Tommy Davis’ decision to use this footage is an excellent creative choice.

Every F---king Day of My Life also demonstrates how suffering prematurely ages people; as the film progresses, we see Wendy transform from an incandescently beautiful teenager to a worn, nearly haggard woman in early middle age. A teenage Randy, who is interviewed from county jail, also looks old beyond his years.

Every F---ing Day Of My Life should be required viewing for every teenager in America, as well as anyone who is likely to encounter a victim of domestic violence. This story could save lives.

** This film premieres on HBO December 14, 2009 at 10 p.m. ET/PT and will continue to _air throughout December.

Written by: Ebony Edwards-Ellis, December 13th 2009

The Jazz Baroness

admin — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 17:17:00 +0000

Directed by Hannah Rothschild

HBO Documentary Films

It is not difficult to be unconventional in the eyes of the world when your unconventionality is but the convention of your set. - William Somerset Maugham

The preceding quote could very well be used to describe the Baroness Pannonica ("Nica") Rothschild de Koenigswarter’s attitude toward her decidedly eccentric lifestyle. The Baroness is the subject of The Jazz Baroness, which premieres tonight at 8 p.m. ET/PT on HBO2. Written, directed, and produced by the Baroness’ great-niece, Hannah Rothschild, this film was originally conceived by the younger Rothschild as an attempt to understand her mysterious fish-out-of-water relative. What Hannah ended up doing was detailing the complex (and most likely unconsummated) twenty-eight-year relationship between Rothschild and jazz/bebop legend, Thelonious Monk.

The daughter of über-wealthy European Jews, Nica escaped from Nazi-occupied France with her five children. After supporting the Free French, Nica traveled to the United States and almost immediately immersed herself into the emerging bebop scene in New York City. She eventually became a beloved patron to musicians like Charlie “Birdman” Parker and Tommy Flanagan. She crossed paths with Monk, the musically gifted son of impoverished sharecroppers, and spent most of the next three decades at his side providing much needed emotional and financial support to the mentally ill and drug-addicted Monk.

Using a well-edited mix of photographs, archival footage of Monk’s performances, and letters from Nica (read by Helen Mirren), Hannah ends up presenting us with a keenly rendered portrait of two quirky people who, under most circumstances, never would have crossed paths, let alone become intimate friends. The film doesn’t over-sentimentalize its subjects. It doesn’t pass judgment on their sometimes unacceptable behavior either. The baby photo montage at the beginning of the film subtly contrasts the drastically different childhoods of the two friends while the reminiscences of their friends exposes the odd things the two had in common—mainly mentally ill fathers and domineering mothers.

I loved the cinematography; the film is filled with absolutely gorgeous shots of the New York City skyline and the bustling streets of midtown Manhattan. The blue/gray/sepia palette of the shots enhance the mournful jazz score. Combined, these elements give the viewer a feel for the seedy-glamorous world of 1950s bebop.

I also liked how the filmmaker skillfully placed the story of Nica and Thelonious within a wider historical context. Dealing with institutionalized prejudices like racism, sexism, and antisemitism most definitely intensified the bond between these two extraordinary people.

That’s not to say that The Jazz Baroness is a perfect film. I took issue with the fact that the talking head interviewees—Quincy Jones, Amiri Baraka, and Thelonious Monk, Jr. among them—were almost entirely men. This left me wondering what type of relationship Nica had with her female contemporaries, or if she even had any. I also wondered how Monk’s long-suffering wife Nellie fit into this dynamic. Although most of Monk’s friends claim Nellie loved Nica, I found myself wondering if Nellie harbored resentment, however well-concealed, toward the Baroness. But Hannah did not properly explore this aspect of the relationship.

All told, I was entertained and educated by The Jazz Baroness, which is no mean feat for a documentary.

Written by: Ebony Edwards-Ellis, November 25th 2009

Schmatta: From Rags to Riches to Rags

admin — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 17:09:00 +0000

Directed by Marc Levin

HBO Documentary Films

It has become cliche to tell the story of an American going from rags to riches based on their own impassioned journey using a unique and personal form of ingenuity and hard work, but we may be on the path toward establishing a new and unfortunate conventional wisdom that says it is just as common to go from rags to riches and then back to rags once again. It is this new economic reality that Schmatta: From Rags to Riches to Rags explores in ways that are both haunting and saddening. This bracing documentary speaks through the experiences of those in the midst of their own struggles. It asks if the American consumer is willing to continue the "race to the bottom" for the sake of bottomed-out bargains or if they are going to make their choices in the marketplace a powerful tool in the struggle for labor rights around the globe.

Marc Levin's masterful chronicling of the decline of the garment industry in New York City has several stories of challenges and progress that come full circle. One example is the documentary's grave portrayal of the consequences of employee exploitation. The Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire of 1921—in which hundreds of lives were lost after managers locked their employees in a crowded, unsafe high-rise—was repeated at the end of the century in Dhaka, Bangladesh. The sight of another company repeating the same senseless mistake with the same unnecessary and atrocious loss of life leaves the viewer with a conundrum of cynical proportions: with the decline of unions and authoritative regulatory structures to check global corporate power, what is the future of those that toil in a non-service industry? This is one of the most powerful aspects of the documentary because, through these stories, we witness the fact that while time may move inexorably forward in industry where people may, with time and due diligence, find fortune that lifts them out of poverty, the mainstream middle now find that time and due diligence are simply not enough to sustain wealth.

This acute sense of insecurity is not simply a long-building trend particular to the garment industry; it can also be found amongst manufacturing workers in America's Rust Belt, small farmers threatened by agribusiness, and factory workers in the South. They are the face of a middle class that is squeezed tighter and tighter by the year. Levin successfully pulls out of many stories a common thread that touches on how this singular struggling industry is emblematic of many sectors of the American economy.

** This film is currently airing on HBO**

Written by: Brandon Copeland, October 21st 2009

I'ma Be Me

admin — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 11:09:00 +0000

By Wanda Sykes

HBO Documentary Films

In her first HBO comedy special since 2006's Sick & Tired, Wanda Sykes’ I'ma Be Me promises from the outset that she is "not holding anything back." This is a promise she works assiduously to keep throughout the show. Sykes uses her acerbic wit to deliver gleanings on topics as disparate as the pervasive tendency toward conformity to the majority ethnicity ("white people are looking at you!") to the constant and imprudent demands of appetite ("Esther Roll and the love of bread and alcohol") to the odd prevalence of erectile dysfunction medications and the gender disparity indicated within the pharmaceutical industry, which Sykes presents as "proof men rule the world [because] when the dick breaks...it gets fixed fast."

Sykes is without a doubt a funny and unfailingly perceptive comedian, as my sore gut can attest., and I laughed quite frequently during the sixty-minute show. Even more so, Sykes is a keen observer of national affairs in the midst of change—a change so frenetic that, even when the mode of such change is within our grasp, we sometimes reel in equal parts wonder and shock at what we, a supposedly humble people, have achieved. Sykes speaks of the intense pressure on President Barack Obama not simply because he is "the man that has to rescue a country that was abused by its previous owner," but also in being a purported representative of all African Americans. She speaks to the difficulty of his being a mantle to carry the combined weight of an entire ethnic group's dignity. Sykes also points to the critical portrayal of the new Associate Justice's pride in being Puerto Rican during Sotomayor's confirmation hearings, finding that "the only time your race is not questioned is when you are a white man."

Besides such cutting and prescient political observations, what also makes I'ma Be Me so poignant for me—as someone who shares two qualities with Sykes: ethnicity and sexual orientation—were the windows she opened into her own recent life experiences. I sighed with her when she mentioned the bittersweet feeling of elation at Obama's election being tempered by disappointment at California's passage of Proposition 8. Her marriage to her wife Alex and the birth of twins were also mentioned, allowing another view into the truly beautiful and normal life of a same-sex household since many of the issues Wanda and Alex deal with are the same that John and Alice down the street will face.

Sykes is as incisive as she is clever. She allows us to laugh as we also explore not merely the current events of the nation, but the current events of this comedian. I, for one, eagerly anticipate the next chapter of both.

I'ma Be Me premieres Saturday, October 10th at 10PM ET/PT on HBO.

Written by: Brandon Copeland, October 9th 2009

Which Way Home

admin — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 11:57:00 +0000

Rebecca Cammisa

HBO Documentary Films

Which Way Home opens like many other films: reeds blowing in the wind, calming yet somehow unsettling music, a body being fished out of the water. If one were judging only from the opening scene, the documentary could have easily been mistaken for a gangster movie or a romance. Past the blowing wind, unfurling train tracks, and shots of muddy faces, Which Way Home failed to live up to my initial impression by getting a little lost, and losing its audience in the process.

From Central America to the U.S., both the plot and geography progress toward their goals of telling the story of male children who migrate from their homeland by riding a train they call “the beast” in order to make a better life for themselves. While Which Way Home follows a clear narrative progression, it insists on splitting your attention between too many characters, none of whom receive the attention they deserve.

A significant amount of time is spent with the boys’ mothers, the film’s only noteworthy adult characters. The mothers are neither sinners nor saints; they are merely tired and downtrodden women. The sons know their mothers work hard, and they want to see them happy, but not if it means the expense of their own happiness and freedom—so they take to the road to make lives of their own.

The mothers, for their part, are somewhat less cavalier about the voyage, but they allow their sons to chart their own courses. They receive notes upon departure and phone calls from the road. In return, most of the boys do not doubt the wisdom of their voyage. They know they are moving from the darkness into light, and that such quests come with costs—including that of their childhood.

Speaking before the screening Rebecca Cammisa, the film’s director, addressed the audience’s concerns of whether the children were able to provide “informed consent” to the documentarians. She replied that this is why they included the children’s mothers in the film. Had the mothers been able to provide for the children’s needs, there would be no subject to document. This raised further questions about whether Which Way Home is a paternalistic look at the topic and an imposition of outsiders’ values. If the children are better off on their own on their road, who are we to judge it? Particularly when their own parents seemed to let them go. And if the children are able to survive on their own, perhaps they are no longer children? At least not in the way you or I may conceive of childhood.

Which Way Home does not lend itself easily to interpretation. I would like to think this film could serve as an argument for rewarding women for the work they do being mothers. If we did, perhaps these women would have the chance to raise their children in better conditions; perhaps the sons would have the chance to remain children; but perhaps they would continue to ride their "beasts” to America regardless.

Written by: Elisheva Zakheim, August 24th 2009

Boy Interrupted

admin — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 17:59:00 +0000

Directed by Dana Perry

HBO Documentary Films

When I was fifteen years old, I tried to commit suicide by overdosing on sleeping pills. I had been taking an experimental prescription acne medication called Accutane, which caused my hormonal ups and downs to feel a thousand times more severe than they really were. In May of 2001, I downed thirty-two pills in my school's bathroom and, following medical treatment, was sent to a juvenile mental institution for a short period of time. Miraculously, the cloudiness I felt in every aspect of my life was eliminated once I realized I had hit rock bottom. I’ll never forget the experience of riding in the back of the ambulance, looking through the window, and for some ungodly reason, feeling okay for the first time in nearly a year. I laughed and cried happy tears as they put the IV needle into my arm and spoon fed me charcoal. The numbness went away and I wanted to live.

That was eight years ago and, thankfully, I’ve never felt that desperate since. But that doesn’t mean suicide hasn’t entered my mind on occasion. I don’t know if this is true for everyone, but once you’ve tried to end your own life, the idea of death isn’t as scary as it once was. It’s kind of like having an extra piece of weaponry at your disposal.

Evan Perry, the subject of Boy Interrupted, seems to have felt similarly. When he was also fifteen years old, Evan committed suicide by jumping from his bedroom in New York City. From a very early age, Evan was practically entranced by the idea of death and taking his own life. He was put on Prozac when he was five and spent a great deal of his young life in a psychologist’s office. Evan attempted suicide for the first time when he was in elementary school.

This gripping documentary was created by Evan’s parents, Dana and Hart Perry, who are professional filmmakers. They painstakingly trace their son’s demons from the point of his birth until the end of his life in 2005. The film has been well-received thus far and has garnered several awards and nominations, including one for best documentary at this year’s Sundance film festival. It premieres tomorrow, August 3rd at 9 p.m. EST on HBO.

When I first read about Boy Interrupted, I was worried the film would be either incredibly exploitive or apologetic. I wondered if Evan's parents were creating the documentary in order to settle accusations or suspicions, or as an attempt to paint themselves in a good light in a Lifetime-esque retelling. Thankfully, neither are the case.

Boy Interrupted plays as a bittersweet rendition and tribute to a person whose magnetic charm affected everyone around him. Evan was a talented, smart, and loved person during his lifetime, but his bi-polar disorder and various medications haunted him like he wanted to haunt life. His family, friends, therapists, doctors, and teachers all lend their hearts and honesty to this documentary by appearing on screen and talking about Evan. Through these interviews, as well as an abundance of home movie footage and photographs, we not only get to know Evan and his family, but we’re also asked to ponder the role of children in our society.

My favorite aspect of the documentary dealt primarily with Evan as a youngster. It seems as though Evan was born with the knowledge of his demise and, through all of the highs and lows, couldn’t veer from that path. We live in an era where child victimization is the norm. We like to think of kids as weak, whimpering little nymphs who are always in desperate need of saving. Boy Interrupted’s greatest strength, especially because it was created by his parents, is that it looks at Evan as a person, not a victim of circumstance, and looks at his demons straight in the eye. Certain people seem as though they are destined to lead lives of destruction. Of course the environment we grow up in influences that, but we’re also preordained with different personality traits and desires, no matter what happens to you when you leave the womb.

While watching the documentary, I often had tears streaming down my face because it brought back so many of the feelings I felt when I was in that suicidal state of mind. Evan may not be here anymore, but his parents have honored his memory in what I consider the best way possible. He may be gone, but this documentary will live on forever. I don’t know what would have happened to Evan if he had lived following his fatal attempt, but I can only vainly hope that he would have experienced the same moment of clarity I felt if he had.

If you or someone you know is considering suicide, please ask for help.

Written by: Sara Freeman, August 2nd 2009

Shouting Fire: Stories from the Edge of Free Speech

admin — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 02:23:00 +0000

By Liz Garbus

HBO Documentary Films

"I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." - Voltaire

Tonight at 9 p.m. (ET/PT) you should turn the channel to HBO to watch the television debut of Shouting Fire: Stories from the Edge of Free Speech, a documentary about the evolution of freedom of speech in America. At eighty minutes, this film by Emmy Award-winning director Liz Garbus packs an intellectual and emotional punch that is sure to stimulate conversation amongst its viewers, whatever their political leanings. The daughter of civil rights lawyer Martin Garbus, Liz made this film in order to explore the many ways our most fundamental of rights is under attack in the United States.

Beginning with the post-9/11 "patriotic" crackdown on free speech, Garbus makes the case that America is now in an era of Neo-McCarthyism. She walks us through some of the prominent and lesser-known cases in US history, including the ACLU's defense of neo-Nazi protest rallies in Skokie, IL in 1977 and Ward Churchill's termination from the University of Colorado-Boulder thirty years later. The way Garbus sees it, "Free speech is free speech. And free speech means protecting even the ideas you hate"—a sentiment that is repeated often throughout the film.

I appreciated Garbus' attempt to live up to her own ideals, as public figures of many stripes are widely represented in Shouting Fire. Twenty-two interviewees—including former Whitewater Independent Counsel Kenneth Star, gender historian and academic Joan Wallach Scott, United for Peace and Justice co-founder Leslie Cagan, and conservative writer David Horowitz—grapple with challenging questions of where the line should be drawn between academic integrity and academic freedom, when speech becomes a tool of oppressive marginalization, and are limits on speech necessary?

Perhaps because I was working in the New York City public schools at the time, I was particularly moved by the story of Debbie Almontaser, the founding principal of Khalil Gibran International Academy (KGIA), an English-Arabic public school in Brooklyn, New York. KGIA is one of sixty-eight dual language schools intended to assist new immigrants with assimilating to their new home and foster an appreciation for the study of Arabic language and culture. Just one month before the school was slated to open, Almontaser was forced to resign as a result of anti-Arab, anti-Muslim fire that was sparked by Rightwing group Stop the Madrassa, fanned by Fox News, and finally made into an inferno by New York Post journalist Chuck Bennett, who took Almontaser's solicited explanation of the word intifada vastly out of context in order to write a sensationalistic story. The injustice done to Almontaser is devastating, though completely legal according to free speech laws.

From the Pentagon Papers to the Patriot Act, freedom of speech is a complicated issue. Shouting Fire makes a compelling case for why, as Martin Garbus says, if you value the right to speak freely, you must fight for it every day.

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, June 29th 2009