When reviewing a documentary like this,
you just have to take the inside baseball approach. I know I have seen Bob Hawk
at Sundance, but I’ve never spoken with him. I’m pretty sure he stands in the
express line, while I’m in the general press/SIO queue. I’m not complaining,
because it is easier to talk to the wonderfully cool volunteers that way—and generally
my press colleagues are a pleasant lot. I wasn’t shut out of a single P&I screening
I targeted this year, so the system worked great for me. Regardless, Hawk gets
the short line and he’s certainly earned it. JJ Garvine & Tai Parquet
profile the indie film insider in Film
Hawk, which
screens during the 2016 Sundance Film Festival.
Although Hawk has a fair number of
producer credits and has recently directed a short film, he is best known as a
film consultant. If you want to get your film into Sundance and then sell it to
a specialty distributor for several million dollars, Hawk can help you develop
a strategy, if he likes what you’ve done. He is probably most “famous” for
launching Kevin Smith’s Clerks and
Edward Burns’ The Brothers McMullen, and
their careers along with them. The success of those two films really represent
the glory days of the indie scene.
On the other hand, that sort of means we
can indirectly blame Hawk for Tusk, Red
State, and Cop Out, but let’s
stay positive. In fact, Smith’s heartfelt reminiscences are the emotional backbone
of the doc. Their relationship is obviously special, but plenty of other
filmmakers also pay tribute to the confidante-strategist, including Burns,
Barbara Hammer, Ira Sachs, Scott McGehee & David Siegel, and Kimberly Reed,
whose personally revealing documentary Prodigal Sons Hawk executive produced.
Ironically, Hawk has not exactly enriched
himself with his king-making work. The film consultant will not allow Garvine
& Parquet access to his Manhattan apartment, but he makes it pretty clear
it is alarmingly Spartan. Frankly, one of the best scenes in Film Hawk is a production meeting
between subject and co-directors in which he sets up that boundary. Watching
the old pro shape his own documentary is strangely fascinating. He is also
unusually candid discussing his past struggles with suicidal depression. Still,
there are too many scenes of Hawk the raconteur, regaling his tablemates at Elaine’s
or wherever.
Garvine & Parquet probably get as much
from Hawk as anyone could, but their production values leave much to be
desired. The undignified soundtrack that sounds like it was mostly recorded on
a cheesy Casio synthesizer is particularly embarrassing. That might come across
as rather harsh, but if the filmmakers want to commission a richer, more
professional soundtrack, I can refer them to some wildly talented jazz
musician-composers, who could probably whip up something truly distinctive.