DOC NYC ’14: Bela Fleck How to Write a Banjo Concerto

Mozart wrote his first symphony at the precocious age of eight, but Béla Fleck would probably be most impressed by the fact he wrote it without the help of the Sibelius composition program. Of course, Mozart did not pen much for a banjo soloist, leaving the field open for Fleck. Fans will watch him wrestle long and hard with a high profile symphonic commission in Sascha Paladino & his banjo virtuoso brother’s Béla Fleck: How to Write a Banjo Concerto (trailer here), which screens during this year’s DOC NYC.

Fleck had previously co-written extended symphonic work with classical bassist Edgar Meyer and tabla player Zukir Hussain, but “The Impostor” would be his first solo composition. Basically, Fleck holes up during a few short sabbaticals, grinding it out with the help of Sibelius. For the most part, he tries to tune out the advice of Meyer, his classical “big brother” and his wife, clawhammer player Abigail Washburn. Frankly, the doc makes the composition part look easy. The hard part is going from Sibelius to a flesh and blood symphony orchestra.

It is interesting to watch Fleck tinker with the concerto based on feedback during rehearsals. We also see some of the informational interviews he conducted with the Nashville Symphony’s section principals. It seems like he was looking to incorporate the sort of things they like to play, which is probably a winning strategy to keep the orchestra on his side.

Yes, Fleck will feel the stress, with the premiere date fast approaching and the concerto not exactly set in stone. However, there are plenty of backstage documentaries that deliver far more emotional oomph (Every Little Step, for instance). Despite the presence of Fleck’s big name friends who periodically pop in to offer moral support, including Steve Martin, Marcus Roberts, the late Earl Scruggs (to whom the film is co-dedicated), and Chick Corea (who never once mentions Scientology), it is hard to see Concerto as a proper theatrical documentary. Rather, it has the vibe and heft of a free digital download bundled with his Deutsch Grammophon album.

If anyone in the film actually refers to the piece by its title, “The Impostor,” it sure is easy to miss. Regardless, Fleck & Paladino never sketch out the rudimentary narrative underpinning it. There just seems to be an assumption viewers are already fairly up to speed on major Fleck projects. Throughout Concerto, he seems likable and remarkably easy-going, all things considered, and only a fool would deny his dazzling technique. Nevertheless, the neurotic thoughts we see scribbled across the screen John Madden-style quickly become an annoying device.

As impressive as Fleck’s musical accomplishments are, Concerto is rather lightweight cinema. While nowhere near as hollow as Kevin Spacey’s recent vanity doc, it is still not as musically satisfying as Fleck and Paladino’s previous feature documentary, Throw Down Your Heart (after all, we hear more of “The Impostor” as played by Sibelius than the Nashville Symphony). Only recommended for die-hard Fleck fans, Béla Fleck: How to Write a Banjo Concerto screens this Thursday (11/20), as part of DOC NYC 2014, with the composer himself scheduled to attend.

DOC NYC ’14: Kasamayaki

Katsuji and Shigeko Kokubo are a lot like the Shinoharas in Cutie and the Boxer, except they gave up their ambitions of conquering the American art world and returned to Japan. When they did, somehow they left their twelve year old daughter Yuki behind. If you are wondering how that worked, their grown filmmaker daughter will ask them directly when she documents her post 3/11 return to Japan in Kasamayaki (trailer here), which screens during this year’s DOC NYC.

A stone’s throw from Fukushima, Kasama is a traditional rural artist colony, particularly known for its kasama-yaki style of pottery. At its finest, it approaches the sort of elegant and deceptively simple work the Ippodo Gallery often showcases. In recent years, the Kokubos largely support themselves through their pottery, but Katsuji had dreamed of making it as a painter.

Just what arrangements they made for their daughter when they slunk out of New York are never really explained. There is some vague talk about not wanting to take her out of school, but her mother clearly does not want to discuss it—and her father is just as obviously the junior partner when it comes to family decisions.

Frankly, Kasamayaki is a somewhat odd film, because it is outwardly quite placid and meditative, but there is a lot of emotional turmoil brewing below the surface. At times, the very act of filmmaking appears to be a deliberate strategy to keep Kokubo’s parents at arm’s length. However, those eager for some heartwarming Hallmark moments will at least get a bit of paternal rapprochement. There are also cats and dogs lazing all around the Kokubos’ converted farmhouse, which is always a plus for that audience.

Kasamayaki is much more about intimate family drama than documenting the realities of post-earthquake Fukushima, but there are a few telling time capsule moments, as when Kokubo’s father checks out one of the Geiger counters provided by the local government. Yet, despite it all, Kasama still looks like a lovely place to visit when seen through her lens.

Although small in scope, it is strangely absorbing, following in the tradition of intensely personal Japanese documentaries, represented by films like Mami Sunada’s Death of a Japanese Salesman and Yang Yonghi’s Dear Pyongyang. Recommended for those who appreciate Japanese pottery and the vérité aesthetic, Kasamyaki screens tomorrow (11/16) as part of DOC NYC 2014.

DOC NYC ’14: The Chaperone (short)

It is a lot like School House Rock, but with rampaging bikers and Kung Fu. It incorporates retro hand drawn animation, stop motion, live action martial arts sequences, and exploding papier-mâché heads. It is also a documentary. Fraser Munden and co-director Neil Rathbone pretty much have it all in their thirteen minute true-story smackdown The Chaperone (trailer here), which screens during this year’s DOC NYC.

Ralph Whims is a dedicated teacher and a natural bad-ass. To this day, he remains cult-famous in his Montreal neighborhood for the night he faced down a gang of bikers that crashed the youth social he was chaperoning. High and disorderly, the bikers were knowingly terrorizing the intimidated church kids, until Whims stepped up. He pretty much handled them Bruce Lee-style, but he got a timely assist from the DJ, Stefan Czernatowicz—and they have remained close friends ever since. It was the 1970s, this sort of thing happened back then.

Munden and Rathbone give an animated blow-by-blow of the encounter and its pretty awesome. They also throw in all kinds of weird interludes and asides, including close-ups of the bikers’ heads going poof. (It’s a symbolically rendered poof.)  They create a wildly funky vibe through the appropriately funky soundtrack, the early ‘70s period details, and the massively cool attitude. However, with his narration, Whims also offers some darned practical advice to anyone facing down a pack of thugs. He knew how to handle himself, that’s for sure.

Nostalgia is rarely as action-packed as it is here. Pound-for-pound, second-by-second, The Chaperone has to be the most wildly entertaining film screening at DOC NYC. Highly recommended for fans of animation, exploitation teen films, and afterschool specials, The Chaperone screens before Rubble Kings this Sunday evening (11/16).

DOC NYC ’14: Top Spin

Out of the eighty-eight total Olympic medals awarded for table tennis, China has won forty-seven and North Korea has won three, so do not expect the totalitarian-friendly IOC to drop the sport anytime soon. However, a young generation of players dream of winning the first American table tennis medal. Sara Newens & Mina T. Son follow three promising U.S. Olympic team hopefuls throughout the season leading up to the London Games in Top Spin (trailer here), which screens during this year’s DOC NYC.

Ariel Hsing and Lily Zhang both live in North California and play an aggressive, attacking style of table tennis. Women’s championships often come down to the two of them. Currently, Hsing is number one, but it is always a pitched battle. Long Island’s Michael Landers is also a leading contender, but the odds might be a bit longer for him to secure a spot on the Olympic team. All three have sacrificed much of the traditional high school experience to pursue glory in the games, but Zhang seems to do a better job balancing a social life with her arduous competition schedule.

Right, so don’t call it ping pong. Clearly, all three young athletes train like mad. Newens and Son give viewers a good sense of the physically demanding work they do, as well as the considerable mental preparation required. Of course, they do it all solely with the Olympics in mind, since there is no professional table tennis circuit to speak of in America.

Happily for Newens and Son, the leading contenders are also highly engaging screen presences. It seems like they were born to be interviewed by Bob Costas. Their parents are also frequently seen throughout the film, coming across unflaggingly supportive. According to the post-script, Hsing, Zhang, and Landers have all successfully transitioned to college life, so they obviously did something right. However, the film clearly implies the Zhangs gave greater priority to their daughter’s social development, which is a subject worthy of greater exploration.

Viewers definitely get a thorough understanding of the Olympic qualifying process from Top Spin, but it resists getting bogged down in micro-details. Frankly, the various ball-spin strategies remain utterly mysterious. However, Newens & Son were once again fortunate to have a relatively upbeat (if not necessarily Cinderella story) ending. Anyone who sees their documentary will follow table tennis at the 2016 Rio Games much more closely, looking for the return of familiar names to build on their London experience, which should make NBC delighted. Recommended for fans of the Olympics and scrappy underdogs, Top Spin screens this Saturday (11/15) as part of DOC NYC 2014.

DOC NYC ’14: When People Die They Sing Songs

Regina Gluckman survived the side of Casablanca we never see in the classic Michael Curtiz film. Although she and he husband escaped from occupied Belgium in the nick of time, they spent most of the war as prisoners of Vichy’s Camp Sidi Al Ayachi and Camp Bou Arfa. Obviously, she has important stories to tell, but age and time are stealing her capacity to articulate them. Olga Lvoff documents how music therapy helps Gluckman maintain connections to her daughter and their family history in the Oscar short-listed short documentary When People Die They Sing Songs (trailer here), which screens during this year’s DOC NYC.

Gluckman survived her long ordeal in the Moroccan camps. Her husband lived through it, but his psyche would be irreparably damaged. Sonia Gluckman hardy knew her father, but her relationship with her mother is long and complex. When her mother started showing the adverse effects of a stroke, Gluckman nursed her back to physical health, but was keenly aware of the time lost for documenting her survival story.

Recognizing the difficult realities for what they are, Gluckman discovers her mother’s regular music therapy sessions are one of the best ways to draw her out. Gluckman happily sings the French and Yiddish songs of her youth, as her therapist gamely accompanies on the fly. Time is not on their side, but at least she is able to get some meaningful answers from her mother.

Arguably, the Moroccan Vichy camps constitute an aspect of Holocaust history that has not been widely covered in film and literature, which alone makes WPDTSS a valuable film. Yet, perhaps its most moving sequence addresses their 9/11 experiences. Necessarily colored by prior family tragedies, it sort of brings matters full circle.

Nominated for a student Oscar, WPDTSS is a sensitive film that does not belabor its painful ironies. Typically, remembrance is the guiding principle of Holocaust documentaries, but it is becoming increasingly difficult act for Gluckman. Yet, unlike far too many members of her family, she survived to be plagued by the consequences of old age. Featuring a supportive but evocative soundtrack, Lvoff’s film has something to add to our understanding of history as well as the issues of aging. Respectfully recommended, When People Die They Sing Songs screens this Sunday (11/16) on a double bill with The Lion’s Mouth Opens, as part of DOC NYC 2014.

DOC NYC ’14: 9-Man

It is a lot like volleyball, but with more street smarts and tradition. You used find it played in traditional Chinatown neighborhoods and it still is in spirit. Ursula Liang chronicles a season of the scrappy amateur sporting league and explores its cultural legacy in 9-Man (trailer here), which screens during this year’s DOC NYC.

One hundred years ago, the American media was not exactly preoccupied with immigration reform and pathways to citizenship. Prohibitive restrictions were placed on Chinese immigration, particularly limiting the influx of women. As a result, expatriate Chinese communities were overwhelmingly male and largely segregated to Chinatown enclaves. 9-Man became an important social outlet within the neighborhood and facilitated friendships with teams from other cities through the annual championship tournament.

The tradition is carried on today by younger generations. Liang will follow the leaders of several teams, particularly the perennially contending Toronto Connex and the upstart Boston Knights. (Strangely though, New York teams are only mentioned in passing, which is downright bizarre, considering this is the universally acknowledged sports capital of the world.)

Liang briskly but comprehensively explains the history and rules of 9-Man: three more men on the floor than traditional volleyball, but no rotations and no jump serves. Here’s the potentially controversial part: six of those nine have to be 100% Chinese-American and the other three must be part Asian, strictly defined. It is their game, so they should be able to set whatever rules they wish. However, it is strange that they enforce purity at one end, but let San Francisco West Coast, a team of tournament-only professional volleyball players, come in and routinely win the championship, frustrating the passion-for-the-game amateurs who train together all season long.

Blacktop-style volleyball might not sound particularly engaging to non-fans, but Liang skillfully employs it a metaphor for traditional Chinese-American values of tradition, hard work, and dedication to family and community. There is some pointed social commentary as well, but Liang never belabors the issue. Audiences will pull for the sport to continue and thrive in general, if not necessarily for a specific team (that isn’t the West Coast ringers). Recommended for sports fanatics and viewers from any ethnic background who appreciate the immigrant experience, 9-Man screens this Saturday afternoon (11/15) as part of DOC NYC 2014.

DOC NYC ’14: Haunters

Everyone is scared of something. In magician Antony Gerard’s case, it is the fire marshal. That local busybody shut down Phobia House, his popular Kalamazoo haunted house, on what would have been their ten year anniversary. Determined not to let that happen again, the Gerard family moves Phobia House and the dozens of temp jobs it creates out of the Kalamazoo inspector’s jurisdiction. Anthony Morrison follows their rocky rebound season in Haunters, which screens as a midnight selection of the 2014 DOC NYC.

The year before last, Phobia House was ranked #1 amongst regional Michigan haunted houses. Then the nanny state killed everyone’s fun. The Gerards have built sort of a mini-empire, but Halloween is crunch time for phobia house, their latex mask molding business, and the Timid Rabbit, their magic and costume supply store. They think they have found a suitable space outside of town in a shuttered paintball range, but it will take time and money to convert it.

There is a lot of passion that goes into creating an attraction like Phobia House. For an economically depressed community like Kalamazoo, it also happens to be a welcome source of seasonal employment. Yet, many of the entitled millennials Gerard hires blow off the job days before Phobia House re-opens.

To his credit, Morrison never mocks or gawks at the Gerards. This is a film that respects hard work, especially when it is performed in zombie make-up. It certainly gives viewers an appreciation for haunting as a calling. Frankly, it seems there should be some sort of agreement barring reviews during the first few days of operation, much like a Broadway show, because there will inevitably be kinks to work out.

Morrison also gives viewers an up-close-and-personal perspective on the scaring process through his inspired use of night vision. Phobia House looks genuinely intense, maybe even a little sick, particularly when they add the unsettling special attraction of a woman hanging from her impaled hooks, as a sort of goth geek act.

Essentially, Haunters is a film about blue collar Americana and its mounting economic anxiety, but it comes with some very creepy visuals and a bit of insight into why we like to be scared. The title is a bit pedestrian though and might be confused with another Haunters documentary about the haunted house business, as well as the Abigail Breslin supernatural thriller Haunter or the Jacki Weaver horror film Haunt.

It is always nice to see hard work rewarded in the movies and Morrison’s Haunters is no exception. Recommended for fans of live haunted houses, Haunters screens a stroke before the witching hour this Saturday night (11/15) at the IFC Center, as part of this year’s DOC NYC.

DOC NYC ’14: David

There were at least three LPs and one movie inspired by the Synanon drug treatment center. Before Neal Hefti’s soundtrack album and a weird jazz-rock-chorale piece were waxed, a jazz combo consisting of Synanon patients released Sounds of Synanon, by far the best of the three. While it would launch the career of guitarist Joe Pass, trumpeter David Allan was the focus of a Drew Associates television documentary around the same time. Rarely seen since its 1961 broadcast, Gregory Shuker, D.A. Pennebaker & William Ray’s David screens as part DOC NYC’s tribute to Pennebaker.

In retrospect, it is strange to watch David for many reasons, particularly since its focus falls squarely on the now nearly forgotten Allan rather than the future superstar Pass. Of course, Allan’s surfer good looks probably made much more television sense at the time. Musically, Allan is also featured, sounding pretty good on “All Blues” during the opening and “Georgia on My Mind” (a somewhat ill-fitting thematic choice) over the closing credits. However, it is rather awkward to watch Allan frequently butt heads with Pass, when he really should have done his best to tie his wagon to the guitarist’s star.

Of course, Pennebaker and company’s intimate look inside Synanon is downright eerie, given its later scandals, including the attempted assassination of attorney Paul Morantz through the unlikely mechanism of a rattlesnake snuffed in his mailbox. We see founder Chuck Dederich still holding court before taking flight to Arizona as a fugitive from justice. In fact, his group encounter session with Allan appears to be a forerunner to the notoriously ruckus “Synanon Game,” in which patients tore into each where it would hurt the most, all in the name of therapy.

Given what we now know, it is easy to see warning signs throughout this scene. The insistence with which Dederich and fellow patients discourage visits from Allan’s wife and young child should have thrown up a red flag for viewers, looking dare we say “cultish” to contemporary eyes. In a way though, this demonstrates the merit of Pennebaker and Drew’s approach to documentary filmmaking. What happened, happened. We can see it just as clearly now as then, but the context we bring to it today is radically different.

David certainly makes viewers wonder whatever became of Allan. As a time capsule of early Synanon before it completely descended into bedlam and Pass before he became a mainstay for Pacific Jazz and Pablo Records, David is an enormously significant film that merits preservation on the National Film Registry. Pennebaker also documented another “if only” moment in jazz history when he recorded Dave Lambert’s unsuccessful audition for RCA with a prospective new group months before his accidental death. In fact, the two films would make quite a nice pairing at jazz and film festivals.

For now, anyone interested in the early 1960s Pacific Jazz scene should see David when it screens at DOC NYC, because it is likely to remain one of the scarcer obscurities in the Drew Associates catalog. Highly recommended as a fascinating jazz and cultural history curiosity, it screens this Sunday (11/16), with 2014 DOC NYC Lifetime Achievement honoree Pennebaker scheduled to attend.

DOC NYC ’14: Love and Terror on the Howling Plains of Nowhere

It is not easy to recruit a theoretical mathematician to a small college nestled in the middle of nowhere. You would think the administration and the police would be somewhat alarmed when said math professor turned up missing. However, many of Dr. Steven Haataja’s friends and colleagues were troubled by a perceived lack of urgency during the early days of his disappearance. The mystery only deepened further when Haataja’s body was discovered. The case became the central strand of Poe Ballantine’s eccentric true crime ode to his adopted home town. Inspired by Ballantine’s pseudo-memoir, Dave Jannette’s investigates Chadron, Nebraska’s most notorious missing person case in Love and Terror on the Howling Plains of Nowhere (trailer here), which screens as a Midnight selection of this year’s DOC NYC.

Theoretical math is a young, socially awkward man’s game, so the forty-six year old Haataja was already over the hill when he arrived at Chadron State College. They were still lucky to have someone with his qualifications. In his short time in Chadron, Haataja seemed to be making friends, despite a history of depression. Then one day he vanished. Months later, he was discovered, bound to a tree and unrecognizably burnt to death. Naturally, the Chadron police eventually determined it was suicide.

Yes, Haataja’s hands were apparently free, but it still just did not add up correctly for Ballantine. In the film’s centerpiece sequence, the author retraces Haataja’s alleged final steps under similar below-freezing, nocturnal conditions, finding it hard going, even without a recently mended broken hip. Unfortunately, there will be no definitive closure, just more questions. There is also an awful lot of Ballantine and his family, who are all quite pleasant, but often feel like a bit of a distraction from the existential mystery at hand. Still, Ballantine obviously feels a kinship with Haataja as outsiders who found an unlikely home in off-the-beaten-path Chadron.

Jannette constantly plays up Chadron’s idiosyncratic characters, including some who have no apparent connection to the case, but look suitably exotic on camera. There seems to be an effort to play to the Twin Peaks audience, while leaving some issues underdeveloped. Frankly, the material presented in Howling raises a red flag regarding known victims of depression who subsequently die under suspicious circumstances. How diligently are they investigated or are they commonly dismissed as suicides for the sake of convenience?

Although it would be quite a tangent to follow-up on, it is also rather disconcerting when a colleague explains his attempt to interest The Chronicle of Higher Education in the then missing Haataja was rebuffed because they constantly received similar reports of vanishing academics. You have to wonder just how many of them really do “turn up later.” Nonetheless, his use of the local newspaper’s Police Beat is undeniably funny and in its way, quite telling.

There is something about the Haataja case that is hard to shake off. It festers in the subconscious, crying out for a conclusive verdict, but remains maddeningly obscure. There is also a lot of anger in Howling that is not misplaced. Better as a true crime expose than an exploration of local color, Love and Terror on the Howling Plains of Nowhere is recommended on balance when it screens this Saturday night (11/15) as part of DOC NYC 2014.

DOC NYC ’14: The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness

For millions of animation fans, Studio Ghibli is like Disney without the weird cryogenic baggage. Year after year, Hayao Miyazaki and his team of animators have produced absolute classics that transcend genre. He has now apparently, by-and-large, for the most part, more-or-less retired, but Mami Sunada documented the master at work on his final masterwork, The Wind Rises. Sunada quietly observes the Studio Ghibli comings and goings, but still captures plenty of drama in The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness (trailer here), which screens during this year’s DOC NYC.

Studio Ghibli might only continue as a licensing company, but it ended its original productions on artistic high notes. Both Miyazaki’s The Wind Rises and Isao Takahata’s The Tale of the Princess Kaguya are extraordinarily accomplished capstones to their legendary careers. While Miyazaki’s farewell film was a monster hit at the Japanese box-office, Takahata’s was not. They were also supposed to be released simultaneously, but even at the start of Kingdom, everyone realizes that is highly unlikely to happen.

While there is plenty of pencil-sharpening and studious sketching going on in Kingdom, real conflict emerges between the venerable Miyazaki and the largely unseen Takahata, who gave Miya-san his start in the business decades ago at the Tohei studio. They share an awful lot of history together, but their working methods could not be further apart.

Somehow, as Sunada illustrates in detail, Miyazaki is able to put inspiration on a timetable, which you have to respect, because he made Spirited Away. In contrast, it happens when it happens for Takahata, which you have to respect, because he made Grave of the Fireflies—unless you happen to be Miyazaki. Even though Sunada observes events almost entirely from Miyazaki’s perspective, it is clear their relationship is very complicated. While the film consistently shows how comfortable Miyazaki is in his role as part studio task-master and part twinkly-eyed ambassador of goodwill, whenever Takahata’s delays are mentioned, he sounds like Seinfeld cursing “Newman.” Yet, with his next breath, he is likely to praise his former mentor’s past achievements.

That strange dynamic truly elevates Kingdom above yet another dry process doc, like Farocki’s Sauerbruch Hutton Architects. It also helps that director-editor-cinematographer Sunada is a legit filmmaker with an eye for the telling moment rather than an overawed fan cranking out a DVD extra. As when she chronicled her father’s final days in Death of a Japanese Salesman, she is quite sensitively attuned to the human drama that accompanies any sort of finality.

There are very few animated clips seen throughout Kingdom, which speaks highly of Sunada’s confidence in her subjects. It is justified. Miyazaki is a thoroughly engaging presence, as are longtime producer Ghibli producer-peacemaker Toshio Suzuki and Evangelion animator Hideaki Anno, who gave voice to The Wind Rises’ idealistic protagonist. Sunada documents some true cinema history, ultimately marking the end of an era. A fitting coda to a great career, The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness is recommended for all serious students of animation when it screens this Sunday morning (11/16) at the SVA Theatre, as part of DOC NYC 2014.

DOC NYC ’14: Miss Tibet

For ten years and counting, second and even third generation exiles have competed in a beauty pageant to represent a country they have never lived in. That nation is Tibet, still held captive by their Chinese Communist occupiers. Obviously, this is no ordinary beauty contest. While their numbers are small, their consciousness is high. Documentarian Norah Shapiro follows Tibetan-American Tenzin Khecheo as she competes for the tenth annual Miss Tibet crown in Miss Tibet: Beauty in Exile (trailer here), which screens during this year’s DOC NYC.

When most people think of Tibet, their mind’s eye pictures monasteries, temples, and snow-capped mountains—but glamor, no so much. Enterprising “impresario” Lobsang Wangyal set out to change that with the Miss Tibet pageant, envisioning it as a means of empowering young women and providing a focal point for national pride. Despite his obvious slickness, the pageant seems to be taking hold, even though there is often controversy surrounding the swimsuit competition.

Much of Exile explores that tension between tradition and modernizing influences through Khecheo’s eyes. Initially insecure about her rusty Tibetan, she dramatically reconnects with her cultural heritage. One of the cool aspects of the Miss Tibet contest is the extent to which Tibetan music, customs, and history are integrated into the program. However, there are problems with the pageant that will come to light, adding a note of unexpected ambivalence to the third act (but be assured, all of the contestants are clearly a credit to Tibet).

In contrast, there is no equivocating in Exile when it comes to the realities of China’s occupation. Shapiro’s historical context might come from an illustrated children’s book (quite an elegant one, really), but it is still right on the money. In fact, part of the impetus for the pageant in general and Khecheo’s personal participation is to raise international awareness, since conventional protests have produced no results to speak of. Let’s be honest, how much do you think Obama had to say about Tibet during the APEC summit in China?

Khecheo’s personal development arc and the cultural synthesis the pageant represents are all strong stuff that easily sustain the relatively short (a hair under seventy minutes) Exile. Yet, it raises issues of double standards that could have been explored further. At one point, we learn a previous Miss Tibet might have been allowed to compete in an international pageant, but China insisted “Miss Tibet, China” must have been emblazoned on her sash. She refused. You wonder how often that sort of thing happens. For instance, if a fictitious country like “Palestine” is allowed to submit films for best foreign language Oscar consideration, Tibet should have the same right. Yet, if they put Pema Tseden’s latest film into contention, would the Academy accept it or bow to Chinese pressure? How many other such instances might there be?

Regardless, Exile does what it does quite well. It follows a highly engaging and likable POV figure in Khecheo through a surprisingly dramatic journey. Perhaps most valuably, it offers a fuller, more diverse picture of Tibetan identity, while also providing a timely reminder of Tibet’s captive nation status. Highly recommended, Miss Tibet: Beauty in Exile screens this Sunday (11/16) and Monday (11/17) as part of DOC NYC 2014.

DOC NYC ’14: Every Last Child

It is a subject that the Taliban and Jenny McCarthy agree on. They both oppose vaccinations. Of course, the Taliban take it a bit further. In 2012, they declared war on the public health workers conducting Pakistan’s Polio vaccination campaign—and lo and behold, Polio contraction skyrocketed among Pakistani children. Threatened health official try to reverse the tide in Tom Roberts’ Every Last Child (trailer here), which screens during this year’s DOC NYC.

There is no excuse for the volume of Polio cases sweeping Pakistan, but there is an explanation. Claiming it sterilizes boys and hastens the maturation of girls, the Taliban launched a perverse misinformation campaign against the national Polio vaccination program, finding an all too receptive audience amid the drone-obsessed fundamentalist population. As a result, Pakistan became an incubator of Polio, spreading the water-borne disease to neighboring countries through contaminated rivers.

Roberts takes the observational approach throughout ELC, so he rarely challenges anyone directly. It would be nice to see him confront smug vaccination opponents with the fruits of their demagoguery, but he presumably wanted to live. However, he never shies away from documenting the catastrophic repercussions. We watch an anguished father taking his Polio-stricken son for physical therapy and witness the vaccination volunteer mourning her assassinated sister and niece.

There is no shortage of galling human tragedy in ELC, but some of the most compelling sequences capture the World Health Organization point man’s attempts at crisis management. In a mind-boggling turn of events, they decide to drop the “discredited” word Polio, re-branding their campaign “Justice for Health,” which might be a winning strategy, but represents a crime against syntax.

The Pakistani and NGO health workers are remarkably brave and dedicated, but it would be nice to hear just one of them state the obvious: Islamist ideology is dangerous to public health. Despite the hopeful conclusion, the underlying dogma that precipitated the crisis has not gone away. In a way, Roberts focuses on a particularly problematic symptom rather than the disease. Still, it is a timely reminder why all children should be vaccinated (that’s something we shouldn’t need in contemporary America, but apparently we do). Recommended on balance for those concerned about anti-vaccination hysteria, Every Last Child screens this Friday (11/14) as part of DOC NYC 2014.