solace in cinema : A vast wasteland of movies

It's difficult to write anything about Grizzly Man, without wanting to say "look forget it… I can't review this film and do it justice, so just go and fucking see it….trust me… it's amazing!" But we'll struggle on. The reason I think it is so hard to write a review of this film is because it's one of those rare movies (and even rarer documentaries) that's much greater than the sum of its parts.

It would be very easy to describe Grizzly Man as a 'found film', as a large portion of the footage was fimed by Timothy Treadwell himself (The Grizzly Man). That all the director, Werner Herzog, did was stick his name on the poster and insert some interviews with Timothy's slightly deranged friends and family.

This of course, is not true.

The film focuses on Timothy, a self-styled hero of the bears, and the thirteen summers he spent living in the wild; documenting, 'protecting' and cavorting with wild grizzly bears in Alaska. Herzog uses a slow and guiding hand to walk us through Treadwell's experiences. The tone of the film is handled expertly, at first giving the impression that Timothy was misunderstood and that living with the bears was not only a good idea, but of benefit to the world. By the end of the film, we've come to understand that Timothy needed the bears more than they needed him.

Treadwell would take all the footage he had shot over the summer and tour schools, give talks and presentations to school children completely free of charge. I'd love to know what he actually taught these kids, becuase the depth of his knowledge of bears and their habits in the wild appears to be minimal. He knows their migration patterns, but other than that his expertise doesn't seem to range much farther than him talking to bears like a child talks to puppies.

The film progresses guided by Herzog and his weird, slightly calming, German accent. It's really difficult to describe how Treadwell comes across on camera. A lot of the time he just seems really vulnerable. He's obviously happy in this environment, but you can't help but get the feeling it's because he was somehow damaged by his life back in civilization.

First some background: Your host for this site, Tom, is often a reliable source of information relating to film. So I find myself asking him, from time to time, to recommend something for the weekend. With the recent Oscars still fresh in our minds we got onto the subject of great movies that missed out on Oscar nominations. Young Tom suggests ‘A History of Violence’ was a terrific film that should have been in contention for an Oscar. As you may well imagine, I was excited. Roll on the weekend I thought… And so it came, the day I hired…A History of violence.

I remember it like it was only a few weeks ago. Picking up the cover at my local Blockbuster. ‘Brilliant!’ I thought, ‘They have it in stock!’ I purchased my popcorn and left happy in the knowledge that on this night I would be watching Oscar quality product.

Well Tom, I watched the film, I really did. I was speechless, what can I say…

I know what I can say, what a fucking load of old pony. My time would have been better spent that night inserting inanimate heavy objects up my own rectum. I would rather have shit on my own hand than to have watched that totally average, overacted, underscripted, didn’t know what kind of film it wanted to be, rip-off pile of stinky turtle shite.
OK, to be fair, the first few minutes were ok, you know all the trailers and stuff you get on those rental DVD’s, but that’s about it.

Here are the FACTs:

1. Superkiller-man has superkiller-man-semen! His son is a scrawny nerd, BUT DON’T MAKE HIM MAD, oh no! Out of nowhere this little prick turns into a superhero and starts beating the shit out of the school bullies!!! What? And to make it worse TOM thinks this is some kind of intelligent perspective on how growing up with a violent father can damage a child!!! WHAT? My dad can kick arse so I have superhuman strength…yawn.

2. Is this film an intelligent look at life and violence? It’s effects on a family? Regret? Or is it a black-comedy in the vein of Pulp Fiction? Or maybe a very poor attempt at one and then an even poorer reflection of the other.