William Kunstler: Disturbing the Universe: Grade C

C
William Kunstler: Disturbing the Universe (2009)

William Kunstler (historical footage). Directors: Emily and Sarah Kunstler.

This is an interesting biographical snapshot of a remarkable defense lawyer who was at the forefront of radical politics in the ‘60s and ‘70s. He defended gangsters, murderers and mobsters, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. He defended the inmates who revolted at Attica prison, members of the Chicago Seven, the Black Panthers, and the American Indian Movement at Wounded Knee. The biography is also therefore a review of troubled times in America, a time when many of us, like Kunstler, for the first time realized that the government was not “on our side,” but bent on self preservation and crushing dissent. That was a startling realization that spawned and sustained much social unrest.

Kunstler’s two daughters obviously tried to be sure the project was not simply a paean to their father nor a sentimental memoir. They succeeded in that. It is a reasonably balanced view of the man, his times, his accomplishments and failures, although not his motivation. The filmmakers claim to struggle, even now, to understand how their father could defend some very nasty people who were clearly not innocent. However, I simply do not believe that these educated, wealthy, articulate women are confused about that. It is quite obvious that the clients’ innocence or guilt had absolutely nothing to do with Kunstler’s choices, and this is true for any good defense attorney. What they defend is the legal system itself, by making it earn its legitimacy. The daughters’ alleged confusion about that is, in my view, just a dishonest patina added to the picture to dumb down the message, and maybe to inject some artificial mystery into what otherwise is a mildly interesting report.

Saturday Night Fever: Grade A

A
Saturday Night Fever (1977)
John Travolta, Karen Lynn Gorney; Director John Badham.

This glorification of the disco era is much better than I remembered it. The acting is remarkably good, directing is good, and the story has a lot more subtlety and sociological complexity than I remember. New York sets are rich and authentic. Travolta is king of the Brooklyn disco hall, often opposite partner and romantic interest Gorney. Disco dancing (of the Travolta-esque kind) looks contrived and silly, but the killer Bee Gees music makes it infectious nevertheless. I always liked disco music and was sorry to see it fade away. None did it better than the Bee Gees. This is definitely worth a repeat look.

Man on Wire: Grade B

B
Man on Wire (2008)
Philippe Petit. Director James Marsh

In 1974, Philippe Petit strung a tightrope between the two towers of the World Trade Center in New York City then walked out into the void. He spent 45 minutes out there, a quarter mile above the traffic, dancing, twirling, showing off. It was a worldwide news incident, as intended. When he finally came in, police snatched him up. He was charged with trespassing.

This documentary tells the story with some background from his youth and reports on his earlier wire-walks between the towers of Notre Dame and the towers of a bridge in Sydney. The story is told in convincing reenactments, archival news footage, and interviews with Petit and the friends who helped him. The story is only slightly interesting, though photography, editing and directing are excellent. Philippe is charming, as is his French-accented English. I would have liked a lot more information about the technical and financial aspects of the stunt. How is the wire made and anchored? What kind of slippers does he wear? Where does he fix his eyes while walking? What does he think about? How is the balance pole used? Who paid for all the equipment and airline flights? None of these questions is addressed. What's left is a report of an inconsequential media stunt from three decades ago.

At first, I wondered what kind of a nut Petit was. He would have made an excellent terrorist. But in the DVD extra interview with him, I became convinced that he is a genuine performance artist, deranged only to the extent any great artist must be. It might have been a better film to frame it more clearly as an inquiry into the soul of an artist rather than as a news report. But it is an engaging worthwhile hour of viewing.

Persepolis: Grade B

B
Persepolis (2007)
Chiara Mastroianni, Catherine Deneuve, Danielle Darrieux, Gabrielle Lopes; Co-writers & co-directors Vincent Paronnaud, Marjane Satrapi. (French, subtitled)

This animated feature is an autobiography of Satrapi, who grew up in Teheran during the Islamic revolution, survived the long war with Iraq, and finally left for good to escape the oppression of the modern theocracy. Apparently there is a graphic novel (comic book) of this story, upon which the movie is based. The animation style is unusual, using only flat black and white areas, no shading, with close foregrounds and far backgrounds in a sepia tone, giving the scenes just a bit of depth against the very high contrast figures. Nearly every shot is vignetted, reminding us that it is a memoir. The style is simple, but not simplistic, as there are plenty of interesting angles, silhouettes, and unique point of view shots, including some fantasy and dream-like sequences that are the most creative parts of the film. There are a few colored scenes to indicate the present, but since 99% of the film is memoir, most is in black and white.

Satrapi apparently felt that Iranian people are not known in the West, except as violent fanatics, so this movie intends to demonstrate that she is, and most Iranians are, just ordinary folks like everyone else. That sentiment is expressed in the movie. There is also national pride in the selection of the title, as Persepolis was the magnificent palace of emperors Darius and Xerxes, built near Teheran after 518 BCE.

Despite its 95 minute length, the story drags after the novelty wears off, as anybody’s life story other than one’s own always will. It is no more nor less than the banal story of a girl growing up, going to college in Vienna, returning after the war to the oppressive theocracy, then finally moving to France. Nothing special happens to her or her wealthy, comfortable family, and she remains politically naïve, so the film sheds little light on Iranian or international political or cultural history. However, the autobiography seems honest and heartfelt, and it is easy to become emotionally engaged with the Satrapi character.