The Self Conscious Documentary

This weekend, I saw the thought-provoking documentary My Kid Could Paint That. The movie could've been a straight-forward presentation of the story of Marla Olmstead, a 4 yr old whose paintings sell for several thousand dollars. That subject alone is enough to get people talking for hours. Instead, the documentary turned into a story about the manipulative nature of non-fiction narratives. In fact, there were odd parallels between this movie and The Insider: both films centered on one story but gradually became about the coverage of the story, in particular the coverage provided by 60 Minutes. In The Insider, the producers of 60 Minutes are portrayed as objective heroes fighting big network honchos who are in the pockets of corporations while MKCPT portrays them as spin-meisters who are so intent on making a compelling story that they don't mind ruining the career of a young artist.

Things get really interesting towards the end of MKCPT when the documentarian includes himself as one more person profiting from presenting a certain, inevitably distorted version of the events surrounding Marla's rapid rise to prominence. In this respect, it reminded me of Some Kind of Monster, the oddly entertaining documentary about Metallica and their relationship with psychologist Phil Towle. In both cases, the audience gets to sit back, analyze, pass judgment, and laugh at the subjects of the documentary. Then, suddenly, shockingly, the subjects talk back, accusing the filmmakers of profiting from their real emotional turmoil. The audience feels implicated, too. I'm sure there are other instances of this mini-genre in which documentary makers acknowledge their own construction of reality.

In MKCPT, New York times art critic Michael Kimmelman articulates a point that I'd been trying to make for awhile: there's something manipulative and deceptive about all documentaries (in fact, Kimmelman quotes someone who says that even all photos are an assault on the subjects). Kimmelman says that there might be a real physical event that takes place, but in the retelling of that event, things must be left out, thereby skewing the depiction in a certain way. I suppose you could give a viewer a lot of raw footage and allow them to construct their version of an event, but no matter what, the viewer's version of reality is limited by an intermediary (the documentarian).

We may laugh at aboriginal people who refuse to have their picture taken b/c they believe that the photographer is stealing their soul, but I'm beginning to think that they might have it right. Once you begin to tell another person's story, you're using their existence and their actions for your own ends. As soon as the camera starts rolling, the subject lends some authenticity to the person behind the camera who may then make claims about who the subject is. Its a power balance that is all around us, given the number of camera phones and online photos and videos.

At the center of this particular documentary is the controversy over whether or not Marla's parents helped her paint. The evidence that is used to refute that claim is a DVD recording of Marla creating a painting, unassisted. The message of the film is clear: film is the ultimate evidence. The documentary is also looked upon by many as evidence. It casts itself as getting "the real scoop" behind the smear campaign that 60 Minutes launched against Marla, but ultimately, the documentary maker realizes that the mere fact that he is editing, that he is telling a story about someone else and is profiting from how compelling the drama is (and all good drama needs conflict, heroes, and villains), puts him on the same level as 60 Minutes.

In a wonderfully revealing moment near the end of the film, the mother, after beginning to cry about the fact that she had let so many people use her daughter for their stories, says exactly what I was thinking: "documentary gold." Tears are documentary gold, and its good that the documentary maker is able to recognize that and leave it in the movie. Does that let him off the hook? I was surprised to read that A.O. Scott thinks it does not let him off the hook.

Really, there are degrees of manipulation. The fact that a good chunk of the film emphasized the the turmoil in Marla's family, instead of the heady questions raised about the nature of art, is what made it something worth apologizing for.

Entertain Yourselves

It seems that the WGA is going on strike. So what?

Frankly, I possess a weak understanding of the economics of the entertainment industry, but from what I've been able to observe, financiers, producers, writers, and actors all assume that profits will keep growing at a steady rate as the economy in general grows. If the growth stops, there's something wrong. But isn't it possible that DVD sales could keep going up for a period as people built their libraries, and then plateau? If this is the case, then slowing growth isn't anything to get alarmed about. Besides, can't they just make cheaper pictures?

As far as TV goes, maybe people don't watch as much TV as they used to. Maybe people go online for entertainment. Anything could be used as a substitute for TV, from social networking sites to YouTube to craigslist to message boards. Reality TV substitutes for scripted TV. So, what exactly do we need unionized writers for? What do we need producers for? What do we need studios for? If anyone can pick up a camera, create, promote, and distribute a movie or a show, what do we need Hollywood for?

Of course, most people will point out that most online content sucks compared to Hollywood fare, and also point out that as major Hollywood studios produce content for the web, there's not much of a distinction between old media and new media. What I don't get is the collective bargaining approach to making entertainment. If you make something that Joe Blow would have a tough time making - say, an automobile - then you can go on strike and the corporation that employs you as well as the public will have a tough time replacing you. But if you make entertainment, then couldn't people very easily find a substitute for you?

We could make like most other industries and offshore it, get content from overseas. Would it really be so bad if we watched foreign films that were subtitled for a year, or a decade? Would the world or this culture or our economy really be that worse off? Basically, our culture can be divided into two camps - those who will watch material from overseas, and those who watch a lot of reality programming and/or repeats of old shows. New scripted American content needn't figure into the equation.

The logic of a strike implies that there's something exclusive or superior to what Hollywood creates. Hollywood created "superior" fare in part b/c of the tightly-knit social network of nepotism and reputation that keeps things running relatively smoothly. They also had a monopoly on equipment, sets, and funding. But now, everybody else can get in on the entertainment game. More importantly, everyone can form and maintain the social networks needed to produce the collaborative arts of film and TV.

Hollywood's promotional muscle is overrated. Big advertising budgets are capable of spiking the sales of a product at first, but the quality of the product determines its long-term profitability in the long-tail economy. Initial promotion matters with products that require constant streams of funding to be produced, like material objects or a high-budget TV series with unionized workers. It doesn't matter with a low-budget 30 ep web series that catches on via word of mouth or based on the existing reputation of the artists involved.

Producers, studios, and big-name stars had writers over a barrel for decades. Ultimately, this might teach them that its the whole system that isn't needed by the public. What people really want is a good story, drama, characters they can relate to. Individuals (be they producers, writers, directors, actors) who can create those stories will always be of value. To me, this all seems like what the music industry went through post-Napster. Their economic models predict growth, but that's just b/c they assumed an exclusivity that no longer exists. Inflexible unions and collective bargaining are relics of a less open marketplace. This is a golden opportunity for non-unionized entertainers (i.e. everyone with a camera, a laptop, and an ego) to become semi-famous, make a few bucks, and have some fun.

Most Favorite Media Vs. Most Popular Media

One of the many things I love about YouTube is the function that allows the viewer to see what the most watched videos are AND what the top favorite videos are. That's an important distinction that box office figures and Nielsen ratings don't make.

Even the "favorite" function on YouTube leaves something to be desired, since marking a video as your favorite isn't that exact an indication of one's adoration of the video. I've marked some videos that I found mildly interesting as favorites, and others that I've gone back and watched over and over again. There's no ranking feature within favorites (yet).

If you could see how people rank their favorite videos, movies, books, TV shows, that would really tell you something that initial revenue or viewer #s wouldn't, namely: how much a person would be likely to pay to own the media text in question, or shell out for a sequel or another text made by the author of the text; how deeply influenced the individual is, in terms of their values, by the text.

From some evidence I've gathered (an audience study I ran as an MA at UTexas; conversations with undergrads I taught at Emerson), Fight Club is among young people's favorite movies. And yet this film didn't do so well at the box office. A more extreme example of this is Donnie Darko, which tanked upon its initial release, yet seems to have quite a following. The DVD sales numbers indicate that these films have more of a following than initial #s would indicate (the same is true of ratings challenged TV shows that do well on DVD), but even that is an imperfect gauge of how much people really love something. The thing is, we've got the technology to tell what media texts really resonate with people right now - you can see the Top Favorites in various social networks on Facebook.

So, let's say your a TV exec. One show does really well in the ratings, but its not on any of the top favorite lists in any social network on Facebook. Another show has mediocre ratings, but is featured in many of the Top Favorite lists. You've got the opportunity to create a spinoff of both shows. In a world where TV execs are beholden to Nielsen ratings, you definitely go with the first one. Its entirely possible, maybe even probable, that the spinoff of this highly rated show won't do well b/c the fan base of that show was probably watching it not b/c of any inherent quality, but b/c it happened to be popular. They'd be just as likely to migrate to any other new show (probably whichever show was on during a time slot that appealed to them, or whichever show was most heavily promoted) as they would be to watch the spinoff. The fans of the highly favorited show would be much more likely to watch its spinoff, and maybe more likely to preach the gospel of how good the shows are, acting like an unpaid viral marketing team.

Bottom line: the technology to gauge fan passion exists. Even beyond Top Favorite lists, you can see how many people wrote lengthy positive reviews of something, etc. Its time to start paying attention to this, not just b/c you want to know what movies, TV shows, etc people will like in the future, but b/c you care about what media influences people's lives. The idea for this blog hit me when I thought: "which movie resonated more with people, and arguably shaped the philosophy and actions of its viewers: Fight Club or Norbit?" If you go by box office revenue, Norbit was 3 times more influential than Fight Club.