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Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Review: Man on WIre
When I first heard about the premise behind "Man On Wire," I dismissed it as another vapid publicity stunt a la David Blaine. Great, I figured. Guy crosses a rope between WTC towers. Death-defying. He doesn't even use a net! Maybe he does it a few times. Then some biographical details about his middle-class struggles. Then some soaring panoramic views of pre 9/11 New York City. Then some hammed-up blathering about patriotism. The Indefatigable and Uncompromising American Dream. In other words, garbage.
I can't often say that I'm glad for my errors in judgment, but I will gladly make an exception in this case. Through his examination of Philippe Petit's (French, not American) incredible feat (at least I was right in assuming no net was used), filmmaker James Marsh actually inspired me. So much for being one of the cool varieties of college students, completely disaffected.
This film doesn't offer a "re-telling" of Petit's 1974 high-wire crossing - I'm more inclined to call it a re-living. Learning about Petit and company's planning, practice and execution treats us to a satisfying blend of personal interviews, dramatic re-enactment, still photos and first-hand footage. In some scenes, Marsh forgoes dramatic enactment for some very involved first-person recounting; the camera moves gracefully with Petit as he jumps, spins, and gestures around the studio, imitating his and his cohorts' emotions as they put their plans into action. Marsh's techniques offer a unique experience to the viewer. Rather than your usual documentary-style pairing of footage and recollection, the director paints his subjects as individuals who lived through something incredible and continue to be affected by it almost forty years later. The "past" of Petit's WTC crossing merges seamlessly with the "present" of Marsh's film, showing us how the truly fantastic can outlive the moments in which it took place.
Petit also takes an attitude with the trend-crazy American tendency to sensationalize. Asked why he walked the wire, he simply replies "There is no 'why'". There's this obsession with purpose and productivity in American culture, one that packages and prices human capability, undermining what I see as the true human spirit. Understanding Petit's actions is no easier than understanding the motives behind our everyday lives. Why do we live? What is it to live? What makes one more "alive" than others? Petit's boldness in facing his dream demands that we do the same in our own lives.
I can't often say that I'm glad for my errors in judgment, but I will gladly make an exception in this case. Through his examination of Philippe Petit's (French, not American) incredible feat (at least I was right in assuming no net was used), filmmaker James Marsh actually inspired me. So much for being one of the cool varieties of college students, completely disaffected.
This film doesn't offer a "re-telling" of Petit's 1974 high-wire crossing - I'm more inclined to call it a re-living. Learning about Petit and company's planning, practice and execution treats us to a satisfying blend of personal interviews, dramatic re-enactment, still photos and first-hand footage. In some scenes, Marsh forgoes dramatic enactment for some very involved first-person recounting; the camera moves gracefully with Petit as he jumps, spins, and gestures around the studio, imitating his and his cohorts' emotions as they put their plans into action. Marsh's techniques offer a unique experience to the viewer. Rather than your usual documentary-style pairing of footage and recollection, the director paints his subjects as individuals who lived through something incredible and continue to be affected by it almost forty years later. The "past" of Petit's WTC crossing merges seamlessly with the "present" of Marsh's film, showing us how the truly fantastic can outlive the moments in which it took place.
Petit also takes an attitude with the trend-crazy American tendency to sensationalize. Asked why he walked the wire, he simply replies "There is no 'why'". There's this obsession with purpose and productivity in American culture, one that packages and prices human capability, undermining what I see as the true human spirit. Understanding Petit's actions is no easier than understanding the motives behind our everyday lives. Why do we live? What is it to live? What makes one more "alive" than others? Petit's boldness in facing his dream demands that we do the same in our own lives.
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