Role of audience in documentary filmmaking

Glines Canyon Dam, Elwha River, Washington. Photo: Mikal Jakubal

There is a low-stakes battle being waged inside this head of mine. The head versus the heart. The personal versus the professional. The pragmatic versus the radical. When stepping back and really thinking through what I take away from a documentary (and what others will take from that experience), which of those matter most and should come out on top?

Let me back up. A few weeks ago I attended a screening of DamNation at the D.C. Environmental Film Festival. The film explores the shift in attitude from a country built on dams (from the mill dam's role in the industrial revolution to the great dam-building era of the New Deal) to one in which the detrimental effect of many of these structures has given rise to an effort to remove certain dams and restore rivers. Filled with sweeping vistas and many charismatic rivers of the west, the film is gorgeous, visually spectacular. My inner aesthetician totally wants to fist-bump the cinematographer.

Back to the future? A century old I.W. Taber photograph shows the beautiful Hetch Hetchy Valley and Toulumne River before the dam and reservoir buried this national treasure in a scene from DAMNATION. Photo: Matt Stoecker

From the cultural and religious significance of salmon for many tribes of the Pacific Northwest to the evocative landforms now buried by Glen Canyon Dam, it makes a play for our heartstrings by blending the historic and spiritual. It also attempts to appeal to our inner wild thing with dam-scaling graffiti artists and a bit of a "fight the man" vibe running throughout the film's narration. The inner activist in me now wants in on the fist-bumping action.

However, as I sat in the theater, I looked around at all of the fleece and the shiny, white faces ready to take action and couldn't help wondering what my people would get out of this film. What would the ranchers in San Angelo, Texas make of this message? Would my grandfather--a helps with local elections, writes letters to the city council kind of dude--be moved to write a letter to editor next time an article appeared about a new dam being built? Texans appreciate the land and the water they have dominion over. In fact, more often than not, they'll work it like a bitch to extract every possible tiny bit of appreciation out of it that they can. And these aren't just Texas communities. They exist in every state. I work with them. I reckon (because that's how we do) this isn't their film.

Who was this film meant to appeal to? In my estimation, it's a documentary meant to appeal to and mobilize your base. Something to excite them to send their Congressional rep an email or drop a check in the mail to (hopefully) an effective environmental group. Maybe they'll be amped enough (until they realize it's not as sexy as the movies make it) to want to take on a dam removal in their neck of the woods. What it likely won't do is win that city council battle over removal of the municipally owned dam. The implicit bucking of authority and rules combined with gratuitous (even if artistic) female nudity would cause my grandfather and others like him to immediately discount the more salient arguments made for restoration.

I have DamNation to thank for my continuing mental thumb war--the pumped up girl who dashes off 'getting radical' posts versus the pragmatist who knows what it takes to make real change happen. What I do know is that documentaries can be powerful tools for change when wielded appropriately, and part of that power lies in identifying your audience--critical in developing your message, film and corresponding call to action.

Who do you strive to appeal to when you create?

Keep your eye on this space because I will be announcing a couple of exciting documentary-related projects inspired by all the questions of audience and social change brought about by this film. Sign up for my newsletter below to be the first to hear about it!

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Exploration, Science and Chasing Ice

Chasing Ice starts off like a modern day disaster flick, splicing news clips of catastrophic flooding amidst footage of a spate of climate deniers. However, do not be fooled into mistaking this remarkable documentary for an environmentalist's attempt to incite panic and preach to his own congregation. The film chronicles award-winning nature photographer James Balog's (who also has an advanced degree in geomorphology) effort to collect evidence of the Earth's changing climate by documenting melting icebergs in Iceland, Greenland, Alaska and other countries.



Pulling together a group of young scientists, Balog forms what he calls Extreme Ice Survey and, using time-lapse photography, documents conditions at 18 glaciers beginning in 2007. Chasing Ice uses tangible science, visual evidence and stunning glacial backdrops to highlight the fact that we are witnessing the disappearance of these gargantuan glaciers at a breathtaking rate.



The film also explores the challenges involved in mounting an effort this ambitious, including Balog's battle with his body's own fragility as he is forced to undergo yet another knee surgery during the project.

I'm sure the cynics among us will question how interesting watching ice melt could be, but to open your heart and mind to Chasing Ice is to have your life changed. As for its "interestingness", I fell asleep in the theater during Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth. Chasing Ice had me leaning forward, pretty much on the edge of my seat, and jotting down ideas once it was over for how to get this into the hands of everyone I know.

If you watch and/or are interested in learning more and taking action, the Chasing Ice site has some additional information, including what you can do about climate change. Also check out the Extreme Ice Survey site for a discussion of why glaciers matter and the different types of glaciers. Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't direct you to American Rivers website for information on federal and state policy changes that can help our communities better adapt to a changing climate.

Chasing Ice is currently streaming on Netflix (among other places), so for many of you, watching it is just a couple of clicks away. Hell, I'll even stream it via a Google Hangout if there's enough interest ;-)

All photos above are screen captures I took from the film.

Stories We Tell

I'm behind on my whole watch 12 documentaries in 12 months thing, but I'm desperate to catch up. I've even dropped hints to friends with Netflix that we should have a documentary marathon day. Yeah, pathetic.

A few weeks ago I watched Stories We Tell, a documentary by Sarah Polley that explores the life of her own mother and family in a quest to tap into the secret behind veiled rumors she'd grown up with. More than a search for familial truth, the film is a beautiful exploration of storytelling, memory and the narratives we create for ourselves. It really resonated with where I am right now with the short stories and remembrances I share on this site. I'd recommend this film to anyone, but I think that those of you into storytelling and documenting your life will dig it.

Sign Painters

A tiny portion of my pictures of signs. Some of my favorites are held hostage on Flickr, awaiting me to renew my pro account.

When I found out Sign Painters, a documentary on the art of the hand-painted sign by Faythe Levine and Sam Macon, was premiering at the Smithsonian's Renwick Gallery, I was over the moon. I've been stalking, er, following along since I saw Faythe first mention the project on Twitter. I can't say that I'm obsessed with good signage, but an interesting sign has always been able to lure me in. Judging from all the photos of hand-painted beauties littering my phone and Flickr account, it is safe to say I've had a thing for them for quite a while.

The film, itself, paid homage to the craft and passion of sign painting. After an intro chock full of sign porn, we traveled the country with the filmmakers and listened to stories from some of the greats. I was humbled by the stories of apprenticeship and years of dedication to learning their craft. Sometimes I find myself frustrated with not automatically knowing how to do certain things or not being considered an expert (shoots a wary look at the ukulele sitting unplayed in my corner). What a cocky bastard I am to think I should be good at something after giving it an hour or a week!

Another thing that really spoke to me was something mentioned during the q&a when Levine made reference to how important it was as a filmmaker and a researcher to be able to add quality content in a field where information is scarce. As a collector of information and stories, this really spoke to me. Like graffiti long abandoned under an overpass, Levine and Macon extend the legacy of some of these artists beyond faded traces left on that brick building you always pass walking home from work.

Seeing the film surrounded by portraits in the Renwick's Grand Salon was just the cherry on top.

Comic-Con Episode IV: A Fan's Hope

My friend, Duncan, drawing comics at the Barnes & Noble cafe.

I'm attracted to passionate people. I've said it before, but it bears repeating. These are the type of people I like to fill with my life with. If you get bored often or don't dream*, I'm going to struggle with how to fit you into my life.

Comic-Con Episode IV is FILLED with people with a dream. This documentary follows the lives of six uber-fans as they prepare for their big moment at San Diego Comic-Con.

• Holly is the mega-talented costume designer who can recreate video game and comic worlds from scratch. She's preparing to compete in the Masquerade costume contest. 
• Chuck is a dealer who owns Mile High Comics in Denver and is struggling to keep his business afloat in the face of a changing comics market and Comic-Con's growing focus on the broader entertainment market. 
• James and Se Young are young fans who met and found love at Comic-Con. 
• Skip and Eric are aspiring illustrators that hail from different parts of the country and have radically different origin stories. Both make their way to Comic-Con to show off their drawings and hope to be discovered.

Interspersed with each fan's journey are clips of fanboy (and girl) heroes like Stan Lee, Kevin Smith, Josh Whedon, and Harry Knowles talking to the camera about the comic book scene, evolution of Comic-Con, and pretty much whatever floats their boat. Kevin Smith, always funny as hell, was a particular favorite.

I really dug this documentary. I found it equally endearing, inspiring, and at times, laugh out loud funny. It's a largely hopeful look at normal people trying to live the dream and little bit of an oral history of San Diego Comic-Con rolled into one. While scenes of the massive crowds and multi-day lines did nothing to quell the notion that this crowd-fearing introvert would wind up huddled in a corner, it did make me want to pick those Avengers comics back up and continue the comic book project I started last year.

*I'm not picky. Your dream could be to find the best tater tots in the state of Illinois or your passion could be memorizing your favorite lines from BSG.