Burt’s Buzz (2013)
Director Jody Shapiro shines the spotlight on reclusive inventor of various
honey-infused products and reluctant corporate spokesperson, Burt Shavitz. The
cameras follow him around as he visits Taiwan on a promotional tour, and we witness
his unease at his status as an accidental celebrity. Shapiro traces Burt’s
humble roots, as he inherited and subsequently walked away from a family
business, experienced a second life as a photojournalist in the ‘60s, and
eventually adopted a minimalist existence, living off the land. Along with his
ex-significant other/business partner, he developed a line of natural products,
and quietly built a multi-million-dollar empire.
The twist to the story isn’t how Burt gained or lost
millions of dollars, but how he has eschewed the trappings of wealth or
material possessions. He seems happiest when he’s away from other people,
tending to his small farm and spending time with his dog. It’s an insightful,
surprisingly affecting portrait of an irascible, cantankerous loner who fell
into something big, but stuck to his ideals. Burt’s Buzz is also an existential
meditation on the nature of success, and retaining integrity in the face of it.
Rating: ****. Available on Blu-ray, DVD, Amazon Video and
Hulu
The Decline of Western
Civilization Part II: The Metal Years (1988) Penelope Spheeris’ landmark 1981
documentary The Decline of Western
Civilization was a warts-and-all examination of the L.A. punk scene. Spheeris
returned several years later to scrutinize the world of heavy metal. Even if
the follow-up doesn’t seem quite as immediate or as focused as its predecessor,
it’s a worthy sequel. This time around, the film looks at the performers, along
with a handful of groupies. There are a couple of oddball interviews not
directly associated with the music scene, featuring a metal-themed strip club
and an out-of-touch probation officer who wants to deprogram kids from the
metal lifestyle.
While the second film doesn’t achieve the same balanced
approach or depth as the original, there’s much to appreciate. Veterans Alice
Cooper (easily the most articulate of the bunch) Ozzy Osbourne, and other metal
luminaries are contrasted with the musings of some hopefuls who have yet to
make it big. The Metal Years takes a
dim view of the excesses in the industry, particularly sexism and alcohol abuse.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, however, we hear from some artists who have
something worthwhile to say, beyond the trappings of fame, wealth and sex. The
film loses direction along the way, with some uncomfortable scenes in an L.A.
strip club, with an amateur competition presided over by a lecherous elderly owner/M.C.
of the aforementioned strip club. Quibbles aside, it remains an essential
snapshot of an era not too long ago, and a cautionary tale about visions of fame,
wealth and sex overwhelming the art.
Rating: ***½. Available on Blu-ray and DVD
Resurrect Dead: The
Mystery of the Toynbee Tiles (2011) Philadelphia-based underground artist Justin
Duerr has held a lifelong fascination with the mysterious proliferation of tiles
with enigmatic descriptions that have somehow appeared in traffic intersections
throughout the northeastern United States and parts of South America. With only
a few sketchy clues as his guide, Duerr, along with a couple of other dedicated
amateur sleuths try to decipher the purpose of the tiles. They also attempt to
discern what would compel someone (or a group of individuals) to embark on such
a long-running, cryptic project. They assemble a short list of possible
suspects, which appear to yield few tangible results. Their greatest clue,
however, leads to an amateur radio show that briefly ran in the early ‘80s. The
answers they uncover are not nearly as compelling as watching Duerr and his colleagues
follow the trail of bread crumbs to unravel a mystery. Although we may never
know the true intent behind the tiles (Conspiracy cult? Mental illness?), John
Foy’s documentary is a fascinating trip.
Thanks to the blogger Stabford Deathrage for the recommendation
(follow his blog at http://stabforddeathrage.blogspot.com/
or on Twitter at @SDeathrage).
Rating ***½. Available on DVD and Amazon Video
Mule Skinner Blues
(2001) Stephen Earnhart’s bittersweet documentary spends time with a group of colorful
individuals in a Jacksonville, Florida trailer park. The community’s nominal
leader, Beanie Andrew, is an aging ne’er do well who dreams of making a horror
movie about a swamp ape. He teams up with a middle-aged aspiring horror author
to create his dream project. Some other notable denizens include: an elderly
country singer (stick around for her music video at the end), a Vietnam vet
dealing with personal demons, who still hopes to make it big as a folk musician,
and Ricky Lix, a rock guitarist. Their individual stories are amusing and sad
in equal doses – for most of them, their exposure on this film is about as much
fame as they’re likely to acquire. Unlike the superior documentary American Movie, it’s tough to shake the
feeling that Earnhart views his subjects with a modicum of condescension. The
film distances us from the subjects, displaying their artistic expression as something
laughable. We don’t feel their struggles, as much as view them as specimens for
our pity or entertainment.
Rating: ***½. Available on DVD
Cropsey (2009) Barbara
Brancaccio and Joshua Zeman explore a long-running urban legend in their Staten
Island neighborhood about a boogeyman known as “Cropsey,” purported to lurk in
the shadows and abduct kids. We soon learn that the legend has a kernel of
truth, when Brancaccio and Zeman discuss the case of a local girl, Jennifer
Schweiger, who was murdered, while other children remain missing. They trace
the facts behind the fiction through interviews with neighborhood residents
(some of whom are still searching for the possible victims), vintage articles
and clips from news programs. All signs seem to point to Andre Rand, a mentally
ill drifter who was incarcerated for Jennifer’s death. But many questions
remain. Did they jail the right person, or was Rand a convenient scapegoat for
an outraged community? If Rand was responsible, did he act alone, or did he
have an accomplice (or accomplices)? What was the link to a religious cult in
the area? These questions remain unanswered, and by the film’s conclusion, you
get the feeling the filmmakers are just as disappointed as we were. While it’s
not quite a “slam dunk” of investigative journalism, Cropsey is worth a watch, if only to remind us that sometimes the
monsters of our childhood fears are real.
Rating: ***. Available on DVD, Hulu and Amazon Video
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