Thirty Two Short Films About Glenn Gould

     While most would not think of Thirty Two Short Films About Glenn Gould as being a non-fiction film in any respect, this experimental movie portrays the true to life essence of who Glenn Gould was. Growing up playing the piano, Glenn Gould was a real life person who explored the ivory keys in new and interesting ways. Known for his eccentric behavior, Gould shied away from the media, only permitting a small handful of interviews to be conducted. Upon watching these interviews, it becomes clear that the portrayal of this maestro is honest and true.

     Documentarians have a sacred rule to portray their subjects. When it comes to making a narrative movie based on another's life, this same rule applies. Although Thirty Two Short Films may not be a purely cinema verite style of movie, it constructs its narrative with the same ideas in mind as a documentary: tell someone's story and have their personality come out. The film combines both non-fiction and fiction as it employs several interviews of people who knew Gould in real life as well as manufactured interactions involving the actor who plays Gould in the film. Audience members will walk away from this film knowing about Glenn Gould, a real man who was nearly unreachable, but became familiar through the medium of cinema.

     Music was a key facet that was central to Gould's being. The makers of Thirty Two Short Films knew that this individual interpreted music in a different way than most people, and they appropriately included sequences of experimental animation to a classical piece. Director Francois Girard commented, ""As Gould was such a complex character, the biggest problem was to find a way to look at his work and deal with his visions. The film is built of fragments, each one trying to capture an aspect of Gould. There is no way of putting Gould in one box. The film gives the viewer 32 impressions of him. I didn't want to reduce him to one dimension." Music was one of the biggest aspects of Gould, the reason why Girard included classical pieces in nearly each segment of this film.
     Thirty Two Short Films About Glenn Gould successfully combines the documentary with the narrative, the conventional with the interpretational. It does not attempt to make a case for Gould, but rather portray the character in an honest way. This movie reminds documentarians that it is okay to experiment with form and discover truth in interesting, unconventional ways.

Beehive Stories

"Carbon County"

     There are so many things going right in this episode. The cinematography, the music, and the simple story combine together to produce a noteworthy show. Rule of thirds apply to most of the shots, but what is most interesting is the use of dutch angles. Although eschew, the frame still reads as beautiful as viewers look at the desert-like surface of Price and see from a different perspective how such a place is attractive. The plucky staccato beats from Micah's score breathe a playful, upbeat pace into the episode. The narrative focuses on one main story revolving around the dinosaur museum in Price. This tight focus on an intriguing aspect of Carbon County keeps the audiences attention while still relating to big ideas such as the lengthy history of life on planet Earth.

"Wayne County"

 
     This episode plays with the creative boundaries documentarians are allowed to pushed when creating their own work. Just like Orson Welles did in F for Fake, the documentarians in "Wayne County" put on costumes and acted for the camera. However, this contrived truth was revealing a more internal truth. People have walked the surface of Wayne County in space suits, pretending as if they were trekking across an alien planet. By recreating these events, the documentarians were fairly representing reality rather than marring it.

Jiro Dreams of Sushi

     There are some who believe that documentary films are never beautiful. Jiro Dreams of Sushi (David Gelb, 2011) is just one example of an exquisitely cinematic documentary. This movie’s technical achievements in cinematography and editing set a standard for future non-fiction films. Director Gelb successfully captures one-of-a-kind moments as he follows sushi master Jiro Ono through his life as a chef in Japan.

            Quick cuts and time-lapses from Jiro Dreams of Sushi reveal the hustle and bustle lifestyle of fish market goers and the hurried activity of Tokyo businessmen and women.  These cuts are set to upbeat, New Age music that is reminiscent of Baraka, which shot several scenes in Japan. These fast paced sequences are juxtaposed with methodical segments that are orchestrated like a symphony. A subject in the film even commented, “Jiro is like the maestro of a symphony.” The crescendo of classical music subsequently followed this remark as well as slow motion shots of Jiro’s apprentices as they prepared the day’s meals. The crew behind Jiro effectively marries the visually stunning processes of sushi preparation with the aurally intriguing melodies of the music. Each piece of sushi looks like art, glistening and inviting as steady shots of the sushi lingers to capture the look of each piece. The use of slow motion shots successfully reveals the precision and technique that accompanies each sushi preparation. Jiro is a beautiful documentary, one that pushes other non-fiction films to achieve the same level of cinematic elegance.

            Although Jiro is elegant, this film is not without its little flaws. An entire sit-down interview involving subject Masuhiro Yamamoto was largely over-exposed. A window with daylight spilling through the blinds served as a overwhelming backlight which could have been dampened by simply closing the blinds. There were other moments of over exposure such as the segment where Jiro is on a train to visit his parents’ gravesites. The filmmakers could have stopped down without underexposing Jiro’s face. Or, color correction could have improved the situation. Jump cuts that were not covered added onto these small errors in cinematography. Moreover, there were moments that felt highly contrived that felt manipulating. In one scene, a man spontaneously walks into Jiro’s restaurant and asks what the price of a meal is. The man is given an answer of 30,000 yen (US $375), a reply that astounds him as he backs out of the restaurant. This scene felt contrived for several reasons, one being the fact that the man appeared total aware of the camera. He never once looked at the camera or the team of filmmakers behind it. It is likely that the filmmakers were stumped as to how to bring up the price in an authentic way and chose to have someone come in to casually ask how much a meal was.

            These mistakes and manipulations are minimal compared to everything Jiro Dreams of Sushi did right. More than anything, this film captured those moments that reveal humanity at its purest. In one scene, Jiro and his youngest son sit at a table with Jiro in the background and his son in the foreground. At first, the focus is on the son as he comments that Jiro intimidates his customers. An expert rack focus to Jiro shows a large grin play across the sushi master’s face in reaction to this comment. The crew behind this film created strong relationships with its characters to allow them to be boldly truthful, an element which Rabiger takes note of, “A documentary film is the sum of relationships—those that you and your crew forge with participants and those they negotiate with each other.”
     Jiro Dreams of Sushi is a beautiful, standard setting film. Its technical feats dwarf the almost unnoticeable mistakes in editing and cinematography it makes. One of the strongest things this film accomplishes is capture unique, highly telling moments that reveal the characters and their personalities. The elegant, cinematic way in which this story is told set a precedent for future documentaries to come.