The buzz around the non-fiction program at SXSW this year has been pretty strong, with many people picking documentaries as their favorites of the fest. (Discuss amongst yourselves if this is also a sign that the narrative program seems weaker than usual, but I digress.)
This final (probably) non-fiction dispatch by yours truly highlights two of my favorites of the Austin event, a pair of films that could be called “pop culture docs,” but they break out of the anecdotal ruts that these kinds of films usually run in by being refreshingly inquisitive and enlightening about their subjects. The third film here can’t do the same, falling victim to over-production and over-direction in ways that derail its intentions.
The best of the bunch is Maya Annik Bedward’s “Black Zombie,” a film that fascinatingly unpacks the origins of one of the most popular horror genres of all time: the zombie movie. Bedward intertwines film clips, historians, and experts on the how we got from “White Zombie” to “Dawn of the Dead” to “Serpent and the Rainbow” to “28 Years Later,” always tying things back to the cultural undercurrents of a genre that not only has roots in Vodou but has often reflected other historical issues like slavery and civil rights. Bedward has a keen eye for assembling a movie like this one, which makes the exclusion of certain aspects of the subgenre’s history forgivable. Zombie movies have also been about war and xenophobia, but this is a movie and not a TV series, and Bedward’s film works best when it really homes in on its main thesis about how Black culture has been warped and shaped into stories of the walking dead.
It doesn’t always do that. There are some unusual tangents like a section on Tom Savini’s breakthrough make-up work on “Dawn of the Dead,” but I’ll let that slide because it’s one of my favorite movies ever made (and one senses Bedward loves it, too). The movie is stronger when it sticks with the projects that really reflect or warp Black history, especially a segment on Wes Craven’s “The Serpent and the Rainbow” and how it distorted its subject for maximum horror impact. As one of Craven’s biggest fans, I can still admit that the film’s undeniably problematic aspects have never been more intellectually unpacked.
Bedward wisely avoids turning “Black Zombie” into a class lecture. She conducts what were clearly buoyant, informed interviews not just with experts on it but with those influenced by the culture, like, believe it or not, Slash. She speaks with Black independent filmmakers who have been trying to reclaim aspects of zombie moviemaking that reflect the truth of their culture more than the Hollywoodization in films like “World War Z.” I still love zombie movies. I think Bedward does, too. She’s just made a film that allows you to love them in a different context.
Jonah Tulis’ “Serling” isn’t quite as ambitious, but it’s still an excellent pop culture doc, in part because Tulis has such a fascinating subject. A progressive, genius, and workaholic, Rod Serling remains a pop culture force to this day, with many still picking “The Twilight Zone” as the best show of all time. It’s certainly one of mine (check out these bona fides), so I came into “Serling” with a healthy adoration of its subject and left satisfied. The only issue with “Serling” may actually be that its subject already told us so much about himself through his work. No one can really watch Serling’s projects without hearing his voice and knowing how he felt about the world.
Of course, Serling’s projects are also known for their unforgettable visuals, and Tulis and team make the interesting choice to recreate shots of Serling in his study—writing, smoking, etc. While I don’t love the practice, in general, it allows the film to be more than just clips and talking heads. In fact, Tulis avoids much of the latter—a burden on so many bio-docs that turn into anecdotes about people who knew talented creatives—by letting Serling tell much of his story through the recordings he made while he was alive. It should come as no surprise to learn that Serling was nearly as eloquent in his private recordings as he was in his writing.
Ultimately, “Serling” will work best for fans of its subject, but, honestly, if you’re not a fan of “The Twilight Zone,” we don’t have much to talk about.
Finally, there’s the disappointing “Stormbound,” a movie that falls victim to the overheated soundbites that often derail documentaries about people who live with a higher amount of adrenaline than you and me. Much like “Free Solo” or “Skywalkers,” “Stormbound” attempts to tell the story of a crazy profession/hobby through its impact on the relatable human lives of its subjects. In this case, it’s the story of Jeff Gammons, a storm chaser who has been recording and studying pretty much every major hurricane to strike the United States this century. When Gammons is stunned by a near-fatal diagnosis, he questions how much time he’ll have left to chase the storms and what he should prioritize if he doesn’t have much time left.
Of course, the unpredictability of a deadly storm and the human condition are intertwined in Miko Lim’s film, but it’s all done with the subtlety of a cow flying through a tornado. There’s too much to everything: music, drone shots, all of it. And even the sound bites don’t feel genuine as the score pushes past eleven and people say things like “Some people might abuse alcohol or drugs; my escape was the weather.” Lines that feel like they were rehearsed, or at least given multiple takes to get it just right, in a way that drains it of authenticity. “Stormbound” is most interesting when it parallels how “Free Solo” revealed what a life built on adrenaline can do to a relationship. And a lot of the footage, especially in the final act, is undeniably amazing. The power of a storm can be breathtaking on its own. The movie didn’t need to add so much to try to make it so.
