While there are thrilling and sensational documentaries that feel right at home in the sun-baked and bustling streets of Austin (“We Are Storror,” “Butthole Surfers: The Hole Truth and Nothing Butt,” and “The Python Hunt” are some of the ones that feel tailor-made for gleeful reception from the Austin crowd), others at SXSW trade thrill-seeking for fare with more gravitas.
That’s not to say they’re punishingly bleak; rather, they offer a break in the program by taking an educational posture of sincerity. From shining a light on a critical yet often misunderstood vocation to unearthing histories once threatened to be buried and suppressed, these documentaries offer portraits of resistance that thrive even in the harshest circumstances.
One quite literal manifestation of that is Dominican director and screenwriter Jose Maria Cabral’s film “42nd Street.” It’s one of the most visually arresting documentaries and moves with a tempo that matches the form energy of its subjects. It focuses on the artists and dancers who live on the 42nd street (or La 42) of the Capotillo neighborhood of Santo Domingo of the Dominican Republic. The people of La 42 love to do nothing more than dance, often into the late hours of the night, and in documenting these scenes, you can feel for these dancers. It often feels like midway through filming, Cabral and Herrera simply plopped the camera down to shoot some B-roll as we see the artists there use the streets and community spaces as their playground and studio. This causes conflict with the local police, who prowl and arrest people for causing disruption and disturbance.
Cabral’s film was originally going to be a scripted feature before it became a documentary, but the final product is still a fascinating convergence; there are talking head segments, but it’s structured in much more of an anthology structure, focusing on different artists who explain why they dance and create art. Equally as harrowing, though, is witnessing the ways the police arrest and capture the people who are simply trying to live their lives and work out frustrations and life’s difficulties by moving their bodies. Police presence only escalates and causes more problems. Cabral seeks to fight back against the stereotypes associated with La 42–namely that it’s a hub for drug trafficking and violence–by letting the stories of its residents take center stage.
It can be hard to wallow in despair (and many would be right to) given the state of our world, but I hold so much gratitude for a film like “42nd Street” that reminds us that dance can be not only a form of resistance but a way to reaffirm our humanity. A free body, one that grooves and moves the way it wants to, is a rebellious act against corrupt police forces and fascist governments that try to restrict movement. I do not doubt that “42nd Street” will inspire all who see it groove in holy defiance.
One of the most emotionally tense docs of the fest (but one that also knows to ends in a touching place of hope) is Jamie Coughlin Silverman’s and Gabriel Silverman’s “The Spies Among Us” (it makes for an interesting pairing with another SXSW documentary like “The Age of Disclosure,” which also deals with institutional corruption and the government’s violent attempt to keep it hidden). The film explains how, after World War II, Germany was split under two jurisdictions, with the Western part of the country being overseen by Allied forces while the Eastern half was under the control of the Soviet Union.
One of the primary ways that the Ministry of State Security (Stasi for short) would keep its citizens in check is by conscripting and forcing citizens to be informants for their fellow neighbors. Stasti victim Peter Keup, who was imprisoned when he tried to escape East Germany, is the main focus of the documentary as he attempts to heal and make peace with the abuse and torture he went through during his imprisonment (and eventual freedom). Keup at present is a historian who specifically focuses on the era in history where the Stasi were at their most powerful and corrupt and in his engagement with his studies, he arrives at a disconcerting truth: that his deceased brother was a Stasi informant and likely betrayed and helped imprison many people like Keup.
From there, Keup tries to make sense of his brother’s motives, and it’s particularly distressing to witness his pain and questioning when he thinks that his sibling could have been tied to a force that caused him so much pain. Adding more fuel to the fire is Silverman’s incorporation of interviews with Heinz Engelhardt, the only living general of the time of the Stasi’s rise in power. Far from apologetic, anytime Engelhardt is on-screen, he continually justifies his actions, believing that what he did was necessary to stop fascism from rising. There’s an utter lack of self-awareness on his part, yet what is inspiring to witness is how Keup never uses a transgressor’s callousness to get in the way of his healing and processing.
“The Spies Among Us” is as much a history of wrongdoing committed against an entire generation of people as a story of how one can heal from the most violent of crimes committed against someone. It’s a touching blueprint to healing that does what the best documentaries do: educate while guiding us through the adversity we witness.
Not to be confused with the documentary of the same name that premiered at the True/False Film Fest, director Kate Blackmore’s “Make It Look Real” arrived at the festival with a certain amount of intrigue and buzz given its subject matter, which explores the role of intimacy coordinators on film set productions. The discourse around intimacy coordinators came to a boiling point throughout this awards season when newly minted Best Actress winner Mikey Madison shared that she declined one when filming intimate scenes in “Anora.”
While the film does not call out any contemporary productions for not utilizing them, “Make It Look Real” makes a poignant case that intimacy coordinators should not be a resource that one can opt in or opt out of but rather an incumbent part of any production. Just as you wouldn’t have actors who engage in on-screen combat do so without a stunt supervisor, “Make It Look Real” advocates that on-screen sex should be cared for in the same manner.
Throughout the film, we follow intimacy coordinator Claire Warden while she works on Australian director Kieran Darcy-Smith’s film “Tightrope.” For the film, Darcy-Smith wrote three sex scenes featuring actors Albert Mwangi, Sarah Robers, and Tom Davis, and the film traces how Warden balances executing the director’s vision while also making sure the actors feel comfortable about what’s expected of them.
Warden highlights that the best way to think of intimacy coordinators is as a sort of stunt choreographer. A production wouldn’t have their actors freestyle spar as it could lead to injury and an intimacy coordinator helps map out the movements of a given scene so that everyone knows what to expect and that people can feel safe. Warden critiques the notion that things have to “be real to look real,” … “We don’t do that with stunts,” she says, and filming sex scenes should be no different. She acknowledges that her vocation grates against Hollywood’s tendencies to want passion and love to seem “natural.”
Still, as her work on “Tightrope” displays, that dichotomy doesn’t need to exist. “All experience, real or imagined, stay in our body,” Bowden says, and in her role, she realizes that whatever a production asks of actors, whether it’s to receive oral sex on-screen or stab someone for a fight scene, such moments affect them physically even if it’s “not real”; her goal is to make sure all the actors can walk away from such moments feeling safe in their bodies.
Witnessing the conversations Warden has with the actors about what they’re comfortable with is perhaps the most eye-opening. She acts in many ways as a liaison and negotiator, wanting to honor a director’s vision but ensuring that the contrivances or preferences of the director or script supersede those of the actors who have to do such scenes. A moment that underscores the importance and necessity of a role like Warden’s is filming the film’s final sex scene.
Originally, Darcy-Smith had scripted a threesome between Mwangi, Roberts, and Davis, but after learning that preferences for a sequence differed across the actors, Darcy-Smith works with Warden to rewrite the scene to make it something that everyone is comfortable with enacting. It makes seeing the final scene unfold more comfortable because we, as viewers, know that everyone gave their consent. Warden’s role reminds us that clarity is kindness and Blackmore’s film should be essential viewing for anyone in the industry to properly understand the role this vocation plays on set.
